7.1 On the Crossroads of Faith and Grace, Imperialism and Benefaction, and Old and New Perspectives
Modern day sociologists and ancient Roman philosophers would agree that when it comes to what holds a society together, trust or good faith, in different configurations, is essential. In sociological studies, the catchword to describe such ties is âsocial capitalâ, by which is meant, âconnections among individualsâsocial networks and the norms of reciprocity and trustworthiness that arise from themâ.1 Social capital is further described as existing in different shapes: bonding or exclusive social capital (ties with member of oneâs own group, e.g. family, class or ethnicity) and bridging or inclusive social capital (ties across groups).2 Whereas in both dimensions, trust is fundamental, it flourishes more naturally in the first and is relatively precarious in the second, because of the weaker connection. Still, bridging capital is valuable as it âcan generate broader identities and reciprocity, whereas bonding social capital bolsters our narrower selves.â3
How does this analysis fit ancient Roman thought about what helps shape society? If, for the purpose of a general overview, we limit ourselves in this introduction to some statements by present-day classicists, what stands out is the general importance attributed to pistis/fides and the nature of this âgood faithâ as âalways reciprocalâ. âFides is omnipresent in Rome. She is the living source of social, political, and moral life,â according to Pierre Grimal.4 Viktor Pöschl describes political value in general terms, yet starts off with fides, because of its central importance:
I will start with fides and place it in the middle of our discussion, because it is the concept that is at the center of the political, social, and legal order of Rome. (â¦) Almost all other Roman values are closely linked to fides. It is the most important key to the Roman value system. (Pöschl 1980, 3)5
These examples emphasize the centrality of the value and virtue of good faith in ancient Rome, which is of course highly relevant when it comes time to discuss that other corpus of literature written from within Romeâs territory, the letters of Paul. Of even greater interest, though, is the manner in which this social glue called pistis/fides was thought to shape relationships.
There is one term which keeps popping up in this regard, namely reciprocity. Here are a few examples from different types of scholarly literature:
The Roman system of law is based on pre-legal, ethical values, whose essence is reciprocity (fides, âtrustâ and âtrustworthinessâ; pietas, love of parents and children: âgenerational pactâ; gratia, âgraceâ and âgratitudeâ). Such âprinciples of Roman lawâ stand in-between ethics and religion, wherefore they have a religious and a philosophical aspect. (Von Albrecht 2009, 27)6
Fides relationships are always reciprocal. However, the texts speak much less of the âloyaltyâ demanded of the client than of that expected of the boss. (Freyburger 1986, 152)7
Fidesâand this again is typical of Roman thinkingâis not so much the faithfulness of the conquered subjects to their masters, but the fiduciary obligation of the powerful to all those entrusted to them. It was a cardinal, shared Roman value and an essential concept for Romeâs imperium. (Galinsky 1998, 61)
In the wake of my argument in the previous chapter concerning the ambiguity of pistis as both relational attitude and dispositional quality, both faith/trust and faithfulness/trustworthiness, it is good to reiterate here that the Roman social concept of fides knows a similar duplicity or inherent reciprocity. Fides can designate the social obligations of both parties, and thus its semantic scope easily accommodates the reciprocity of a public relationship.
These examples were not a random choice to demonstrate this point, however. Apart from thematizing the inherent reciprocity of fides, the first acknowledges its Sitz-im-Leben as in-between religion and philosophy, an important cornerstone of this research project. But more importantly, the second locates fidesâs reciprocity within relationships of (domestic) patronage, whereas the third discusses the same conceptâs reciprocity in terms of Roman (foreign) imperialism. In the combination of these two Graeco-Roman discoursesâbenefaction or patronage in the context of civic life on the one hand and benefaction or patronage in the context of foreign policy on the otherâlies this chapterâs contribution to existing discussions of Pauline faith.
As the next section (§7.2) discusses in more detail, even though amidst the majority of more traditional commentaries and Jewish perspectives there are some pioneering studies into the Graeco-Roman context of faith and grace language in Paul, studies tend to focus on either the one or the other. For the meaning of Pauline faith, they refer to Roman law or imperialism, while Pauline grace is more often situated within Graeco-Roman thought on benefaction and patronage. The first type considers Paulâs language of faith a response to the use of this term in Graeco-Roman imperialistic ideology (see esp. §§7.2.2â3), while the second type understands Paulâs language of grace in interaction with Graeco-Roman culture of benefaction (see §7.2.4). It is in interrelatedness of these frames, and in the interrelatedness of grace and faith, that this chapter seeks an answer.
These two frames or discourses are very much in line. Both in the sphere of Roman internal cohesion and in the sphere of Roman external relations the pattern of patronage offered an ideal model for social relationships. Both in personal patronage and in international patronage there is a reciprocal relationship between a superior and inferior party, often expressed by the equally reciprocal concepts of pistis/fides (both âfaithfulnessâ/âprotectionâ and âloyaltyâ/âallegianceâ) and charis/gratia (both âgraceâ/âgiftâ and âthankfulnessâ/âgratitudeâ). This reciprocity is not always reflected in the theological reflex to ascribe grace to God and faith to humans. Even more importantly, the combination of pistis and charis vocabulary that is rather common in the Pauline letters is found precisely in this broader Roman discourse, while it is almost absent from the Septuagint, the usual source for understanding Paulâs language. This fact is an important clue that points in the direction of Paul participating in the Graeco-Roman semantic domain and discourse of benefaction and imperialism.
Is the Graeco-Roman usage of faith in this semantic domain not the most remote from the Pauline and Christian usage of faith? This is, for instance, suggested by Pierre BoyanceÌ in the article âLes Romains, peuple de la fidesâ. If we were to ask Aeneas why the Romans received their empire from the gods, BoyanceÌ suggests that Aeneas would have responded that it was their fides. He immediately adds, however,
By this [fides] we do not mean what the Christian understands by faith (â¦) It is not an adherence of the mind and the heart to a revealed truth. It is rather a matter of conduct whereby a permanent disposition of the will is expressed, the fidelity to its obligations and especially to its commitments. (BoyanceÌ 1964, 419)8
This immense rift between the Roman and Christian concept of faith, a rift that is here simply assumed to exist, is one I hope this chapter will help to overcome by reading Pauline faith precisely in light of this Roman âfidelity to oneâs commitmentsâ as expressed in the discourses of benefaction and imperialism.
By combining these two scholarly interpretative frames, pistis emerges as a social virtue which is not only reciprocal, but also transjuridical and transethnic by configuration. In section 7.3, where Graeco-Roman sources will be analysed, pistis/fides emerges as an idealized, civic-religious Roman virtue that creates bridging social capital which transcends juridical and ethnic ties. In the context of benefaction, faith was thought of as interior, wholehearted commitment versus exterior ostentatious returns. In the context of imperialism, it denoted the required response to enter a bond of trust with Roman leadership, bridging ethnic particularities. Following these characteristics, I am able to conjoin the âoldâ and ânewâ perspective on Paul, as will become evident in section 7.4. The crux lies in the concept of faith as a reciprocal relationship of trust and loyalty between God and humanity which transcends at the same time what is demanded by law and what is demanded by ethnic custom.
Is this perception of pistis new? The idea that faith in the New Testament is not so much a matter of belief as it is a matter of allegiance and loyalty was put forward by Matthew Bates in his book, accessible to a popular audience, Salvation by Allegiance Alone (2017). âReligion, embedded in the ethnic cultures, was a matter not of belief but of loyaltyâ, he states, and it is along these lines that he also interprets the usage of pistis in the New Testament.9 Whereas I am sympathetic to the overall aim of overcoming traditional, limiting understandings of faith as mere intellectual assent or the opposite of works, the overall setup of my research is to make room for a plurality of senses, for a polysemous understanding of pistis, as evidenced by its participation in diverse semantic domains and discourses. Moreover, even within the semantic domain discussed in this chapter, pistis is more than allegiance. Allegiance is only the human response to Godâs benefaction, the human side of a bond of trust. When Paul says he is proclaiming pistis as âgood newsâ, it is not so much the human response of allegiance as the whole relationship of mutual good faith which is designated by pistis. This reciprocity, inherent to pistis, must remain in view. The renewed possibility to engage in a reciprocal bond of trust with God through Christ, a bond that by its nature makes the human side righteousâthis is what constitutes the âgood newsâ for Paul.
7.2 Pauline Faith and Grace as Responses to Graeco-Roman Imperialism and Benefaction
When it comes to this societal and political semantic domain of pistis/fides, there are three relevant scholarly approaches that pay explicit attention to how we ought to understand Pauline pistis against the background of Graeco-Roman source material. The first two are quite specific. One reads Paulâs pistis language, particularly in Galatians, as reflecting the testamentary provision of fidei commissum in Roman law. Another relates to the Roman and Greek understanding of deditio in fidem, surrender into the good faith of an enemy power, and its possible analogue or contrast in the Pauline phrase âobedience of faithâ. A third involves the more general role of fides in Roman imperialism and, related herewith, the anti-imperial potential of Pauline pistis. In this chapter, these debates will be taken up, yet they will not be dealt with in isolation. The semantics of pistis/fides in this area show that the manner in which Rome presented itself towards its provinces, dependent territories, and foreign states is strongly related to a larger Graeco-Roman discourse on the nature of grace and benefaction. Therefore, it only makes sense to look at the larger picture of imperialism and benefaction and determine what role faith plays in this discourse.
Strangely, while there is a lively scholarly debate on whether and how to understand Pauline grace against the background of Graeco-Roman benefaction, this debate seems completely uninterested in Pauline faith in this same context. This is even more remarkable seeing that the combination of faith and grace points to this Graeco-Roman context, since the combination of both terms is as good as absent from (Hellenistic-)Jewish material. The aim of this chapter lies in connecting the dots: by looking at faith in the context of both foreign policy and social cohesion, both imperialism and benefaction, its dual meaning as both asymmetrical allegiance and reciprocal trust stands out. Moreover, it will be shown that Pauline critique of works of law is analogous to philosophical critique of ostentatious reciprocity in interhuman and in divine-human relationships of benefaction.
In this section (§7.2), I will first take up the three specific scholarly discussions on faith in the context of Roman law, diplomacy, and imperialism and thereafter sketch some outlines of how Paul is thought to interact (or not) with Graeco-Roman benefaction.
7.2.1 Fidei Commissum: Faith as Juridical Escape or Trans-juridical Virtue?
In an innovative yet seldom cited contribution, Greer Taylor (1966) suggested that we ought to interpret Paulâs use of pistis and cognates in Galatians against the technical construct of fidei commissum in Roman private law.10 This provision ensures that it is possible for testators to include in their last will two successive heirs and/or foreign beneficiaries. Taylor argues that, since fidei commissum is translated as pistis in Greek variants of such testaments, and since the provision was probably known to Paul and his audience, it is a likely candidate to explain the frequent occurrence of pistis in a juridical context, particularly in Galatians. In Paulâs message, it functions as a âconceptual analogyâ to highlight Abrahams role as the first testamentary heir and Christâs role as the second heir of God (hence, pistis Christou, âChristâs liability as a trusteeâ), who is to include Jews and non-Jews (the foreign beneficiaries) in his inheritance.11 Upon the death of this second heir, Christ, the fidei commissum is executed, which enables foreigners to become the juridical sons and heirs of God by adoption.
Notwithstanding its ingenuity, this uniform âsolutionâ to the meaning of pistis has its shortcomings, and since these have been carefully spelled out already (see §1.2), I can afford to be relatively brief here. In The Faith of Jesus Christ (1983), to which I referred earlier (see §6.2.1), Richard Hays advances two main arguments against Taylorâs interpretation: 1) pistis is not, at least not solely, a juristic concept in Galatians; 2) Taylorâs treatment of documentary evidence of transactions by means of a fidei commissum is âloose and misleadingâ.12 To start with this second point, Taylor refers to only one testamentary papyrus in which pistis is used, and here it need not be interpreted as a translation of the technical provision of fidei commissum. Nor is there an expression even remotely analogous to Pauline idiom like âthrough faith in/of Christâ (á¼Îº ÏίÏÏεÏÏ á¼¸Î·Ïοῦ ΧÏιÏÏοῦ). As to the first point, Hays points out that âfaithâ (ÏίÏÏιÏ) and âtestamentâ (διαθήκη) are never brought into explicit relation with one another. Moreover, and this is of interest to my own methodology and results, Hays detects a fallacy in the following statement of Taylor:
The direct contrast of any two concepts necessarily implies their common membership in a single conceptual system in terms of which they can be contrasted: we can contrast sweet and sour, good and evil, peace and war, but not sweet and red or peace and youth. If in Galatians Paul can directly contrast ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï with the specifically juridical νÏÎ¼Î¿Ï and its works, the ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï of Galatians must itself be a juridical quantity. (Taylor 1966, 60)
In reply, Hays points out that the frequent juxtaposition of pistis to nomos need not result in the conclusion that it is itself âa juridical qualityâ; rather, it indicates that both are seen as âalternative sources of lifeâ: âthe whole point of the argument is precisely that ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï is nonjuristic, that it is a source of life apart from the law.â13
In my own words, borrowed from the field of cognitive linguistics, pistis and nomos participate in one semantic domain. The question is, however, what domain that is, what the shared frame is to which both refer. Taylor is right to look for Graeco-Roman contexts, though his approach focuses on one particular provision of Roman law, which is too narrow a discourse. As I argued in chapter 3, pistis and nomos are often used together, and regularly contrasted, in semantic domain of civic virtues in the context of questions like âhow to live a good live in a communityâ. In that chapter, I connected this vocabulary to metahistorical perspectives on the Golden Age, utopian communities, and philosophical reflection on the law. In this chapter, I examine discourses on a somewhat less abstract level related to actual social conduct, such as benefaction, patronage, and foreign policy. Within this particular domain, my analysis will also show that it is the transjuridical quality which is foregrounded by the use of pist- and fid- vocabulary (see esp. §7.3.2).14
7.2.2 Deditio in Fidem and HypakoÄ PisteÅs: Benign Pistis versus Ruthless Fides?
While Taylor looked for a parallel to Pauline pistis in the fidei commissum of hereditary law, there is a more popular suggestion which juxtaposes the Pauline expression âobedience of faithâ (hypakoÄ pisteÅs) with the Roman military expression of âsurrender into faithâ (deditio in fidem). As I will argue here, this parallel is equally narrow and rests on a caricature of what Roman fides entails.
The exegetical discussion is caught up in a more general discussion about how deditio in fidem is to be understood. The occurrence of fides in phrases that point to the surrender of people and territories to Rome, in hope of life, freedom, and often also protection from third parties, has caught the attention of both classical and biblical scholarship. The construct deditio in fidem, âsurrender into fidesâ, may itself suggest that it represents a technical, legal procedure, yet the absence of this exact substantivized phrase from our sources alone should warn us against jumping to such conclusions (only the verbal variant of se dedere in fidem is used). One of the scholarly disagreements is concerned with precisely this issue: whether plain surrender or surrender into Roman power (in potestatem) or control (in dicionem) was of a different character than surrender into fides or reception (receptio) into fides. Another, related one pertains to the question whether âsurrender into pistisâ in Greek may have been understood as a more benevolent or less arbitrary agreement than the Latin variant, which led to cross-cultural misunderstanding. A third involves the possible allusion to this phrase by Paul, particularly by speaking of the âobedience of faithâ, and whether such an allusion implies an analogy or a contrast with deditio in fidem.
The first question appears to have been answered with some degree of scholarly consensus: while there were no formal, legal differences between a âsurrender in faithâ and any other kind of surrender, the inclusion of a reference to pistis/fides pointed to a certain expectation of leniency.15 Indeed, as Eckstein writes, âthe deditio ceremony was traditionally performed with a strong aura of fides surrounding it (i.e. an informal assurance that if the dediti behaved properly, they would not suffer extreme penalties): why else, indeed, would the weaker party be interested in deditio at all?â16Fides signified the benign aspect in surrender, yet precisely for this reason it makes no sense to posit some sort of âsurrender without faithâ. As we will see below, that has everything to do with the usage of similar expressions both in the civic, personal sphere and at the international, political level: civic patronage became one of the models for foreign policy. In the model of patronage, good faith and loyalty between both parties is essential and morally expected, yet not legally enforced.
The debate about what deditio in fidem entails and whether it entailed something different according to Romans and Greeks revolves around a particular history narrated by Polybius and Livy about the surrender of Aetolians to Rome in 191 bc. The Aetolians had once been Romeâs allies but changed sides to the Seleucid king Antiochus. After Antiochus was defeated by the Romans and proved a disappointment in offering further assistance, the Aetolians were easy prey for the Roman army. After the loss of one of their cities, they sought to return into the Romansâ favour by surrendering to Roman pistis:
The Aetolians, after some further observations about the actual situation, decided to refer the whole matter to Glabrio, committing themselves âto the faithâ of the Romans (δόνÏÎµÏ Î±á½ÏÎ¿á½ºÏ Îµá¼°Ï Ïὴν ῬÏμαίÏν Ïá½·ÏÏιν), not knowing the exact meaning of the phrase, but deceived by the word âfaithâ (Ïá¿· δὲ Ïá¿Ï Ïá½·ÏÏεÏÏ á½Î½á½¹Î¼Î±Ïι ÏλανηθένÏεÏ) as if they would thus obtain more complete pardon. But with the Romans to commit oneself to the faith of a victor is equivalent to surrendering at discretion (Ïá½¹ Ï᾿ Îµá¼°Ï Ïὴν Ïá½·ÏÏιν αá½Ïὸν á¼Î³ÏειÏá½·Ïαι καὶ Ïὸ Ïὴν á¼ÏιÏÏοÏὴν δοῦναι ÏεÏὶ αá½Ïοῦ Ïá¿· κÏαÏοῦνÏι). (Polybius, Histories 20.9.10â12)
In the continuation of the encounter between the Aetolians and the Romans, the Roman consul Glabrio indeed seems to understand fides in less than benign terms. The Greek stratÄgos Phaeneas calls them âneither just nor Greekâ, upon which Glabrio calls for chains to shackle the Aetolian embassy.17 Livy also stresses the cultural clash and the different interpretation of the terms of surrender. He has Phaeneas exclaim, âwe have not delivered ourselves into slavery but have entrusted ourselves to your good faith (non in servitutem, inquit, sed in fidem tuam nos tradidimus)â.18 The linguistic confusion surrounding pistis/fides, however, is absent from Livyâs account, as Glabrio never adopts this vocabulary of fides and goes on to treat the Aetolians as defeated supplicants.19
The Polybian passage had become something of a locus classicus to underpin the theory that pistis meant something more benign in the Hellenistic world than fides did to the Romans. Fides was seen to have turned into âa cover for Roman imperialism, a trap to be sprung on unwitting suppliants who expected clemency but discovered that they had performed unconditional surrender.â20 When it comes to this discussion and the related debates, we cannot pass over Erich Gruenâs article entitled âGreek pistis and Roman fidesâ (1982). Based on the evidence of many more contemporary Greek and Roman sources, some of which I will discuss below (§7.3.4), Gruen argued, in my view conclusively, that the misunderstanding between Glabrio and the Aetolians does not constitute a widely shared conflict over the meaning and implications of faith.21 In fact, Romans in Polybiusâs own narrative emphasize Roman responsibilities towards those that entered into their fides, and the author himself does not appear to understand deditio in fidem as uncompromising, unconditional surrender either.22 Polybius appears to have faithfully narrated an incident in which a Roman consul Glabrio tried to frighten the Aetolians into accepting harsh terms, but âthe memorable vividness of the episode perhaps led him to extrapolate too much from it.â
According to Gruen, the implications of this conclusion for the meaning of pistis and fides is that âHellenic ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï and Roman fides were quite compatibleâ and that both âimposed moral restraints and engendered legitimate expectationsâ.23 While Gruen received some criticism due to his selection of sources and his shallow treatment of Polybiusâs strategy in narrating this episode,24 his thesis is generally accepted.25 As my analysis below demonstrates, this very much concurs with what we find in sources from the Hellenistic-Roman period under consideration here, a period in which it is even more farfetched to distinguish between âGreekâ and âRomanâ perspectives, as they have grown more and more intertwined.
Gruenâs contribution, however, has not managed to dissuade several classicists and New Testament scholars from proposing that there is precisely such a distinction.26 Arnaldo Momigliano (1987, 283) appeals to the Polybian passage to demonstrate that âFides is always a relation between non-equals, whereas pistis seems to point to a relation between equals.â27 He perceives this as a reason to explain why Pistis, as a goddess, was not worshipped like the Roman variant: âPistis was too much of an egalitarian word, a word of reciprocity, to become important in the relations between men and godsâ (284). As we will see shortly, this distinction does not hold.
More influential in exegetical circles is the reading of Pauline faith against a Roman imperial background by Christian Strecker (2005). Strecker explicitly connects the Pauline phrase hypakoÄ pisteÅs (Rom 1.5 and 16.26, usually translated as âthe obedience of faithâ) to the Roman practice of deditio in fidem, understood as loyalty to a conqueror.28 Notwithstanding the many merits of his contribution, to which I will refer in due time, the manner in which it represents Roman fides is somewhat caricatural:
In this respect, through the deditio, a foreign people stepped out of the foreign territories hostile to Rome âinto the normative, fides-protected interior realmâ, yet it remainedâbeyond the said minimum normsâcompletely at the mercy of the respective generalâs goodwill or arbitrariness. So fides went hand in hand with power and violence, in fact it was almost synonymous with dicio or potestas and constituted a hierarchical relationship determined by âon the one hand coercive force, on the other hand obedienceâ. (Strecker 2005, 236)29
Strecker lumps two things together whose relationship to fides needs to be evaluated separately: the notion of asymmetry of power and the notion of capricious or arbitrary violence which commands obedience. The relationship with oneâs parents is an asymmetrical one regarding the division of power, at the very least in the beginning, but it need (and should) not be determined by unwarranted exercise of force. In fact, the very presence of violence in such a relationship is inversely proportional to the presence of trust.
Without taking note of the discussion engendered by Gruen, Thomas Schumacher (2017, 302â303) also regards Polybiusâs account of Glabrioâs offer of fides as illustrative of the âsemantic misunderstandingâ evoked by a supposedly major semantic difference between pistis and fides. In line with Strecker, Schumacher retraces the fundamental difference to their etymological roots and earliest usage, which, he argues, was dominated by private, reciprocal, interhuman trust-based relationships in Greek, yet was preserved for formal, public, hierarchical contract-based relationships in Latin.30 In Paul, Schumacher finds a witness to the gradual incorporation of Latin asymmetrical fides in Greek pistis.31 Yet this also allows him to argue that in light of the enforced nature of Roman offers of fides, Pauline pistis shines by comparison.32
From this studyâs synchronic semantic perspective, however, the usage of Greek pistis and Roman fides appears to be not significantly divergent. Moreover, in my discussion of sources, it will be shown that while asymmetry is indeed often (though not always) at play in fides-relationships, an appeal to fides was not made without justified expectations of (and trust in) the superiorâs benevolence. Power (dynamis/potestas) and faith (pistis/fides) were in some contexts explicitly used as opposites rather than as near synonyms.33 Therefore, it seems all too easy to connect Roman faith to the abuse of power while positing Paulâs faith on the right side of history.
7.2.3 Was Paulâs Pistis Language an Anti-imperial Alternative to Roman Fides?
Strecker is not alone, however, in reading Pauline pistis against the background of Roman imperialism. Over the last few decades, a scholarly perspective on early Christianity, and Paul in particular, has developed that focuses on the impact of the Roman colonial discourses and military expansion. Increasing reflection on power relations and value discourse in our own (post)colonial context shapes the questions and methods with which we approach antiquity. The early empire, in all its urgency to legitimize its power both in Rome and in the outer provinces, invested in material and immaterial culture to convey its message in terms of auctoritas, pietas, and, indeed, fides. During the reign of Octavian Augustus, a program was deliberately set up aimed at reviving these so-called traditional values and virtues in the spheres of family, religion, and public office.34 By means of marriage legislation, rebuilding temples, iconography on coins, reinstating traditional religious festivities, and discouraging foreign cults, the emperorâs ideals pervaded the culture of Rome and its provinces.35 Considering this omnipresent infusion of âempireâ and its preoccupation with traditional values, it is not too farfetched to suppose that provincial writers with their own âreligious programmeâ, such as Paul, would have had reason to respond to this discourse of power.36 The question is, to what extent and in what manner. To answer this question exhaustively would require a different project. My interest here is in the anti-imperial potential of Paulâs pistis vocabulary.37
According to Dieter Georgi (1991, 1997), the mere usage of terms that were important in imperial ideology confirms that Paulâs message, particularly in Romans, was one of anti-imperialism:
Every page of the letter contains indications that Paul has very concrete and critical objections to the dominant political theology of the Roman Empire under the principate. By using such loaded terms as euangelion, pistis, dikaiosynÄ, and eirÄnÄ as central concepts in Romans, he evokes their associations to Roman political theology. (Georgi 1997, 148)38
Georgi maintains that the term pistis in particular stood for âloyalty, faithfulness to treaty obligations, truthfulness, honesty, confidence, and convictionâall, as it were, a Roman monopolyâ and as such was used by Paul to break up this monopoly by asserting that, instead of the emperor and his people, it was in fact Christ and his followers that truly represented these values.39
Similar conclusions were reached by Neil Elliott in his anti-imperial reading of Romans (2008). The prevalent mindset, as presented by Elliott, is that the Romans saw themselves as natural born rulers of helpless inferiors who welcomed the Roman âfriendshipâ and âpeaceâ, whereby fides was the âquintessential expressionâ for Roman conquest and imperium (38). The sources quoted either underline this case or are presented in such a manner that they appear to do so: Cato the Elder who exposes maltreatment of allied states as a violation of fides is dismissed with the words âarguably, the violation also demonstrated its true natureâ (38). The extant material, however, as I will show, is more diverse than Elliott would have it.
In a similar vein and relying on similar sources, Scot McKnight and Joseph Modica claim that âthe âfaithâ of Roman subjects was somewhere between fealty and slaveryâ (2012, 158), whereas in Paul they encounter âan evangelical âfaithâ [which] can be naturally contrasted with Roman fidesâ (2012, 157). More nuanced is the assessment of Thomas Schumacher, who argues that Paul âconsciously and purposefully alludes to the meanings and possible uses of the Latin word fidesâ (2012, 297).40 Schumacher builds on Georgi in his description of how Pauls alludes to fides as a Roman identity marker, but finds the relevant context for Paul mostly in the imperial cult and oaths of loyalty to the emperor. The actual wordings of these oaths, however, so far as they are attested, do not include any pist- or fid- vocabulary.41
Kathy Ehrensperger (2013) elaborates on the importance of fides to the Romans as âthe heart of the Roman value systemâ and, closely following Strecker and Elliott, postulates a significant difference between benign theory and harsh reality when it comes to the consequences of imperial fides:
Although as a minimum such deditio in fidem was supposed to guarantee the protection of the life and freedom of the conquered, in reality it meant that those who surrendered were entirely at the mercy of the Roman conqueror. Far from establishing a bond of loyalty between equals it was established and maintained by violence and the continued threat of violence on the part of the imperial power. Protection was granted under the condition of a complete surrender under this power enforced by violence. It established a hierarchical relationship of domination and subjugation between strong and weak with total power in the hands of the conqueror. As Strecker has noted, despite the benevolent rhetoric of fides and amicitia, to surrender in fidem did not establish a bond (foedus) based on legal commitment but was clearly âoutside the juridical realmâ. (Ehrensperger 2013, 170)
It is not my aim to defend Roman brutality in any way, which I do not doubt existed throughout and beyond the empire, but this picture of fides in Roman foreign policy and practice seems to become more pessimistic in each scholarly discussionâand that without the inclusion of any additional source material. The non-juridical status of Roman fides does not relegate it to the domain of self-congratulatory rhetoric of conquest: there is also a sphere of ethical normativity outside the boundaries of law. Ehrensperger goes on to question the equality and reciprocity constituted by fides in civic patronage, a relationship which she also deems involuntary since they were âa matter of survivalâ (171). After referring to the infamous passage in Polybius to confirm her suspicions without any reference to the controversy that surrounds it, she summarises her point as follows: âfides was a euphemism for domination and exploitationâ (172).
Although she grants that the Pauline letters have been used to validate similar patterns of power and subjugation, Ehrenspergerâs ultimate aim is to contrast Roman fides to Jewish pistis: âThe cultural encyclopaedia resonating with the semantic web of fides could not differ more from that resonating with the Jewish semantic web of ÏίÏÏιÏâ (172). Her methodology includes a comparison of the âwider cultural encyclopaediasâ (172) and their âsymbolic universeâ (161, 174) and thus seems to overlap partly with the present study. The outcome of her analysis is theologically appealing: biblical pistis is seen as inherently critical to worldly power and forceful submission, with hypakoÄ pisteÅs as a voluntary response of trust to the call of God through Christ, in line with biblical narrative.42 Nevertheless, as I already noted in the introduction, by placing all emphasis on the divergence of âGreek Jewishâ and âRomanâ frames of meaning, she presupposes a dichotomy in cultural semantics that simply was not there. Thus, she fails to see Paulâs indebtedness to the Roman world and worldviews he knew, not to mention the complicated networks of Graeco-Roman-Jewish ideas he navigated. It may surprise her to find self-critical discourses in Roman sources, very similar to what she deems âbiblicalâ and âJewishâ.
Apart from all these contrasts drawn in scholarly discourse, convergences have also been observed between the message of Paul and that of Roman imperialism, which seem relevant to this study as well. One important convergence is noted by Strecker and picked up by Ekkehard Stegeman. It can be summarized as the inclusion of different people and ethnicities within one realm of peace by means of pistis.43 In the Roman Empire, foreign nations swear loyalty (fides) to one lord and saviour, by whose grace they are offered protection (also fides) and undergo a change of status, from enemies, to subjects, to confederates or even friends. From this perspective, language of pistis/fides indeed seems particularly well-suited to Paulâs gospel of âinclusion of the gentilesâ. This topic of inclusion and reconciliation by means of pistis/fides will be an important part of my own analysis below. A second point of convergence is the manner in which Paul makes use of the importance of fides to the Roman mind by praising his audience precisely for this virtue in the opening of Romans: âyour faith is proclaimed throughout the worldâ (Rom 1.8).44 This creative appropriation need not be anti-imperial, however, and may be better understood as a creative captatio benevolentiae, upon which he builds his claim that this same fides is also his own (Rom 1.12).
Overall, we have seen that, within this rather recent paradigm of empire, it has become quite common to read Paulâs usage of pistis language against the background of Roman imperialism. For me, however, the question remains whether it makes sufficient sense to first paint this background in the darkest of colours, then to establish a likely connection with the main subject, Pauline pistis, only to emphasize its radically different outlook. Was Paulâs language of faith marked well enough for his audience to understand this back-and-forth manoeuvring? Was the Roman discourse of political pistis so homogeneous that such a contrast could be easily distinguished?
In this chapter, the contrast is not so much sought in the nature of faith, but in the identity of the lord proclaimed and the scope of the audience addressed. Pauline faith per se, I argue, approximates the Graeco-Roman variant structurally in its asymmetry and reciprocity, and joins philosophical ideals and criticisms of contemporary practice in its inclusivity, interiority, and publicity. Christâs offer of a faith-relationship was addressed to all ethnicities indiscriminately, and it required a voluntary, interior answer of faith and gratitude that was publicly recognized and celebrated. These elements, however, were not alien to a Roman mindset, but part of an existing self-critical Graeco-Roman discourse.
7.2.4 Pauline Grace in the Context of Graeco-Roman Benefaction: Reciprocal or Unilateral?
While these are the main tenets of previous research which place Pauline faith in a Graeco-Roman light, there is a different area of research which discusses the merits of reading Pauline grace against this pagan background. Many insights in this particular area, however, are also relevant to the reading of Pauline faith, since, as I argue, both partake in the same wider discourse of Graeco-Roman benefaction, social cohesion, and foreign policy. So, how exactly is Pauline grace interpreted in light of pagan thought on this subject?
There is considerable debate whether Paulâs usage of charis vocabulary, particularly when it pertains to God, should be read in light of Graeco-Roman practice and ideology of benefaction. A more general case to do so was made by David deSilva (2000) in two chapters on patronage and benefaction in Graeco-Roman sources and in the New Testament.45 By comparing the ideal of benefaction as expressed by Roman moralists to that in the New Testament, he concludes that the reason why Godâs grace in Christ was seen as singular was its inclusion of enemies: âGod shows the supreme, fullest generosity (not just what God has to spare!) toward those who are Godâs enemies (not just ingrates, but those who have been actively hostile to God and Godâs desires)â (2000, 129; 1999, 53). DeSilva pays some attention to the usage of pistis and fides in contexts of patronage and highlights its double meaning as both âdependabilityâ of the patron and the âloyaltyâ and âcommitmentâ of the client.46 In my own analysis, this element is indeed important but it is combined with a reading of faith in the context of Roman social virtues and politics. It is precisely the inclusive aspect that can be understood by looking at Roman fides, characterized as it was by transcending personal interests and the incorporation of political enemies (see in particular §7.3.2).
James Harrison focuses specifically on grace in Paul (2003), using evidence from pagan and Jewish inscriptions, papyri, and rabbinic, Hellenistic-Jewish, and pagan literature to show that charis belonged to a consistent semantic field with established conventions of benefaction. Harrisonâs thesis is that Paul participates in this field with regard to both interhuman and divine-human benefaction. Yet, when it comes to the latter type, âany implication of reciprocity that might distort the unilateral nature of covenantal grace in Christ was ruthlessly expunged by the apostleâ (348â349).47 Harrison also includes several sections on Greek and Roman philosophical analyses and critiques of benefaction (183â210) and concludes that while âthe ethos of reciprocity was riddled with self-interest and social bias, (â¦) their faith in the overall system remains intactâ (210). This issue of reciprocity is one to which more scholarly contributions return and which represents an important element in my own discussion of the sources. But first, it is good to look at a less optimistic evaluation of the relevance of the Graeco-Roman context of benefaction.
Cilliers Breytenbach (2010) sharply distinguishes between âmercy/pityâ (á¼Î»ÎµÎ¿Ï) and âfavourâ (ÏάÏιÏ), arguing that the latter term was borrowed from the imperial ideology of benefaction. After an extensive survey of the theme of mercy in Old Testament, Qumran and other Second Temple Jewish literature, however, Breytenbach concludes that, given this rich Jewish tradition of speaking of divine mercy, Paul need not have leant heavily upon Graeco-Roman ideology of benefaction, which merely âprovides the metaphor in which Paul wraps the Jewish notion of Godâs á¼Î»ÎµÎ¿Ïâ (at 226).48 Paul only opted for charis to avoid the unhelpful connotations of human weakness which eleos evoked to the Greek mind (232â233). Breytenbach thus juxtaposes Roman charis and Jewish eleos and seems anxious to exempt Paul from preaching a Graeco-Roman gospel.49
This contrast, however, between metaphor and ideological frame seems to be somewhat artificially drawn, which can also be said for the contrast between Paulâs Jewish and Roman Umwelt. According to Breytenbach, âin metaphorical language use, some characteristics of the event(s) and/or entity/ies of a source domain are selected and mapped unto the event(s) and/or entity/ies of a target domain (for more detail, see Lakoff and Johnson 1980)â (173). While he thus relies on insights from cognitive linguistics, he fails to mention that these event(s) and/or entity/ies ought to be included or excluded by markers in the context. Otherwise, how could Paul, or any other language user, expect that his audience would know precisely which connotations to avoid and which to retain? The debate is not settled by arguing, however excellently, for a Jewish theological background, for the relevance of a particular semantic domain does not exclude the relevance of another.50 We may also ask which particular unhelpful connotations Breytenbach would have Paul exclude in this case. Although this is never stated explicitly, it seems that what is at stake for Breytenbach is the theologically inconvenient reciprocity ethic of Roman benefaction.51 If the idea that a patron expects a return for bestowed favour was in fact transferred to Paulâs message, then Pauline grace would cease to be âpure graceâ, so the argument appears to be.
Here we come upon the same issue Harrison dealt with, namely the unilateral versus reciprocal nature of Pauline grace. At least three recent monographs have been devoted to this theme, with uniform conclusions: one focusing primarily on the Graeco-Roman-Jewish background of Pauline grace, another on the Philonic counterpart to Pauline grace, and a third on gift-exchange in Paulâs communities in light of contemporary and historical sociological theoryâJohn Barclayâs Paul and the Gift (2015), Orrey McFarlandâs God and Grace in Philo and Paul (2015b), and Thomas Blantonâs A Spiritual Economy (2017), respectively. Both McFarland and Barclay emphasize that grace knew different configurations (in the words of McFarland) or perfections (in the words of Barclay) in different strands of contemporary Judaism and paganism, and that while Paulâs variant is radical, it is not completely singular.52 Blanton rejects the Derridean idea of the unilateral, unreciprocal gift and emphasizes the function of reciprocity in gift-exchange: unlike in market exchange, the return-gift does not end the relationship but fosters a continuous circle of reciprocity, a âconstitution and reconstitution of social bondsâ (4). I focus here on Barclayâs contribution, since it covers a wider range of Graeco-Roman sources and is as such more comparable to my own approach.
Barclay distinguishes between six types of the perfect gift. The notion which is popular nowadaysâthat the perfect gift is one that is ânon-circularâ, âunilateralâ, or âunconditionalâ, so without expectation of any returnâis one that according to the authorâs analysis did not exist as such in antiquity, where the reciprocity ethic is paramount.53 Paul is no exception. Instead of emphasizing the non-circularity of Godâs grace, Paul perfects the divine gift in Galatians and Romans by radicalizing its incongruity: the recipient is unworthy of the gift. However, the gift as such possesses a âtransformative powerâ (497), which may eventually result in the eschatological moral worthiness of the beneficiary: âwhat began as a morally incongruous gift, will be completed as a morally congruous giftâ (518). Thus, the grace that Paul ascribes to God, manifested in Christ, is âunconditioned (free of prior conditions regarding the recipient)â, but not âunconditional (free of expectations that the recipient will offer some âreturnâ)â (562). Paul is not opposed to moral action per se, but to any system of worth, including the Torah, which renders the receipt of the gift of righteousness âconditionalâ (cf. 421, 539).
The outcomes of Barclayâs project are convincing overall and to a large degree correspond to my own findings. Yet if I am allowed to identify one shortcoming, it has to be the insignificant role assigned to faith. While Barclay says a great many things about faith, as a concept it is completely missing in his analysis of âGift and reciprocity in the Graeco-Roman worldâ (24â50). When it comes to Paul, he only focuses on faith in the context of the incongruence of the divine gift: it is a âdeclaration of bankruptcyâ.54 Its meaning appears to be completely overshadowed by Paulâs message about the new life in Christ, as is apparent from this statement on faith in Galatians:
âFaithâ had also already become early Christian shorthand for âthe good newsâ and for its effect on human lives (cf. 1.23; 3.23). But Paul has no interest in âfaithâ as such, as a special cognitive mode or subjective experience, only in faith in Christ, which is the mark of those whose lives have been reconstituted and reordered by the death and life of Christ. (Barclay 2015, 379)
Here, Barclayâs explication of Pauline faith comes very close to his own description of Lutherâs interpretation: âit is important not in itself, as if it were some superior mental or emotional disposition, but in its relationship to Christâ (107). Yet with this Lutheran take on faith, he neglects the role of faith in creating a continuous, reciprocal, relational structure of gift-exchange. This structure of gift-exchange is constituted precisely by the faith and faithfulness of both parties involved. Paulâs ideal, divine gift is indeed conditionalâas Barclay also holdsâprecisely in that it requires the continuation of good faith (with all the reciprocal âgiftsâ this entails) of the beneficiary.
Yet without referring to any Roman concept, Barclay seems to interpret faith as an act of empty-handed, unconditional surrender, much like the Roman deditio in its worst form (see §7.2.2). The logical context elicited by Barclayâs own book, however, is not the particular frame of military surrender, but the omnipresent social structures of gift-exchange in the Graeco-Roman world, denoted by terms such as benefaction, friendship, and patronage.55 Within this Graeco-Roman context, offering pistis/fides is the reverse of standing empty-handed. As we will see when we turn to the sources, faith is seen as the social capital par excellence that binds people together and that keeps a society sustainable, precisely because of its worth and the inseparable works and benefactions by which it was manifested. In religious contexts, it is the currency in the divine-human oikonomia; it is the bond between gods and humans; it is what keeps the metaphysical world together. By analogy, to have pistis in Christ is to invest in an asymmetrical yet reciprocal relationship of trust and allegiance, not merely to declare oneself unworthy or undeserving.
The importance of reciprocity and its connection to faith in Paulâs letters has been rightly noted, even if not extensively examined, by Peter Lampe:
That receiving charis implies obligations, especially gratefulness and loyalty (fides, pistis), toward the generous patron according to Graeco-Roman standards shows that this concept of grace, which Paul uses, is not unilateral but prevents âcheap graceâ. (Lampe 2016, 226, n. 89)
As I will argue, in line with Lampe, the contrast for Paul is not between faith and reciprocity, but between faith and âworks of the lawâ as two different modes of reciprocation. The response of pistis to the divine charis is distinguished from âworks of the lawâ by its interiority and its inclusivity. These two aspects of faith, which are highlighted in a Graeco-Roman context, can be an important addition to the contextual approach to Pauline grace.
7.2.5 The Missing Link: Pauline Faith in the Context of Graeco-Roman Benefaction and Imperialism
Up until this point, we have seen different readings of Pauline faith as a response to Roman law, politics, or imperialism. Whereas the comparisons with fidei commissum and deditio in fidem choose a very specific and small discourse, the anti-imperial interpretation lacks credibility because of its oversimplified contrasts.56 On the other hand, with some exceptions, Graeco-Roman readings of Pauline grace as a response to Roman benefaction show little interest in the role of faith within this context.
However, there is a case to be made to see both faith and grace as part of a wider semantic domain which includes social relations between persons, between nations, and between gods and humans, a domain I would denote as âbenefaction and imperialismâ and, with the combination of key terms in this chapterâs title, charis and dynamis.57 While in the Septuagint, pistis and charis are rarely used in the same context, proximity searches of pistis/fides and charis/clementia in the TLG and LLT databases produce numerous results.58 This suggests that by using pistis and charis vocabulary together, Paul may be participating in a pagan, Graeco-Roman discourse. Within this larger Graeco-Roman discourse of benefaction and imperialism, faith comes to life as a concept determined by asymmetrical reciprocity, transjuridical perfectionism, and transethnic universality.
In the next section (§7.3), I have arranged the results of TLG and LLT searches with related terminology in order to offer an overview of this larger discourse in light of some relevant scholarly discussions of the sources. I start by arguing that pistis/fides was seen as a civic-religious virtue: it functions at the crossroads of interhuman and divine-human interactions (§7.3.1). As such, it is âbridgingâ by nature: forging sacred bonds of trust between citizens, states, and even enemies, bonds that require moral conduct exceeding formal requirements (§7.3.2). Both in the âinternalâ context in relationships of benefaction and patronage between citizens (§7.3.3) and in the âexternalâ contexts of diplomacy, foreign policy, and military surrender (§7.3.4), the asymmetry involved is alleviated by social expectations of a reciprocity of favours. In early imperial Rome the asymmetry gains importance together with the inclusive, transpersonal character of fides: a stable rule depended on the allegiance of all subjects not to a specific leader, but to the ideal of faithfulness (fides), embodied in a trustworthy and trusting emperor (§7.3.5). Finally, philosophical reflection on benefaction is focused on the malfunctions in its reciprocal structure: the exterior return of the favour is not important, but the interior attitude of fides must be sufficient for both the benefactor (good faith) and the beneficiary (loyalty) (§7.3.6).
In all of these subsets of the discourse, it is a recurring theme that faith cannot be captured by exclusive structures and formal reifications such as public oaths, contracts, and laws. Faith is the content of the human response to divine benefaction, precisely because it transcends ethnic boundaries, outdoes what can be fairly expected, and exceeds what can be lawfully enforced. This is, I would contend, precisely why it was the perfect choice to express Paulâs inclusive, morally ambitious gospel of a renewed relationship of trust between God and humanity.
7.3 A Religious, Bridging, Asymmetrical, Reciprocal, Universal, and Interior Virtue: Public Usage of Pistis in Graeco-Roman Discourses
In the previous chapter, I demonstrated that pistis/fides ranked highly among virtues which are to be embraced and imitated by all. As a virtue, fides is frequently mentioned in combination with other good personal traits in inscriptions, as for example on first-century funerary stelae that read âThis is love, faith, pietyâ (Hic amor, fides, pietas est) or âO, what piety did this girl show, what faith, love, feeling, decency, and holinessâ (O quanta pietas fuerat in hac adulescentia, fides, amor, sensus, pudor et sanctitas).59 In poetry, fides often functions on the boarders of what we would deem relational faithfulness and religious faithfulness. Speaking about the lover of a flirt, Horace predicts that âalas, many a time will he weep at your âloyaltyâ and the fickleness of the godsâ (heu quotiens fidem mutatosque deos flebit).60 Catullus speaks of ânot having broken sacred faithâ (nec sanctam violasse fidem) in the context of a prayer to the gods about his lost love.61 In one of Propertiusâs love-elegies, Acanthis offers the poetâs love Cynthia the cynical advice to âtear up promises (sperne fidem), cast down the gods, let lies prevail, and shatter all the laws of bankrupt chastityâ.62 In these private relationships, pistis/fides stands for faithfulness towards oneâs loved ones and towards the gods at the same time.
In these subsections, however, I will map some distinctive aspects of pistis/fides in relationships which belong to the public domain. In chapter 3, we already saw how faithfulness, justice, clemency, and similar virtues could be seen as distinct from virtues such as wisdom or eloquence, since these are, in the words of Cicero, âthought to be beneficial not so much to their possessors as to the human race in general (generi hominum fructuosae putantur)â.63 It is to this public embeddedness of pistis/fides, that we turn in this chapter.
With the help of the searchable databases Thesaurus Linguae Graecae and the Library of Latin Texts, a rich semantic domain can be distinguished in which pistis/fides functions together with other key terms such as âsocietyâ (ÏÏλιÏ/ÏολιÏεία/societas), âpowerâ (δÏναμιÏ/potestas), âruleâ (κÏαÏία/imperium), âfavourâ (ÏάÏιÏ/clementia), âgoodwillâ (εá½Î½Î¿Î¹Î±/benevolentia), and âpietyâ (εá½ÏÎβεια/pietas).64 The sources thus traced will be discussed and compared to relevant scholarly theory; there is a rich body of literature devoted to this particular semantic domain as compared to others. The first important aspect to emphasize is how the interrelatedness of the religious and the civic is a necessary background for understanding the public semantics of faith.
7.3.1 Faith as Civic-Religious Goddess and Virtue: a Sacred Bond of Trust
Speaking of a civic and a religious domain in antiquity by itself is, as we have seen in chapter 2 (§2.2.2), a risky business. Lacking more hybrid categories, however, I will continue to use the terms âcivicâ and âreligiousâ, though they are here understood as representing a single continuum on which the language of faith can be mapped. And while it is contested whether it is useful to use the modern word âreligionâ to denote ancient phenomena, we have seen (esp. §2.3) that there existed an ancient first-order discourse that distinguished between three different categories in dealing with the divine: the civic, the poetic, and the philosophical. The category of civic religion (theologia civilis) is not only thought of as an ancient mode of dealing with the gods, it is a testimony to how polis life and religious life were closely intertwined.65 The interconnectedness of the civic and the religious becomes particularly clear in this chapter, when we see how pistis and fides function in the semantic domain of public relationships and social coherence.
The interconnectedness of fides and political-religious life is frequently cited by classicists. Viktor Pöschl writes, âin the Roman mind, fides was closely linked to Roman religion and sanctioned by the goddess Fides.â66 According to Giulia Piccaluga, fides is deeply rooted in archaic Roman religion, which testifies to its political importance as a strong guarantee of oaths and alliances.67 Hellegouarcâh also connects the religious and the political aspects of fides and highlights that the importance of the cult in archaic times shows its intimate connection to Roman identity as opposed to other cultures.68 The same case for a religious colouring of fides is made, in a more nuanced way, by GeÌrard Freyburger, who calls fides a âconcept inseparable from religionâ.69 Whereas Freyburger is reluctant to grant fides the meaning of âreligious faithâ from its outset, he shows with a rich array of sources that it was always guaranteed by the gods and linked to respect for the gods.70 Mueller intuitively notes in this context that as regards the role of faith in religion, classical and Christian fides are not very dissimilar:
Reading through the Christian citations, one discovers that, aside from belief in specifically Christian dogma, there is not much to choose between Christian fides and ancient, especially inasmuch as classical fides was always informed by religion. (Mueller 2002, 255, n. 11)
An interesting question in this regard, to which I turn in the next main section (§7.4), is whether Christian fides or Pauline pistis was also meant to be as political as it was religious. The Graeco-Roman, though largely Roman, sources to which we now turn at least suggest that these aspects were inseparable, and the vocabulary used in the Pauline passages discussed below confirm this hypothesis.
An obvious place to look for sources on the civic-religious nature of pistis/fides is the actual civic cult of divine Pistis/Fides. Speaking of the goddess Faith usually means speaking of the virtue, and speaking of the virtue often coincides with references to the cult. The Roman cult is especially well attested. In his City of God (De civitate Dei), Augustine wonders how it is that even Fides was considered divine and given her own cult.71 Historically, the cult of Fides seems to have been preceded by the more ancient cult of Dius Fidius, who was a hypostasis of Jupiter in his function of guaranteeing trust.72 Fides Publica is said to have had her first temple erected either when the Trojans arrived at Romeâs future site or under the rule of Numa.73 Whereas this is probably a matter of invented tradition, the legendary and ancient status of the cult testifies to its conceived importance in later times. A more probable historical date in the mid-third century bc, during the first Punic war, is offered by Cicero.74
Among the scarce information we have about the rituals associated with her cult is the yearly custom when the priests (flamines) would drive in a hooded carriage to her temple and perform the sacrifice with their head and right hand covered in white cloth, alternately explained in our sources as signifying the need to protect fides or the need for fides to remain secret.75 In her temple, copies of international treaties were kept and foreign envoys were received.76 She is also taken to be a hypostasized quality of Jupiter, next to whose temple on the Capitol her temple was located.77 Jupiter is hence often portrayed as the defender and avenger of the virtue of faith. In Statiusâs Thebaid, for instance, Jupiter argues that the war against Thebes must proceed because âearth and heaven demand it, and piety and violated faith (et pietas et laesa fides) and Nature and the very morals of the Eumenides.â78
The goddess is hence both involved in public oaths and treaties, yet also connected to what is secret, hidden, or in need of protection.79 In an article on âFides et le secretâ, Pierre Grimal juxtaposes these different aspects and emphasizes the importance of the non-fixed and non-juridical realm of Fides:
Rather than in the late metaphysics from Greece, it is in Fides that we can distinguish the origin and principle of Roman universalism. She is the creator of the ius gentium as well, at first flexible, then gradually enriched and diversified, as Fides invented solutions to new situations. Jupiter, protector of oaths, could only protect what existed, whereas Secret Fides protected in advance what did not yet exist, but would one day claim to be hers. (Grimal 1974, 155)80
More than Jupiter, so Grimal concludes his article, Fides was concerned with what was not yet pinned down, fixed, or certain. Her domain was unknowable future situations that required a trustworthy yet open-minded relationship to uphold the universalizing aspirations and complex political reality of the Roman Empire. The transjuridical sphere of pistis/fidesâconnected to oaths, but transcending them at the same time, which is also the theme of my next subsectionâcan thus already be traced back to the cult of Fides.
The Greek goddess Pistis is less well known but is also occasionally mentioned as a divine figure. The earliest known text dates back to the sixth century bc, to the lyric poet Theognis of Megara. I have already discussed this text in chapter 3 in the context of the divine departure of gods who are at the same time hypostasized virtues. The departure of divine Pistis is immediately linked by Theognis to the malfunctioning of oaths (they are no longer pistos) and the lack of piety: âMenâs judicial oaths are no longer to be trusted (á½ Ïκοι Î´Ì Î¿á½Îºá½³Ïι ÏιÏÏοὶ á¼Î½ á¼Î½Î¸Ïá½½ÏοιÏι δίκαιοι), nor does anyone revere the immortal gods.â81 Again, the religious and the civic are intertwined.
The self-identification of Greeks with pistis as a religious-political virtue, however, pales when compared to the Roman fondness of fides. Cicero can even use the argument that Greeks never cherished fides to discredit Greek witnesses in the court of law:
I shall first sayâfor this is the common factorâthat they are Greeks. Not that I more than anyone else would disparage the trustworthiness (maxime fidem) of this nation. (â¦) but that nation has never cultivated good faith and respect for what is sacred when giving evidence (testimoniorum religionem et fidem numquam ista natio coluit), and it is quite ignorant of the meaning, the importance or the value of anything to do with it. (Cicero, Pro Flacco 9â10)82
While the rhetorical opportunism is clear and the accuracy of the stereotype doubtful, it nonetheless demonstrates how such a contrast between Greeks and Romans when it comes to cherishing fides was considered effective in a Roman trial.83 The morally ambitious nexus of fides and religio was seen as a civic-religious trait, whose cultivation the Romans considered their own.
In Roman conceptions, the relationship between divine Pistis and the human capacity of keeping commitments is also vehemently present.84 As we already saw in chapter 3 (§3.3.3), Dionysius of Halicarnassus describes the promotion of pistis (here obviously synonymous to Roman fides) to a divine status as a religious revolution under king Numa. Numa observed that contracts âwhich are made without witnessesâand these are much more numerous than the othersârest on no other security than the faith of those who make themâ, and therefore he erected a temple and instituted sacrificial cult in honour of Pistis.85 The idea was that his people would become similar in their attitude to what they worshipped: by worshipping Good Faith they would appropriate the civic virtue of good faith (cf. §6.3.1 above). And, so the author concludes, all worked out according to plan, for âif there was any dispute between one man and another concerning a contract entered into without witnesses, the faith of either of the parties was sufficient to decide the controversy and prevent it from going any farther.â86 The religious worship of Fides thus serves to validate civic commitments without juridical status.
The divine status of virtues such as fides was the subject of debate among different philosophical schools in the first century bc. This is phrased particularly clearly in the dialogue between schools in Ciceroâs On the Nature of the Gods. The character who is the spokesperson for the Stoa, Quintus Lucilius Balbus, argues that faith, just like mind, virtue, and concord, was given to humanity by the gods, was thereon deified, and exists now in the divine realm:
Hence we see that wisdom and intelligence also have been derived by men from the gods (and this explains why it was the practice of our ancestors to deify Mind, Faith, Virtue and Concord, and to set up temples to them at the public charge (maiorum institutis Mens, Fides, Virtus, Concordia consecratae et publice dedicatae sunt), and how can we consistently deny that they exist with the gods, when we worship their majestic and holy images (augusta et sancta simulacra)? And if mankind possesses intelligence, faith, virtue, and concord, whence can these things have flowed down upon the earth if not from the powers above? Also since we possess wisdom, reason, and prudence (consilium, ratio, prudentia), the gods must need possess them too in greater perfection, and not possess them merely but also exercise them upon matters of the greatest magnitude and value. (Cicero, On the Nature of the Gods 2.79)
Thus, according to this Stoic account not only did these human qualities come to us from above, but they are also qualities of the gods, for they logically need to possess them in a more perfect manner.87 Here we find a preliminary outline of the mimÄsis and homoiÅsis theÅi topos that I discussed in the previous chapter. The deification of qualities such as fides was seen as a reward for their value, also called benefits (utilitates) and power (vis).88 According to Balbus, fides was deemed so powerful that it could not possibly have been a mere human quality.89
Not all schools represented in the On the Nature of the Gods, however, agreed on the divine nature of fides and similar concepts. Gaius Cotta, representing Academic scepticism, rather deems them as possessing a non-divine power, fides belonging to the subcategory of internal human qualities. In Cottaâs own words:
Intelligence, faith, hope, virtue, honour, victory, safety, concord (mentem fidem spem virtutem honorem victoriam salutem concordiam) and the other things of this nature are obviously abstractions, not personal deities (vim habere videmus, non deorum). For they are either properties inherent in ourselves (in nobismet insunt ipsis), for instance intelligence, hope, faith, virtue, concord (ut mens ut spes ut fides ut virtus ut concordia), or objects of our desire, for instance honour, safety, victory. I see that they have value, and I am also aware that statues are dedicated to them; but why they should be held to possess divinity (in is vis deorum insit) is a thing that I cannot understand without further enlightenment. (Cicero, On the Nature of the Gods 3.61)
To the Academics, fides was a powerful personal attribute but did not possess divine power. A similar view was taken up by Christians in the centuries to come, who continued the tradition of erecting statues to personified virtues like fides. Yet for our present purposes it is interesting to take notice of the religious and civic significance of this goddess in Paulâs days, even if her divine status was not undisputed by part of the intellectual elite. Whether or not fides and these other qualities or objects of desire were seen as divine, their value in the public domain went unchallenged.
The connection of pistis with both oaths and piety, or the description of pistis as both a civic and religious virtue, is one that is evident from Ciceroâs wider oeuvre. In the preface of On the Nature of the Gods, when Cicero introduces the subject and its urgency in propria persona, he emphasizes the importance of piety and religion: if it fails, so will fides, human society, and justice.90 In this sequence, fides is presented as an interpersonal virtue or bond, relying on piety, yet also sustaining interhuman social bonds on a higher level and ultimately enabling justice. As such, it is presented as the indispensable link between religion and society. Similarly, in a private letter to Atticus, he describes the fall of the Roman republic, which some of his opponents wish for, in terms of a fall of religio and fides: âthe collapse of religion (religio) and good morals, of the integrity of the courts (iudiciorum fides) and the authority of the Senateâ.91 In such contexts, fides does not merely denote âintegrityâ or âgood faithâ, but it is a cardinal virtue in the deeper sense of âfaithâ and âtrustworthinessâ.92
This is once more explicitly stated in De officiis (On Duty or On Obligations) 1.23, where, as we already saw in chapter 3, fides is explicated as âtruth and fidelity to promises and agreementsâ (dictorum conventorumque constantia et veritas) and hence the foundation of justice. Trustworthiness in keeping oneâs own promises and trust in anotherâs oaths form the moral foundation necessary for the system of justice to work.93 For just as we saw regarding the cult of Fides, the law cannot cover every particular case. The connection of fides to oaths is again confirmed by a reference to early Roman history: âFor our ancestors were of the opinion that no bond was more effective in guaranteeing good faith than an oath.â94 He also endorses the Stoic etymological explanation of fides as fiat quod dictum est: let it proceed as promised.95 This definition of fides as truthfulness towards what has been agreed upon and as foundation of justice is indeed very civic in orientation. Yet, that it is religious at the same time is shown by the role of the gods as a guarantee that agreements are indeed honoured.
And yet, according to Cicero, fides is not something which is enforced by the gods. A specific question Cicero asks himself in the De officiis is whether one should keep an oath to an enemy. The answer is given by means of an exemplum. When in the Carthaginian wars, Regulus is taken prisoner and sent back to Rome on parole to negotiate the release of their prisoners, he chooses to return to Carthage and prefers a death of torture over âbreaking his vow given to an enemyâ (fidem hosti datam fallere).96 The relevant argument for Regulus to keep good faith does not lie, according to Cicero, in fear of the godâs wrath, but in the faithfulness that is due to Fides, who has been granted a place next to Jupiter on the Capitol:
An oath is an assurance backed by religious sanctity (est enim ius iurandum affirmatio religiosa); and a solemn promise given as before God as oneâs witness is to be sacredly kept. For the question no longer concerns the wrath of the gods (for there is no such thing) but the obligations of justice and good faith (ad iustitiam et ad fidem pertinet). For, as Ennius says so admirably: âGracious Good Faith, on wings upborne; thou oath in Jupiterâs great name (O Fides alma apta pinnis et ius iurandum Iovis)!â Whoever, therefore, violates his oath violates Fides (is fidem violat); and, as we find it stated in Catoâs speech, our forefathers chose that she should dwell upon the Capitol neighbour to Jupiter Supreme and Best. (Cicero, De officiis 3.104)
The religious backing of oaths is evident here, not because the gods enforce faith and justice, but because they personify faith and justice. Regulus returned to Carthage, not out of fear to displease the gods, but he made this sacrifice out of his own internal, moral conviction, formed after the example of the gods, Fides in particular. Considering the interconnectedness of what we would now distinguish as civic and religious, it is no wonder that, as we will see below (esp. in §7.4.4), Paul uses âcivic languageâ, such as the notion of reconciliation, to denote âreligious relationshipsâ.
7.3.2 The Bridging Capital of Faith: a Transethnic and Transjuridical Virtue
We have seen that pistis/fides vocabulary in the public domain was thought of as a virtue which is both civic and religious at the same time. As such, it is connected to human contracts, but also transcends the juridical and fixed character of oaths. This transcending aspect is investigated further in this subsection: for not only does pistis/fides transcend what is arranged by law, it is also transcends ethnic boundaries.97
This latter aspect also comes to the fore in discussions about Regulus, a character that appears quite often when it comes to exemplifying Roman fides.98 Ciceroâs description of Regulusâs faith that I just discussed shows not only that fides belongs on the crossroads of what we may name the civic and the religious; it also points to another interesting characteristic of the classical concept of fides: its reach beyond the obviously trustworthy familial sphere.99 To put it in modern social-scientific terms, fides builds not only bonding, but also bridging capital: it is a virtue which extends beyond the own family (familia, gens), people (gens, ethnos), and country (patria) all the way to strangers (peregrini), foes (inimici), or even enemies of the state (hostes). In this capacity, pistis/fides proves to extend beyond what is personal and also beyond what is legal, in the good sense of striving towards transjuridical, moral perfection. We will see in this section how this aspect of faith is attested to across literary, philosophical, and epigraphical sources.
As for characterizations of public faith by philosophical authors, I have already referred to Senecaâs position that while âno law bids us keep faith even with an enemyâ (nulla lex iubet fidem etiam inimico praestare), fides belongs to âthe conventions of human life, that are stronger than any lawâ (consuetudo vitae humanae omni lege valentior).100 The scope of keeping faith towards all, including enemies, is also confirmed by Cicero, who speaks of âa common fidelity due to allâ (communem fidem quae omnibus debetur).101 In the third book of the De officiis, Regulus is again discussed at length as the prototypical example of keeping faith with enemies, even faithless ones:
If they mean to adopt it as a principle, that a pledge given to the faithless is no pledge (nullam esse fidem, quae infideli data sit), let them look to it that it be not a mere loophole for perjury that they seek. Furthermore, we have laws regulating warfare, and fidelity to an oath (fidesque iuris iurandi) must often be observed in dealings with an enemy: for an oath sworn with the clear understanding in oneâs own mind that it should be performed must be kept. (Cicero, De officiis 3.106â107)102
Cicero is evidently reluctant to render the value of an oath (fides) dependent on the character of its beneficiary.103 Instead, fides is only dependent upon the intention of the one swearing. According to Cicero, this intention of fides is more important than the precise words: âIn the matter of a promise (in fide) one must always consider the meaning and not the mere words (quid senseris, non quid dixeris, cogitandum).â104Fides thus prevented oaths from becoming mere words: it internalized their meaning and augmented their value beyond the merely juridical.
When push comes to shove, Cicero holds that keeping oneâs word prevails even beyond the bonds of friendship:
Well then, when we are weighing what seems to be expedient (utile) in friendship against what is morally right (honestum), let apparent expediency be disregarded and moral rectitude prevail; and when in friendship requests are submitted that are not morally right, let religious duties and trustworthiness take precedence of the obligations of friendship (religio et fides anteponatur amicitiae). (Cicero, De officiis 3.46)105
Cicero here classifies honouring religious obligations and keeping faith as doing what is morally right (honestum), and therefore he always ranks fides above obligations due to personal friendships. In other words, according to Cicero, fides is a moral quality characterized by its border transcending capability. It extends beyond the personal, familiar, and ethnic to the whole public domain, thereby incorporating even public enemies in its range.
In her discussion of Regulus as the prototype of Roman fides, Teresa Morgan explicitly connects Regulusâs determination to keep faith with enemies with his wish to keep faith with the gods:
If fides towards Rome and her gods meant simply partisan loyalty, then there would be little reason for Regulus to keep faith with the Carthaginians: indeed, breaking faith with them might have constituted a form of loyalty to Rome. But Rome and/or her gods require more than that. They demand that Regulus act with trustworthiness/good faith to everyone. (Morgan 2015, 102)
Theologically speaking, we may infer that the gods, even when tied to Rome, function as universal keepers of virtue, thus universalizing the range of these virtues to include all humanity. The bridging capital of faith is grounded in the bridging function of the divine.
Throughout her work, Morgan also emphasizes what she calls the âelasticityâ inherent to pistis/fides vocabulary, which is, she argues, âequally at home in the public and private spheresâ.106 From the perspective of discourse analysis, I would add that in the discourse which I discuss in this chapter the private and public spheres in which faith is due are often thought of as being in tension. The ideology that predominates in extant sources is that in such situations, ties of public faith prevail over personal, domestic obligations. The existence of such a tension perfectly fits the sociological model according to which bonding and bridging social capital are not mutually exclusive in principle, even if particularly strong bonding capital may inhibit the development of bridging ties.107 In the sources discussed here, such tensive circumstances are often addressed in terms of pistis/fides. In fact, as we will see in the following subsections (esp. §7.3.5), even the meaning and implications of the concept itself are the object of controversy, as it harbours in itself the same tension between personal loyalty and public reliability.
One interesting literary source that presents this bridging aspect of fides in direct contrast to more personal obligations of trust is Vergilâs Aeneid. In the romantic involvement of the Roman founding father Aeneas and the Carthaginian queen Dido in book 4, the subject of faith and faithlessness is a recurring theme. Dido accuses the fleeing Aeneas of perfidy three times, laments that âfides is nowhere safeâ, and wrestles with her own vows of fides to her late husband Sychaeus, which later offer motivation for her suicide.108 The irony of this portrayal is often remarked upon, most explicitly in an article by John Starks on âFides Aeneiaâ:
Carthaginianâs accusation of fides Aeneia, not fides Punica, is the motive and emotive force in Book 4 driving the passions that direct the readerâs sympathies toward the betrayed Punic woman, not the noncommittal Trojan male suddenly called away by his inevitable destiny. (â¦) Phrases charging pius Aeneas with gross perfidy encourage the Roman to consider the ambiguous case upon which Aeneasâs fides stands. (Starks 1999, 276)109
Whereas this ambiguity and irony is evidently there, we may ask what particular conclusion Vergil expects his readers to reach. The examples quoted show that Didoâs fides is mainly the fides sought in marital relationships; it echoâs Medeaâs cry to Jason, âfaith in your oaths is goneâ (á½ ÏκÏν δὲ ÏÏούδη Ïá½·ÏÏιÏ).110 Therefore, I would suggest that the crux to understanding why Vergil would allow such accusations of perfidy on the address of his protagonist and main Roman ancestor lies in Didoâs misunderstanding of Roman fides, as can be deduced from another sneer at Aeneasâs fides:
Behold the pledge and promise (dextra fidesque) of him who, so they say, carries with him his ancestral gods and bore his worn-out father on his shoulders! Could I not have seized him, torn him limb from limb, and scattered the pieces on the waves? (Vergil, Aeneid 597â601)
The public and divine task of Aeneas, captured in the image of his fleeing of Troy with the Penates, is here contrasted with his personal ties to Dido and political obligations to the Carthaginians.111 Yet Dido fails to see that the one takes precedence over the other. Even if the status of their relationship, which is purposefully left ambiguous in the grove scene, would have been equal to marriage, which Aeneas denies, Roman public-divine fides exceeds these personal obligations, so Vergil appears to expect his readership to understand, or at least consider.112
Still, the bridging aspect of faith per se was not an exclusively Roman feature: material evidence from Greek city-states demonstrates its roots in âinternationalâ relations. Allegiances were publicly announced and inscribed to withstand the centuries. A stela from 433/432 bc of unknown origin testifies to such a treaty between Athens and Rhegium:
that there shall be an alliance between the Athenians and the Rhegians. Let the oath be sworn by the Athenians, so that everything may be faithful and without deceit and straightforward ([Ïι]ÏÏá½° καὶ á¼Î´Î¿Î»Î± καὶ h-[αÏλᾶ]) on the part of the Athenians for all time towards the Rhegians, swearing as follows: âWe shall be faithful allies, just, strong and unharmful ([ÏÏύμ]μ̣αÏοι á¼Ïόμεθα ÏιÏ[Ïοὶ καὶ δίκαιοι καὶ á¼°Ï]ÏÏ Ïοὶ καὶ á¼Î²Î»Î±Î²ÎµÍÏ) for all time to the Rhegians, and we shall help if they need anything.113
The quality of being pistos is here applied to the parties of an alliance and is reified not only by means of a public oath, but literally by inscribing this oath in stone as well.
Other occurrences of the word stem pist- in Greek epigraphy that we have access to include honorific decrees which praise the qualities of politicians or ambassadors. One Herodorus is honoured for being âof good will to the Athenian Peopleâ (εá½Î½Î¿Ï Ï á¼¦Î½ Ïῶι δήμÏι Ï[ῶι á¼Î¸Î·Î½Î±á½·Ïν]) by âbeing in the confidence of king Demetriosâ (νῦν á¼Î¼ Ïá½·ÏÏε<ι> ὢν Ïῶι βα[ÏιλεῠÎημηÏÏá½·]Ïι).114 The Athenians had a varied relationship with this Macedonian nobleman and (ultimately) king, who was alternatively seen as their liberator from the unwanted rule of Alexanderâs Diadochi and as a licentious oppressor. Diplomacy was key, and the cityâs gratitude for the ties of pistis between Herodorus and Demetrios earned the former a public token on the Acropolis. Similarly, though in a different period, one Kephisodoros also receives praises after thirty years of public service for displaying âto the uttermost his good will towards the People at every opportunityâ and for âproposing ways for the People to keep its existing friends firm in their loyalty (ÏÎ¿á½»Ï Ïε á½Î½ÏÎ±Ï Ïá½·Î»Î¿Ï Ï á½ Î´á¿Î¼Î¿Ï διαÏηÏá½µÏει Î²ÎµÎ²Î±á½·Î¿Ï Ï á¼Î½ ÏεῠÏá½·ÏÏε[ι] μένονÏαÏ) and to obtain others in additionâ.115 The mediating position of ambassadors was thus one of goodwill and trust to both sides: they could embody the bridge between political partners, rivals, or enemies.116
This specific bridging focus of pistis/fides was recognized and exploited by Roman historians up to the early empire. Livy and Dionysius of Halicarnassus offer a particularly interesting overview of the crucial role of fides in early Roman history. There are many examples of individual Romans who kept their faith with enemy powers. The girl Cloelia, for example, was given as a Roman hostage to an Etruscan king, yet managed to escape the Etruscan camp.117 According to Dionysius, âthen indeed Tarquinius was vehement in accusing the Romans of a breach of their oaths and of perfidy (á¼ÏιοÏκίαν Ïε καὶ á¼ÏιÏÏίαν Ïοá¿Ï ῬÏÎ¼Î±á½·Î¿Î¹Ï á¼Î³ÎºÎ±Î»á¿¶Î½)â.118 To restore the treaty, however, she had to return and, consequently, the Etruscans vouched to keep her and the others unharmed. Upon this point Livy states that âboth parties kept their wordâ (utrimque constitit fides), which allowed for the precarious relationship between both powers to be restored.119
But what if there was a contract or treaty that was unfavourable to the Romans? After some Roman military leaders had surrendered to the Samnites and accepted a humiliating peace, Livy recounts the senateâs deliberations. One of the leaders argues for sending them stripped of their title and bounded to the Samnites, in order that their treaty be annulled:
And yet, Conscript Fathers, I do not dispute the fact that guarantees as well as treaties are sacred in the eyes of those who cherish fides among men on an equal footing with obligations due to the gods (apud quos iuxta divinas religiones fides humana colitur); but I deny that without the peopleâs authorization any sanction can be given which shall be binding on the people. (Livy, History of Rome 9.9.4.)
Fides is here used to designate interhuman contracts, which were, Livy emphasizes, deemed of equal sanctity as religious duties owed to the gods. The solution Postumius offers is presented as not violating this core conviction. According to his logic, a treaty cannot be binding on those who had not given their mandate for its negotiation. Still, fides is here shown to be more of a handicap, instead of a reputation to live up to and even transcend.
In most historical exempla in which fides plays an important part, however, it does exactly this: it transcends expectations, ordinary rules of conduct, and formal allegiances. The border-transcending quality of pistis/fides is not only apparent from the divergent and even hostile parties involved in a fides relationship; it is also a consequence of the conception of pistis/fides as a virtue. For as such, its performance always implies striving beyond the ordinary towards perfection. It is important to realize, in the words of Hellegouarcâh, that
it does not strictly belong to the legal domain, but to the moral and above all social domain and is linked to other equally moral values such as Concordia, Virtus, Pietas, Pudor, Iustitia, which have also been deified. (Hellegouarcâh 1972 [1963], 27)120
Likewise, Marc de Wilde connects Roman fides to the âexceptionalâ: âAlthough fides also applies to normal situations, (â¦) it becomes visible only, or most clearly, in exceptional circumstances, when laws or covenants are lacking.â121 Faith is a moral quality that transcends the realm of law: it is particularly relevant in cases where the law cannot offer a solution.
Looking back, the same argument was in fact already made in the 1920s, when Richard Heinze wrote that fides âactually has nothing to do with the lawâ. He continues: âThe essence of the moral bond implies that no state order guarantees its observance.â122 This is why even the juridical fidei commissum I discussed earlier (§7.2.1) is an escape route aimed at providing precisely what the law cannot guarantee by means of trust: that the heritage will fall into the intended hands. Faith, understood as a moral bond or a virtue, is not merely loyalty to oaths and treaties or following prescribed requirements, but it exceeds by its nature such formal arrangements in its effort to do justice to, or even create by itself, a relationship of trust.123
Consequently, a diachronic and rather monolithic semantic approach to fides, such as the influential one taken a century ago by Eduard Fraenkel, might miss this essential point (on Heinze and Fraenkel, see also §1.2.1 above). While Fraenkel acknowledges that it may have been a virtue from the beginning (even thought the âmoral indifferentâ meaning also existed), he pleads for a more juridical meaning in republican times: âGuarantee in the broadest sense, (â¦) a certain legal relationship between peopleâ.124 He then argues for a development towards a more encompassing and active virtue of trust and faith in imperial times. Yet, by reducing or relating all uses of fides in the republican period to the meaning of âguaranteeâ, his analysis does not sufficiently account for the uncertainty it negotiates and the bridging, relational virtue it represents, also in this period, precisely by transcending the level of formalities, treaties, laws, and guaranties.125 Even if, and this is far from certain, the original meaning of pistis/fides or its shared root *bheidh was that of a non-moral bond, the discourse in our period certainly treats it as deeply moral and transcending formal bonds.
This is evident from situations in which there are no formal treaties between Rome and an enemy power, as in the perhaps even more famous anecdote recounted by Plutarch and Livy of the âschoolmaster of Faleriiâ set in the early fourth century bc.126 Camillus, the Roman commander who besieged the city of Falerii, had sent the treacherous schoolmaster, who brought him the children of Faliscan aristocrats, back in disgrace, unwilling to accept his offer to coerce victory. In the interactions between the Roman commander Camillus and the people of the city of Falerii, the town he besieged, the virtue emphasized by Livy is fides. Of Camillus it was said that âhe had conquered his enemies by justice and fair-dealingâ (iustitia fideque hostibus victis).127 Livy also has the Faliscans state the following to the Roman senate:
We give ourselves into your hands, believing nothing can be more honourable to a victor that we shall be better off under your government than under our own laws. The outcome of this war has afforded the human race two wholesome precedents: you have set fair-dealing in war (vos fidem in bello) above immediate victory; and we, challenged by your fair-dealing (fide provocati), have freely granted you that victory. (â¦) Neither shall you be disappointed in our fidelity nor we in your rule (Nec vos fidei nostrae nec nos imperii vestri paenitebit). (Livy, History of Rome 5.27.12â15)
The fides of Camillus thus led to a promise of fides by the Faliscans. They exchanged their own laws and independence for Roman fides, which was shown to outshine these. By acknowledging Roman fides, they were transformed from enemies into something in-between allies and subjects.
In this episode of Roman narrative identity, fides is not only presented as part of Romeâs core virtues, it is also further defined as reaching beyond what laws, pledges, and treaties require, beyond legalism. Camillus himself had answered the schoolmaster: âbetween us and the Faliscans is no fellowship founded on menâs covenants (quae pacto fit humano societas); but the fellowship which nature has implanted in both sides (quam ingeneravit natura) is there and will abide.â128 Roman fides thus appears to have been culturally conceived of as a relational virtue that was enacted precisely in situations where formal moral guidelines were absent or lacking, thus exceeding expectations and overcoming former hostility. In anticipation of the next sections on Paul, I cannot fail to note already the relevance of this Roman conception of faith as exceeding the demands of law (see §7.4.4 infra).
This moral perfectionism when it comes to being found trustworthy is also a central theme across the examples Valerius Maximus presents under the heading of âDe Fide Publicaâ in his collection Memorable Doings and Sayings. In the preface of this section, Valerius makes an intricate connection between the goddess, the virtue, Rome, and all nations:
When her image is set before our eyes the venerable divinity of Faith (venerabile Fidei numen) displays her right hand, the most certain pledge of human welfare (certissimum salutis humanae pignus). That she has always flourished in our community (in nostra civitate) all nations have perceived (et omnes gentes senserunt); let us recall it with a few examples. (Valerius Maximus, Memorable Doings and Sayings 6.6.praef)
The examples Valerius mentions emphasize Romeâs benevolence in the guardianship of Ptolemyâs son in 201 bc, in the reception of and unwillingness to detain Carthageâs general Hanno or in the release of a ship full of distinguished Carthaginians who claimed to be on a diplomatic mission.129 Remarkably, five out of the seven anecdotes included by Valerius in this chapter concern the Punic wars, which evidently function as the ideal (and idealized) setting for Roman fides and allow Romeâs allies to shine amidst Carthaginian perfidy. In the chapter on perfidia (faithlessness) Hannibal is dubbed âthe very fountain of faithlessness (ipsum fontem perfidiae)â, and the rhetorical question is raised whether he, âprofessing to make war against the Roman people and Italy, did (â¦) not wage it more fiercely against good faith itself (adversus ipsam fidem acrius gessit), revelling in lies and deceit as in fine arts.â130
Punica fides appears to be Roman idiom for faithlessness or playing two sides from the first century bc onwards. Ironically, Hannibal, the prototype of the vice of faithlessness, is derided for his âmore than Punic faithlessnessâ in this vivid portrait by Livy:
His cruelty was inhuman, his perfidy worse than Punic (inhumana crudelitas perfidia plus quam Punica); he had no regard for truth, and none for sanctity, no fear of the gods, no reverence for an oath, no religious scruple (nihil veri nihil sancti, nullus deum metus nullum ius iurandum nulla religio). (Livy, History of Rome 21.4.9â10)
As we saw in the previous section, the perfidy of Hannibal is explained in civic-religious terms of oaths, sanctity, fear of the gods, and religious duty. Just as fides was considered a civic-religious virtue, perfidia was seen as a civic-religious vice. In Sallustâs The War with Jugurtha (De bello Iugurthino) we find the remark: âBut I find that it was more with Punic faith (magis Punica fide) than for the reasons he made public that Bocchus kept both the Roman and the Numidian on tenterhooks with the hope of peaceâ.131 The episode of Roman history described here concerns the early career of quaestor Sulla (âthe Romanâ), who, by order of Roman consul Marius, captures Bocchusâs son Jogurtha (âthe Numidianâ), in league with the latterâs father-in-law king Bocchus, who feared his son-in-lawâs betrayal. In doing so, Sulla took a risk, for it was not certain that Bocchus would keep faith with Rome. In Plutarchâs words:
Sulla imparted the matter to Mari[u]s, and taking with him a few soldiers, underwent the greatest peril; he put faith in a Barbarian, and one who was faithless towards his own relations (á½ Ïι βαÏβάÏῳ καὶ ÏÏá½¸Ï ÏÎ¿á½ºÏ Î¿á¼°ÎºÎµÎ¹Î¿Ïá½±ÏÎ¿Ï Ï á¼Ïá½·ÏÏῳ ÏιÏÏεύÏαÏ), and to secure his surrender of another, placed himself in his hands. (Plutarch, Sulla 3.3)
Trusting a âbarbarianâ is here presented as a considerable risk, particularly if that foreigner betrays the trust of his own family by securing this bond. Trusting oneâs own family comes naturally, yet ideal pistis reaches beyond this sphere. It was eventually a risk worth taking though, as Sulla was able to cash in on this (there actually were coins made remembering the event). According to Plutarch he annoyed Marius by wearing a seal-ring depicting the surrender (3.4).
Nevertheless, the contrast between the faithful Romans and the faithless Numidians or Carthiginians is not always this straightforward. The expression of âPunic faithâ does not preclude the possibility of specific Carthaginians representing Roman virtues such as pietas or even appealing to the fides of the gods, as the character of Hanno in Plautusâs Poenulus demonstrates.132 Moreover, as we have seen, the Aeneid also subtly reverses this stereotype by depicting Aeneas ironically as the faithless hero who is accused of perfidy by Carthageâs queen.
In Silius Italicusâs Punica, an epic from the Flavian period I already referred to several times, the concept of fides as the typical Roman virtue set in opposition to the Carthaginian variant is also problematized, though in a different respect. The ideal of fides runs as a theme through the entire poem.133 The Romans themselves are addressed as âsanctified people of illustrious faithâ (sacrata gens clara fide).134 More recent scholarship, however, has also found that Silius seems to find the Romans lacking in this very quality, and that, as such, it may be read as criticizing the degeneration of Roman fides, both during the Second Punic war and by extension in the present, under Flavian rule.135 Hannibal, on the one side, remains the unambiguous counterpart to Roman faith: his hatred and vengeful zeal for the complete annihilation of Rome renders his fides to this cause a kind of anti-fides.136 âBy nature he was eager for action and faithless to his plighted word (fideique sinister)â, as he is introduced by Silius.137 His faithlessness pertains as much to humans as to the gods, as is shown by his declaration of war on the Saguntines in impious and sacrilegious terms: ââDecrees of the Senate,â he cried, âlaw and justice, faith and the gods (patrum et leges et iura fidemque deosque), are all in my hand now.ââ138 On the other side, Rome seems to be playing a more ambiguous role, whose inaction and lack of feeling when it comes to aiding Saguntum, the âfamous home of Loyaltyâ, is telling, especially when comparing Siliusâs account to Livyâs.139 Just as we saw before in Cicero, Regulus is referred to as the prototypical Roman hero, âwhose fame ever increases with the passage of time, and of whom it will never be forgotten, that he kept faith with the faithless Carthaginians (infidis servasse fidem memorabere Poenis).â140 When it comes to Regulus, however, emphasis is placed on the plight of Marcia, his wife:
âSee him! He boasts of keeping faith with the enemy (hosti servare fidem) and the abominable people of Libya. But where is now the compact made with me, and the troth you plighted at our marriage (promissa fides thalamis), unfaithful husband (perfide)?â These were the last words that reached the inflexible ear of Regulus; the rest was drowned by the plashing of the oars. (Silius Italicus, Punica 6.516â520)
Regulus, the Roman hero of faith, is here accused of faithlessness. While it is not clear whether there is enough reason to suppose an intended reference here to Didoâs complaint to Aeneasâthe intertextual connection with Catoâs wife Marcia as depicted by Lucian is much clearerâthis scene presents us with a very similar discussion about the nature of Roman fides.141 Again, the bridging capital of the virtue of trustworthiness is foregrounded by a Roman hero at the expense of the bonding capital: public fides to an enemy trumps marital fides.142
In all these examples, then, fides designates the bond of trust between more or less sovereign enemy powers, manifested in treaties, epigraphy, or public oaths or not manifested at all, but always ideally exceeding formal requirements and deemed sacrosanct by the Roman people. These âpowersâ may not have been of equal strengthâindeed, in the early days, Rome seems to have been the Calimeroâyet the terms were not those of an imperial superpower versus minor periphery states. Of course, by the time these histories were written, the circumstances were more than reversed. The message of historians such as Dionysius and Livy is that honouring their terms when they were the lesser party allowed Rome to become as powerful as it then was.
The question this leaves us with is whether Roman fides still carried the same implications for conquered people, regions, and nations. Was this sphere of good faith conceived of as providing an honest, trustworthy deal between powers that recognized each otherâs sovereignty, or could it have been perceived as a forced, unsought, ironic âbenevolenceâ, with uncertainty as to what could be expected? Was fides Romana treated with as much scepticism and irony abroad as its Punic variant was in Rome? And, consequentially, does âfaithâ of itself in the mouth of a first-century Jew carry anti-imperial potential? To give something of an answer, we need to delve deeper into the domestic system of patronage and benefaction (§7.3.3) that was intertwined with the ideology of foreign policy and empire (§7.3.4) and scaled up to the imperial level in the first century bc (§7.3.5). For while fides remained an important civic virtue in late-republican and early imperial times, the discourse in which it partakes seems to shift in emphasis from the formal language of oaths and treaties between more or less equal partners to the more subjective realm of asymmetrical benefaction and grace.143
7.3.3 Asymmetry and Reciprocity in Domestic Faith-Relationships: Benefaction, Friendship, Slavery, and Patronage
If we consider social conventions in the days of the early Roman empire compared to those in present-day societies, the major difference can be captured in one word: patronage. Western democracy developed an important distinction between private and the public actions. The former are shaped by particularistic, personal concerns, whereas the latter are determined by the ideal of objective, universalistic considerations. Whereas favouritism and nepotism are strongly rejected in the contemporary Western world, the Roman system of civic patronage was the backbone of both public and private benefaction.144 Roman officials were not only allowed but expected to share their good fortune with friends, for instance by helping them out of (financial) trouble or providing them with opportunities to acquire honour as administrators or ambassadors.145
Benefaction in private and public capacities played in important role in a wide variety of relationships, yet particularly in those designated by language of amicitia (friendship) and patrocinium-clientela (patron-client relationship). Definitions of the latter often include the following elements: it is a voluntary, long-term relationship, with asymmetry between the two parties in wealth and/or status, aimed at a reciprocal exchange of goods, services, and symbolic resources, which may take place over a longer period (you can be in someoneâs debt for some time).146 Or, in the words of Jerome Neyrey, who summarizes a list of characteristics, collected by comparing several accounts of anthropologists and historians:147
Human benefactorâclient relationships tend to be asymmetrical, reciprocal, voluntary, often including favoritism, focused on honor and respect, and held together by âgood willâ or faithfulness. (Neyrey 2005, 251)148
I will return to the element of faithfulness shortly. Based on these definitions, it is possible to surmise that, in general, patron-client relationships seem to be distinguished from friendships by the difference in status between both partners (asymmetry) and the criterion of usefulness, in other words, the obligational instead of affectional overtone of the relationship.149 Unfortunately, as may be expected, the borderline was considerably vaguer in real Roman life.
It is difficult to draw a line between what a Roman would consider to be patron-client relationships and friendships. According to most modern standards, the ideal of true friendship implies personal affection, equality of both parties, and the absence of direct âusefulnessâ or the demanding expectations of returning favours. To what extent these factors are important to the Roman variant is debated. David Konstan, for instance, has argued for the importance of affection and equality in ancient friendship relationships and has thereby emphasized the minor difference in the ancient and modern variant when it comes to expectations of favour and support.150 If we take one example of how friendship was conceived of, we can at least show that mutual support and services were not considered to be unbefitting a friendship:
In matters in which we ourselves are unable to take a personal part, the faith of our friends is substituted for our own exertions (in iis operae nostrae vicaria fides amicorum supponitur); and one who violates this faith attacks what is the common safeguard of all, and, as far as it is in his power, ruins all social life. For we cannot do everything by ourselves; each has his part to play, in which he can be more useful than others. That is why friendships (amicitiae) are formedâthat the common interest may be furthered by mutual services (mutuis officiis). (Cicero, Pro Roscio 111)
Here, Cicero deems the exchange of mutual services an essential part of friendship, and this element in particular is designated as fides.151 As for equality, this ideal seems to have been included in Roman conceptions of friendship as well.152 Nevertheless, this equality was sought and expressed in the insignificance, not in the absence, of differences in social and economic status.153 Consequently, the social reality behind patrocinium-clientela and amicitia language could be very much alike, and the semantic fields overlap: âlike amicitia, the patrocinium-clientela bond implied benignitas, fides, and gratia. Inevitably, the borderline between patrocinium-clientela and amicitia remained much less than clear-cut.â154 When it comes to self-definition of asymmetrical relationships, the language of friendship was often preferred to the explicit language of patronage, which had the stronger implication of asymmetry and dependence.
Social scientific studies need to apply distinct categories and definitions to properly map different phenomena. David Konstan thus aims to keep such a clear distinction between patronage, characterized by asymmetry or inequality, and friendship, characterized by symmetry or equality. Yet, since our methodological starting point is the language involved, this analysis will be aimed at the broader and multifarious social phenomena behind the terminology of both friendship and patronage. Because both relationships are said to involve pistis/fides in combination with distinct terms that indicate a shared semantic domain, no clear-cut distinctions are warranted.155 However, the element of dependence and asymmetry will be foregrounded in our account, because it plays such a crucial role in discussions about Paulâs participation in anti-imperial discourse.
As for the origins of the system of patronage, it existed in different configurations across the ancient Mediterranean world.156 Roman historians, however, trace its particular origin to the utopian earliest days of Rome. Romulus himself is said to have instituted it, as an improved, emancipated form of Greek custom:
He [i.e. Romulus] placed the plebeians as a trust in the hands of the patricians, by allowing every plebeian to choose for his patron any patrician whom he himself wished. In this he improved upon an ancient Greek custom that was in use among the Thessalians for a long time and among the Athenians in the beginning. For the former treated their clients with haughtiness, imposing on them duties unbecoming to free men; and whenever they disobeyed any of their commands, they beat them and misused them in all other respects as if they had been slaves they had purchased. The Athenians called their clients theÌtes or âhirelingsâ, because they served for hire, and the Thessalians called theirs penestai or âtoilersâ, by the very name reproaching them with their condition. But Romulus not only recommended the relationship by a handsome designation, calling this protection of the poor and lowly a âpatronageâ (ÏαÏÏÏνείαν á½Î½Î¿Î¼á½±ÏαÏ), but he also assigned friendly offices to both parties, thus making the connexion between them a bond of kindness befitting fellow citizens. (Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities 2.9.2â3)
By contrasting the Roman variant with Greek systems of patronage, Dionysius of Halicarnassus thus emphasizes the agency and respectable position of clients, the voluntary nature of the patron-client relationship and the affection it expresses between citizens of different social strata. In the following, Dionysius even compares the enduring relationships between patron-families and client-families to blood-relationships and praises the uncorrupted character of the institution:
It is incredible how great the contest of goodwill (á½ (â¦) á¼Î³á½¼Î½ Ïá¿Ï εá½Î½Î¿á½·Î±Ï) was between the patrons and clients, as each side strove not to be outdone by the other in favours (Ïá½±ÏιÏÎ¿Ï á¼ÎºÏοÏÎ¿Ï á¼¡Î»á½·ÎºÎ¿Ï á¼Î¼ÏοÏá½³ÏÎ¿Î¹Ï á¼¦Î½), the clients feeling that they should render all possible services to their patrons and the patrons wishing by all means not to occasion any trouble to their clients and accepting no gifts of money. (Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities 2.10.4)
This rosy picture receives various qualifications in present-day scholarship. Whereas the functionalist approach emphasizes the manner in which patronage served the interests of the inferior clients by providing social security and stabilizing the tensions between social strata, Marxist evaluations highlight how patronage camouflages oppression and injustice by euphemisms and by propagating the ethos of gratitude.157 In fact, the latter deconstructive perspective on patronage mirrors a similar movement that questions the underlying assumptions in âempireâ discourseâa connection that, as we shall see in the next section, is strengthened by the usage of patronage vocabulary in political contexts. Whichever perspective one opts for, it is good to take into account that in practice, patron-client relationships only bridged limited differences in social and economic status. The urban elite did not confer personally with the urban poor; instead, benefactions slowly cascaded down the socio-economic levels.158
There is another relationship characterized by asymmetry, which was omnipresent in both private and public space in the Graeco-Roman world: slavery. Whether slaves were living in the loftiest or most depraved circumstances, the relationship to their master was characterized by its involuntariness. Therefore, if pistis/fides and cognates are used in the context of such a relationship, it is surprising that most often the faithfulness of slaves, rather than the fragility or the risks of trusting in slaves, is emphasized.159 It seems to be a classic topos that even in times of the greatest crisis, slaves exceeded all expectations in demonstrating their loyalty. In the words of Valerius Maximus, who spends an entire chapter on the fidelity of slaves, a âfidelity the more praiseworthy as the less expectedâ (quo minus exspectatam hoc laudabiliorem fidem).160 Even Tacitus, who starts off rather pessimistic in his narration of the year of the four emperors, manages to praise the virtue of exemplary slaves amidst all corruption:
Slaves were corrupted against their masters, freedmen against their patrons; and those who had no enemy were crushed by their friends. Yet this age was not so barren of virtue that it did not display noble examples. Mothers accompanied their children in flight; wives followed their husbands into exile; relatives displayed courage, sons-in-law firmness, slaves a fidelity which defied even torture (contumax etiam adversus tormenta servorum fides). (Tacitus, Histories 1.2â3)
Though we cannot, due to the one-sided perspective and limited scope of our sources, estimate the frequency of exemplary faithfulness from slaves towards masters, we do know that it was enough for a moral philosopher such as Seneca to reflect on the possibility of a slave bestowing a benefit.161 Seneca does not deem the involuntary, asymmetrical nature of the relationship much of an obstacle to such reciprocity in benefits. He offers several colourful examples of generous loyalty of slaves and concludes that âa benefit does not cease to be a benefit because it proceeded from a slave, but is all the greater on that account, because he could not be deterred from it even by being a slave.â162 Indeed, when he contrasts fides with servitude, it is not in a context of actual slavery but in an argument about the ultimate gift to âthe man who has it allâ: âDo you not see how such persons are driven to destruction by the absence of frankness and the substitution of cringing obsequiousness for loyalty (fides in obsequium servile submissa)?â163 So rather than slavery, flattery stands in the way of a sincere fides-relationship. âSlavish obedienceâ is the opposite of fides, yet it is an attitude anyone can adopt.
A possible conclusion that might be drawn from this stereotype of the faithful slave is that it serves to idealize this relationship between master and slave and thus ease the social tension or revolutionary potential stirred by its asymmetry. In practice, however, the existence of pistis/fides towards a master and the importance of it to a master suggest that here, too, the relationship knows a certain reciprocity and therefore a balance in power. The reciprocity which, as I already established, was inherent to public faith characterizes even the most asymmetrical relationships and influences the distribution of power and agency in such relationships. In the words of Teresa Morgan:
The inescapable reciprocity of pistis/fides means that within relationships of pistis/fides, power (encompassing all kinds of status and authority) never runs all one way. (â¦) it inflects social relations as powerfully as it is inflected by them. The power in slavery, for instance, may, in law, belong with the owner, but pistis/fides is one of the reasons why in social practice it cannot. (Morgan 2015, 53)164
Within the context of a prototypical slave-master relationship, then, there is a potential of reciprocal trust and trustworthiness which serves more to redistribute power rather than to affirm the status-quo.
Within the system of patronage, pistis and fides function even more prominently, sometimes denoting the trust clients have placed in their patron, but also often emphasizing the actual or expected attitude of the patronus or describing the relationship as a whole.165 In his analysis of Roman friendship, Koenraad Verboven pays particular attention to key words involved, viz. benevolentia (goodwill), benignitas (kindness, generosity), gratia (goodwill, kindness), fides (trust, good faith), amor (affection, love), and existimatio (reputation).166Fides, he argues, expressed in particular the trust and solidarity involved in the length of time separating the bestowal of a gift and the reception of a counter-gift. It thus signified the enduring bond between people which was at given points in time reified by actual gift exchange. As such, it can only be explained from within this nexus of friendship terminology:
In the context of friendship, fides denoted the faith friends had in each otherâs benignitas and gratia. Conversely, fides implied solidarity, which had to be shown by acts of kindness that in turn generated gratia. Fides guaranteed that obligations were upheld. Therefore, any beneficium signified fides, as well as benignitas and/or gratia. (Verboven 2011, 409)
According to this description, instead of a (Reformation-like) contrast between faith and reciprocal services, the exchange and expectation of such beneficiae is the one and only manifestation of fides.
A specific expression commonly used from the perspective of the client, yet in which fides denotes the attitude of the patron or relationship as a whole, was âse in fidem dareâ: clients were committing themselves to a trust-relationship with the patron or putting themselves into a patronâs trust. John Rich comments upon this meaning of fides in the context of patronage in the Roman republic:
In one of the most important of its many uses fides means âprotectionâ. The weaker party is said âto be in the fidesâ of the stronger. At the formation of such a relationship, the weaker party is said to give himself into or entrust to the fides of the stronger and the stronger to receive the weaker in his fides. (Rich 1989, 128)
Thus, by committing themselves to the patronâs fides, and by the patronâs acceptance in his fides, a client ended up âbeing in the fidesâ of his patron. In this case, the fides in question is that of the patron. This technical terminology is indeed often chosen in our sources to describe the system of patrocinium.
The second-century author Aulus Gellius, for instance, speaks of the duty towards oneâs clients, âwho also had committed themselves to our fides and guardianship (qui sese itidem in fidem patrociniumque nostrum dediderunt)â, a duty that comes after duty towards parents and wards but before guests and relations by blood and marriage.167 The priority of fides in patron-client relationships is even considered to be the most preeminent and sacrosanct virtue of the Roman people, as we learn from Gelliusâs discussion of the fifth-century bc Law of the Twelve Tables:
It was by the exercise and cultivation of all the virtues that the Roman people sprang from a lowly origin to such a height of greatness, but most of all and in particular they cultivated good faith and regarded it as sacred, whether public or private (sed omnium maxime atque praecipue fidem coluit sanctamque habuit tam privatim quam publice). Thus for the purpose of vindicating the public good faith it surrendered its consuls, most distinguished men, to the enemy (hostibus confirmandae fidei publicae causa dedidit), thus it maintained that a client taken under a manâs protection (clientem in fidem acceptum) should be held dearer than his relatives and protected against his own kindred, nor was any crime thought to be worse than if anyone was convicted of having defrauded a client. This degree of faith (Hanc autem fidem) our forefathers ordained, not only in public functions, but also in private contracts. (Aulus Gellius, Attic Nights 20.1.39â41)168
Gellius thus thematizes the private importance of fides in the patronage system, together with its role in keeping up interstate allegiances. In both cases, sacrifices to oneâs own people, consuls, or relatives are to be made in order to âkeep the faithâ. The Law of the Twelve Tables hence protected the rights of clients, once they had been accepted (in fidem acceptum) by a patron.
A patron who had thus accepted this relationship needed to perform all the duties that were considered part of his/her role (fidem praestare).169 These duties were traced back to Romulus and Jupiter and thus deemed sacred.170 In his contribution to the discussion on the semantics of fides, Heinze focuses in particular on the patronâs function in the context of judiciary representation of clients:
The patron, however, does not simply offer a service as a friend, but if one appeals to his fides, it is called fidem praestare; his own person is involved, and his own reputation rises or falls with the success or failure of the defense, which is why his work for the client is by no means limited to speech; but in this, too, he not only brings arguments, but also invests his whole self. (Heinze 1928, 158)171
Hence, there is a profound fusion of interests, risks, and success between patron and client. Personal honour is at stake.
Apart from these formulaic expressions that focus on the role of the patron, pistis/fides is used to describe the roles of both inferior and superior positions, as the sources presented below will again confirm.172 From both sides, to show fides is presented as a voluntary act that could either be answered or not, which renders it a fragile yet indispensable aspect of the social economy. However, this step of accepting a client and promising patrocinium was a crucial one. In an appendix devoted to âFides and (Roman and foreign) clientelaeâ, Sviatoslav Dmitriev points out that âfides alone did not constitute the totality of the client-patron relationshipâ: the fides or unconditional loyalty of the inferior party, the one who âsurrendered to the fidesâ of the other, was not necessarily reciprocated.173Fides could thus mean different things in different situations. Foreign people that surrendered to Roman fides, co-called dedicitii, could be and were sometimes treated cruelly, since they had not been accepted in a reciprocal fides-relationship. Fides had to be promised from both sides, if a successful and binding relationship was to evolve.
Dmitriev has a point here, although, as our sources demonstrate, expectations of the reliability of the superiorâs fides play an important part as well. As there is a considerable disadvantage for the superior if the reputation of fides is lost, public opinion limited the patronâs freedom to refuse someone protection.174 The sources that discuss such social expectations mostly relate to political leaders or Roman foreign affairs and military strategy. This shows how the language of Roman patronage, including the vocabulary of fides, was transferred from what we would consider the personal to the political.175 Patronage and benefaction becomes interwoven with inter-state politics and imperial ideology. The connection between âcommon patronageâ and the political, inter-state variant is evident from a particular shared usage of the expression of âcoming into fidesâ.176 Cicero, for instance, believes that political patronage is a mos maiorum:
Not only must we show consideration for those whom we have conquered by force of arms but we must also ensure protection to those who lay down their arms and throw themselves upon the mercy of our generals (qui armis positis ad imperatorum fidem confugient (â¦) recipiendi), even though the battering-ram has hammered at their walls. And among our countrymen justice has been observed so conscientiously in this direction, that those who have given promise of protection to states or nations subdued in war become, after the custom of our forefathers, the patrons of those states (earum patroni essent more maiorum). (Cicero, De officiis 1.35)177
It is this particular connection between patronage and political dependency, and the questions of empire this raises, that is the topic of the next section.
7.3.4 Asymmetry and Reciprocity in International Faith-Relationships: Political Patronage, Diplomacy, and Imperial Ideology
Once the language of fides and patronage became part of Roman foreign policy, it appears to have fulfilled a more formal role. In his study Fides im römischen Völkerrecht (1991), Dieter Nörr came to the conclusion that in the legal contexts of interstate allegiances, ius gentium and deditio, it came to convey not merely a subjective meaning as a moral code of conduct, but gained a more formal norm that could be objectively ascertained. In sources that describe Romeâs military and political endeavours, the terminology of pistis/fides abounds, often combined with the language of grace (ÏάÏιÏ/gratia), mercy (á¼Î»ÎµÎ¿Ï/clementia), goodwill (εá½Î½Î¿Î¹Î±/benevolentia/favor), promise (á¼Ïαγγελία/promissum), friendship (Ïιλία/amicitia), power (δÏναμιÏ/potestas), and liberty (á¼Î»ÎµÏ θεÏία/libertas). This semantic domain includes, though is not limited to, the technical language of political patronage. In this section, we will indeed see how pistis/fides and cognates function to express something between an idealized political virtue and a social, though not legal, norm. I discuss each combination of terms on the basis of some prototypical examples before delving deeper into questions of empire.
In Livyâs History of Rome (Ab urbe condita), foreign forces and public enemies are often told to rely on Roman good faith (fides) and clemency (clementia).178 Sallust relates in The War with Jugurtha how according to plebeian tribune Memmius âif he revealed the truth, he [i.e. Jogurtha] had much to hope for from the good faith and mercy of the Roman people (in fide et clementia populi Romani)â.179 Conversely, however, the Romans also had to live up to their reputation of faith and mercy. In the account of the outbreak of the first Punic war by first-century bc historian Diodorus of Sicily, the Sicilian commander Hiero knew how to use this in his favour. In his dealings with the Mamertines, former mercenaries who had brutally taken over the stronghold Messana and turned to piracy, Hiero was aided by the Carthaginians. This aroused Roman interest: a Roman consul came to Sicily with an army to negotiate the raising of the siege. Diodorus writes:
Hiero replied that the Mamertines, who had laid waste Camarina and Gela and had seized Messana in so impious a manner, were besieged with just cause, and that the Romans, harping as they did on the word fides (θÏÏ Î»Î»Î¿á¿¦Î½ÏÎµÏ Ïὸ Ïá¿Ï Ïá½·ÏÏεÏÏ á½Î½Î¿Î¼Î±), certainly ought not to protect assassins who had shown the greatest contempt for good faith (μάλιÏÏα Ïá½·ÏÏεÏÏ ÎºÎ±ÏαÏÏονήÏανÏαÏ); but if, on behalf of men so utterly godless, they should enter upon a war of such magnitude, it would be clear to all mankind that they were using pity for the imperilled as a cloak for their own advantage (á½ Ïι Ïá¿Ï á¼°Î´á½·Î±Ï ÏÎ»ÎµÎ¿Î½ÎµÎ¾á½·Î±Ï ÏÏá½¹ÏαÏιν ÏοÏίζονÏαι Ïὸν Ïῶν ÎºÎ¹Î½Î´Ï Î½ÎµÏ á½¹Î½ÏÏν á¼Î»ÎµÎ¿Î½), and that in reality they coveted Sicily. (Diodorus Siculus, Library of History 23.1.4)
Hiero thus argues that pity for a faithless people is hardly a convincing motivation for power expansion. Linguistically, it is interesting to see here an example of how fides was translated by pistis without further ado. Yet more remarkably, the suggestion that Roman faith and mercy were a cover for Roman imperialism was thus already made in the first century bc by a Sicilian writing in Rome. Rhetorically brilliant, Roman pistis was used to expose and disarm Roman imperialism.
Civic and military leaders were expected to show fides and clementia as well. Livy writes that âIndibilis, having discarded his plans for war, thought no refuge safer in his distress than Scipioâs honesty and mercy (fide et clementia Scipionis), of which he had had experience, and sent his brother Mandonius to him.â180 If good faith was promised, yet not given, this was considered utterly immoral and even literally âwithout graceâ (ingratus). As a prototypical example of such âingratitudeââor rather, since it pertains to the superior, âgracelessnessââSeneca recalls the indignation of Sullaâs murder of the inhabitants of the city of Praeneste: âO! the wickedness of it, after he had promised fides he cornered and mutilated themâ (quod nefas, post fidem in angulo congestas contrucidavit).181 Similarly, notwithstanding its outcome in favour of Rome, Plutarch judges Coriolanusâs abandonment of the Volscians to Rome as dishonourable, for âhe was appointed their leader, and had the greatest credit and influence among them (μεγίÏÏην Ïá½·ÏÏιν εἶÏε μεÏá½° Î´Ï Î½á½±Î¼ÎµÏÏ).â182
Being known for your faithfulness and grace, and hence inspiring good faith and gratefulness in others, was a benefit for rulers as well; that, at least, is the judgement of Plutarch across his biographical works. Rather than âensnaring and corrupting them with gifts and bribes (ÏÏήμαÏι καὶ δÏÏεαá¿Ï)â, Cleomenes considered it âmost fit for a king to win over his visitors and attach them to himself by an intercourse and conversation which awakened gratitude and confidence (Ïὸ δὲ á½Î¼Î¹Î»á½·á¾³ καὶ λόγῳ Ïá½±Ïιν á¼ÏονÏι καὶ Ïá½·ÏÏιν)â.183 As the king in question is obviously interested in a good relationship, âconfidenceâ seems to be a less logical translation of pistis here that âloyaltyâ, âtrustâ, or âgood faithâ. Awakening pistis by having conversations is here used in contrast to ensuring temporary or outward loyalty by means of bribes: this is a pattern I will come back to in the course of this chapter (esp. §7.3.6 and §7.4.4).
On a political level, building charis and pistis offered a royal alternative to forceful occupation, as Aratus advises king Philip V:
There are many lofty hills in Crete, O Philip, and many towering citadels in Boeotia and Phocis; in Acarnania, too, I suppose, as well inland as on its shores, there are many places which show an amazing strength; but not one of these dost thou occupy, and yet all these peoples gladly do thy bidding. For it is robbers that cling to cliffs and crags, but for a king there is no stronger or more secure defence than trust and gratitude (βαÏιλεῠδὲ Ïá½·ÏÏεÏÏ ÎºÎ±á½¶ Ïá½±ÏιÏÎ¿Ï á¼°ÏÏÏ Ïá½¹ÏεÏον οá½Î´á½²Î½ οá½Î´á½² á½ÏÏ Ïá½½ÏεÏον). These open up for thee the Cretan sea, these the Peloponnesus. Relying upon these, young as thou art, thou hast already made thyself leader here, and master there. (Plutarch, Aratus 50.5â6)
Like pistis, grace (ÏάÏιÏ) is polysemous and can be used to denote the attitude of the superior (âgraceâ), the attitude of the inferior (âgratitudeâ), or, in a reified sense, the thing conferred (âfavourâ).184 And together, pistis and charis among the people serve as the hallmarks of strong kingship.
A argument similar to the one in the citation above, yet with pistis and charis language focusing on the kingâs attitude, is used by the first-century-ad historian Quintus Curtius Rufus, who wrote a history of Alexander the Great. Rufus emphasizes that building a reputation of clemency and faithfulness will have the âsnowballâ effect of bringing others to trust and surrender as well. A certain Phrades of the Tapuri, âwas received under protection (hic quoque in fidem receptus), and was an example to many in entrusting themselves to the kingâs clemency (multis exemplo fuit experiendi clementiam regis)â.185 By showing clemency to hostages of a different tribe, Alexander âdrove them to surrender; and he subdued the rest of the cities in a similar manner and received them under his protection (in fidem accepit)â.186 According to this author, Alexanderâs general vision underlying his conquests and rule is as follows:
That possession is not lasting of which we are made owners by the sword; the gratitude for acts of kindness is everlasting (beneficiorum gratia sempiterna est). If we wish to hold Asia, not merely to pass through it, our clemency must be shared with its people (cum his communicanda est nostra clementia); their faith in us (horum fides) will make a stable and lasting empire. (Curtius Rufus, History of Alexander 8.8.12)
Here, it is clemency on the part of the leader which in its turn leads to fides, trust or loyalty, on the part of the people. Likewise, in Plutarch, the statesman Aratus is said to have the goodwill (eunoia) and faith not only of the Greeks, but also of king Phillip V.187
This logic of reciprocity also helped to explain the occasional co-occurrence of â(having) faithâ (ÏιÏÏεÏÏ/ÏίÏÏιÏ) and â(to) promiseâ (á¼ÏαγγÎλλÏ/á¼Ïαγγελία). These lemmata are quite commonly combined in early Christian literature, yet are only occasionally connected in pagan Greek literature that antedates these writings, predominantly by the historians Polybius (second century bc) and Diodorus Siculus (first century bc). From these cases, we learn that promises per se only form one side of the communication; they are either believed or disbelieved and can be backed up by pisteis, tokens of faith or assurances. The majority of these cases has its Sitz im Leben in the sphere of political or military diplomacy. Promises made by one party are often distrusted. The Persian king Artaxerxes II, for example, after defeating his brother Cyrus, asked the Greeks who had fought for Cyrus to lay down their arms and become allies. Yet, though they were not defeated themselves, the sentiment among the Greeks is that Artaxerxes is treating them as if they were by not offering a âcounterbalancing favourâ (Ïá½±Ïιν (â¦) á¼Î¾á½·Î±Î½). Therefore, the question put in the mouth of Socrates the Aechean is, âif, knowing well enough that we are the victors, he uses lying words, how shall we trust his later promises (Ïá¿¶Ï Î±á½Ïá¿· ÏεÏὶ Ïῶν Îµá¼°Ï á½ÏÏεÏον á¼Ïαγγελιῶν ÏιÏÏεύÏομεν)?â188
Otherwise, trust in promises often turns out to be misplaced, as when Agathocles, the tyrant of Syracuse, promised the Messenians to surrender their fort in exchange for thirty talents:
When the Messenians gave him the money, he not only failed to keep his promise to those who had put faith in him (οὠμόνον διεÏεύÏαÏο ÏÎ¿á½ºÏ ÏιÏÏεύÏανÏÎ±Ï Ïá¿Ï á¼ÏαγγελίαÏ), but he also undertook to capture Messene itself. (Diodorus Siculus, Library of History 19.65.2)
Hence, tokens or proofs of trust (pisteis) are usually demanded. In a plot to draw out the king Mithridates VI of Pontus during his siege of Romeâs ally Cyzicus, a Roman centurion pretended to betray the city in exchange for Mithridatesâs rewards and âasked to have guarantees to these promisesâ (Ïá½·ÏÏÎµÎ¹Ï Ïῶν á¼Ïαγγελιῶν ζηÏοῦνÏοÏ), by which he meant that he wanted to see the king in person.189 In all these diplomatic contexts, promises thus seem to require pistis, âtrustâ, on the side of the ones the promises are made to, and if this is lacking, they require in addition reified pisteis, âguaranteesâ, from the one giving the promise.
Another striking co-occurrence in the context of political patronage, yet one that fits the conceptual closeness of patronage and friendship, is that of âfaithâ (ÏίÏÏιÏ/fides) and âfriendshipâ (Ïιλία/amicitia). Already before the period under consideration here, this pair is used to describe a treaty between a superior and inferior power: Xenophon has the pro-Spartan Critias in the Athenian senate judge Theramenes an untrustworthy traitor, the very man who, after Athens defeat at Aegospotami (405 bc), âtook the initiative in the policy of establishing a relationship of trust and friendship with the Spartans (á¼ÏÎ¾Î±Ï Ïá¿Ï ÏÏá½¸Ï ÎÎ±ÎºÎµÎ´Î±Î¹Î¼Î¿Î½á½·Î¿Ï Ï Ïá½·ÏÏεÏÏ ÎºÎ±á½¶ ÏιλίαÏ)â.190 Although this treaty with the Spartans was unfavourable, it was not so in the eyes of Critias. Thus, even though it is the âinferior partyâ speaking, there is nonetheless no sign of anti-imperial irony here in the use of âfriendship and trustâ.
In Latin sources, it is particularly Cicero, in his speeches against Verres, who develops the theme âthat Sicily was the first of all foreign nations to become the loyal friend of Rome (se ad amicitiam fidemque populi Romani applicavit)â and that âto the Sicilian city-states we granted conditions of trust and friendship (in amicitiam fidemque accepimus)â.191 In the Verrine speeches, this theme helps to emphasize Romeâs role as protector of the Sicilian cities.192 Julius Caesar also notes that Gallic communities have similar ties: in The Gallic War (Bellum Gallicum / Commentarii de bello Gallico), the diplomat and druid Diviciacus states that âthe Bellovaci have always enjoyed the protection and friendship of the Aeduan state (in fide atque amicitia civitatis Aeduae fuisse)â.193 Caesar abstains from describing Romeâs relationship to Gallic peoples in terms of patronage, though. Livy, like Cicero, uses âfaithâ and âfriendshipâ terms quite often as parallels, such as when he asks âwho would think it fair either that they should admit no one, however deserving, to their friendship (in amicitiam recipi), or that, having once taken people under their protection (receptos in fidem), they should not defend them?â194 The emphasis in these examples is on the duties of the party serving as patron in a relationship that is described in the benevolent (or perhaps euphemistic) terms of friendship, regardless of the inequality involved.
When âfaithâ (ÏίÏÏιÏ/fides) language is combined with the language of âpowerâ (δÏναμιÏ/potestas), it appears that faith and power can be aligned but also contrasted. Writing on fides and deditio in fidem, historian Karl-Joachim Hölkeskamp first states that fides is âcharged with powerâ (âpotestas-geladenâ) and âa concept that denotes power itself and the concrete violence of the powerful and superior over the weaker and subordinateâ.195 According to Hölkeskamp, this strong connection between faith and power is toned down a little in Roman discourse by the voluntary act of submission and the âreciprocity inherent to fidesâ, but the âprincipal unlimited nature of powerâ remains foregrounded.196
Passages in which fides language is used together with potestas language, however, demonstrate that this judgement is in need of some refinement. Plutarch stated that if a leader possesses a reputation and proof (δόξα καὶ Ïá½·ÏÏιÏ) of the virtue of righteousness, âabove all power and trust follow it (καὶ δÏÎ½Î±Î¼Î¹Ï Î±á½Ïῠκαὶ ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï á¼ÏεÏαι) among the people.â197 Here, power and trust are indeed aligned, yet they represent the effect of just leadership, not unlike dynamis and pistis in the opening sentences of Paulâs Letter to the Romans, as I will argue below (§7.4.3). Moreover, confidence (pistis) in leaders not only benefits the leader; it can be indispensable to the followerâs survival. Plutarch recalls Odysseusâs justified self-praise in the Odyssey for managing to escape the cyclopsâs cave and states that âat critical moments salvation may depend largely on the regard and pistis that are placed in some man who possesses the experience and power of a leader (δόξα καὶ Ïá½·ÏÏÎ¹Ï á¼Î½Î´Ïá½¸Ï á¼¡Î³ÎµÎ¼Î¿Î½Î¹Îºá½´Î½ á¼Î¼ÏειÏίαν καὶ δύναμιν á¼ÏονÏοÏ)â.198 As we see in these examples, in the context of faith placed in leaders pistis is often paired with power (δÏναμιÏ), for power either inspires confidence or is something that is gained by the peopleâs confidence, which is then dependent on it.199
In some sources, a sharper contrast between power and faith can also be discerned. In the context of surrender to Rome, Valerius Maximus suggests that the surrender of the Faliscans into Roman fides instead of potestas implies non-violent treatment:
The Roman people wished to take violent measures against them, but were instructed by Papirius, by whose hand the words of the surrender were written at the Consulâs order, that the Falisci had committed themselves not to Roman power but to Roman faith (non potestati sed fidei se Romanorum commisisse). (Valerius Maximus, Memorable Doings and Sayings 6.5.1b)
Similarly, Livy writes the following about the Gauls, who had crossed the Alps in search of a new home (183 bc): âpreferring an assured though unattractive peace to the uncertainties of war, they had entrusted themselves to the good faith rather than to the power (dedidisse se prius in fidem quam in potestatem) of the Roman people.â200 While we must be careful, as Gruen has so emphatically reminded us, not to âimpute technical significance to phrasesâ, these passages make it clear that there was awareness that an appeal to Roman fides imposed moral constraints and that it required a different response than a show of force.201 Ideally, power is both enhanced and restricted by faith.
A final pair of terms worth querying is that of faith (ÏίÏÏιÏ/fides) and liberty (á¼Î»ÎµÏ θεÏία/libertas), which is also at home in the context of political patronage.202 Together they seem to occur in sources where the colonial perspective of the Roman conqueror is dominant. For, as benign as these characterizations of political âfriendshipsâ may seem, from a present-day critical perspective the political discourse of fides and the related terms I discuss is also an excellent example of self-congratulatory rhetoric that served as oppressive propaganda to submitted territories. By applying language of dependence from âordinaryâ social relationships to foreign policy, Romans described not only their responsibilities to, but also their authority over, the people included in their realm. Plutarch writes about Titus Flaminius, a Roman commander who is apparently warmly welcomed after âliberatingâ Greek cities from Macedonian tyranny.203 This gratitude also brought Greek officials to loyalty and obedience:
In the case of Titus and the Romans, however, gratitude for their benefactions to the Greeks brought them, not merely praises, but also loyalty among all men and power, and justly too (á¼Î»Î»á½° καὶ Ïá½·ÏÏιν á¼Î½ ÏᾶÏιν á¼Î½Î¸Ïá½½ÏÎ¿Î¹Ï ÎºÎ±á½¶ δύναμιν ἡ Ïá½±ÏÎ¹Ï á¼ÏήνÏα δικαίÏÏ). For men not only received the officers appointed by them, but actually sent for them and invited them and put themselves in their hands (á¼Î½ÎµÏείÏιζον αá½ÏούÏ). And this was true not only of peoples and cities, nay, even kings who had been wronged by other kings fled for refuge into the hands of Roman officials, so that in a short timeâand perhaps there was also divine guidance in thisâeverything became subject to them (ÏάνÏα αá½Ïοá¿Ï á½Ïήκοα γενέÏθαι). But Titus himself took most pride in his liberation of Greece (á¼Ïὶ Ïá¿ Ïá¿Ï á¼Î»Î»á½±Î´Î¿Ï á¼Î»ÎµÏ θεÏá½½Ïει). (Plutarch, Titus Flaminius 12.4â5)204
This âliberationâ was even celebrated, according to Plutarch, in the form of festivities, with buildings dedicated to Flaminius, offerings made in his honour, the election of a âpriest of Titusâ, and with hymns that praise Roman fides:
And the Roman faith we revere (Ïá½·ÏÏιν δὲ ῬÏμαίÏν Ïέβομεν), which we have solemnly vowed to cherish; sing, then, ye maidens, to great Zeus, to Rome, to Titus, and to the Roman faith (Îá¿Î½Î± μέγαν Ῥώμαν Ïε ΤίÏον θ᾿ ἠμα ῬÏμαίÏν Ïε Ïá½·ÏÏιν): hail, Paean Apollo! hail, Titus our saviour! (Plutarch, Titus Flaminius 16.4)
Along with gods and Roman leaders, Roman faith became the object of cultic veneration.
Nevertheless, the other side of this coin was the imperial reputation and corresponding obligations towards those that appealed to Roman pistis/fides. A few decades after Flaminiusâs success, ambassadors of the city of Rome sought to turn the complicated political situation to their advantage by stressing Romeâs role as a patron towards the Greeks:
For the sake of standing and fame in the eyes of the whole world, which for long now has regarded your name and empire as next after those of the immortal gods, you have waged your wars. What it was difficult to get and acquire, it may be perhaps still more difficult to keep. You have undertaken to defend against slavery to a king the liberty of a most ancient people, most famed either from the renown of its achievements or from universal praise of its culture and learning; this championship of a whole people taken under your protection and guardianship (hoc patrocinium receptae in fidem et clientelam vestram) it befits you to guarantee for ever. (Livy, History of Rome 37.54.16â18)
The ambassadors hereby hoped to persuade the Romans to leave their city independent, yet, in Livyâs account, they do so by making use of the same Roman rhetoric.205
So, how ought we to evaluate the frequent use of pistis/fides language in the context of political patronage and diplomacy? Myles Lavan discusses various metaphors of dependence, including patronage, and draws attention to the effect that âclaims of Roman generosity are always also assertions of Roman dominance and of the moral obligation of Romeâs dependantsâ.206 Lavan strongly connects fides language to the metaphor of patronage, yet he also argues that patronage was a relatively mild metaphor, expressing not merely Romeâs dominance (like the metaphor of slavery) but her moral obligations as well. In fact, the relative concentration of the technical language of patronage in contexts of political dependence of foreign states in Cicero and Livy is evidence of the idealized vision of empire these authors exhibit.207 Whereas to our modern ears being in the friendship and fides of patron Rome is very much a euphemism for being in a state of utter dependence and subordination, more than other metaphors it seems to have conveyed the sense of reciprocity in favours.
Based on these considerations, it is possible to give a provisional answer to our initial question of whether Paulâs use of pistis should be understood as a critical response to Roman imperialism. It is good to refrain from detecting responses to imperialist ideology lurking behind all emphatic usages of pistis/fides, even if there is a religious or even political dimension to this usage, as in the Pauline letters. Pistis/fides could express ideas of dependency and the loyalty of the inferior in asymmetrical relations, yet it also always implied the responsibility of the superior.208 As such, it was used in empire discourse, with the inherent duplicity of both asymmetry and reciprocity. The âviolationâ of this sacred bond did not demonstrate âits true natureâ, as research on the anti-imperial potential of early Christianity would have it.209 Of course, the early Christian movement proclaimed a different âlordâ in and to whom they expressed pistis, which must have ledâand did leadâto competition and confrontation. Paulâs pistis language demonstrates his usage of the wider metaphor of patronage, yet we cannot cast him as a critic of empire by citing his choice of this word group alone. However, before we jump to any definitive conclusions, another factor needs to be taken into account, namely whether the changing political landscape, from republic to empire, had any significant impact on the discourse of fides, patronage, and politics.
7.3.5 The Reassessment of Faith in Imperial Times as Universal Loyalty to One Ruler
According to GeÌrard Freyburger, the political changes in the first century bc led to the disappearance of a particular kind of fides, fides as horizontal solidarity between citizens:
Evidently, in the imperial period, the horizontal bond of fides, binding the citizens to each other, was replaced by a vertical bond of fides, uniting the subjects to the emperor. In this situation, it seems that the sense of a duty of solidarity towards fellow citizens was lost. (Freyburger 2002, 347)210
In order to assess these potential changes in the character of fides, we should evaluate the impact of the principate on civic patronage. Already at the close of the Republican era, economic, political, and military power seems to have accumulated in the hands of a few influential individuals, draining the potential of exchange of political and economic benefits between the rest of the aristocracy and from them to the lower strata. In a sense, this process was intensified under Augustusâs reign. The imperator made ample use of the imagery of patronage by depicting himself, and by having himself depicted, as the supreme public patron and benefactor, the pater patriae.211 However, the question of how this impacted the function of patronage remains debated.
In Politics and Society in Imperial Rome, Aloys Winterling presents two opposing scholarly views.212 Firstly, according to Anton von Premerstein, patronage as a political tool had in fact died out in the principate, due to the princepsâs control over both the grain (and thereby the dependence of the people) and the appointment of magistrates (thus monopolizing political benefits to the upper class).213 Conversely, Richard Saller holds that political patronage continued to be of great importance in the form of interaristocratic office patronage by its function in gaining excess to the princepsâs favours. Instead of monopolizing all benefits, the emperor purposefully provided resources to the aristocratic houses so they could maintain their status vis-aÌ-vis their clients.214 By delving beyond the utilitarian value and deeper into the symbolic value of patronage, Winterling reconciles both views: the system of patronage was still of paramount importance, only its shape and function changed significantly. While âthe semantics of contemporary self-description (â¦) did not changeâ, the economy of benefaction became one of a unilateral nature:215
Relations formerly based on reciprocityâdespite the different positions of those involvedânow changed in the direction of an independence of those at the top from those at the bottom. (â¦) In this way, reciprocal amicitia evolved into a hierarchically structured favor because of the new imperial position of powerâfavor that was passed on or denied unilaterally from top to bottom and sought out of utilitarian considerations by those at the bottom from the top. (Winterling 2009, 48)
In other words, according to Winterling, the exchange between patron and client became even more determined by asymmetry and less by reciprocity, since the patron was not in any need of returned favours. In the pyramid structure that arose, benefits flowed downwards, not upwards.
This picture is refined if we take some additional dimensions into account, highlighted in an earlier article by Saller and Peter Garnsey. They argue that âsince subjects could not repay imperial benefactions in kind, the reciprocity ethic dictated that they make a return in the form of deference, respect and loyalty.â216 This is in line with the analysis of Jed Atkins, who argues that the virtue of obedience (obsequium) gains prominence in imperial times, whereas the virtue of justice becomes solely the emperorâs domain.217 Hence, rather than speaking of a unilateral arrangement, the reciprocity inherent to imperial patronage required an immaterial return in the form of a disposition of the receiver. The immaterial, interior response gains importance in the late Roman republic and early Roman empire. This response, as we will see, was often thought of in terms of pistis/fides.
Furthermore, Saller and Garnsey note that
emperors did not and could not monopolize patronage. They did not attempt to be universal patrons to all their subjects, since universality would have undermined the incentive for personal gratitude on the part of the subjects. (Garnsey & Saller 1997, 98)
The attitude of deference, respect, loyalty, and gratitude, these authors argue, is not solicited by a patron that does not discriminate between who is worthy of gifts and who is not. Patronage requires exclusivism. Hence, according to Saller and Garnsey, the emperor could not be an actual patron to all. However, as the sources we will now turn to demonstrate, emperors did strive towards a relationship of mutual trust and loyalty with all their subjects. This suggests that the concepts of patronage and fides did not completely overlap when it came to this relationship between ruler and ruled.
Pistis and fides language is, as can be expected based on what I have already discussed, regularly found in connection with qualities of imperatores and the faith put in them by their soldiers, followers, and, once they were recognized as legitimate rulers, subjects. The presence of fides, understood as both this relationship of faith and, more broadly but relatedly, the popular trust in matters of social life and economy, is seen as indicative for the stability and success of an emperorâs reign. In chapter 3, we saw how the retreat and return of Fides, as a goddess and a virtue, was used in narratives of a metahistorical or eschatological character. In this section, a similar motive is addressed in sources that are more historical or biographical. This overview of the contemporary and later reception of the successive periods in Roman imperial history shows the recurrent theme of fides being absent or present as in a pendulum movement.
The tensions that arose in the first triumvirate between Caesar and Pompey were described almost two centuries later by Plutarch as a matter of misplaced trust. Pompey mistrusted Catoâs counsel and trusted both in Caesarâs consistency and in his own luck and ability: âPompey heard these counsels repeatedly, but ignored and put them by; he did not believe that Caesar would change (á¼ÏιÏÏá½·á¾³ Ïá¿Ï ÎαίÏαÏÎ¿Ï Î¼ÎµÏαβολá¿Ï), because he trusted in his own good fortune and power (διὰ Ïá½·ÏÏιν εá½ÏÏ Ïá½·Î±Ï Ïá¿Ï á¼Î±Ï Ïοῦ καὶ Î´Ï Î½á½±Î¼ÎµÏÏ).â218 In these days of civic unrest and contested loyalties, there seems to by a widely recognized crisis of faith. The first-century poet Lucan laments the lack of fides in Roman soldiers who were employed in an Egyptian plot against Julius Caesar:
Men who follow the camp have no loyalty, no sense of duty (Nulla fides pietasque viris qui castra secuntur): their swords are for sale; the cause that offers immediate reward is the good cause; serving for scanty pay, they attack Caesarâs life to gratify others. Oh, law divine! Where does the hapless destiny of our empire fail to find civil war? (Lucan, The Civil War (Pharsalia) 10.407â411)
Loyalty (fides) is juxtaposed here with being for sale and thus used in opposition to the frame of amoral commerce again. Yet, not only personal loyalty is crushed. Just before he brings up Caesarâs crossing of the Rubicon, Lucan also describes the absence of justice on a political level and the lack of faith on an economic level: âconsuls and tribunes alike threw justice into confusion (turbantes iura); (â¦), credit was shattered (concussa fides), and many found their profit in war.â219 This use of pistis/fides to indicate financial credit and trust in the economy goes back to at least the fifth century bc, when in an anonymous treatiseâexcerpts of which found their way into Iamblichusâs Protrepticusâpistis is deemed the direct result of respect for the law (eunomia) and the prerequisite for money to circulate.220
References to faith and a lack thereof during the crisis in the first triumvirate can be found in contemporary sources as well as in later reception. After Pompeyâs defeat, Cicero appealed to Caesarâs âhonour, consistency, and clemencyâ (per fidem et constantiam et clementiam tuam) to spare one of Pompeyâs allies, the Galatian king Deiotarus.221 This is an excellent example of fides, together with constancy and clemency, as the ultimate quality of a benefactor, a quality that was deemed essential to rulers. Yet an appeal to that same fides is recorded by Caesar as an excuse by another one of Pompeyâs leaders, Lucius Afrianus: âYou should not be angry with us or our soldiers because we chose to keep faith with our commander Gnaeus Pompey (quod fidem erga imperatorem suum Cn. Pompeium conservare voluerint).â Afrianus, however, is reproached by Caesar for his earlier lack of fides.222 Thus, in days of civil war, the fides-relationship between a particular commander and his legions seems problematic, especially when it prevails over fides as a virtue of public trustworthiness. Fides restricted to loyalty in a patronage relationship is, so at least Caesar seems to think, not proper Roman fides at all.223
Consequently, it was of the utmost concern to the emperors to restore fides on an economic, political, and military level by presenting their own person as the sole benefactor from whom all other relations of faith evolve. By the time Octavian had become the sole imperator, his fides, good faith, and the faith people put in him seems to have been an important constituent of his public image. The Capitoline area, including the temple of Fides, was subjected to extensive refurbishments and renovations by the new emperor, thus rendering it a physical representation of the values of his reign.224 As we saw in chapter 3, the Augustan poets connected the new imperial rule to the return of fides and the Golden Age. A famous passage of the Res Gestae, an excellent example of political propaganda, spread as inscriptions across the realm and possibly written or dictated by Augustus himself, reads:
Phrates, son of Orodes, king of the Parthians, sent all his sons and grandsons to me in Italy, not because he had been conquered in war, but rather seeking our friendship (amicitiam nostram) by means of his own children as pledges. And a large number of other nations experienced the good faith of the Roman people during my principate (PluÌrimaeque aliae gentes exper[tae sunt populi Romani] fidem me prin|cipe) who never before had had any interchange of embassies or of friendship with the Roman people. (Res gestae divi Augusti 32)225
While the historical reality behind this representation may differ considerably from the Augustan account, which is an obviously selective and optimistic narration of events, it shows us how the language of friendship and fides became part of the self-image and public message of the principate.
Flavius Josephus recounts the speech Nicolaus of Damascus held in defence of Herod Archelaus, the son and appointed successor of the then recently deceased Herod the Great.226 In it, the abundant use of pistis is evident. It is used to denote both the virtue of Caesar to which Nicolaus appeals and, at the same time, the relational attitude of loyalty Herod showed by relying on this good faith:
At any rate Caesar would certainly not annul the will of a man who had left everything to his decision, who had been his friend and ally, and who had put his trust in Caesar in making that will (á¼Ïὶ Ïá½·ÏÏει Ïῠαá½Ïοῦ γεγÏαμμέναÏ). Nor would the virtue and good faith of Caesar, which were unquestioned throughout the entire civilized world (Ïὴν ÎαίÏαÏÎ¿Ï á¼ÏεÏὴν καὶ Ïá½·ÏÏιν, ÏÏá½¸Ï á¼ ÏαÏαν Ïὴν Î¿á¼°ÎºÎ¿Ï Î¼á½³Î½Î·Î½ á¼Î½ÎµÎ½Î´Î¿á½·Î±ÏÏον), so far imitate the malice of these men as to condemn a person of kingly rank, who had left the succession to his worthy son and had taken refuge in Caesarâs good faith (Ïá½·ÏÏει δὲ Ïῠαá½Ïοῦ ÏÏοÏÏεÏÎµÏ Î³á½¹ÏοÏ), on the grounds of madness and loss of reason. Nor could Herod have been wrong in deciding upon his successor when he showed enough prudence to leave everything to the judgment of Caesar.227
Now, whether or not Caesarâs fides was indeed known across the realmâfor this is undeniably flattery from the side of the suppliantâit appears that this presentation is befitting of the agenda of the early empire. The Caesars advertised that they restored one stable address and source of public fides after the destructive division of the civil wars and could exploit this achievement in building relationships of loyalty and dependence with rulers of provinces and foreign nations.
Another outstanding example of the role of fides in early imperial âpublic relations managementâ is a passage from the preface of Valerius Maximusâs Memorable Doings and Sayings in which he dedicates the work to Tiberius Caesar:
Therefore I invoke you to this undertaking, Caesar, surest salvation of the fatherland (certissima salus patriae), in whose charge the unanimous will of gods and men has placed the governance of land and sea, by whose celestial providence the virtues of which I shall tell are most kindly fostered (cuius caelesti providentia virtutes (â¦) benignissime foventur) and the vices most sternly punished. Orators of old rightly began from Jupiter Best and Greatest, the finest poets took their start from some deity. My petty self shall betake me to your goodwill (ad favorem tuum) all the more properly in that other divinity is inferred by opinion (quo cetera divinitas opinione colligitur), whereas yours is seen by present trustworthiness as equal to the star of your father and grandfather (tua praesenti fide paterno avitoque sideri par videtur), through whose peerless radiance much far-famed lustre has accrued to our ceremonies. For other gods we have received, the Caesars we have bestowed (reliquos enim deos accepimus, Caesares dedimus). (Valerius Maximus, Memorable Doings and Sayings 1.praef)228
Tiberius is addressed here as the ultimate benefactor, who is âsalvationâ both in his capacity as a ruler and as a supporter or nurturer of virtue. The contrast drawn with other divinities is also telling, for, according to Valerius, the Caesars stand out in the ubiquity of their fides, as opposed to the uncertain trustworthiness of those whose divinity is âinferred by opinionâ. Fides thus appears to be a proper criterion to rank the gods. The final sentence quoted seems to add a somewhat ironical twist by presenting the Roman people as benefactors who bestow the Caesars as a gift to humanity.229
When the bond between emperor and subjects breaks, this is perceived as a public crisis of fides, as we learn from subsequent periods of crisis, in particular those leading up to the establishment of the Flavian dynasty.230 We have already encountered the tragedy Octavia, probably written in the Flavian period, which deals with the reign of Nero. Apart from the eschatological visions of a return of Fides after ages of vice (see §3.3.2 and §3.3.3 supra), the play also diagnoses the rule of Nero by his lack of concern for the trust or loyalty of the public:
[Nero] I should be foolish to fear the gods, when I myself create them! [Seneca] You should fear all the more because you have so much power. [Nero] My good fortune gives me licence to do anything. [Seneca] Do not put such trust in her compliance (Crede obsequenti parcius): she is a fickle goddess. (â¦) [Nero] Steel is the emperorâs protection (Ferrum tuetur principem). [Seneca] Loyalty a better one (Melius fides). [Nero] It befits Caesar to be feared. [Seneca] But more to be loved. (Pseudo-Seneca, Octavia 449â452, 456â457)231
The dialogue engages in a familiar topos in which the just king and the tyrant are contrasted in terms of impiety versus godliness, fear versus love, and steel versus the loyalty (fides) of the people. The fear of the gods and the trust and love of his subjects represent the checks and balances of Roman imperial power, and, as the author knows, it is the absence of these that would prove fatal to Nero. Fides is here the alternative to mere obedience, not its equivalent.
A lack of fides is also part of the language used to describe the chaotic year of the four emperors (69 ad). In particular, the loyalty of the legions and the praetorian guard proved crucial for a contenderâs claim to the imperial throne. In the Histories, Tacitus writes:
The first message that gave Otho confidence (fiduciam addidit) came from Illyricum, to the effect that the legions of Dalmatia and Pannonia and Moesia had sworn allegiance to him (iurasse in eum). The same news was brought from Spain, whereupon Otho extolled Cluvius Rufus in a proclamation; but immediately afterwards word was brought that Spain had gone over to Vitellius. Not even Aquitania long remained faithful (diu mansit), although it had been made to swear allegiance to Otho by Julius Cordus. Nowhere was there any loyalty or affection (Nusquam fides aut amor). Fear and necessity made men shift now to one side, now to the other. (Tacitus, Histories 1.76)
This sense of fides as loyalty to an imperial candidate recurs throughout the Histories, often in combination with words denoting loyalty and obedience. Princes of the Suebi are said to have been âloyal (obsequium) to the Romans and whose people were more inclined to remain faithful (gens fidei (â¦) patientior) to Rome than to take orders from othersâ, whereas âRaetia was hostile to Vespasianâs party, its procurator Porcius Septiminus being unshaken in his loyalty to Vitellius (incorruptae erga Vitellium fidei)â. Faithfulness, loyalty, obedience not only to Rome, but to a specific commander became essential.
Overall, in the Histories there is a much higher occurrence of fides and related terms (including its opposite, perfidia) compared to the Annals, with a concentration in those books which describe the period of the civil wars.232 In most of these instances, it refers to military faith or lack thereof. In his analysis of fides in the Histories, Salvador Bartera offers the following interpretation of how Tacitus uses the semantic flexibility of the term to denote different, deteriorating stages of social cohesion:
Fides, in this state of degeneration, is placed more on a dishonest and cunning man, and is therefore a far cry from traditional Roman fides, which was associated with iustitia, modestia, and temperantia. With Galba, fides began a decline that reached its lowest with Otho, where fides became a mere âpersonal allegiance.â (â¦) Tacitus portrays the Flavians as spectators, outside the struggle, as it were, between the corrupt Otho and Vitellius, and thus untainted by the degenerated concept of fides that had replaced the traditional type, which the Flavians come to embody. (Bartera 2019, 262)233
The changing use of fides as loyalty to a particular contender for the Roman principate thus necessitated a reassessment of the term under the Flavian dynasty: a return to the traditional concept of fides as a public virtue. By his complex and nuanced conception of fides, Tacitus is able to evaluate and interpret the actions of the different contenders and hence consciously strengthens the claim of the Flavians to the Roman throne.234
Nevertheless, particular ideological propaganda strategies are not the main issue here. In the context of this study, it is important to emphasize the existence of a discourse on the proper configuration of Roman fides. As we already observed in Caesarâs dealing with his enemies, in times of civil war it becomes evident that personal loyalty to a military leader as such was not deemed enough. Fides comprised more than allegiance to a patron-figure, more than obedience; it was conceived of as part of an integrated web of public values and virtues, whose ethical norms exceeded personal obligations. If loyalty to a leader is played out against a more general trustworthiness or integrity, the concept was thought to erode until it eventually turns into its opposite, perfidia. In other words, when fides is robbed of its bridging capital, it eventually ceases to be fides. Personal, vertical fides was foregrounded in the context of imperial power struggles, yet the horizontal solidarity that is fides did not die out, as Freyburger argued; its importance was rather confirmed anew.
After the chaotic year of the four emperors, 69 ad, the stability depending on a relationship of faith between one ruler and all his subjects was sought all the more emphatically. The numismatic evidence shows that Fides herself was now even more explicitly employed to restore or perhaps rather simply proclaim public faith in the principate: whereas in the Julio-Claudian period there are only a few remnant coins that possibly refer to this goddess, under the Flavians there is a remarkable increasing of representations of Fides often combined with the words âFides Publicaâ and, though less often, âFides Exercituumâ.235 The iconography normally includes either the figure of the goddess, customarily holding a patera (the symbol of pietas), cornucopiae (the symbol of fortuna), and/or a plate of fruits or corn-ears in her hands, or, also very commonly, a right-hand shake that refers to the taking of oaths.236
Whereas Domitian continued this tradition of Fides coinage, with his own portrait to be found on the other side of all extant coins, our sources contrast his reign to that of his successors particularly in terms of faith. Domitian was assassinated precisely because âhis relationship with the Senate and especially with those nearest to him deteriorated so that he trusted no one and no one could trust himâ.237 In one of his epigrams, Martial contrasts Nerva with his direct predecessor Domitian and depicts Nervaâs ascension to the throne as the return of recta fides:
Unswerving faith, cheerful clemency, circumspect power now return (recta fides, hilaris clementia, cauta potestas iam redeunt). The terrors that were with us so long have taken flight. Loyal Rome (pia Roma), the prayer of your peoples and nations is this: may your Leader ever be such as he, and long be he. (Martial, Epigrams 12.5)
The adjective recta, âstraightâ, emphasizes the wish for an uncomplicated and true relationship of faith between the leader and his subjects. Similarly, Trajan, who succeeded Nerva after barely one and half years, is hailed by Pliny the Younger for his abolition of the trials of high treason: âLoyalty is restored among friends (reddita est amicis fides), a sense of duty to freedmen (liberis pietas) and obedience to slaves (obsequium servis)âwho can now respect and obey and keep their masters.â238 Pliny also includes the idea that a good emperor is an emperor who believes and trusts the people who praise him:
But among the many words of weight and wisdom spoken on that day, these must be singled out: âTrust us, trust yourself (Crede nobis, crede tibi).â This was said with great confidence in ourselves (Magna hoc fiducia nostri), but greater still in you; for a man may deceive another, but no one can deceive himself, so long as he looks closely at his life and asks himself what are his true deserts. Moreover, our words carried conviction (dabat vocibus nostris fidem) in the ears of the best of princes through the very factor which made them unconvincing to his evil predecessors; for though we went through the motions of affection before them, they could never believe that they were genuinely liked (illi tamen non amari se credebant sibi). (Pliny the Younger, Panegyricus 74.2â3)
Thus, according to Pliny it is the confidence of the emperor which allows him to be sincerely praised. Fides of the emperor is here the ultimate characteristic of a reign that is free from terror, insincere flattery, and distrustful paranoia.
All in all, we can conclude that in imperial times, on the one hand, the prototypical fides-relationship shifts towards a unilateral relationship between one beneficent ruler and many dependent subjects, who cannot return favours in any way other than by exhibiting immaterial loyalty and gratitude. Yet, in the discourse surrounding public fides, there is continuity in the ideal that as a virtue, it should encompass more than a formal allegiance or loyalty to a specific person; instead it ought to be a generous dedication to a cause or principle, embodied in the figure of the ideal ruler who confirms this bond by reversely granting trust to his subjects.
The restatement of this ideal type of fides is often linked to reflection on periods of civil war or unstable leadership.239 From the internal Roman perspective, the concept of fides, particularly its high ambition as a bridging, inclusive virtue, functions as a self-critical measure to re-evaluate recent history and present-day politics. It also functioned as a propaganda-tool vis-aÌ-vis provinces and foreign people. Yet there is an important connection: the loyalty of these nations conversely functions to confirm the qualification of the Roman emperor as faithful, as their only good option of protection. The stability of the realm depended on this trust and loyalty in universal leadership, so there is also an important benefit to be gained with dependency on the side of the imperial conqueror. Good emperors trust their subjects and seek their loyalty, not merely obedience.
Imperial Roman fides thus maintains its reciprocal nature, and the subjugated people who participate in Roman fides are not âsomewhere between fealty and slaveryâ, whereas Pauline pistis is supposedly something entirely different.240 Of course, there is anti-imperial potential in proclaiming pistis in Christ, yet it is anti-imperial precisely because it mirrors Roman imperial fides in both its asymmetric and reciprocal aspects, along with its universal claim. Because commitment to ultimately only one lord was of eminent importance to the interests of imperial Rome, commitment to another could more easily be conceived of as rivalry. Yet, from the perspective of discourses and how Paulâs language participates in them, there may be more convergence than divergence between the Roman and Pauline conception of faith. In fact, as the next section (§7.4) will explore further, Paul seems to contribute to an internal Roman discussion on the malfunctioning of faith and how it ought to be properly enacted.
7.3.6 Philosophical Critique of Benefaction-as-Business and the Alternative of Interior Faith
In the previous subsections, I discussed how in this chapterâs discourse faith constitutes an important religious-social virtue whose radius extends beyond personal relationships and whose potential is based on expectations that exceed formal obligations of laws, oaths, and treatises (§7.3.1â2). Pistis/fidesâs prominence in the semantic field of benefaction and patronage shows that it can easily accommodate asymmetrical relationships and represent the expected behaviour of superior and inferior positions alike (§7.3.3). When language of patronage is transferred to the field of imperial power-relations, however, pistis/fides language is often used to emphasize the moral obligation of the superior party to protect the inferior (§7.3.4), whereas in the early principate, the dependence of emperors on the trust of their subjects is often foregrounded (§7.3.5). All in all, whatever the aims of the particular work or author, reciprocity is deemed essential to faith-relationships.
Up until this point, this chapter has covered a larger number of sources than the previous chapters which are not particularly philosophical in nature. Already in these sources, I distinguished self-critical reflections on what pistis/fides means and what does and does not contribute to relationships of faith in the public domain. These reflections are found in a more explicit and refined manner in philosophical literature. Philosophical reflection on the social aspects of benefaction and faith tells us what benefaction-relationships should be like in the eyes of some of Romeâs elite. The most important sources in this regard are Ciceroâs treatise De officiis and Senecaâs On Benefits (De beneficiis). These philosophical treatises offer valuable insights in the intellectual discourse of what benefaction ought to be likeâalthough we must of course realize that in the social dynamics of real-life faith-relationships, the ideal and the real are not so easily reconciled.
I have already given some attention to the first of these works regarding the bridging function of faith as evidenced by the exemplum of Regulus. According to Cicero, to keep faith is part of what is morally right (honestum), which should always prevail above what seemsâbut is not trulyâexpedient (utilitas). This lofty ideal is nevertheless contrasted with a harsh reality, such as when military or political ambition clouds the view of justice. In this context, Cicero approvingly quotes the poet Ennius: âthere is no fellowship inviolate, no faith is kept when kingship is concernedâ (nulla sancta societas nec fides regni est).241
As for the exchange of benefits, Cicero contrasts having a generous nature with outward ostentation or seeking glory (gloria): the latter is not benefaction but rather hypocrisy.242 Cicero also offers an interesting distinction in two kinds of âreceiversâ:
As a rule, our will is more inclined to the one from whom we expect a prompter and speedier return. But we should observe more carefully how the matter really stands: the poor man of whom we spoke cannot return a favour in kind, of course, but if he is a good man he can do it at least in thankfulness of heart (etiamsi referre gratiam non potest, habere certe potest). (â¦) On the other hand, they who consider themselves wealthy, honoured, the favourites of fortune, do not wish even to be put under obligations by our kind services (ne obligari quidem beneficio volunt). Why, they actually think that they have conferred a favour by accepting one, however great; and they even suspect that a claim is thereby set up against them or that something is expected in return. Nay more, it is bitter as death to them to have accepted a patron or to be called clients (clientes appellari). (Cicero, De officiis 2.69)
According to Cicero, a poor man cannot repay the grace (gratia) shown, but he can have an attitude of gratitude (gratia). Conversely, those who consider themselves rich are afraid to be seen as indebted to another and want to return the favour as quickly as possible. For Cicero, the conclusion of this internalization of reciprocity is that a gift given to a poor but worthy and thankful person is in fact the expedient choice.243 These distinctions between showing off generosity and having a generous nature and between externally, boastfully returning a favour and having an attitude of gratitude are also taken up roughly a century later by Seneca.
Another distinction made by Cicero which returns in Senecaâs exposition is the distinction between borrowing and giving, between commerce and benefaction. Cicero argues in his De finibus bonorum et malorum (On Ends of Good and Evil) that if excellence consists of following your own interests, this âdoes away with generosity (beneficium) and with gratitude (gratia), the bonds of mutual harmony (vincla concordiae)â. He continues: âif you lend a man money for your own advantage, this cannot be considered an act of generosityâit is usury (feneratio); no gratitude is owing (nec gratia deberi) to a man who lends money for gain (sua causa).â244 As a virtue, generosity is seen by Cicero as a good in itself and hence not in need of recompense.245 Benefaction is thus utterly other-regarding and not self-serving. Yet it is precisely for this reason that reciprocity is inherent to it, for a response of gratitude is due.
The On Benefits offers more of an in-depth analysis of misconduct as regards the ethics of gift-giving and keeping faith. As we have already discussed, for Seneca, fides is a virtue that belongs to the domain of interhuman conventions which exceed the rule of law.246 There is no question, however, as to Senecaâs belief about the validity and importance of the social rules of fides, even if, or perhaps precisely because, they cannot be enforced by the system of justice.
The On Benefits opens with the lament about the contemporary ignorance in the art of giving and receiving and the omnipresence of the vice of ingratitude. On the side of the receiver, Seneca echoes Cicero in his observation that many people are reluctant to be indebted to another, even more so if this obligation is publicly known. Instead of boasting in our own merit, we must learn to be publicly grateful and acknowledge our dependence:
Let us show how grateful we are for the blessing that has come to us by pouring forth our feelings, and let us bear witness to them, not merely in the hearing of the giver, but everywhere (ubique testemur). He who receives a benefit with gratitude (Qui grate beneficium accipit) repays the first instalment on his debt. There are some who are not willing to receive a benefit unless it is privately bestowed; they dislike having a witness to the fact or anyone aware of it. But these, you may be sure, take a wrong view. As the giver should add to his gift only that measure of publicity which will please the one to whom he gives it, so the recipient should invite the whole city to witness it; a debt that you are ashamed to acknowledge you should not accept. (â¦) Some men object to having any record made of their indebtedness, to the employment of factors, to the summoning of witnesses to seal the contract, to giving their bond. (â¦) They shrink from taking it openly for fear that they may be said to owe their success to the assistance of another rather than to their own merit (sua potius virtute); they are only rarely found paying their respects to those to whom they owe their living or their position, and, while they fear the reputation of being a dependent, they incur the more painful one of being an ingrate. (Seneca, On Benefits 2.22.1â23.3)
Two things stand out here: the importance of publicly acknowledging a gift received and the reason for not doing so, namely the fear of being thought of as a dependent rather than a self-made man. To those familiar with Pauline writings, Senecaâs critique may sound much like Paulâs contrast between grace and merit, or faith and works of the law, and I will indeed return to this similarity.
A main caveat for the giver, conversely, is to not to give grudgingly, not to demand or even count on a return, but to be of good faith:
The best man is he who gives readily, never demands any return, rejoices if a return is made, who is sincere (bona fide), forgets what he has bestowed, and accepts a return in the spirit of one accepting a benefit. (Seneca, On Benefits 2.17.7)
A giver should never insist on a return, for then, Seneca argues, both the gift (beneficium) and the response of gratitude (gratia) are corrupted.247 This does not mean that there is no expectation of reciprocity (the whole system relied on that), only that the response ought to be voluntary, internally motivated by the receiver.
It may seem at odds with this focus on publicly expressing gratitude that for Seneca the essence of this gratitude at the side of the receiver and of the generosity of the giver is located in its interiority. Yet, when one is internally grateful, there is no reason to publicly conceal that one is under obligation. In perfect accordance with Stoic teaching, Seneca holds that ethics is a matter of voluntas, âwillâ, and animus, âmindâ, âheartâ, or âspiritâ.248Gratia and fides alike are virtues and are as such good in themselves, as an internal habitus or attitude, independent of whether they are received or perceived as such on the outside:
He who receives a benefit gladly has already returned it. For, since we Stoics refer every action to the mind (ad animum), a man acts only as he wills; and, since devotion, good faith, justice (pietas, fides, iustitia), since, in short, every virtue is complete within itself (intra se perfecta sit) even if it has not been permitted to put out a hand, a man can also have gratitude by the mere act of will (voluntate). (â¦) For he [i.e. the benefactor] had no wish that I should give him anything in exchange. Otherwise, it would have been, not a benefaction, but a bargaining (aut non fuit beneficium, sed negotiatio). (â¦) âBut,â you say, âhe wished to gain something besides!â Then it was not a benefit, for the chief mark of one is that it carries no thought of a return. (Seneca, On Benefits 2.31.1â3)
Seneca here discusses both the desired attitude of the receiver (gratitude) and of the giver (to be of service). The receiver should receive in a spirit of gladness; the giver ought to give without expecting a return. The virtue of the receiver is thus not dependent on the ability to return the favour, and the virtue of the giver is not dependent on the actual reception of a return. Both ought to have the right voluntas (goodwill, intention) or animus (mind, heart, disposition). As a virtue, fides is its own reward.249
While the goodness of benefaction is thus sought in interior attitudes such as faithfulness and gratitude, the relationality of fides remains indisputable to Seneca, as we read in the same treatise:
Of course, since benefaction must be included among those acts that require a second person. Certain actions, though honourable, admirable, and highly virtuous, find a field only in the person of another. Fidelity (bona fides) is praised, and honoured as one of the greatest blessings of the human race, yet is it ever said that anyone for that reason has kept his faith to himself (num quis ergo dicitur sibi fidem praestitisse)? (Seneca, On Benefits 5.10.4)250
Hence, there is something of a paradox in conceiving of faith as a virtue which is good in itself and independent of the other, yet which at the same time requires another to be enacted.251 The relationship with this âotherâ must, he argues, be relatively strong. Queueing up of heaps of clients for a morning salutatio is not the best way to develop fides:
Do you call a man who must stand in line to give you his greeting a friend? Or can anyone possibly reveal loyalty to you (tibi fides patere) who, through doors that are opened grudgingly, does not so much enter as sneak in? (Seneca, On Benefits 6.34.3)
The contrast of benefaction with the realm of business transactions is also a recurrent theme in the On Benefits. The ones bestowing a benefit must not only be of good faith themselves, but they are also admonished to âlook only to the good faith of the recipientâ (solam accipientis fidem specta) and not demand them to pay back.252Fides thus comes in the place of returning the favour. After all, âall the greatest benefits are incapable of being repaidâ and âif we make merchandise (mercem) of benefits, all the merit of so fine an action will perishâ.253 Seneca goes on to lament the practice of nailing down fides in contracts in an effort to make an arrangement watertight:
Would that no compact marked the obligation of buyer to seller, and that no covenants and agreements were safeguarded by the impress of seals, but that, instead, the keeping of them were left to good faith and a conscience that cherishes justice (fides potius illa servaret et aecum colens animus)! But men have preferred what is necessary to what is best, and would rather compel good faith than expect it (cogere fidem quam expectare malunt). (â¦) More trust is placed in our sealrings than in our consciences (Anulis nostris plus quam animis creditur). (â¦) So would it not have been more desirable to allow some men to break their word (a quibusdam fidem falli) than to cause all men to fear treachery (quam ab omnibus perfidiam timeri)? (â¦) To help, to be of service, is the part of a noble and chivalrous soul; he who gives benefits imitates the gods (qui dat beneficia, deos imitatur), he who seeks a return, money-lenders. Why, in wishing to protect benefactors, do we reduce them to the level of the most disreputable class? (Seneca, On Benefits 3.15.1â4)
According to Senecaâs logic, the moment you want to have good faith guaranteed, you move from the realm of interior virtue, trust, and benefaction to that of external security, mistrust, and business. By expecting trust, you imitate the godsâby enforcing it, money-lenders.254
Teresa Morgan refers to this idea as âthe literary clicheÌ that the world would be a better place if people practised pistis/fides instead of needing laws, contracts, or tokens of exchange like money.â255 I would emphasize the importance of this âclicheÌâ, discourse-wise, for understanding the ancient distinction between the sphere of trade and the sphere of benefaction or, alternatively perhaps, between the realm of law and the realm of faith. The main difference between both spheres seems to be that whereas a business relationship is ended when the return is made, a gift is given with the intention to establish or uphold a continuous relationship of mutual trust.256 As I will argue more fully below, this distinction may provide us with a potential crux for understanding Paulâs attitude towards the law.257
In Paul, the benefactions at stake are usually those given by God. In the On Benefitş divine beneficence is a recurring theme too, for it is often used as the ultimate model for human beneficence. What makes the gods ideal benefactors is that they are âalways ready to give and will never expect returnâ (qui et semper daturi sunt et numquam recepturi).258 Since the gods are in need of nothing, the only possible return humans can offer their divine benefactors is an interior attitude of gratitude, a response of âthe mind without a material offeringâ (animus sine re).259 The gods bestow favours âwithout any rewardâ (sine mercede).260 Moreover, what stands out regarding the divine benefactions is that they are given to all without discrimination. The gods
follow their own nature, and in their universal bounty include even those who are ill interpreters of their gifts. Let us follow these as our guides in so far as human weakness permits; let us make our benefits, not investments, but gifts (demus beneficia, non feneremus). The man who, when he gives, has any thought of repayment deserves to be deceived. (Seneca, On Benefits 1.1.9)
Here we should be mindful of the ease with which Seneca combines two ideas that are often contrasted in theological discussions: on the one hand, the inclusion of non-deserving people in divine benefaction, and, on the other, the reception of this gift as grace without making a material return. The Pauline parallel would be âworks of the lawâ, explained as exclusive device on the one hand and as self-righteousness on the other. From the perspective of the divine benefactor, to extend gifts to all also means not seeking a return of works: otherwise, there would be a careful selection of worthy beneficiaries. The benefaction-perspective thus effortlessly combines elements from the âLutheran Perspectiveâ and the âNew Perspectiveâ (on which, see also §3.2 above). I will return to this when it comes time to do a close reading of the Pauline passages (§7.4).
A further question following Senecaâs adage that we ought to imitate the gods and his characterization of the gods as indiscriminatory givers is whether we humans should also give to the ungrateful.261 The answer is not a simple âyesâ. The argument is advanced that the gods cannot discriminate in their gift-giving, but that their giftsâsuch as the change of seasons or the availability of waterâare designed for good people.262 However, when push comes to shove, the concluding advice is that even in this inclusive benefaction we should imitate the gods: âLet us imitate them; let us give, even if many of our gifts have been given in vain; none the less, let us give to still others, nay, even to those at whose hands we have suffered loss.â263 In the end, Seneca concludes, repeated acts of kindness may overcome the ingratitude, âas a good farmer overcomes the sterility of his ground by care and cultivationâ.264 This is still a long way from Paulâs bold statement that God justifiesâor, with Sanders, ârighteousesââthe ungodly (see §7.4.4 below). That said, the idea that grace may end up transforming the beneficiary is already present in Senecaâs thought.
To sum up, in moral philosophy of the first century bc and ad, the sphere of benefaction is opposed to the realm of business and to the realm of law. Within this sphere, grace (gratia) and good faith (fides) are seen as other-regarding, interior virtues, good for their own sake and not in need of a return, reward, or recompense. Reciprocity is assumed but should not be juridically enforced or contractually ensured by the benefactor. On the side of the receiver, an attitude of gratitude (gratia) and good faith (fides) is the most important return. Oneâs indebtedness to and dependence on oneâs benefactor is not to be resolved by speedy returns but rather whole-hearted acknowledgement in public. Otherwise, the gift-exchange is turned into a negotiation, the giver into a money-lender. Especially when it comes to divine benefaction, humans cannot offer any return of actual value. Nevertheless, an interior response is required to uphold a certain relational reciprocity between God and the human.
7.4 The Proclamation of a Transjuridical and Transethnic Bond of Trust in Paulâs Letters
This chapter takes as its semantic domain and discourse the structure of patronage as it is expressed in public situations of benefaction and political structures of imperialism. We have seen that pistis in this context was generally recognized as an important social virtue, entrenched in religiosity, praised for its transjuridical and transethnic character, and typically used to describe asymmetrical yet reciprocal relationships in which it could describe both the good faith of the benefactor and the interior loyalty of the beneficiary. Now that we turn to Paul, how can this discourse help us understand his usage of pistis language?
As an important social structure, patronage was, of course, an unavoidable aspect of life in the Pauline churches.265 Paulâs own role can also be described in terms of patronage, though there is debate as regards the top-down character of his influence.266 When it comes to pistis, at least, Paul expresses his concern not to âlord it overâ their faith (2 Cor 1.24, see §5.4.3 supra). I will not elaborate on this subject here, since I found that occurrences of pistis language in the Pauline letters that may be best explained within the context of benefaction and patronage are concerned with divine-human relationships. Nonetheless, in these âverticalâ relationships, Paul seems to perform an important intermediary function as broker or ambassador.
Not everyonewould agree that Paulâs use of the terminology of faith fits the Graeco-Roman idea of patronage. The difference between Pauline and Roman use of pistis regarding relationships of patronage has been addressed by Efrain Agosto. While the language is taken over, Agosto argues, the relationships expressed by these words are not structurally mirrored by Paul:
Whereas Paul reconfigured the terms of Roman political ideology (e.g. euangelion, kyrios, sÅtÄr, pistis, and so on) into the center of his anti-imperial gospel, he does not appear to have infused the language, much less the relationships of patronage, into either his letters or his relations with his communities. (Agosto 2004, 123)
As I explained earlier (§7.2.3), unlike Agosto I have not found pistis in particular charged with anti-imperial potential. I would agree that pistis is not used often by Paul in the context of interhuman benefaction or patronage (although Philemon 1.5â6 could be so understood). Yet the question at hand is, rather, whether or not the semantic domain of patronage, benefaction, and imperialism, in which pistis language functions prominently, was used by Paul to shed light on divine-human relations. To this question (and my positive answer), I now turn.
7.4.1 Proclaiming Pistis (Gal 1.23, Rom 1.8, Rom 10.8): Paul as Ambassador of a Reciprocal Divine-Human Bond of Trust
In several distinct passages, Paul speaks of pistis as something which is announced, proclaimed, or declared (as the object of Greek verbs such as εá½Î±Î³Î³ÎµÎ»Î¯Î¶Î¿Î¼Î±Î¹, καÏαγγÎλλÏ, and κηÏÏÏÏÏ, respectively Gal 1.23; Rom 1.8; Rom 10.8). In these instances, as in others, Paul styles himself as a messenger of good news. In 2 Corinthians, Paul even explicitly indicates that he is working as an ambassador (ÏÏεÏβεÏομεν) to bring a message of reconciliation (2 Cor 5.18).267 As a citizen of the heavenly society (Phil 3.20: ἡμῶν Î³á½°Ï Ïὸ ÏολίÏÎµÏ Î¼Î± á¼Î½ οá½Ïανοá¿Ï á½ÏάÏÏει), Paul represents God towards the nations.268 His message is qualified as being the âword of God heared from usâ (1 Thes 2.13: λόγον á¼ÎºÎ¿á¿Ï ÏαÏâ ἡμῶν Ïοῦ θεοῦ) and its contents are described as a call from God into his kingdom and glory (1 Thes 2.12: Ïοῦ καλοῦνÏÎ¿Ï á½Î¼á¾¶Ï Îµá¼°Ï Ïὴν á¼Î±Ï Ïοῦ βαÏιλείαν καὶ δόξαν).
In the surviving undisputed letters, there are three instances in which Paul describes his own role in terms of being âentrustedâ with a commission or with the gospel, using a middle or passive variant of pisteuÅ (1 Thes 2.4: ÏιÏÏÎµÏ Î¸á¿Î½Î±Î¹ Ïὸ εá½Î±Î³Î³Îλιον; Gal 2.7: ÏεÏίÏÏÎµÏ Î¼Î±Î¹ Ïὸ εá½Î±Î³Î³Îλιον; 1 Cor 9.17: οἰκονομίαν ÏεÏίÏÏÎµÏ Î¼Î±Î¹). This depiction is reminiscent of Ciceroâs description of the duties of a Roman magistrate, who is to remember âall this has been committed to him as a sacred trust (ea fidei suae commissa)â.269 Yet, unlike in Cicero, Paulâs pistis vocabulary is not only used to describe the trust invested in him from above, it is far more often used to describe the contents of what is being pronounced by him. I argue in this section that in these contexts of proclamation, pistis refers to the bond of trust with God: Godâs offer of faithfulness/trustworthiness (pistis) that Paul proclaims to the nations in Godâs name and that should in turn be met with a response of loyalty/trust (pistis).
When pistis is used in this context of announcement and public speech, however, this combination frequently leads commentators to assume a complete identification of this âfaithâ with the whole content of the kerygma, as a near synonym to syntactically similar constructions with âthe good newsâ (Ïὸ εá½Î±Î³Î³Îλιον), as found in 1 Corinthians 15.1 (with εá½Î±Î³Î³ÎµÎ»Î¯Î¶Î¿Î¼Î±Î¹) and Galatians 2.2 (with κηÏÏÏÏÏ).270Galatians 1.23 is then translated as âthey only heard it said, âThe one who formerly was persecuting us is now proclaiming the faith he once tried to destroy (νῦν εá½Î±Î³Î³ÎµÎ»Î¯Î¶ÎµÏαι Ïὴν ÏίÏÏιν ἥν ÏοÏε á¼ÏÏÏθει)ââ.271 The question at hand in this section is: is this the best interpretation of pistis, bearing in mind the Graeco-Roman discourses in which it is involved? Does pistis stand for âwhat is believedâ in Galatians 1.23, Romans 1.8, and Romans 10.8?
An important incentive to look for different discourses to understand pistis in the Pauline letters is the fact that the âkerygmaticâ interpretation would imply a major shift in meaning at a very early stage of what we now know as Christianity. Throughout her work, Teresa Morgan has argued persuasively that the occurrence of such an instantaneous shift in meaning is uncalled for.272 Others have emphasized that the burden of proof rests with those who plead for such a development in Paulâs days.273 Michael Wolter also points to the âordinaryâ pagan usage of pistis as âlistening with approvalâ in contrast to a kerygmatic interpretation as the closest parallel for Paulâs usage.274
In this study, I look for the specific semantic domains that may be in play in each passage. In §6.4.1 above, where a kerygmatic meaning of pistis was also considered, I suggested that Philippians 1.27 can best be understood from the domain of the training of philosophical virtue. In the passages under scrutiny in this section, the idea of a political alliance or a relationship of patronage seems to be foregrounded. In both cases, the semantic domain involved suggests a less kerygmatic faith yet also a more than âordinaryâ type of belief (as Wolter would prefer). Whereas Wolter rightly rejects overly theological readings and opts for understanding pistis as a normal, âpaganâ acknowledgement of truth, his reading remains quite cognitive and omits those âpaganâ discourses in which pistis is a suprahuman force (as in my part I: a pistis cosmology), is actively transforming oneâs character (see part II: a pistis mentality), or is a newly found relational status (see part III: a pistis society). And building on Morganâs work, with whose general emphasis on relationality I heartily agree, my approach seeks to further delineate the specific discourses at play in each Pauline phrase or passage.
In Galatians 1.23, the verb âto destroyâ (ÏοÏθÎÏ) suggests, Morgan argues, that Paul was in his early years not seeking to destroy a point of view or a body of beliefs, but rather âto destroy the trust, in the sense of âthe relationship of trustâ (or even âthe bond of trustâ) between God, Christ and Christâs followersâ.275 Morgan understands this meaning as an early Christian development, a small evolution of the known range of meanings in the shape of a further reification of the relationship trust into a bond or covenant of trust.276 The object of Paulâs destructive actions was indeed first the community itself (Gal 2.13: á¼Î´á½·Ïκον Ïὴν á¼ÎºÎºÎ»Î·Ïίαν Ïοῦ θεοῦ καὶ á¼Ïá½¹ÏÎ¸Î¿Ï Î½ αá½Ïήν), which suggests that pistis also seems to be connected to community and relationship. In the context of the discourse of patronage discussed in this chapter, such an attempt to destroy a bond of trust can be more specifically understood as an attempt to break up a patronâs relationship with his clients or a commanderâs bond with a newly conquered peopleâserious matters indeed.
This discourse of patronage also explains why the opposite of âdestroyingâ pistis in this sentence is âproclaimingâ pistis: the restoration of the trust-relationship between God and human beings requires a public acknowledgement from both sides. Godâs faithfulness to Jew and Greek is paramount, and like the divine benefaction in Seneca, it is part of the divine nature and not dependent on a reciprocal human faithfulness (cf. 2 Tim 2.13: âif we are faithless (á¼ÏιÏÏοῦμεν), he remains faithful (ÏιÏÏὸÏ)âfor he cannot deny himselfâ; 2 Thes 3.2â3: âfor not all have faith (ἡ ÏίÏÏιÏ); but the Lord is faithful (ÏιÏÏὸÏ)â). This faithfulness of God to all nations must be announced, but human faithfulness must be publicly acknowledged in response in order to establish a reciprocal bond of trust. Hence, the reciprocity in the terms Paul uses are part and parcel of Paulâs message. Paul proclaims the grace (charis/gratia) and faithfulness (pistis/fides) of God in offering through Christ the gift of justice to all. This calls for a public response of gratitude (charis/gratia) and commitment (pistis/fides) to this divine patron.
In Romans, the importance of this public reciprocity also comes to the fore. Paul describes his own role here as serving God âin the good message concerning his Sonâ (Rom 1.9: á¼Î½ Ïá¿· εá½Î±Î³Î³ÎµÎ»Î¯á¿³ Ïοῦ Ï á¼±Î¿á¿¦ αá½Ïοῦ). This Son is indeed presented by Paul as the promised Davidian King (Rom 1.3), whose âhouse and kingdom will be made sure (ÏιÏÏÏθήÏεÏαι) foreverâ according to Nathanâs prophecy.277 In the same opening, he writes about the Romans that their âfaith is proclaimed throughout the worldâ (Rom 1.8: ἡ ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï á½Î¼á¿¶Î½ καÏαγγÎλλεÏαι á¼Î½ ὠλῳ Ïá¿· κÏÏμῳ). Again, we may ask, is this to be understood as âthe early Christian collection of beliefsâ? For the reasons just laid out, I would argue that it is not. Just as in Galatians 1.23, these words confirm the importance of the human response of loyalty to the divine offer, here designated as the âgood news about his Sonâ. Even more, they confirm the importance of a public response for the entire world to hear.
Philosophical critique of the benefaction practised in the days of Cicero and Seneca focuses, as we have seen, in particular on ingratitude, on the reluctance to be seen as a receiver of benefits, and on the importance of publicly recognizing indebtedness. Nevertheless, especially in philosophical treatments of benefaction, this outward appearance was only a reflection of inner virtue or vice. The proclamation of pistis is thus only the outward reflection of what we might call a more encompassing interior response of faithfulness by the Romans addressed.
A text in which the discourse of benefaction and patronage is more explicitly present, and where this response is also at stake, is found at the end of 1 Corinthians. Here, the Corinthians are reminded of the good news Paul proclaimed (1 Cor 15.1: Ïὸ εá½Î±Î³Î³Îλιον ὠεá½Î·Î³Î³ÎµÎ»Î¹Ïάμην á½Î¼á¿Î½), a message they received and in which they âstandâ (ὠκαὶ ÏαÏελάβεÏε, á¼Î½ ᾧ καὶ á¼ÏÏήκαÏε). If they do not, they âhave come to believe in vainâ (15.2: εἰκῠá¼ÏιÏÏεÏÏαÏε), as it is often translated. Does pisteuÅ designate their belief in Paulâs message? Some would hold that the usage of pistis in this passage is purely and evidently cognitive, as âbelieve to be trueâ.278 I would agree that this dimension is part of it, but more than holding it to be true, it signifies their answer of loyalty and allegiance.
In light of the discourse presented in this chapter, the remainder of this section shows that it is the Corinthiansâ allegiance which is at stake. In what follows, Paul discusses his intermediary role as a beneficiary of the divine gift (âgrace to meâ), which in turn is a gift that is working âwith himâ and that led him to âworkingâ and proclaiming the good news:
But by the favour of God (ÏάÏιÏι δὲ θεοῦ) I am what I am, and his favour towards me (ἡ ÏάÏÎ¹Ï Î±á½Ïοῦ ἡ Îµá¼°Ï á¼Î¼á½²) has not been in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of themâthough it was not I, but the favour of God that is with me (ἡ ÏάÏÎ¹Ï Ïοῦ θεοῦ [ἡ] Ïὺν á¼Î¼Î¿Î¯). Whether then it was I or they, so we proclaim and so you have begun to answer with allegiance (οá½ÏÏÏ ÎºÎ·ÏÏÏÏομεν καὶ οá½ÏÏÏ á¼ÏιÏÏεÏÏαÏε). (â¦) and if Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your allegiance has been in vain (κενὸν á¼Ïα Ïὸ κήÏÏ Î³Î¼Î± ἡμῶν, κενὴ καὶ ἡ ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï á½Î¼á¿¶Î½). (1 Corinthians 15.10â11, 14)
Allegiance to a disgraced and dead leader is in vain, but if the gift (charis) of God in raising Christ as proclaimed is true, then a response of loyalty to and trust in this powerful lord is meaningful and required to enter into (mind the ingressive aorist) a living relationship.279 From this angle, faith cannot be reduced to cognitive assent to the content of what is proclaimedâin oneâs life one may believe a lot of meaningless things; instead the exclusive relational investment of the Christ-followers is at stake. Pistis amounts to the full human response to the proclamation. Proclamation and pistis are thus the complementary sides of the same coin: the proclamation of Godâs favour or grace, in the shape of a new divine leader, asks for the human return of allegiance, loyalty, commitment, trust, or good faith.280
The reasoning in Romans 10.8â13 can also be understood against this background. The chapters 9 to 11 of this letter are commonly considered to contain a coherent line of thought.281 I focus here on a particular section in the middle which contains an unusual high frequency of pistis vocabulary, even for Paul. According to Ben Dunson, it is here that âwe find Paulâs most expansive discussion of faith as it is related to righteousnessâ.282 In this passage, Paul elaborates on a citation from Deuteronomy: âthe word is near you, on your lips and in your heartâ.283 This word is identified by Paul as âthe word of faith that we proclaimâ (Rom 10.8: Ïὸ á¿¥á¿Î¼Î± Ïá¿Ï ÏίÏÏεÏÏ á½ ÎºÎ·ÏÏÏÏομεν). As is evidenced by the choice of words, Paul again presents himself as the ambassador of the new faith-relationship between God and all who would listen.
The response âon your lips and in your heartâ is further explicated by Paul as relying (ÏιÏÏεÏÏ) with the heart on the fact that Jesus is Lord and confessing (á½Î¼Î¿Î»Î¿Î³ÎÏ) with the mouth that he was raised from the dead by God:
Because if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord (á¼á½°Î½ á½Î¼Î¿Î»Î¿Î³Î®Ïá¿Ï á¼Î½ Ïá¿· ÏÏÏμαÏί ÏÎ¿Ï ÎºÏÏιον ἸηÏοῦν) and are convinced in your heart that God raised him from the dead (ÏιÏÏεÏÏá¿Ï á¼Î½ ÏῠκαÏδίᾳ ÏÎ¿Ï á½ Ïι á½ Î¸Îµá½¸Ï Î±á½Ïὸν ἤγειÏεν á¼Îº νεκÏῶν), you will be saved. (Romans 10.9)
The divine reassurance of faithfulness, proclaimed by Paul, thus demands a two-sided response of allegiance by his audience: an interior answer in the heart (pisteuÅ) and an exterior answer in the mouth (homologeÅ), so that there can be no duplicity. It is interesting that pistis is again related to the interior person, a peculiarity that makes sense in view of the philosophical discourse of benefaction (§7.3.6), to which we will return in the next subsection (§7.4.2).
It is also interesting to note that of the thirteen active aorist forms of pisteuÅ in the undisputed letters, five are related to proclamation of the good news in this passage (Rom 10.8,14,16) and in the passage discussed (1 Cor 15.2,11).284 This tense is perfectly equipped to denote the start of the pistis relationship with the kyrios Jesus Christ: viewed in light of this semantic domain, to âcome to believeâ denotes the start of reciprocal bond of trust, the first response to the announcement of a graceful lord, and the transfer into the realm of this ruler.
Is this faith to be understood as a cognitive acknowledgement, as âholding to be trueâ or âbelievingâ? âIf you are convinced thatâ (á¼á½°Î½ (â¦) ÏιÏÏεÏÏá¿Ï (â¦) á½ Ïι) comes close to the mental act of believing, yet the direct implication here, as in the majority of Pauline usage, is that faithfulness is due.285 The parallel usage of homologeÅ and pisteuÅ bears witness to the conceptual closeness of both words: pisteuein is here an act of acknowledgement, of proclaiming loyalty and faithfulness to a leader.286 Faith in this context is âthe acknowledgement that one âbelongsâ to Christ, and as such it is an act of commitment to himâ.287 The interchangeability of these statements demonstrates that both express the same recognition of Christ as divinely appointed Lord, the same performative act of faith.
Does this faith function âin a markedly individual fashionâ, as Ben Dunson argues based on this passage?288 It may be that the vocabulary of the passage, with the repeated singular sou, gives the argument an individual ring. This language, however, is taken over from the quotations from Leviticus and Deuteronomy. More importantly, the broader context of the passage is concerned with a question about communalities: the status of Israel vis-aÌ-vis the gentile nations. Whereas Paul never denounces the importance of an individual relationship of loyalty to Christ, this passage is about which nations, which groups of people can call upon God. From the perspective of political patronage, such a communal approach is not farfetched: peoples and nations are invited to become part of the pax Romanum, and similarly, peoples and nations are invited to become part of the pax Christi. âThe same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him (ÏÎ»Î¿Ï Ïῶν Îµá¼°Ï ÏάνÏÎ±Ï ÏÎ¿á½ºÏ á¼ÏÎ¹ÎºÎ±Î»Î¿Ï Î¼ÎÎ½Î¿Ï Ï Î±á½ÏÏν)â (Rom 10.12), Paul explains. In other words, the divine benefaction is universally configured and extends to all nations.
In sum, in all three passages where faith is being proclaimed, it is not âthe faithâ that is preached, but rather the renewed relationship of trust, which is now publicly announced from the side of God in order to be acknowledged from the side of humanity. This first acknowledgement is often expressed with the aorist of pisteuÅ. What this response further entails will be explored further in the next two sections on âhearingâ (§7.4.2) and âobedienceâ (§7.4.3) âof faithâ.
7.4.2 Hearing That Results in Pistis (Gal 3.5): AkoÄ PisteÅs as Interior Alternative to Offering Ostentatious Returns
In Galatians, Paul contrasts âworks of the lawâ with the phrase akoÄ pisteÅs (á¼ÎºÎ¿á½´ ÏίÏÏεÏÏ) twice. The most common translations of this phrase are âhearing of faithâ, âbelieving what you heardâ, and âthe message of the faithâ. I argue for an alternative which emphasizes the attitude by which Paulâs message was received, an attitude characterized by trust, allegiance, fidelity, commitment, good faith, and faithfulnessâin one word, pistis.
The text in question reads as follows:
The only thing I want to learn from you is this: Did you receive the Spirit by doing the works of the law or by akoÄ pisteÅs (á¼Î¾ á¼ÏγÏν νÏÎ¼Î¿Ï Ïὸ Ïνεῦμα á¼Î»Î¬Î²ÎµÏε á¼¢ á¼Î¾ á¼ÎºÎ¿á¿Ï ÏίÏÏεÏÏ)? Are you so foolish? Having started with the Spirit, are you now ending with the flesh? Did you experience so much for nothing?âif it really was for nothing. Well then, does God supply you with the Spirit (á¼ÏιÏοÏηγῶν á½Î¼á¿Î½ Ïὸ Ïνεῦμα) and work powers (á¼Î½ÎµÏγῶν Î´Ï Î½Î¬Î¼ÎµÎ¹Ï) among you by your doing the works of the law, or by akoÄ pisteÅs (á¼Î¾ á¼ÏγÏν νÏÎ¼Î¿Ï á¼¢ á¼Î¾ á¼ÎºÎ¿á¿Ï ÏίÏÏεÏÏ)? (Galatians 3.2â5)
Due to the polysemy of both akoÄ and pistis, the amount of possible interpretations of akoÄ pisteÅs is multiplied. The two basic options for akoÄ are (1) the act or faculty of hearing and (2) the thing heard, that is, the message or the proclamation. The word is used by Paul at different places in both senses, so this does not conclusively tip the scales.289 While the first meaning is found in most common translations,290 the second interpretation is supported in scholarship.291 Theologically, the meaning of â[Godâs] messageâ is sometimes preferred to â[human] hearingâ because it offers a non-human alternative to the all-too-human effort to uphold the law.292
As for the meanings of pistis, often the two options presented as most likely are âbeliefâ (accepting the gospel as true, fides qua creditur) or âthe faithâ (the gospel itself, fides quae creditur), resulting in combined interpretations such as âthe message that evokes beliefâ, âhearing and believingâ, or, alternatively, âthe message of the faithâ or âthe hearing of the faithâ.293 In §6.4.1 and again in §7.4.1, I have already argued against the presumption that pistis pertains to the complete contents of the Christ-message, âthe faithâ, in Paulâs time. This seems to leave us with the interpretation of pistis as the act of believing. Regardless of the meaning of akoÄ, however, this interpretation renders the juxtaposition with âworks of the lawâ and the result of receiving the Spirit and Godâs powerful workings somewhat puzzling. Perhaps in the context of modern churches, people have grown accustomed to the idea that belief as a cognitive assent to factual truths is indeed the opposite of self-righteous works and the condition for gifts such as righteousness, the Spirit, and divine miracles. According to this line of thinking, the barrier of belief and unbelief is some kind of mental barrier that is to be crossed from our side in order to gain access to the divine gifts (to which Reformation theology naturally adds that this is in no manner our own merit, but a divine gift itself).294 However, such a construal is not the most logical interpretation from an ancient perspective.
If we look for an ancient frame of reference, it is essential to note that we are speaking about gifts here, and Paul is as well, as indicated by the verbs âto receiveâ (λαμβάνÏ) and âto supplyâ (á¼ÏιÏοÏηγÎÏ). As I have argued at length (in section 7.3), in the ancient Mediterranean, even the most asymmetrical relationships of benefaction were characterized by a type of reciprocity which is commonly indicated by the word group pistis/fides. To give a gift is to expect a return. If we understand the message Paul preached as a divine offer of righteousness, to be made explicit by a powerful divine presence (pneuma and dynamis), the logical condition for the reception of these goods offered is the establishment of a reciprocal, trusting relationship, an allegiance characterized by mutual faith. Such a relationship can only come into existence if there is also a voluntary response of the receiver characterized by good faith, loyalty, and trust vis-aÌ-vis the benefactor. It is my suggestion that by using the phrase akoÄ pisteÅs, Paul indicates precisely such a response.
In this passage, the divine gifts are explicated by Paul as the Spirit (3.2 and 3.5) and the âworking of powers (3.5: á¼Î½ÎµÏγῶν Î´Ï Î½Î¬Î¼ÎµÎ¹Ï)â. It is interesting to note here that the Spirit is seen later in the letter as the ultimate sign of adoption into Gods family, of the transition from slaves to heirs (Gal 4.6â7). From the perspective of patronage, this gift testifies to this new relationship between patron and client. The âworking of powersâ also confirms this: by becoming Godâs children, the Galatians moved into the direct sphere of influence of God, where his powers are manifestly present.
The interpretation of akoÄ pisteÅs as response of good faith not only fits the context of an offer of divine benefaction and patronage, it also explains the contrast with âworks of the lawâ. As we saw in §7.3.6, both Cicero and Seneca contrast business transactions with benefaction. They argue against the reluctance of beneficiaries to be seen as dependent on and indebted to a patron. As the ideal benefactor, God does not give to those who can offer âa prompter and speedier returnâ, but he looks âonly to the faith of the receiverâ (solam accipientis fidem).295 By offering such a return of external or material âworksâ, people even turn God into a money-lender: âWhy, in wishing to protect benefactors, do we reduce them to the level of the most disreputable class?â296 Instead, the proper return that befits a continuous relationship of gift-exchange is a return of interior gratitude (gratia) and good faith (fides). The gift must be reciprocated, but, the Stoics argue, the most important return is an interior one.
It is not too farfetched to believe that Paul speaks about an analogously inappropriate attitude of people who think that they can respond to the divine gifts as worthy recipients deserving the gifts, a worthiness they express by reciprocating with âworks of the lawâ. The reasoning is that by offering such a business-like, exterior return to God, people exhibit an unwillingness to acknowledge God as patron and benefactor. This suggestion has also been made by Jerome Neyrey: âI suggest that Paul understands the debate over âfaithâ vs âlawâ as the insistence by some on a form of balanced reciprocity between mortals and God.â297 In Neyreyâs social-science terminology, they turn Godâs altruistic âgeneralized reciprocityâ into âbalanced reciprocityâ which follows a quid-pro-quo pattern.298 From the additional political perspective described in this chapter, such people act as though they are outside of the domain of the lord Jesus and unbound by the divine offer of patronage. Instead, Paul argues, God is after a continuous, reciprocal, relational structure of gift-exchange. The establishment of this structure does not require an external return, âworks of the lawâ, but an interior response of faithfulness that acknowledges a position of dependence.
This interpretation is also well attuned to the subsequent parallel (in Galatians) of Abrahamâs pistis: the pagan people are blessed, not, as the NRSV and other translations would have it, âwith Abraham who believedâ, but âwith the faithful Abrahamâ (Gal 3.9: Ïὺν Ïá¿· ÏιÏÏá¿· á¼Î²Ïαάμ).299 Abraham was thought to have shown his faith not by accepting an unlikely truthâin fact, he made a habit of denying or at least questioning these truthsâbut by lifelong relationship of faithfulness and allegiance to God. The example of faithful Abraham gains even more weight in Romans 4, a passage which I will discuss at greater length below (§7.4.4), in which we encounter a similar opposition between pistis and works, with the added notion of the payment of wages.
Does this interpretation have any implications for the meaning of akoÄ (in Gal 3.2,5)? It does to some extent. For a relationship of reciprocal faith to take off, what is needed is not merely the announcement of the benefaction, not even if hearing it âevokes beliefâ, but also an appropriate response in the form of enduring commitment, wholehearted loyalty, and good faith. Consequently, with the phrase akoÄ pisteÅs, the emphasis is predominantly on the second word, the genitive pisteÅs. This is confirmed a few sentences later, when Paul speaks of the blessing of Abraham coming to the gentiles âso that we might receive the promise of the Spirit through faithâ (Gal 3.14: ἵνα Ïὴν á¼Ïαγγελίαν Ïοῦ ÏνεÏμαÏÎ¿Ï Î»Î¬Î²Ïμεν διὰ Ïá¿Ï ÏίÏÏεÏÏ). Here, the same reception of the Spirit Paul also spoke of in Galatians 3.2â5 is connected only to faith rather than to âhearingâ or âmessageâ. The Spirit belongs to those who exhibit pistis: those who accept that they completely belong to the divine patron.
If akoÄ is indeed strongly determined by its adjective, it follows that it most likely refers to the human response to the message of Godâs and Christâs faithfulness (on which, see §7.4.1), not to the message itself. The proper human response to the divine offer is accepting it by entering into a relationship characterized by trust, good faith, and loyalty, a âhearing which results in a response of faithfulnessâ. Hearing, akoÄ, thus comes close to obeying, hypakoÄ: actually changing your ways in response to the message of another.300 And to obey means to respond âin word and deedâ, as Paul phrases it in yet another passage on pronouncing the good message of Christ (Rom 15.18: Îµá¼°Ï á½Ïακοὴν á¼Î¸Î½á¿¶Î½, λόγῳ καὶ á¼Ïγῳ). It is no wonder, then, that Paul also makes a connection between pistis and hypakoÄ, as the next subsection will further explore.
7.4.3 A Response of Pistis among All the Nations (Rom 1.5, 16.26): HypakoÄ PisteÅs as Fidelity towards Faithful Leaders
The centrality of the notion âobedience of faithâ in Romans is noted by many. It is mentioned at first in the opening lines of the Letter to the Romans (1.5) and repeated, though the manuscript tradition is somewhat puzzling here, in the doxology (16.26). But whether or not Paul wrote these lines as a conclusion, it is an apt inclusio because it recalls the words in the opening of the letter, where Paul speaks about his own role as
set apart for the gospel of God (Îµá¼°Ï Îµá½Î±Î³Î³Îλιον θεοῦ) (â¦) the gospel concerning his Son (ÏεÏὶ Ïοῦ Ï á¼±Î¿á¿¦ αá½Ïοῦ), who was descended from David according to the flesh and designated Son of God in power (á¼Î½ Î´Ï Î½Î¬Î¼ÎµÎ¹) according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord, through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith (Îµá¼°Ï á½Ïακοὴν ÏίÏÏεÏÏ) among all the nations (á¼Î½ ÏᾶÏιν Ïοá¿Ï á¼Î¸Î½ÎµÏιν) for the sake of his name. (Romans 1.1â5)
The good news, in Paulâs opening words, is that of Jesus a resurrected âlordâ (κÏÏιοÏ), whose âpowerâ (δÏναμιÏ) results in âobedience of faithâ (á½Ïακοὴ ÏίÏÏεÏÏ) among all nations. And, perfectly in line with what we saw in Graeco-Roman sources (in §7.3.4), the peopleâs pistis is the natural companion to a leaderâs demonstrated power. Not only does Paul thereby set the agenda for this particular letter, he seems to summarize his broader mission. The good news itself is described as a âpowerâ (δÏναμιÏ) a little further on and again linked to the aim of achieving salvation for all the faithful (Rom 1.16: δÏÎ½Î±Î¼Î¹Ï Î³á½°Ï Î¸ÎµÎ¿á¿¦ á¼ÏÏιν Îµá¼°Ï ÏÏÏηÏίαν ÏανÏὶ Ïá¿· ÏιÏÏεÏονÏι).
The question I focus on in this subsection is how we ought to understand the genitive construction of hypakoÄ pisteÅs and the two words of which it is made up. First, I will address three major studies on this topic that do not take the Graeco-Roman context into account. Then, the advantages reading it against this imperial background (see §7.3) will be considered, before I examine the argumentation in favour of an anti-imperial reading.
An influential contribution to the interpretation of hypakoÄ pisteÅs was made by Don Garlington in his monograph on âobedience of faithâ contextualized in the literature of Second Temple Judaism (1991). According to Garlington, these are words whose significance âtranscends their function within the introduction of Romans and expands to encapsulate a world of thoughtâ.301 The main novelty of the Christian âobedience of faithâ, he argues in line with the New Perspective, lies in the idea that such obedience is possible apart from dedication to the whole of the Torah and from the distinctive marks of Jewish identity. In addition to this monograph, Garlington further expounded his views on âobedience of faithâ in Romans in three subsequent articles (1990; 1991b; 1993). He opts for an interpretation of hypakoÄ pisteÅs in Romans that is âdeliberately ambiguousâ, since it means both the âobedience which consists in faithâ (appositional genitive) and the âobedience which is the product of faithâ (subjective genitive of source).302 The theological consequence is that âthe notion of faithâs obedience provides the link between present justification by faith alone and future judgment according to worksâ.303 This conclusion is in line with earlier scholarly analyses of the social background of Romans which view this notion as crucial to overcoming the differences between Jewish-Christian and pagan-Christian congregations in Rome.304
It is unfortunate that in these distinctions Garlington seems to have adopted a rather narrow meaning of pistis as a mental attitude, for he appears to understand faith in the appositional genitive as something very much distinct from obedience.305 According to Garlington, the appositional genitive is not a combination of two synonymous words, but a redefinition of (Jewish) obedience by works as obedience by faith/belief, thus widening its scope to pagans. Faith in this reasoning is a lot like cognitive belief. As I argued in the previous chapter, however, such a rigid distinction between faith as a mental attitude and faithfulness as a virtue should not be projected onto Pauline thought. Garlington indeed emphasizes the conceptual closeness of ethical obedience and faith when he discusses the genitive of source: âto speak of faith is to speak of obedienceâ.306 But if we understand pistis in the context of obedience to indicate loyalty or faithfulness and not âbeliefâ, as I think we should, the distinction between an appositional genitive and a genitive of source is no distinction at all.
A similar evaluation counts for the work of Glenn Davies, who explains the phrase âobedience of faithâ in the introduction of his monograph on Faith and Obedience in Romans (1990). Even more explicitly than Garlington, Davies posits a sharp distinction between faith and obedience: âObedience for Paul, is more comprehensive than faith as mere believing; it involves doing alsoâ (italics by Davies).307 Obedience refers to the âchanged lifestyle, (â¦) the consequence of such an act of belief.â308HypakoÄ pisteÅs should hence be understood as a subjective genitive or genitive of origin, not as a genitive of apposition.309 Since Davies thus presupposes quite a lot about what faith is and is not according to Paul, the results of his reasoning are dubious. There is no clear-cut division between faith and works, trust and faithfulness, believing and ethics in Paul (see the previous chapter).
Hence, because both words can be synonymous in contexts such as the one explored in the present chapter, hypakoÄ pisteÅs can certainly be an appositional grammatical construction. However, the appositional genitive does not redefine obedience as a purely mental attitude as Garlington would have it; rather, it narrows down the meaning of obedience and faith to that sense in which both semantic fields overlap.310 The type of pistis that overlaps in meaning with obedience can be described by words such as faithfulness, fidelity, loyalty, and allegiance: it designates the proper response to Christ as Lord of all and as Godâs gift. It constitutes the human side of the reciprocal bond of trust. If we interpret hypakoÄ pisteÅs along these lines, then a translation like âfaithful obedienceâ or âobedient faithfulnessâ seems to be a more accurate rendering.
A third noteworthy study of the meaning of hypakoÄ pisteÅs, one which arrives at a somewhat more exceptional interpretation, is offered by Gerhard Friedrich. Friedrichâs interpretation of pistis has more ethical content than Garlingtonâs and Daviesâs: âFaith is not a psychological process; it includes action as its effect.â311 However, his interpretation of hypakoÄ is more disputable. One of his articles from 1981 is titled âShould hypakoÄ pisteÅs be translated as âobedience of faithâ?â (âMuà á½Ïακοή ÏίÏÏεÏÏ mit âGlaubensgehorsamâ übersetzt werden?â). Friedrichâs answer is, as may be expected, ânoâ. Instead, he suggests, it ought to be understood as âmessage of faithâ (âGlaubensbotschaftâ). In line with his understanding of akoÄ (see §7.4.2), he pleads for a rendering of hypakoÄ as âmessageâ, a sense which seems prior to the meaning of âobedienceâ, that was first used as such in the Septuagint (2 Sam 22.36: καὶ ἡ á½Ïακοή ÏÎ¿Ï á¼ÏÎ»á½µÎ¸Ï Î½á½³ με). Friedrich argues that such a reading solves two problems that arise when hypakoÄ pisteÅs is understood as a genitive of apposition (or in Friedrichâs terms: genitivus epexegeticus): 1) it would be pleonasmic, for then hypakoÄ would suffice, and 2) it is hard to translate without the addition of a verb.312 This second argument seems irrelevant for understanding the Greek, whereas the first lacks understanding of how language works. The fact that both words can be synonymously used does not mean that a language user can use either and be done with it, as Mark Nanos also seems to think when he discusses this phrase.313 As I just indicated, by means of a genitive case the sense of a phrase can be narrowed down. In this case, obedience is characterized by the reciprocal, relational implications of pistis, and pistis is further explicated by the ethical, political thrust of obedience.
Nevertheless, an important contribution by Friedrich lies in the mapping of the meanings of hypakoÄ in the Septuagint. For not only is it used there in the sense of âmessageâ (âBotschaftâ, âMitteilungâ, âBescheidâ), it can also mean âattentive, active hearingâ (âdas intensivere, aktivere Hören: Gehör schenken, anhörenâ), âanswering, addressâ (âantworten, zuredenâ).314 In fact, as others have also noticed, the meaning of âto hearâ, âto obey what one hearsâ is the more prototypical of these, as it is used in texts as central to Judaism as the Shema.315 This way, Friedrichâs own research confirms the meaning of âresponseâ instead of âmessageâ: it is the attentive, active reaction to the good news. This reaction is expressed as faithfulness to the faithful God; therefore it can be adequately designated by Paul as hypakoÄ pisteÅs.
In the Benedictine tradition, such an attentive response is indeed meant by the Latin obedientia. Hence, if in a modern context obedience may sound too much like unreciprocal submission, a meaning excluded here by the addition of pisteÅs, then âa response of faithfulnessâ or âan answer of loyaltyâ may be better translations. This is also confirmed from a Stoic perspective, in which there is no great difference between ruling and being obedient to a ruler. As Troels Engberg Pedersen pointed out, both imply willing the good, and hence âthere is no room for any idea of force being applied on anybodyâs part; on the contrary, the âobedienceâ is through and through self-willed since it springs from a grasp that one has oneself acquired.â316 Indeed, we already quoted from an early Stoic source, probably Chrysippus, on the common law of right reason: âwhen all actions promote the harmony of the spirit dwelling in the individual man with the will of him who orders the universe.â317 Likewise in Paul, being âobedientâ comes down to being an unforced participant in the realm of faith under the just rule of Christ. Confirming my review of pistis/fides language in imperial times, hypakoÄ pisteÅs is a dedication to the rulerâs good cause and thereby to the good in general (cf. §7.3.5).
Looking at the direct and wider context of Romans, âobedienceâ or âresponse of faithfulnessâ also seems preferable over âmessageâ. Would Paul summarize the aim of his mission in Romans 1.1â5 as proclamation of the gospel alone, or does it incorporate a public response of loyalty by the nations? What would honour Christâs name more? Furthermore, in the juxtaposition of Adam and Christ (Rom 5.19), it is Adamâs response of disobedience (διὰ Ïá¿Ï ÏαÏακοá¿Ï Ïοῦ á¼Î½á½¸Ï) that is contrasted to Christâs response of obedience (διὰ Ïá¿Ï á½Ïακοá¿Ï Ïοῦ á¼Î½á½¸Ï), not Adamâs lack of a message. Moreover, the well-known obedience of the Roman addressees is praised by Paul, and explicated as being âwise in what is good, and guileless in what is evilâ (Rom 15.15), so it is obviously ethical in nature. It is this obedience, not a message, which Paul aims to win by proclaming his gospel (Rom 15.18).
By means of a whole set of rhetorical questions, Paul even envisions a chain of actions leading from âsendingâ, to âproclaimingâ, to âhearingâ, ultimately to âbeing faithful toâ:
The scripture says, âNo one who is faithful to him will be put to shame.â For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him. For, âEveryone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.â But how are they to call on one (á¼ÏικαλÎÏÏνÏαι) to whom they are not faithful (Îµá¼°Ï á½Î½ οá½Îº á¼ÏίÏÏÎµÏ Ïαν)? And how are they to be faithful to one of whom they have never heard (Ïá¿¶Ï Î´á½² ÏιÏÏεÏÏÏÏιν οὠοá½Îº á¼¤ÎºÎ¿Ï Ïαν)? And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him? And how are they to proclaim him unless they are sent? As it is written, âHow beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!â But not all have obeyed (á½ÏÎ®ÎºÎ¿Ï Ïαν) the good news; for Isaiah says, âLord, who has believed our message (ÏÎ¯Ï á¼ÏίÏÏÎµÏ Ïεν Ïá¿ á¼ÎºÎ¿á¿ ἡμῶν)?â So faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes through the word of Christ (á¼Ïα ἡ ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï á¼Î¾ á¼ÎºÎ¿á¿Ï, ἡ δὲ á¼ÎºÎ¿á½´ διὰ ῥήμαÏÎ¿Ï Î§ÏιÏÏοῦ). (Romans 10.11â17)
Paul explains the citation from Isaiah (53.1) as a matter of not obeying or not responding properly (á½ÏÎ®ÎºÎ¿Ï Ïαν) to a messageâin the citation akoÄ cannot indicate hearing, though there is a wordplay between both meanings in this passage.318 He thereby effectively explains the verb á¼ÏίÏÏÎµÏ Ïεν as obeying or responding properly. Thus, rather than âbelievingâ a message heard, what is at stake is whether or not people respond with loyalty and faithfulness. Only then can they rely on a kyrios to come to their aid when he is called upon (á¼ÏικαλÎÏÏνÏαι). Naturally, we cannot call upon someone we do not believe to be alive, but that is not the point here: it is about the response of faithfulness to a faithful leader which establishes a reciprocal relationship of trust between both parties.
The Graeco-Roman sources discussed in this chapter confirm such an interpretation. Pistis/fides and hypakoÄ/obsequium are used together as near-synonyms in contexts of political conflicts and power struggles. Plutarch wrote that commander Titus Flaminius gained the faithfulness of all people (Ïá½·ÏÏιν á¼Î½ ÏᾶÏιν á¼Î½Î¸Ïá½½ÏοιÏ), which led to the obedience of everything to the Romans: âeverything became subject to themâ (ÏάνÏα αá½Ïοá¿Ï á½Ïήκοα γενέÏθαι).319 In the âyear of the four emperorsâ, some years after Paulâs death, fides and obsequium (loyalty, allegiance, obedience) to one of the contenders for the imperial throne became a hotly debated topic. Submission or obedience and loyalty or faithfulness is the response required and sought by a Roman commander. However, obedience and faith could also be contrasted. Flatterers were said to substitute âcringing obsequiousness for loyalty (fides)â.320 A faithless leader can be obeyed but he does not inspire loyalty. According to the Octavia, this was where Nero got it wrong: he only wanted his subjects to obey him, whereas he should have sought their loyalty (fides).321 By adding pistis/fides, the existence of a reciprocal relation of trust and trustworthiness seems to be implicated, including the loyalty of a commander towards his troops or even towards hostile people.
As we saw in the section on the anti-imperialistic interpretation of Pauline faith (§7.2.2 and §7.2.3), some exegetes would argue that Pauline pistis is a radical alternative to Roman fides. As regards the phrase hypakoÄ pisteÅs, Christian Strecker observes that this phrase in Romans is âa kind of messianic deditio in fidemâ.322 Kathy Ehrensperger on the other hand recognizes the similarity but adds that it âcould not have been more differentâ from âthe Roman request for âobedience in fidemâ (á½Ïακοήν ÏίÏÏεÏÏ) from the nationsâ.323 She explains how Paul chooses vulnerability of leaders over power play and how the nations, after they promised this obedience, were not coerced into sameness with Jews, but rather respected in their diversity.
These are valid distinctions. Yet, the question is whether there is an intended allusion to the specific discourse of military surrender, or even more specifically, deditio in fidem, in the first place. The Greek variant of deditio was epitropÄ (á¼ÏιÏÏοÏή), Gruen notes, not hypakoÄ, and, as Friedrich pointed out, hypakoÄ was first used as a substantive in the Septuagint and not used as such in pagan Greek predating early Christian sources.324 Hence, the verbal reference to specific Roman tactics is minimal. But more importantly, as we have seen (§7.3.4 and §7.3.5) Roman fides was never pure submission to force, as it included the faithful protection from the side of the superior party. Moreover, its abuse by commanders such as Coriolanus and Sulla was heavily criticized. Smart rhetoric even allowed for the Roman fondness of pistis to be used to counter their imperialistic urges, as Diodorus of Sicily demonstrates. The anti-imperialistic reading is very helpful in that it is a highly contextual approach to Paulâs message. When it comes to interpreting pistis and hypakoÄ pisteÅs, however, they offer merely a simplification of a rich discourse on political virtues and how they ought to be enacted.
I would argue that the discourse highlighted by the combination of hypakoÄ and pistis is a broader one, including relationships between just leaders and foreign people, or good patrons and their clients, as well as between the abusive power of the Roman armies and its victims. In the latter case, however, the pistis or fides of the commanders is often questioned by Roman sources, for it did not live up to its full, transethnic and transjuridical potential. By combining hypakoÄ and pistis, Paul seems to emphasize that the nations are in a position of answering the divine promise of patronage with trust and loyalty.325 With this pistis, the ethnÄ gratefully reciprocate Godâs gift of a trustworthy leader, Christ.
7.4.4 One Who without Works Has Pistis in Him Who Justifies the Ungodly (Rom 4.5): Good Faith as Transjuridical Response to Godâs Transethnic Benefaction
I devoted some space in chapter 3 to âjustification by faithâ and how this concept may be illuminated by Graeco-Roman discourses on the eschatological reappearance of Faith and Justice and the internalization and universalization of law as âunwritten lawâ in philosophical discourses. As for the question whether Paul argues against moralism or particularism (the âoldâ versus the ânewâ perspective on Paul), I argued that both are so intertwined we should rather speak of a nexus of moralistic particularism and ethnocentric moralism (see §3.4.4). The boast about self-righteousness is at the same time a boast about Godâs election. This chapter brings in another, supplementary perspective, that of benefaction, patronage, and politics.326 What is the effect of this perspective on the question of what Paul argued against by juxtaposing faith with works?
The perspective of benefaction particularly comes to the fore where justification is presented as a gift, as opposed to due wages:327
Now to one who works (á¿· δὲ á¼ÏγαζομÎνῳ), wages are not reckoned as a gift but as something due (ὠμιÏÎ¸á½¸Ï Î¿á½ Î»Î¿Î³Î¯Î¶ÎµÏαι καÏá½° ÏάÏιν á¼Î»Î»á½° καÏá½° á½Ïείλημα). But to one who without works (Ïá¿· δὲ μὴ á¼ÏγαζομÎνῳ) trusts him who justifies the ungodly (ÏιÏÏεÏονÏι δὲ á¼Ïὶ Ïὸν δικαιοῦνÏα Ïὸν á¼Ïεβá¿), such trust is reckoned as righteousness (λογίζεÏαι ἡ ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï Î±á½Ïοῦ Îµá¼°Ï Î´Î¹ÎºÎ±Î¹Î¿ÏÏνην). (Romans 4.4â5)328
This passage is part of Paulâs âexegesisâ of Genesis 15.6: âAbraham trusted God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness (Rom 4.3: á¼ÏίÏÏÎµÏ Ïεν δὲ á¼Î²Ïαὰμ Ïá¿· θεῷ καὶ á¼Î»Î¿Î³Î¯Ïθη αá½Ïá¿· Îµá¼°Ï Î´Î¹ÎºÎ±Î¹Î¿ÏÏνην) which forms the backbone of what is now known as the fourth chapter of Romans. The function of the whole passage on Abraham I take to be a further developed answer to the question âdo we then overthrow the law by this faith?â (Rom 3.31). Not only is faith a type of unwritten law which takes all written law to a next level (see §3.4.2 and §3.4.4), but, moreover, by separating faithful Abraham, the main ancestral figure in the Jewish Scriptures, from âScripture as Mosaic lawâ, Paul shows that ultimately faith takes precedence over the written, Mosaic law.329 Paulâs interpretation emphasizes that the awarding of righteousness took place without works (4.5), and before Abraham was circumcised (4.10), so that he could become âthe ancestor of all who have pistis (ÏαÏÎÏα ÏάνÏÏν Ïῶν ÏιÏÏÎµÏ ÏνÏÏν) without being circumcised and who thus have righteousness reckoned to themâ (4.11). In explaining what this pistis, this faith or faithfulness, encompasses, Paul repeatedly connects it to the promise of God (ἡ á¼Ïαγγελία: vv. 13, 14, 16, 20), a promise that he would be âthe father of many nationsâ (4.17: ÏαÏÎÏα Ïολλῶν á¼Î¸Î½á¿¶Î½).
This focus on the scope Godâs promise, reaching towards the inclusion of many nations, suggests that Paul is here interested in the collective-universal potential of pistis. At least, this is how it is emphasized from the angle of the New Perspective. By contrast, in the traditional (âoldâ or âLutheranâ) perspective, this passage is explained as distinguishing between individual routes to salvation: between pure grace based on faith and earning salvation by moral works. In this case, Paul argues against self-righteous moralism, and the faith of Abraham stands for the âwork-lessâ faith of the believer. If we read it with the discourse on benefaction, patronage, and politics in mind, the clear-cut division between these two perspectives disappears. Against this background, three important things stand out.
Firstly, as we saw before regarding Galatians 3.5 (in §7.4.2), âworkingâ seems to function in Paulâs argument as something which turns the divine gift of righteousness into a business transaction. To reciprocate divine favour with works is to consider the gift personally paid for and to render God a merchant: it is this balanced, calculating, and exclusive reciprocity which Paul so sharply opposes. In the above passage (Rom 4.4â5), the subject of the first occurrence of the verb âto reckonâ (λογίζεÏαι) is âwagesâ (4.4: ὠμιÏθÏÏ), and this is contrasted with the second object, âhis good faithâ (4.5: ἡ ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï Î±á½Ïοῦ). Both concern the âgoodsâ transferred between two parties (faith is not an empty hand). The nature of the goods exchanged, however, determines the nature of the relationship as one of either short-term business or long-term benefaction. As the ideal benefactor, God does not seek a swift material return but only a lasting response of faithfulness so that a lasting relationship can be established. Instead of âworksâ, which represent an actual, external return, one you can boast about before people (cf. Rom 4.2) and which in effect ends the relationship, what people owe God is the interior return of a stable pistis, trust and loyalty.330 Here, the semantic colouring of pistis as a long-lasting interior attitude in patronage-relationships is highlighted.
Secondly, there is the role of the law. Where does the law come in, if we follow this pattern of business exchange versus benefaction? Seneca also connects the realm of business to the realm of contracts and external insurances: people âwould rather compel good faith than expect itâ (cogere fidem quam expectare malunt).331 This juxtaposition of the sphere of faith and the sphere of formal contracts was already present in the Fides-cult: in contrast to the judge Jupiter, Fides presided over that which was not yet formally pinned down (see §7.3.1). Since as a virtue it pertains to the moral, not the juridical sphere, it is especially relevant in cases where the law does not apply (see §7.3.2). Fides as a moral quality was intimately connected to promises, for verbal agreements depend on oneâs trustworthiness and the otherâs trust (see esp. §7.3.4). Fides can even be used to signify the promise itself. Yet, unlike juridical contracts, it remained fragile and always involved a certain risk. The conception of pistis as the foundation of justice in Graeco-Roman sources shows us the logic behind Paulâs reasoning for his Roman audience. Clinging to a promise is indeed a just act and defines one as a just person, since justice is the fabric out of which healthy societies are made. More strongly put, if a person could not trust in the trustworthiness of the other beyond what can be enforced by law, full justice would not be possible.332 This thought is central to the discourse I have discussed in this chapter.
In Paulâs reasoning, the faith Abraham showed also preceded and transcended the level of formal arrangements. All Abraham had was a promise, grounded in the faithfulness of God, to depend on. Yet he remained loyal, as a voluntary act of trust. The pistis in question is Abrahamâs trust in God that he will âhold up to his end of the bargainâ and this pistis seems at the same time to be a fulfilment of Abrahamâs own end of that same bargain, his good faith. Since Abraham trusts Godâs trustworthiness, Godâs righteousness is accredited to him: that is, he could become part of the just, heavenly society. This reciprocal trust-relationship is what made him righteous, not the keeping of the law, or its symbol, circumcision, the ultimate seal, reification, or confirmation of a treaty.
Hence, Paulâs argument continues with the ingenuous question whether Abraham was considered righteous before or after being circumcised. Here, Abrahamâs trust is actually called âpistis-with-a-foreskinâ (Rom 4.12: Ïá¿Ï á¼Î½ á¼ÎºÏÎ¿Î²Ï ÏÏίᾳ ÏίÏÏεÏÏ), which is often lost in translation. The internal, fragile response of pistis to the promise of God is contrasted with the external, solid response of circumcision, which by its confirmative nature renders faith in Godâs promise superfluous:
For the promise that he would inherit the world did not come to Abraham or to his descendants through the law (διὰ νÏÎ¼Î¿Ï ) but through the righteousness of faith (διὰ δικαιοÏÏÎ½Î·Ï ÏίÏÏεÏÏ). If it is the adherents of the law who are to be the heirs, faith is null and the promise is void (κεκÎνÏÏαι ἡ ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï ÎºÎ±á½¶ καÏήÏγηÏαι ἡ á¼Ïαγγελία). For the law brings wrath; but where there is no law, neither is there violation. For this reason it depends on faith (á¼Îº ÏίÏÏεÏÏ), in order that the promise may rest on grace (καÏá½° ÏάÏιν) and be guaranteed to all his descendants, not only to the adherents of the law but also to those who share the faith of Abraham (οὠÏá¿· á¼Îº Ïοῦ νÏÎ¼Î¿Ï Î¼Ïνον á¼Î»Î»á½° καὶ Ïá¿· á¼Îº ÏίÏÏεÏÏ á¼Î²Ïαάμ) (for he is the father of all of us). (Romans 4.13â16)
The sphere of juridical contracts, designated by terms such as law, works, circumcision, and violations is here contrasted with the sphere of benefaction, to which grace, faith, and the promise belong. Faith or trust is fragile, since it is not bound by a contract but based on a promise given as a gift (kata charin). Yet, it ensures a powerful relationship open to those who do not adhere to the Mosaic law. When Paul juxtaposes faith and the law, it is this transjuridical orientation of pistis that is highlighted.
Thirdly and finally, we have seen that in Roman virtue ethics and identity narratives, pistis/fides was considered a bridging virtue that extends beyond and ranks above oneâs obligations to family, lovers, and friends. Both Aeneas and Regulus function as prototypes of Roman fides, understood as a sacred duty to their word and calling, which they deem of greater importance than loyalty to their loved ones (see §7.3.2). Moreover, in the discourse on ideal Roman patronage, the fides of patrons towards clients ranked above their obligations to relatives (see §7.3.3). Likewise, in Abraham, who was promised that in him âall the nations of the earth shall be blessedâ (LXX Gen 18.18: ÏάνÏα Ïá½° á¼Î¸Î½Î· Ïá¿Ï γá¿Ï), Paul finds the ideal example of an ancestor whose legacy extends beyond his formal descendants.333 And the means of participating in Abrahamâs ancestry is precisely pistis: the ultimate bridging quality.
In fact, we have seen that pistis not only transcends the precise bounds of treaties and the obligations to relatives but also helps to overcome particular, ethnic systems of law and establishes a bond with enemies. As a social virtue, fides is not bound or guaranteed by particular systems of law, but it extends beyond it: âno law bids us keep faith even with an enemyâ (nulla lex iubet fidem etiam inimico praestare), but in these cases âthe conventions of human life, that are stronger than any law (consuetudo vitae humanae omni lege valentior), show us the way.â334 This is also evident from Roman identity narratives, such as the one pertaining to the dealings with the Faliscans and their schoolmaster (see §7.3.2). According to Livy, the Faliscans were âchallenged by faithâ (fide provocati) and preferred this fides of the Romans to their own legislation: âwe shall be better off under your government than under our own lawsâ (melius nos sub imperio vestro quam legibus nostris).335Pistis/fides is hence the ultimate bridging quality, which extends beyond oneâs own people and friends towards enemies, eventually aiming to include these enemies in your sphere of influence by making them part of a reciprocal relationship characterized by trustworthiness and trust, protection and loyalty. The Romans believed that to extend trustworthiness (fides) to enemies was a sacred duty and, ultimately, the most efficient means to ensure their loyalty (fides) and include them in their realm.
Similarly, in Paulâs line of thought, the sphere of juridical contracts serves to exclude certain âdescendantsâ and results in an ethnic boast, whereas the sphere of benefaction allows for the inclusion of all, including the âungodlyâ. Throughout this passage on Abraham, the inclusion of the âungodlyâ (4.5), âthe uncircumcisionâ (4.9), âall who believeâ (4.11), âthe worldâ (4.13), and âmany nationsâ (4.17, 18) is a recurring theme. And the same theme of the inclusion of the unrighteous out-group is picked up again after the scriptural exemplum of Abraham, now with particular focus on how Christ effectuated this inclusion:
Therefore, since we are justified by faith (ÎικαιÏθÎνÏÎµÏ Î¿á½Î½ á¼Îº ÏίÏÏεÏÏ), we have peace with God (εἰÏήνην á¼Ïομεν ÏÏá½¸Ï Ïὸν θεὸν) through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access [by faith] (Ïὴν ÏÏοÏαγÏγὴν á¼ÏÏήκαμεν [Ïá¿ ÏίÏÏει]336 ) to this grace in which we stand (Îµá¼°Ï Ïὴν ÏάÏιν ÏαÏÏην á¼Î½ á¾ á¼ÏÏήκαμεν); and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. (Romans 5.1â3)
There are good reasons for reading the first instance of pistis here as Christâs faithfulness, as Stephan Young has pointed out.337 Yet, in line with my argument in the previous chapter, I would rather opt for a more ambiguous meaning which captures the idea of participating in and imitating Christâs trust in God and his faithfulness by trusting in him. In this passage, moreover, there is another semantic domain at play, indicated by words such as âpeaceâ, âaccessâ, âgraceâ, and âstandingâ.
The passage states that Christ is the one who provided access to the good grace of God, to peace with God, to the ones who previously were not granted. It is a grace in which one, according to Paulâs âintriguing metaphorâ,338 can âstandâ. This confirms the idea of a sphere or realm of grace and peace to which admission is to be granted. Again, Paul emphasizes that this admission was granted, strangely enough, to âthe ungodlyâ (5.6: á½Ïá½²Ï á¼Ïεβῶν), âsinnersâ (5.8: á¼Ïι á¼Î¼Î±ÏÏÏλῶν á½Î½ÏÏν), and âenemiesâ (5.10: á¼ÏθÏοὶ á½Î½ÏεÏ). The charis, the gift of righteousness and peace with God is granted to enemies. These foreign people are offered heavenly citizenship by a new âlordâ (κÏÏιοÏ) and âsaviourâ (ÏÏÏήÏ) (cf. Phil 3.20). Put in Roman terms, this gift is offered to those people outside the ethnos that are loyal (on which see §3.4.2 above) and appreciative of their benefactorâs good faith. It is thus evident that Godâs gift is a transethnic gift, meant to reach out to those way outside of familiar circles and formal arrangements. The reason why faith can make this inclusion happen is evident from the Graeco-Roman political perspective: pistis/fides often functioned as a social virtue which transcends ethnic boundaries.
There are more arguments why a context of political benefaction is at play here. The language in this section is charged with political notions. The word introduced for this change in the relationship between God and these âenemiesâ is âreconciliationâ (καÏαλλαγή). âFor if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his lifeâ (Rom 5.10). The surprising truth is that Paul hardly ever uses the language of âforgivenessâ to describe the change in divine-human relations, as was famously noted by Krister Stendahl.339 âReconciliationâ seems to be the preferred alternative. In a study of this word in the context of Graeco-Roman polis-diplomacy, Cilliers Breytenbach argues that Paul, as well as some other Jewish authors, transferred the term âreconciliationâ from one domain, namely politics, to another: religion, more specifically, relationships between the human and the divine.340 As I argued above (§2.2.2), Greek and Roman religion was to a large extent politicized, as indicated by the scholarly term âpolis religionâ. This transferral is thus a conceivable and relatively minor development.
In the combination of the terms âreconciliationâ and âfaithâ, however, we encounter a more specific semantic domain from which Paul draws: that of political benefaction and patronage. Like a cosmic commander, Christâand in his footsteps, Paulâtravelled to enemy territories to offer Godâs gracious gift of reconciliation and ultimately access to the divine sphere of peace and glory.341 As I already mentioned, Paul described his ministry in terms of being an âambassadorâ or âdiplomatâ (ÏÏεÏβεÏομεν) who brings âa message of reconciliationâ (Ïὸν λÏγον Ïá¿Ï καÏαλλαγá¿Ï) (2 Cor 5.18).342 Our trust in Christ is the first step in this human-divine reconciliation process: the relationship is further restored by a renewed, publicly acknowledged commitment to God and the divine cause. Both aspects, the divine and human re-enactment of faith(fulness), are perfectly expressed by pistis.
One element that is perhaps less evident from this specific Graeco-Roman discourse of benefaction and imperialism is the element of transformation. In the passage under discussion, the âungodlyâ are âjustified/righteousedâ by God. I have already discussed the transformative role of pistis in the context of righteousness by looking at broader concepts such as the measure of faith (chapter 2) and internal law (chapter 3) and by looking at moral reform specifically by first becoming deeply persuaded (chapter 5) and by imitating Christ (chapter 6). From the perspective of the present chapterâs discourse, there is also some transformational potential. From a political point of view, the âenemiesâ which have been offered Roman fides are transformed into good subjects or friends of Rome (see §7.3.2). From the perspective of benefaction, unworthy beneficiaries could possibly be turned into worthy ones by repeated benefactions (see §7.3.6). Still, this important aspect of Pauline pistis is more profoundly understood within the narratives of the internal law and homoiÅsis theÅi.
The reading of Romans 4â5 against the background of Graeco-Roman discourses of benefaction and patronage combines elements from the old and new perspectives on Paul. From the old perspective, it takes up the idea that âworksâ are ostentatious goods offered in return for received gifts by which the gift seems to be deserved or at least paid for: benefaction is turned into a business transaction. Instead, loyalty and being of good faith is the proper return, a return that acknowledges the gift and establishes a durable patron-client relationship. It is moreover both an amplification and a substantiation of the New Perspectiveâs focus on the inclusion of the nations. More than this perspective, it shows how the interior/transjuridical and the bridging/transethnic are mutually reinforcing and not mutually exclusive concepts. The sphere of the law can only regulate external obligations (juridical), and it can only include the people in possession of the law (ethnic). The sphere of faith concerns an internally motivated commitment in an enduring relationship (transjuridical), and it can be accessed by foreign people too (transethnic). Only then does it show its ultimate bridging potential. Pistis as a civic-religious virtue reaches beyond both the formal and the familiar, beyond both the juridical and the ethnic.
7.5 Conclusion
Whereas some have understood Paulâs terminology of âfaithâ in the context of Roman imperialism, and others his conception âgraceâ in the context of the Graeco-Roman practice of benefaction, this chapter suggests that it is more fruitful to interpret their combined usage within the combined discourse of patronage. For in the context of both imperialism (foreign politics) and benefaction (domestic politics), patronage was the primary social model that shaped non-familial relationships in the first-century Graeco-Roman world.
Throughout the source-texts that participate in this larger discourse, pistis/fides is considered a virtue essential to enabling a just community in the fabric of Graeco-Roman society, as it was seen to offer an interconnectedness and stability beyond what laws can provide. Moreover, the public virtue of pistis/fides reached further than any particular system of law, as it ideally creates trustworthy alliances even between enemies across national boundaries.
Hence, I argued that it was because of its transjuridical and transethnic nature that pistis/fides offered the early Christian movement the perfect alternative to Jewish law, since through pistis in the divine leader and saviour Jesus, people of all ethnicities could become Godâs people. Paulâs good news thus concerned the faithfulness of God, demonstrated in Christ, as one who now offered admission into the ârealm of graceâ to all who were once godless, but who would now in return pledge their commitment, their faithfulness. Expressed in the words of this discourse, Paul announced the possibility of aligning oneself to a powerful and trustworthy patron, whose only condition is the establishment of the reciprocal trust-relationship itself.
More concretely, I suggested ways to understand Pauline phrases that partake in this âpublicâ semantic domain in similar terms: âproclaiming good faithâ (instead of âproclaiming the (Christian) faithâ), âhearing which results in faithfulnessâ (instead of âthe message of faithâ), and âa response of loyaltyâ (instead of âobedience of faithâ). Paulâs problem with âworks of the lawâ also appeared to be well-attuned to the Graeco-Roman discourse on benefaction I discussed, namely to contemporary philosophical critiques of people turning benefaction into a business transaction. According to Paul, his adversaries treated Godâs offer of patronage in a similar fashion by boasting about their ostentatious returns, their âworksâ, while the only fitting return is a prolonged allegiance so that an enduring relationship of trust may ensue.
Thus, the Graeco-Roman discourse of patronage helps us to see how Paulâs antithesis between faith and the law functions to combat boasting in self-righteousness and boasting in belonging to Godâs chosen nation at the same time. Pistis is Paulâs transjuridical and transethnic alternative: it fosters a political allegiance to Christ based on wholehearted internal commitment (without external, ostentatious works), open to all ethnicities (without particular works of the Jewish law). It is not a matter of either/or. In line with our conclusion of chapter 3, this important aspect of the antithesis between the âOldâ and the âNew Perspectiveâ is thus largely dissolved against the background of this one discourse.
The anti-imperial potential of Paulâs message should therefore not be sought in the creative and somewhat concealed reconfiguration of the words used: pistis is not Paulâs benign alternative to the harsh reality of violently compelled, unconditional loyalty to the empire. Instead, the Roman narrative and practice of patronage as a whole, characterized by key terms such as âfavourâ, âpowerâ, âpromiseâ, and âgood faithâ, provides a more comprehensive discourse to explain the early Christian message as a call to be faithful to Christ. This âcall to faithâ surely creates a tension of loyalties, yet it was probably not conceived as an encoded call to revolt.
This is the definition given in one of the pioneering works: Putnam 2000, 19. Cf. Van Staveren & Knorringa 2007, 5: âtrust may be more appropriately regarded as an outcome of social capital rather than a determinant of it.â
Cf. e.g. Putnam 2000, 22â23; Van Staveren & Knorringa 2007, 15â17 (here, these shapes are explicitly pictured as a matrix as rather than as separate categories). Others added the category of linking social capital, which pertains to ties between different groups of varying hierarchical standing.
Putnam 2000, 23.
Grimal 1974, 154: âLa Fides est omnipreÌsente aÌ Rome. Elle est la source vive de la vie sociale, politique, morale.â
âIch beginne mit der fides und stelle sie in die Mitte unserer Betrachtung, weil sie der Begriff ist, der im Zentrum der politischen, sozialen und rechtlichen Ordnung Roms steht. (â¦) Mit der fides sind fast alle anderen römischen Wertbegriffe eng verknüpft. Sie ist der wichtigste Schlüssel zum römischen Wertsystem.â
âDas Recht basiert in Rom auf vorjuristischen, ethischen Wertvorstellungen, zu deren Wesen die Wechselseitigkeit gehört (fides âVertrauenâ und âVerlässlichkeitâ; pietas âEltern-â und âKindesliebeâ: Generationenpakt; gratia âGnadeâ und âDankbarkeitâ). Solche âPrinzipien des römischen Rechtsâ stehen zwischen Ethik und Religion, haben also einen religiösen und einen philosophischen Aspekt.â
âLes relations de fides sont toujours reÌciproques. Toutefois, les textes parlent beaucoup moins de al âloyauteÌâ exigible du client que de celle quâon attend du patron.â
âNâentendons pas par laÌ ce que le ChreÌtien entend par la foi (â¦) Il ne sâagit pas dâune adheÌsion de lâesprit et du cÅur aÌ une veÌriteÌ reÌveÌleÌe. Il sâagit bien plutoÌt dâune conduite exprimant une disposition permanente de la volonteÌ, la fideÌliteÌ aÌ ses obligations et speÌcialement aÌ ses engagements.â
Bates 2017, 101.
Richard Hays called its reception in scholarship a âbenign neglectâ (Hays 1983, 214; Hays 2002, 185). Taylorâs interpretation did not go completely unnoticed, though, since it was approvingly taken up and elaborated by Francis Lyall (1969) and rejected because of the unlikeliness of its acquaintance among Paulâs readership by Teresa Morgan (2015, 271, n. 39).
Taylor 1966, at 61 and 72, respectively.
See for the entire passage on Taylor, 213â218, and for the enumeration of his arguments, 215.
Hays 1983, 216.
Even in the juridical construct of fidei commissum, however, this argument that it is in essence transjuridical holds, for at least up until the early empire, the fides involved could not be legally enforced. See Heinze 1928, 160â161. Yet, while this closes the gap between Paul and fidei commissum, Haysâs other arguments against Taylor still stand.
See Pöschl 1980, 9: âBeide Formeln besagen nur, daà ein Herrschaftsverhältnis begründet wurde, aber römische Herrschaftsverhältnisse haben eben zwei Seiten, eine rechtliche und eine moralische. Bei in fidem venire wird die moralische Seite, bei in dicionem venire die rechtliche betont.â And see, most decisively, Gruen 1982, for this debate, 52â54, for his own position, see e.g. at 54: âTo be sure, fides stands outside the juridical realm. Efforts to subsume it under legal categories are bound to go astray. But it is equally erroneous to subsume it under potestas.â Gruen is followed by Morgan (2015, 96â97). Pace Dahlheim, who indeed confirms the non-juridical status of fides, but only sees room for fides in the subjective judgement of a commander, who is held to account for his military and political success, but not for his moral deliberations: âIn der praktischen Kriegführung bedeutet dieser Grundsatz, daà fides im Rahmen der Dedition keine objektive Norm setzen konnte, an die sich ein römischer Feldherr, der als Vertreter der römischen Macht im Krieg die deditio annahm, verpflichtend gebunden fühlen muÃte.â See Dahlheim 1968, citation from 46â47, on deditio in fidem see 25â52. Cf. also Hölkeskamp 2004, chapter 4: âFidesâdeditio in fidemâdextra data et accepta: Recht, Religion und Ritualâ (105â136), who comes close to equating (abuse of) power and fides.
Eckstein 1995, 276.
Polybius, Histories 20.10.6.
Livy, History of Rome 36.28.4; cf. 36.28.1â2: âPhaeneas, the leader of the embassy, spoke at length and with manifold devices with which to soften the heart of the conqueror and concluded by saying that the Aetolians entrusted themselves and all their possessions to the good faith of the Roman people (se suaque omnia fidei populi Romani permittere).â
It seems too farfetched, however, to, with Flurl (1969), assume that Livy deliberately adapted his Polybian material to fit the neat distinction between deditio and deditio in fidem. On the different explanations of the differences between Polybius and Livy, see Gruen 1982, 56â57.
This is Gruenâs summary (1982, 52). See p. 52, n. 5 for a bibliography of this former scholarly consensus.
Though cf. for another conclusion Dmitriev 2011, 239â240.
Gruen 1982, 58â65.
Gruen 1982, 68 and 55, respectively.
AÌlvaro Moreno Leoni (2014) challenges Gruenâs position on two these two fronts. Specifically, he argues that Gruen should not use Greek accounts of pistis in any sort of interstate relations as relevant parallels to Roman view of deditio in fidem or even Roman fides in itself: âÏá½·ÏÏÎ¹Ï here is just an act of royal euergetism very different in its political nature from the Roman notion of fidesâ (151). The distinction Moreno Leoni makes, however, turns deditio in fidem or âRoman fidesâ into precisely the sort of legalistic institution it, as the consensus has it, has never been. Pistis/fides in the context of deditio belongs to the wider semantic domain of foreign policy. As to Polybius strategy, here Moreno Leoni expands upon the argument made earlier by Eckstein, that Polybius may well have had the precise purpose to educate his audience, like Glabrio and Flaminius before him educated Phaeneas, on the double-sided nature of deditio in fidem: the unconditional surrender and the expectancy of good treatment are two sides of the same coin, one cannot go without the other (esp. 168). Cf. also Eckstein 1995, esp. 281, n. 29. Eckstein also finds fault in Gruenâs depiction of Glabrioâs diplomatic intentions as insincere: see. 280.
E.g. Eckstein 1995, who only offers small corrections (see previous footnote); Ando 1999; Morgan 2015, 98. Strangely, Ando approvingly refers to Gruen (p. 15, n. 50) yet uses the example to underline âdisparities between the semantic fieldsâ (at 50).
See, apart from those discussed in the following paragraphs, Freyburger 2002, 345; Schumacher 2012, 281 (repeated in Schumacher 2017, 305): âIm Griechischen wird der Begriff ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï nicht in gleicher Weise verwendet, und vor allem ist er nicht mit dem System von Patronage und Klientel verbunden, wie das folgende MiÃverständnis, das von Polybius überliefert wird, sehr anschaulich illustriert.â
This text was originally an edited lecture given in AprilâMay 1983, published first in 1984. Interestingly, Momigliano appears to have been familiar with Gruenâs 1982 essay. However, he does not perceive any contrast but refers to him â[f]or a thorough analysis of the political sideâ (283, n. 2).
Streckerâs thesis is followed by Ekkehard Stegemann (2010, 4, 19â21) and Kathy Ehrensperger (2013, 167â172), on which see the next subsection (§7.2.3).
Citations from Nörr 1991, 21 and BenveÌniste 1993, 97f (n. 33). In German: âInsofern trat ein fremdes Volk durch die deditio aus dem feindlichen AuÃenraum Roms heraus âin den normativ durch die fides geschützten Innenraumâ, blieb dabei allerdingsâjenseits der besagten Minimalnormenâganz dem Wohlwollen bzw. der Willkür des jeweiligen Feldherrn ausgeliefert. Die fides ging also mit Macht und Gewalt einher, ja sie war nahezu gleichbedeutend mit dicio bzw. potestas und konstituierte eine Oben-Unten-Relation, bei der âauf der einen Seite Zwangsgewalt, auf der anderen Seite Gehorsamâ stand.â
Schumacher 2017, 310â311.
Schumacher 2017, 313.
Schumacher 2017, 342: âDenn im Unterschied zum römisch-lateinischen Lebenskontext, wo die Reaktion der untergeordneten Seite auf eine erwiesene fides-Zuwendung von Seiten der höherstehenden kaum den Charakter einer freien Antwort trägt, betont Paulus gerade diesen Aspekt.â
See in particular §7.3.3 and §7.3.4 infra.
See e.g., Res gestae divi Augusti 8.5. For detailed articles about each of these domains and discussion about whether or not August intended and planned all these changes, cf. Edmondson 2009, part 2: âRes Publica Restitutaâ.
See e.g. Beard, North & Price 1998, chapters 4, âThe Place of Religion: Rome in the Early Empireâ (167â210), and 5, âThe Boundaries of Roman Religionâ (211â244).
As Ekkehard Stegemann (2010, 7) pointed out, Paul did not start an anti-imperial discourse, but rather participated âin an already existing Jewish and Roman framework of an imperial and counter-imperial ideological competitionâ to which for example the book of Daniel pays witness.
For a critique of the existence of hidden anti-imperial codes in Paulâs letters, see Robinson 2021.
Cf. for a similar statement Georgi 1991, 83.
Georgi 1991, 84; Georgi is here followed by Knust 2004, 157.
In German: âspielt durchaus bewusst und gezielt auf die Bedeutungen und Verwendungsmöglichkeiten des lateinischen Wortes fides anâ.
See the inscribed oaths of the Paphlagonians to Augustus (3 BC), Aritium to Caligula (37 AD), Assos to Caligula (37 AD). Greek texts consulted via the website of the ERC project âJudaism and Romeâ: https://www.judaism-and-rome.org/.
Ehrensperger 2013, 165â166.
See Strecker 2005, 241â247; Stegemann 2010, 21. Cf. also Breytenbach 2010, chapter 8: âSalvation of the reconciled (with a note on the background of Paulâs metaphor of reconciliation)â.
Cf. Calhoun 2011, 145â147.
DeSilva 2000, chapters 3, âPatronage and reciprocity: the social context of graceâ, and 4, âPatronage and grace in the New Testamentâ. These chapters were previously published in DeSilva 1999.
See 2000, 115; 1999, 55.
Cf. at 287: âthe grace of Christâin sharp contrast to the beneficence of the gods and human beingsâis unilateral, not reciprocalâ; and at 350: âThe charis of Christ stands in opposition to the do ut des mentality of the Graeco-Roman world.â
Cf. at 238: âAs is usual in metaphorical mapping from one domain to another, Paul chose the metaphor of favour for the benefit of his audience. But this should not lead us to overlook the signals in his letters that the theological base of his language of grace lies in the Jewish trust in the abundance of Godâs mercy.â
Cf. at 6: âThis origin of Paulâs metaphors does not mean however, that his gospel has a Greek or Roman nature.â
Cf. at 226: âI suppose we have enough evidence to question the Wetter-Harrison thesis: Paulâs notion of the ÏάÏÎ¹Ï of God has its foundation in this important and influential biblical tradition and not in the benefactor ideology of the Roman Empire.â
See e.g. at 211, while summarizing Harrisonâs findings: âIn humility, humans have to show gratitude for the abundant favours of the gods, whilst performing the correct rituals to secure divine favour.â
Cf. McFarland 2015b, 8: â[W]hat hampers in both paradigms [the Lutheran and the New Perspective] is an essentialist view of grace, which defines grace by Paul and then uses that definition to measure Judaismâand then, rather circularly, reads Paul in light of Judaism. There has been little room for seeing different kinds of graceâthat is, different gifts and configurations of graceâin Paul and Judaism.â
Barclay explicitly includes Jewish perspectives here: the only difference is that Jews could also expect a return for their benefactions from God (see p. 45).
See Barclay 2015, 384: âFaith is not an alternative human achievement nor a refined human spirituality, but a declaration of bankruptcy, a radical an shattering recognition that the only capital in Godâs economy is the gift of Christ crucified and risenâ; and at 390: âin faith, that is, in the declaration of bankruptcy that recognised in Christâs love the sole source of their worthâ; cf. at 489 on Romans 4.19â22: âfaith amounts to the declaration of incompetence, or total dependence on the competence of God.â
To be sure, Barclay devotes a subsection to âRoman patronageâ and another to Stoic responses to the system of benefaction. Yet pistis/fides does not play any part in his reflections there, while it is strongly connected to the reciprocity ethic of the system and to the Stoic âsolutionâ of the animus as crux to this reciprocal relationship.
Cf. the evaluation of such narrow contextualizations in Morgan 2015, 120: âTo understand what pistis meant to the writers of the New Testament, in other words, we need above all to understand how pistis/fides was imagined, spoken of, and enacted, not in one or two technical discourses, but, as far as possible, in all kinds of speech, writing, and social relations.â
The contextualization of Pauline faith in (Graeco-)Roman benefaction, patronage and politics is suggested (in one rhetorical question) by Jeremy Punt (2012, 6): âOr, how would the Pauline insistence on faithfulness (ÏίÏÏιÏ) âapart from works (á¼Ïγα)â have resonated where Roman patronage and the âworksâ of benefactors determined peopleâs lives and livelihoodâas ultimately underwritten by the emperor as benefactor par excellence who readily claimed his âworksâ (cf. Augustus and the Res Gestae)?â Puntâs suggestion seems to be that Paulâs faithfulness did not demand any works; my own approach is rather that it is similar to contemporary philosophical critique in that it does not anticipate the return of âworksâ and that it is exceeds formal bonds of laws (see §7.4.1 infra). Note also the observation by Teresa Morgan that âpistis/fides is one of the very few qualities which are treated as equally domestic and political in Greek, Roman, and Hellenistic Jewish thinkingâ (Morgan 2015, 507, n. 19).
In the LXX, there are only two relevant co-occurrences where human pistis is rewarded with divine charis: Wisdom 3.14: âAnd blessed is the eunuch, who has done no lawless deed with his hands nor thought evil things against the Lord: for special favour will be given him for his faithfulness (Ïá¿Ï Ïá½·ÏÏεÏÏ Ïá½±ÏÎ¹Ï á¼ÎºÎ»ÎµÎºÏá½´)â; Proverbs 3.3: âLet acts of charity and loyalty (á¼Î»ÎµÎ·Î¼Î¿Ïύναι καὶ Ïá½·ÏÏειÏ) not fail you; rather fasten them on your neck, and you will find favour (Ïá½±Ïιν).â
See the Electronic Archive of Greek and Latin Epigraphy, respectively numbers EDR032865 (funerary stele of Vibia Drosis, found at Rome, dated AD 71â100) and EDR106424 (funerary tabula of Clodia M[arci] l[iberta] Secunda, found at Rome, dated AD 1â50). Alternatively, it may refer to the bond of marriage, as in the moving message addressed to a deceased husband (EDR150372, EDR150356): Coniugium inceptum dulce mihi tecum, Malchio, memento, quae fuerit nobis consociata fides.
Horace, Odes 1.5.5â6.
Catullus, Poems 76.3.
Propertius, Elegies 4.5.27â28.
Cicero, On the Orator 2.343â344.
In Le Vocabulaire Latin Des Relations et Des Partis Politiques Sous La ReÌpublique (1972 [1963]), Joseph Hellegouarcâh devotes the first chapter (1.1) to âla fidesâ and lists the most frequent combinations with fides: amicitia, amor, benevolentia, clientela, necessitudo, officium, pax, patrocinium, potestas, societas, tutela (p. 24).
From an anthropological perspective, this connection can be interpreted as caused by the conceptual priority of the sacred to every kind of political thought and action: rather than following a modernist construction of religion and politics as binary opposites, we can understand the quest for transcendence as inherent to and a creative power behind a political reality in all its brokenness. This is the main, thought provoking thesis of Wydra 2015, cf. 16â17.
Pöschl 1980, 4: âNach römischer Ãberzeugung war somit die fides unter den Menschen eng mit der römischen Religion verbunden und durch die Göttin Fides sanktioniert.â
See Piccaluga 1981. Cf. Mueller 2002, 221, n. 145.
Hellegouarcâh 1972 [1963], 26.
Freyburger 1986, 222: âconcept indissociable de la religionâ.
Freyburger 1986, 101 and 224 respectively.
Augustine, City of God 4.20: âThey made Virtue a goddess too (virtutem quoque deam fecerunt), and, if indeed a goddess, she had necessarily been preferred to many. (â¦) But why has Faith both been deemed a goddess (cur et Fides dea credita est) and also received a temple and an altar? Anyone intelligent enough to know her, makes of himself a habitation for her!â
On Dius Fidius, see BoyanceÌ 1972a, 92â93; Freyburger 1986, 288â298.
Freyburger 1986, 259â260; on the temple in general, see 259â273; for extensive bibliography on the temple, see 336â337. Cf. Livy, History of Rome 1.21.4 and Plutarch, Numa 16.1.
See Cicero, On the Nature of the Gods 2.61. On the importance of the cult in the context of foreign policy, see BoyanceÌ 1972b, esp. 112â116. On the historicity and history of the building, see Reusser 1993, 55â61.
See, respectively: Livy, History of Rome 1.21.4: âas a sign that faith must be kept (significantes fidem tutandam), and that even in menâs clasped hands her seat is sacred (sedemque eius etiam in dexteris sacratam esse)â; Servius, In Vergilii carmina comentarii 1.292: âby which means it is shown that faith is meant to be hiddenâ (per quod ostenditur fidem debere esse secretam). Cf. BoyanceÌ 1964, 424â425.
Fraenkel 1916, 196.
See Cicero, De officiis 3.104, quoted below. For Fides as an abstraction of Jupiterâs faithfulness, see Heinze 1928, 157: âSieht man nun, wie oft im alten Rom die Leute aus dem Volke die fides einzelner Gottheiten oder der Götter insgesamt angerufen haben, so kommt man zu der Vermutung, daà jene Fides auf dem Capitol ursprünglich eben die Fides Deum oder, wohl wahrscheinlicher, die Fides Iovis gewesen ist: das eben an den Göttern, an das der Schutz- und Hilfesuchende sich wendet.â For the exact place of the temple, see Reusser 1993, 61â62.
Statius, Thebais 7.216â217.
On the strong connection between Fides and formal oaths and treaties, see esp. BoyanceÌ 1972a.
âCâest dans la Fides que nous verrions, bien plutoÌt que dans les tardives meÌtaphysiques venues de GreÌce, lâorigine et le principe de lâuniversalisme romain, creÌateur du ius gentium, lui aussi, dâabord souple, puis enrichi progressivement, diversifieÌ, au fur et aÌ mesure que la Fides inventait des solutions aux situations nouvelles qui se proposaient. Jupiter protecteur des serments ne pouvait proteÌger que ce qui existait; Fides, la secreÌte, proteÌgeait aÌ lâavance ce qui nâexistait pas, mais qui, un jour, se reÌclamerait dâelle.â
Theognis, Elegiac Poems 1139â1140.
The Loeb translation by C. Macdonald renders testimoniorum religionem et fidem as âa scrupulous regard for honestyâ.
The stereotype goes back to at least the second century BC, see Polybius, Histories 6.56.13â14: âamong the Greeks, apart from other things, members of the government, if they are entrusted (ÏιÏÏÎµÏ Î¸á¿¶Ïιν) with no more than a talent, though they have ten copyists and as many seals and twice as many witnesses, cannot keep their faith (οὠδύνανÏαι ÏηÏεá¿Î½ Ïὴν Ïá½·ÏÏιν); whereas among the Romans those who as magistrates and legates are dealing with large sums of money maintain correct conduct just because they have pledged their faith by oath (δι᾿ αá½Ïá¿Ï Ïá¿Ï καÏá½° Ïὸν á½ Ïκον Ïá½·ÏÏεÏÏ ÏηÏοῦÏι Ïὸ καθá¿ÎºÎ¿Î½).â See also Pöschl 1980, 5â6.
See Le Bonniec 1965, c. 969: âAls Bürgin von Eid und Vertrag hat F[ides] im öffentlichen und privaten Leben der Römer und auch in deren Beziehungen zu anderen Völkern eine höchst wichtige Rolle gespielt, zumal da gerade die Römer ihre Politik ausdrücklich den Gesichtspunkten der F[ides] unterstellten und für sich selbst ein bes. Verhältnis zu ihr beanspruchten.â Cf. Hellegouarcâh 1972 [1963], 26.
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities 2.75.1.
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities 2.75.3.
In the final sentence, fides is not mentioned by name, but it is safe to assume that different qualities are named for the sake of varietas.
Cicero, On the Nature of the Gods 2.62.
Cicero, On the Nature of the Gods 2.61: âfor they have so much power that they cannot be without divine governanceâ (quia vis erat tanta ut sine deo regi non posset).
Cicero, On the Nature of the Gods 1.3: âAnd when these [piety, reverence, religion (pietas, sanctitas, religio)] are gone, life soon becomes a welter of disorder and confusion; and in all probability the disappearance of piety towards the gods will entail the disappearance of fides and social union among men as well, and of justice itself, the queen of all the virtues (pietate adversus deos sublata fides etiam et societas generis humani et una excellentissuma virtus iustitia tollatur).â See also §3.3.1.
Cicero, Letters to Atticus 1.16.7.
So also Van Zyl 2010, 529â530: âthe values of moral goodness and faith, which may, in jurisprudential context, be rendered as âgood moralsâ (boni mores) and âgood faithâ (bona fides), are closely interlinked with the cardinal virtues and with the values contained in Ciceroâs concepts of justice (iustitia), fairness or equity (aequitas) and (good) faith (fides).â Van Zyl refers explicitly to On the Republic 1.2 (unde iustitia, fides, aequitas?) and De officiis 1.15: âBut all that is morally right rises from some one of four sources: it is concerned either (1) with the full perception and intelligent development of the true; or (2) with the conservation of organized society, with rendering to every man his due, and with the faithful discharge of obligations assumed (rerum contractarum fide); or (3) with the greatness and strength of a noble and invincible spirit; or (4) with the orderliness and moderation of everything that is said and done, wherein consist temperance and self-control.â
Cf. De Wilde 2011, 459: âfides was believed to be a basic norm that made the legal system work as it should by founding it on the moral responsibility of those who participated in it.â
Cicero, De officiis 3.111.
Cicero, De officiis 1.23.
Cicero, De officiis 1.39.
One description of what the Greek ethnos consists of is given by Herodotus: âin blood and speech (ὠμαιμόν Ïε καὶ á½Î¼á½¹Î³Î»ÏÏÏον), and the shrines of gods and the sacrifices that we have in common (θεῶν ἱδÏύμαÏá½± Ïε κοινὰ καὶ Î¸Ï Ïίαι), and the likeness of our way of life (ἤθεά Ïε á½Î¼á½¹ÏÏοÏα)â (Histories 8.144.2).
In his description of Pauline pistis in the context of Roman fides, Christian Strecker devotes a section (2005, §2.4, p. 238) to Regulus, without delving deeper into questions about what this exemplum teaches regarding how fides is configured; he compares Regulusâs faithful defeat to serve a higher cause to Christâs (see p. 245, n. 87 and p. 249).
Cf. e.g. Pomeroy 2010, 61: âIf pietas is the generic term to indicate relationships within a domus, which takes its shades of meaning according to which member of the family is required to show social solidarity and how, fides is the tie which binds those who have a reciprocal relationship with one another outside familial contexts.â
Seneca, On Benefits 5.21.1, on which see §3.3.5 supra.
Cicero, Letters to Quintus 1.1.28.
Cf. De officiis 1.39: âif under stress of circumstances individuals have made any promise to the enemy, they are bound to keep their word even then (in eo ipso fides conservanda).â And on Regulus: âhe chose to return to a death by torture rather than prove false to his promise, though given to an enemy (quam fidem hosti datam fallere).â
His adversaries rely on lines of the tragic poet Accius, quoted in 3.106 and more fully in 3.102: Fregistin fidem? Neque dedi neque do infideli cuiquam. Cicero argues that Accius was only portraying the character Atreus. He only excludes negotiations with pirates from his rule of keep faithing with enemies: such oaths are not made âwith the clear understanding in oneâs own mind that it should be performedâ (De officiis 3.107). However, cf. the ironical remark at 3.87: âShame upon our government! The piratesâ sense of honour is higher than the senateâs (piratarum enim melior fides quam senatus).â
This sententia is elucidated by the exemplum that a soldier under oath to return to Hannibal had returned only briefly as if to have forgotten something, thinking that he thereby âwas released from the obligation of his oath; and so he was, according to the letter of it, but not according to the spirit (erat verbis, re non erat)â (Cicero, De officiis 1.40).
The Loeb translation shows a certain uneasiness with the religious connotations by translating religio and fides as âconscience and scrupulous regard for the rightâ.
Morgan 2015, 117.
See e.g. Schuller 2007, 16: âthe relationship between these two forms of social capital may be complementary or conflictual, or both.â For a case study in which bonding capital inhibits bridging capital, see Anderson 2010, esp. p. 98.
For the accusation of perfidy, see Vergil, Aeneid 4.305, 4.366, 4.421; for the remark that fides is nowhere safe (nusquam tuta fides) see 4.373; Didoâs own marital vows as fides, see 4.552: âThe faith vowed to the ashes of Sychaeus I have not kept (non servata fides cineri promissa Sychaeo)â. Cf. Aeneid 4.12 for Didoâs first confession of faith that Aeneas is divine: âI believe it wellânor is my confidence vainâthat he is sprung from gods (credo equidem, nec vana fides, genus esse deorum)â.
For Punica fides, see below, in this section.
Euripides, Medea 492.
Richard Monti argues that dextra fidesque does not refer to marriage, but to the patronage relationship that is not honoured by Aeneas. I would agree that this phrase does not refer to marriage and that Didoâs claim surpasses marriage in that it demands a public acknowledgement of and returned favour for the kind reception of the Trojans. However, I would argue that these obligations are still exceeded by the fides that is due to Zeusâs calling and the future of his patria. See Monti 1981, chapter 1: âFides and the Right Handâ (1â8).
Whereas the importance of fides in the Aeneid, particularly book 4, is commented upon occasionally, so far I have not found this interpretation of diverging views of fides in commentaries. Cf. Gruen 2012, 134â136; Van den Berg 2014, 3â6.
IG I3 53, line 9â16, date: 433/2 BC, stela, original location: unknown, translation Stephen Lambert, P. J. Rhodes (Attic Inscriptions Online).
IG II3 1 853, line 12â14, date: 295/4 BC, stela, original location: Athens, Acropolis; translation Sean Byrne (Attic Inscriptions Online).
IG II3 1 1292, line 7â8, 17â19, 44â46, date: 184/3 BC or 200/199 BC, stela, Agora, translation Stephen Lambert, Jane Ashwell (Attic Inscriptions Online).
Cf. Morgan 2015, 101: âWe have seen how, in a two-way relationship, pistis/fides is characteristically bivalent, referring to the trust and trustworthiness of both sides and often fitting complementary aspects of pistis/fides together in a social âjigsawâ pattern. When someone in the middle of a three-part relationship has pistis/fides, this bivalency works in two directions. The mediator must be both trusting and trustworthy towards both parties in order to accomplish the desired relationship between them.â
The story was well known, as it is also narrated by or referred to in i.a. Valerius Maximus, Memorable Doings and Sayings 3.2.2; Plutarch, Bravery of Women 14; Pliny the Elder, Natural History 34.6.13; Vergil, Aeneid 8.651; Juvenal, Satires 8.264â265.
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Roman Antiquities 5.33.2.
Livy, History of Rome 2.13.8â9.
âElle nâappartient pas de façon stricte au domaine juridique, mais au domaine moral et surtout social et se rattache aÌ dâautres valeurs eÌgalement morales comme Concordia, Virtus, Pietas, Pudor, Iustitia, qui ont eÌteÌ elles aussi diviniseÌes.â
De Wilde 2011, 460.
Heinze 1928, 159: âWenn ich das ursprüngliche Wesen der fides richtig bestimmt habe, so ist es begreiflich, daà sie eigentlich mit dem Recht nichts zu tun hatâ and âDas Wesen der sittlichen Bindung schlieÃt in sich, daà keine staatliche Ordnung ihre Einhaltung garantiert.â Cf. at 165: ânicht das Gesetz wacht über ihr: wohl aber das Auge der Mitbürger.â
This element of perfectionism is also one of the important conclusions of John Barryâs thesis (2005) on fides in Julius Caesarâs Bellum Civile. See esp. p. 26: âIn other words, an individualâs fides is often seen as exceptionally distinguished by our sources because the person in question acted with regard for justice in situations when he was either not obliged to do so by virtue of a sworn covenant or other prior agreement (or even by shared morality, conventionally understood), or when it was difficult for him to do so. To put it another way, a morality seen as based on fides might be perfectionist in its leanings.â Cf. Grimal 1974, 147â148: âOn peut dire que Fides est une cateÌgorie aÌ la fois sociale et morale, la permanence dans un type de conduite et, en meÌme temps, en lâabsence de deÌtermination particulieÌre du contenu de cette conduite, un rapport social âde baseâ, auquel on reste fideÌle.â
Fraenkel 1916, 187 (translation mine): âAls Grundbedeutung von fides geben die Lexica von Freund, Klotz, Georges übereinstimmend an âVertrauen, Zutrauen, Glaubeâ desgleichen Walde (â¦). Sonst heisst fides in der republikanischen Literatur durchaus: Gewähr, Bürgschaft, Versprechen, Zuverlässigkeit, Treue, Glaubwürdigkeit; bezeichnet also alles, worauf man sich verlassen kann, Garantie im weitesten Sinne, sei es dass sie in einem Akte, einer Versicherung, einem bestimmten rechtlichen Verhältnis von Personen zu einander, oder in einer Eigenschaft von Menschen oder Dingen gründet.â
See e.g. Fraenkel 1916, 196â197. Since my sources mostly pertain to this later period, such a diachronic development in the use of fides cannot be ruled out. Cf. however, for criticism of this position, Heinze 1928, 147 (ââMoralisch indifferentâ kann danach fides ursprünglich in keinem Fall gewesen seinâ); Freyburger 1986, 20â21; Morgan 2015, 5.
For Plutarchâs account, see Plutarch, Camillus 10.1â7. Plutarch does not emphasize pistis so much, but speaks of Camillusâs virtue and the virtue of justice in particular: âStanding in the Senate, they declared that the Romans, by esteeming righteousness above victory (Ïá¿Ï Î½á½·ÎºÎ·Ï Ïὴν δικαιοÏύνην ÏÏοÏιμήÏανÏεÏ), had taught them to love defeat above freedom; not so much because they thought themselves inferior in strength, as because they confessed themselves vanquished in virtue (ἡÏÏᾶÏθαι Ïá¿Ï á¼ÏεÏá¿Ï)â (Plutarch, Camillus 10.7.). Valerius Maximus emphasizes that the Faliscans were â[v]anquished by benefaction rather than by arms (beneficio magis quam armis)â (Valerius Maximus, Memorable Doings and Sayings 5.1a).
Livy, History of Rome 5.28.1.
Livy, History of Rome 5.27.6.
Valerius Maximus, Memorable Doings and Sayings 6.6.1, 6.6.2, 6.6.4 respectively.
Valerius Maximus, Memorable Doings and Sayings 9.6.ext.1 and 9.6.ext.2 respectively.
Sallust, The War with Jugurtha 108.3. Cf. Livy, History of Rome 30.30.27 and, though less literal, 22.6.12; Florus, Epitome of Roman History 2.2. See on this stereotype Starks 1999. Cf. for Graeca fides Plautus, Asinaria 198; Cicero, Pro Flacco 12.13.
Plautus, Poenulus 967: âImmortal gods, I implore your protection (opsecro vostram fidem)!â This more nuanced view of the supposed Carthaginian stereotype is an important contribution argued for in Gruen 2012, chapter 4: âPunica Fidesâ (105â140), esp. 127â128 on Hanno.
This was first acknowledged in Von Albrecht 1964, 55â86. See also Hartmann 2004, 153.
Silius Italicus, Punica 1.634.
For an overview of this more recent scholarly direction, see Pomeroy 2010, 59â61.
This has been persuasively argued in Fucecchi 2019.
Silius Italicus, Punica 1.56â57.
Silius Italicus, Punica 1.303â304. The religious aspect of Hannibalâs breach of fides and the broader interrelatedness of fides and pietas in the Punica is discussed in Marks 2019. The author concludes, âThe alignment of fides and pietas in Scipio and his divine father and their shared opposition to Hannibal, the epicâs most conspicuous example of perfidia and impietas, cohere well with this historicizing interpretation of the poem. As other contributions show, fides was a critically important concept for the Flavians, who were establishing their rule in the wake of civil warâ (at 181).
For the citation, see Silius Italicus, Punica 1.598. The Saguntine envoy that was sent to Rome to âlament our loyalty (deflete fidem) and our crumbling walls, and bring us better fortune from our ancient homeâ (1.571â572), is not successful.
Silius Italicus, Punica 6.63â64. On Regulus as a prototype of fides in the Punica, see Fröhlich 2000.
On the intertextuality in this passage, cf. Augoustakis 2010, chapter 3: âComes ultima fati: Regulusâ Encounter with Marciaâs Otherness in Punica 6â (156â195), esp. 171, n. 37; also Pomeroy 2010, 70.
Cf. Pomeroy 2010, 70: âthe effect is more to strengthen the picture of Roman resolve on the part of Regulus.â
Though cf. on the continued use of pistis/fides language in documentary papyri to indicate mutual trust in (probably more symmetrical) economical exchanges: Arzt-Grabner 2017, 246â248.
See, e.g., Saller 1982, 30â32.
See Plutarch, Precepts of Statecraft 808B: âFor the principles that govern a statesmanâs conduct (â¦) make it possible for him, after he has once made the chief public interests safe, out of his abundant resources to assist his friends, take his stand beside them, and help them out of their troubles. (â¦) And there are also favours which arouse no ill-will, such as aiding a friend to gain an office, putting into his hands some honourable administrative function or some friendly foreign missionâ, also referred to by Saller (1982, 31).
Cf. Malina 2001, 31: âAt the core of the patron-client relationship lie three basic factors that define and differentiate it from other power relationships that occur between individuals or groups. These are unequal status, reciprocity, and proximity.â
He mainly builds on Eisenstadt & Roniger 1984 (43â64, esp. 48â49), but includes views from Gellner & Waterbury 1977, 4; Saller 1982, 1â2, 21, 27â29; Rich 1989, 128; Saller 1989, 52â53; Veyne 1990, 124â130.
Cf. for an almost verbally similar sentence also Georgiev 2008, 26, whose text in this section seems to heavily depend on Neyreyâs article, apparently without any acknowledgement.
See e.g. Winterling 2009, 35: âWhile friendship can be understood as an egalitarian form of interpersonal relations requiring a symmetrical structure, that is, a certain equality between those involved, patron-client relationships are characterized by hierarchy, inequality of the participants, and an asymmetrical structure.â
See Konstan 1997, 148: âIdeas of friendship were adapted to different practices, but the core sense of a private bond based on mutual affection, esteem, and liberalityâwithin the capabilities of the respective partnersâabided.â He specifically responds to Gelzer 1912, who classifies both patronage, friendship, and hospitality under the heading of âNah- und Treuverhältnisseâ that are not primarily based on affection.
Konstan (1997), however, rightly comments upon this passage that âCicero is here explaining the social function of friendship in general, not reducing particular attachments to utilitarian motivesâ (130). Affection and obligation were not mutually exclusive.
See, again, Konstan, who responds to counterarguments in Konstan 2010, 238â239 (arguing against the opposite views in Raccanelli 1998, 20 and Herman 2006, 36).
Verboven 2011, 413: âThe principle of equality in friendship, then, did not imply social or political equality, but the effective irrelevance of such inequalities. Thus, amicitia and clientela were not mutually exclusive, but the language of friendship was preferable to that of patronage, which implied inferiority and dependency.â
Verboven 2011, 413.
Cf. Morgan 2015, 118: âPistis/fides, as we have seen, is one of the key qualities that characterize the relationships of wives and husbands, parents and children, master and slaves, patrons and clients, subjects and rulers, armies and commanders, friends, allies, fellow-human beings, gods and worshippers, and even fellow-animals. What is more, the semantic range of both lexica means that they can capture with great subtlety the symbiosis between these relationships, whether symmetrical or asymmetric.â
Even though the technical Roman language is lacking, the relations are of a more temporary nature and the obligations are not legally defined, classical Athens also knew patronage, usually denoted as philia, in private and public spheres. Such is the conclusion of Rachel Zelnick-Abramovitz (2000).
For an evaluation of both approaches, see Saller 1982, 37â38.
An exception to this rule is found in the role of high-standard patrons to collegia: collegia functioned to promote not only the well-being of their members, but also presented them with the opportunity to share in their patronâs social status and in the civic values he represents. See on this subject Garnsey & Saller 1997, 101â102; Van Nijf 2003.
Morgan 2015, 51; on pistis/fides among masters and slaves in general, see 51â54. On the virtue of faithfulness and slaves, cf. the papyri cited in Arzt-Grabner 2017, 245.
Valerius Maximus, Memorable Doings and Sayings 6.8.praef.
Seneca also offers an eloquently phrased example of a slave taking the place of his proscribed master in the setting of the Civil Wars: Seneca, On Benefits 3.25.1: âWhat a hero!âto wish to die in place of a master in times when not to wish a master to die was a rare show of loyalty (quo rara erat fides dominum mori nolle); to be found kind when the state was cruel, faithful when it was treacherous (in publica perfidia fidelem); to covet death as a reward for loyalty (praemium fidei mortem concupiscere) in face of the huge rewards that are offered for disloyalty!â
Seneca, On Benefits 3.19.4.
Seneca, On Benefits 6.30.3â5.
In the following lines, however, Morgan notes that the sources âshy awayâ from emphasizing such reciprocity in strongly asymmetrical relationships, as we find no references to the pistis/fides of both parties in one text.
The importance of the fides word group in this context is commonly recognized in scholarly literature: see e.g. Gelzer 1912, 116; Hellegouarcâh 1972 [1963], 28â35; Freyburger 1986, 149â160; Verboven 2011, 409. Strangely enough, in his monograph on Roman patronage (1982), Richard Sellar discusses various key terms, yet he opts to leave out fides for two reasons: â(1) the most frequent meanings of the word in the literature from the Principate are âhonestyâ or âcredibilityâ, which do not imply the existence of a social exchange relationship; (2) the importance of the moral aspect of the patronage relationship is very difficult to evaluateâ (p. 8, n. 3). Notwithstanding her âsocialâ approach to pistis/fides, Teresa Morgan does not elaborately discuss patronage relationships: she observes that pistis/fides in this context is less well attested than we might expect (see Morgan 2015, 61â62).
Verboven 2011, 407â411.
Aulus Gellius, Attic Nights 5.13.2.
Cf. Cicero, De officiis 3.111.
An example of a woman as patroness is found in Terence, The Eunuch 886â887, where the young man Chaerea seeks the patronage of Thaïs, a foreign woman (this of course is comedy, so we cannot be sure whether a female patron was part of the joke): âI entrust myself to your care and protection (ego me tuae commendo et committo fide); I take you as my patron (te mihi patronam capio), Thais, I implore you.â
Cf. Freyburger 1986, 154â155, on the âfondements religieuxâ of patron-client relationships.
âDer patronus aber leistet nicht einfach einen Freundschaftsdienst, sondern wenn einmal an seine fides appelliert ist, so heiÃt es in vollem Umfange fidem praestare; seine eigene Person ist mit im Spiele, und sein eigenes Ansehen steigt oder fällt mit dem Erfolg oder MiÃerfolg der Verteidigung, weshalb denn auch sein Wirken für den Klienten sich keineswegs auf die Rede beschränkt; aber auch in dieser bringt er nicht nur Argumente, sondern setzt sich mit seiner ganzen Persönlichkeit ein.â
Cf. on this reciprocity Grimal 1974, 148: âA ce degreÌ, il nây a plus une seule Fides, mais deuxâet cela rend dâautant plus remarquable que le mot ne posseÌde pas de pluriel. La langue ne les distingue pas. Elle constate le fait quâil sâagit dâune forme reÌciproque, une seule entiteÌ aÌ deux faces, qui sont compleÌmentaires.â
Dmitriev 2011, appendix 9, 437â444. A similar argument was made earlier by Dieter Nörr (1991, 22): only after the conclusion of a deditio, the inferior party partakes in a Roman normative order (âRömische Normenordnungâ), which then also binds the conqueror to this objective code of conduct.
Cf. Verboven 2011, 417 (âto sustain a friendâs fides vis-aÌ-vis the world at large was an imperative dutyâ) and 418 (âthe whole nexus of friendship, as comprehended by the Romans, placed expectations on friends that were tantamount to being compulsoryâ).
Cf. Heinze 1928, 152: âeine Ãbertragung, wie ich meine, privater innerstaatlicher Verhältnisse auf öffentlich internationaleâ. See also Nörr 1991, 25.
See Lavan 2013, 186: âThe most obviousâbut also the most complexâconnection between empire and clientela in Roman discourse is the common trope of describing foreign peoples who surrender to Rome as coming into fides (in fidem venire, etc.). (â¦) While this particular expression (in fidem venire) is largely limited to the context of surrender, it is part of a wider cluster of constructions with fides which are normally used of the patron-client relationship.â
Cf. at 2.27: â[T]he highest ambition of our magistrates and generals was to defend our provinces and allies with justice and faith (si socios aequitate et fide defendissent). And so our government could be called more accurately a protectorate (patrocinium) of the world than a dominion (imperium).â
E.g. Livy, History of Rome 44.9.1: âBefore Popilius brought his men against the walls, he sent envoys to persuade the magistrates and chief citizens to prefer making trial of the good faith and mildness of the Romans rather than of their force (fidem clementiamque Romanorum quam vim experiri mallent).â Cf. also Livy, History of Rome 45.4.7: âNothing was accomplished by that embassy, since Perseus clung with all his might to the title of king, while Paulus urged him to entrust himself and all he had to the discretion and mercy of the Roman People (ut se suaque omnia in fidem et clementiam populi Romani permitteret tendente).â
Sallust, The War with Jugurtha 33.4. Cf. at 33.3: âhe [Memmius] declared that the pledge of public protection would not be broken so far as it lay within his power (fidem publicam per sese inviolatam fore).â
Livy, History of Rome 28.34.3.
Seneca, On Benefits 5.16.3, Loeb translation adapted. Ingratitude is even the primordial sin, according to Seneca: see On Benefits 1.10.4: âHomicides, tyrants, thieves, adulterers, robbers, sacrilegious men, and traitors there always will be; but worse than all these is the crime of ingratitude (infra omnia ista ingratus est), unless it be that all these spring from ingratitude, without which hardly any sin has grown to great size.â
Plutarch, Comparison of Alcibiades and Coriolanus 2.7.
Plutarch, Agis et Cleomenes 13.5.
See also Konstan 1997, 123: âLike the Greek kharis, the Latin term gratia refers both to the return that is due for a service (officium or beneficium) one has received, and to the sense of debt or gratitude that is morally incumbent on the beneficiary.â
Curtius Rufus, History of Alexander 6.4.23â24.
Curtius Rufus, History of Alexander 9.1.23.
See, respectively, Plutarch, Aratus 35.3 (Ïῶν á¼Ïαιῶν Ïὴν ÏÏá½¸Ï Ïὸν á¼ÏαÏον εá½Î½Î¿Î¹Î±Î½ καὶ Ïá½·ÏÏιν) and 47.4 (Ïὴν ÏÏá½¸Ï Ïὸν á¼ÏαÏον εá½Î½Î¿Î¹Î±Î½ αá½Ïοῦ καὶ Ïá½·ÏÏιν). The collocation of goodwill and faith is a frequent one, particularly in historiographical and biographical genres; in Plutarchâs works alone we count fifteen cases (with a maximum of 5 words distance).
Diodorus Siculus, Library of History 14.25.6. Cf. Diodorus Siculus, Library of History 19.44.2: âHe wished, indeed, to have at his side a man who was a good general and who would be under obligations to him, but he had little faith in Eumenesâs promises (οὠλίαν δ᾿ á¼Ïá½·ÏÏÎµÏ ÎµÎ½ αá½Ïοῦ Ïαá¿Ï á¼ÏαγγελίαιÏ) because of the latterâs loyalty to Olympias and the kings (διὰ Ïὴν ÏÏá½¸Ï á½Î»Ï μÏιάδα καὶ ÏÎ¿á½ºÏ Î²Î±Ïιλεá¿Ï Ïιλίαν).â Cf. also Polybius, Histories 1.46.5: âThey listened to his [Hannibal of Rhodesâ] offer eagerly, but did not believe he could do this (οἱ δὲ Ïá¿Ï á¼ÏÎ±Î³Î³ÎµÎ»á½·Î±Ï Î¼á½²Î½ á¼ÏμένÏÏ á¼¤ÎºÎ¿Ï Ïαν, οὠμὴν á¼Ïá½·ÏÏÎµÏ á½¹Î½ γε), as the Romans were anchored outside the mouth of the port.â; Polybius, Histories 11.25.9: âHe said they should undertake to pay the men their arrears, and in order to secure credence for this promise (Ïá½±Ïιν δὲ Ïοῦ ÏιÏÏεύεÏθαι Ïὴν á¼Ïαγγελίαν), collect at once publicly and energetically the contributions formerly imposed on the cities for the maintenance of the whole army, making it evident that the measure was taken to adjust the irregularity of payment.â
Diodorus Siculus, Library of History 37.22b.1. Cf. also Polybius, Histories 3.100.3â4: âOn reaching Gerunium, (â¦) he [Hannibal] at first sent messages to the inhabitants asking for their alliance and offering pledges of the advantages he promised them (Ïá½·ÏÏÎµÎ¹Ï á¼Î´á½·Î´Î¿Ï Ïῶν á¼Ïαγγελιῶν), but as they paid no attention to them he began the siege.â; Polybius, Histories 8.18.10: âThe king received him graciously, assured him of the promised reward (δόνÏÎ¿Ï Ïá½·ÏÏÎµÎ¹Ï á½Ïá½²Ï Ïῶν á¼Ïαγγελιῶν)â. For a Latin variant, cf. Seneca, Thyestes 294â295, when Atreus seeks to draw out his brother Thyestes: âWho will give him assurance of peace (Quis fidem pacis dabit)? Whom will he trust so greatly (cui tanta credet)?â
Xenophon, Hellenica 2.3.28.
Cicero, Verrine Orations 2.2.2 and 2.3.12 respectively. Cf. also Cicero, Verrine Orations 2.2.90 (in amicitia fideque mansissent); 2.5.83 (in amicitia fideque populi Romani perpetuo manserant); 2.5.124 (amicitiam fidemque populi Romani secuti sumus).
See also Lavan 2013, 193: âRepresenting the Sicilians as Romeâs clients asserts a similar claim to Roman protection.â On fides and related terms in the Verrine speeches, see Rothe 1978, chapter 2: âHumanitas, Misericordia, Clementia, Mansuetudo und Fides in Ciceros Reden gegen Verresâ (13â59). Rothe also notes the perfectionism inherrent to fides as a virtue, see at 54: âFür Cicero haben die Römer gegenüber der Provinz moralische Verpflichtungen, die über rein rechtliche Festlegungen hinausgehen.â
Caesar, The Gallic War 2.14.
Livy, History of Rome 21.19.5. Cf. e.g. (out of near thirty co-occurrences) 8.25.3: âFor the Lucanians and Apulians, nations which until then had had no dealings with the Roman People, put themselves under their protection (in fidem venerunt) and promised arms and men for the war, and were accordingly received into a treaty of friendship (foedere ergo in amicitiam accept).â; 28.32.5: âThe only bond which once existed, that of loyalty and friendship (fidei atque amicitiae), they had themselves broken by their crime.â
Hölkeskamp 2004, 116: âein Konzept, das die Macht selbst und die durchaus konkrete Gewalt des Ãberlegenen, Ãbergeordneten über den Schwächeren, Untergeordneten zeigte.â
Hölkeskamp 2004, 116: âfür die fides typische Reziprozitätâ and âprimären Unbegrenztheit der Machtâ.
Plutarch, Cato the Younger 44.7â8. For a discussion of the entire passage, see §3.3.1 supra.
Plutarch, On Praising Oneself Inoffensively 545D.
See e.g. Plutarch, Precepts of Statecraft 812F: âfew men enjoyed so much confidence and power as he (Ïá½·ÏÏιν á¼ÏÏν á¼Î½ Ïοá¿Ï μάλιÏÏα καὶ δύναμιν)â; Plutarch, Comparison of Alcibiades and Coriolanus 2.7: âhe was appointed their leader, and had the greatest credit and influence among them (μεγίÏÏην Ïá½·ÏÏιν εἶÏε μεÏá½° Î´Ï Î½á½±Î¼ÎµÏÏ).â
Livy, History of Rome 39.54.7.
Gruen 1982, 53. See above, §7.2.2. Cf. Pöschl 1980, 9: âWichtiger aber ist, daà die durch religiöse Formeln sanktionierte Verbindung von fides und Imperium darauf hindeutet, daà die Rechte, die das Imperium verleiht, durch die Pflichten eingeschränkt sind, die die fides vorschreibt.â
Cf. Derow 2012, 143: âThe return of freedom (and property) was the act expected of a general who had received a deditio in fidem.â
See Plutarch, Titus Flaminius 11.4: âthese men underwent the greatest perils and hardships in order to rescue Greece and set her free from cruel despots and tyrants (ÏÏ ÏάννÏν á¼Î»ÎµÏ θεÏοῦÏι).â
The Loeb translation translates pistis as âconfidenceâ, which leaves the object of this confidence ambiguous.
See Lavan 2013, 200: âLivy represents foreign speakers trying to use Roman rhetoric to manipulate Roman behaviour.â
Lavan 2013, 157. See especially his chapters on âBenefactorsâ (156â175) and âPatrons and Protectorsâ (176â210).
Lavan 2013, 205: âIt is in political invective that Cicero appeals to patrocinium as the paradigm of how Rome ought to behave to its subjects. The point is to vilify the provincial conduct of his opponents. For Livy it is a trope for Roman speakers to use in order to differentiate Roman rule from subjection to the Hellenistic Kings.â
Cf. also Pöschl 1980, 8: âDer besiegte Feind konnte sich in den Schutz des siegreichen Feldherrn begeben, d. h. durch die Kapitulation unterwirft er sich, aber die fides verbietet dem Sieger, seine Macht zu miÃbrauchen. Natürlich geschah das trotzdem, und der Begriff der fides wurde genauso miÃbraucht wie andere Wertbegriffe.â
See the suggestive remark in Elliott 2008, 38 and §7.2.3 supra.
âManifestement, aÌ lâeÌpoque impeÌriale, le lien de fides horizontal, liant les citoyens entre eux, a eÌteÌ remplaceÌ par un lien de fides vertical, unissant les sujets aÌ lâempereur. Dans cette situation, il semble quâon ait perdu le sens dâun devoir de solidariteÌ envers le concitoyen.â Freyburger refers to Tacitus and Suetonius.
E.g. Saller 1982, 32; Garnsey & Saller 1997, 97, who refer specifically to Res gestae divi Augusti 15â18 and Pliny the Younger, Panegyricus 2.21.
Winterling 2009, 39â41.
Von Premerstein 1937, 13â25. See also Lampe 2016, 208: âIn imperial times, the political influence of the noble families faded. Consequently, clientage became less a political factor but remained a social and economic institution. (â¦) Juridical implications were negligible; the patron-client relationship was legally irrelevant during imperial times.â
Saller 1982; see also Garnsey & Saller 1997, 98â99.
Winterling 2009, 49.
Garnsey & Saller 1997, 97.
Atkins 2018, 90.
Plutarch, Cato the Younger 44.6.
Lucan, The Civil War 1.177, 182. Cf. on the motivation to enlist as a soldier 2.253: âto bury bankruptcy under the destruction of the world (mundique ruinae permiscenda fides)â.
Anonymous Iamblichi, Fragment 7.1: Diels & Kranz 1951, 89, found in Iamblichus, Protrepticus. For an analysis of the use of pistis and apistia in economic contexts in classical Greece, see Faraguna 2012; specifically on this treatise: 360â366.
Cicero, Pro rege Deiotaro 8.
Caesar, Civil War 1.85.3â4: âYou did not uphold the rules pertaining to talks and truces, and with extreme cruelty you killed inexperienced men duped by the talks (â¦) you are reverting to something you scorned a little while ago, and now seek it with the utmost eagerness.â
Cf. Bartera 2019, 258: âFides was also at the basis of the patron-client relationship, which served as the model for the special relationship that existed, in the republican period especially, between the general and his soldiers, and, during the empire, between the emperor and his subjects. (â¦) In the context of civil wars, when the armyâs loyalty wavers among different contenders, fides is no longer to Rome but to an individual.â Cf. Coffee 2009, 158: âSuch limited expectations for Roman fides show how far the virtue has degenerated and how perilous it is for Pompey to continue to rely on it.â
The addition of new dedications made by private individuals was even prohibited by the emperor: see Corbeill 2005, 91â92.
The Greek variant, found as an inscription, reads: Î á½±ÏθÏν ΦÏα[á½±ÏÎ·Ï á½¨Ïώδο]Ï Ï á¼±á½¸[Ï Ï ]á¼±Î¿á½ºÏ [αá½Ïοῦ] Ï á¼±Ïâ£Î½Î¿á½»Ï Ïε ÏάνÏÎ±Ï á¼ÏεμÏεν Îµá¼°Ï á¼¸Ïαλίαν, οὠÏολέμÏι ⣠λειÏθείÏ, á¼Î»Î»á½° Ïὴν ἡμ[ε]Ïá½³Ïαν Ïιλίαν á¼Î¾Î¹á¿¶Î½ á¼Ïὶ Ïá½³â£ÎºÎ½Ïν á¼Î½ÎµÏá½»ÏοιÏ, Ïλεá¿ÏÏá½± Ïε á¼Î»Î»Î± á¼Î¸Î½Î· Ïεá¿Ïαν á¼Î»[α]βεν Î´á½µÎ¼Î¿Ï á¿¬ÏμαίÏν Ïá½·ÏÏεÏÏ á¼Ï᾿ á¼Î¼Î¿á¿¦ ἡγεμόνοÏ.
Josephus probably made use of Nicolausâs own writings, which survive only in fragments. Nicolaus was Herod the Greatâs advisor, yet after his death, he took it upon himself to function as an intermediary to the imperial administration and even befriended Augustus himself. See Toher 1989, 161.
Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 17.246â247 = Nicolaus Damascenus, Fragment 95a: 35â45.
The Loeb translation renders fide as âcertaintyâ, which is a logical epistemological counterpart to opinione yet does not sufficiently negotiate the semantic domain of benefaction and petition which is evident from the wider context.
There have been conjectures that prefer vidimus or videmus for dedimus, yet this seems to be an unlikely antithesis to accepimus and an unlikely repetition of the sentiment already expressed in this sentence: cf. Shackleton Bailey 2000, 15, n. 3.
A very helpful work for understanding fides in this period is the volume resulting from the 2015 Nijmegen conference âFides in Flavian Literatureâ: Augoustakis, Buckley & Stocks 2019.
Cf. Pseudo-Seneca, Octavia 527, where Nero is convinced that the same military security kept Augustus safe: âIt was his soldiersâ arms and loyalty that kept him safeâ (armis fideque militis tutus fuit).
For these and some of the following insights pertaining to the Flavian period, I am indebted to Bartera 2019.
For an interesting wordplay regarding Vitelliusâs misplaced trust, see Tacitus, Histories 2.60: âVitellius believed in their treachery and acquitted them of the crime of loyalty towards Othoâ (et Vitellius credidit de perfidia et fidem absolvit).
Cf. Bartera 2019, 268â269: âWhile he expresses sharp criticism for the three short-lived emperors of that fatal year, his views of the Flavians are more difficult to evaluate, given the loss of the later books of the Histories. I am inclined to believe, however, that Tacitus is reflecting, in his use of fides and its cognates, the Flaviansâ desire to be seen as the restorers of the old Roman traditions, which included fides. This is not to say that Tacitus was adhering to the Flaviansâ official propaganda; but his narrative suggests that he was aware of their strategy.â
See the online catalogue of coins OCRE, keyword âfidesâ. The strategy of coining was already employed by Galba and Vitellius, who often combined images of âFides Exercituumâ, Fides Praetorianumâ, or âFides Publicaâ with âConcordiaâ or their own portrait. Cf. Bartera 2019, 258â259.
Cf. e.g. Cicero, Philippics 11.5: âright hands, the accustomed pledges of good faith (fidei testes)â. See OCRE, keyword âfidesâ; BoyanceÌ 1972c; Reusser 1993, 86â91; Morgan 2015, 129â130. For further bibliography on the symbolism of the right hand, see Freyburger 1986, 339.
Spisak 2015, 66; cf. also at 66: âThroughout much of the poem Martial contrasts Nerva with his assassinated predecessor, Domitian: Nerva is mild, Domitian was severe; in Domitianâs reign Rome faced distrust and intrigue, cruelty, abuse of power, and terror, whereas under Nerva good and easy relations have returned; all of this strongly implies that the trust that was necessary for a healthy exchange between emperor and subjects had deteriorated under Domitian.â
Pliny the Younger, Panegyricus 42.2.
On the occurrence of pistis/fides vocabulary in situations of crisis and decision-making, and the fragility of trust in such situations, cf. Morgan 2015, in particular her conclusions on p. 75 and n. 197.
McKnight & Modica 2012, 158.
Cicero, De officiis 1.26. Cf. Cicero, On the Republic 1.49, with a small variation: nulla sancta societas nec fides est.
See Cicero, De officiis 1.44: âWe may also observe that a great many people do many things that seem to be inspired more by a spirit of ostentation than by heart-felt kindness (non tam natura liberales quam quadam gloria ductos); for such people are not really generous but are rather influenced by a sort of ambition to make a show of being open-handed (facere multa, quae proficisci ab ostentatione magis quam a voluntate videantur). Such a pose is nearer akin to hypocrisy (vanitati est coniunctior) than to generosity or moral goodness.â
See Cicero, De officiis 2.71: âI think, therefore, that kindness to the good is a better investment than kindness to the favourites of fortune.â
Cicero, On Ends 2.117.
Cf. Cicero, On the Laws 1.48: âWhat of generosity, is it disinterested or does it look to a recompense (liberalitas gratuitane est an mercennaria)? If a man is kind without any reward, then it is disinterested (gratuita); but if he receives payment, then it is hired. It cannot be doubted that he who is called generous or kind answers the call of duty, not of gain. Therefore equity also demands no reward or price; consequently it is sought for its own sake. And the same motive and purpose characterize all the virtues.â
Seneca, On Benefits 5.21.1. See §3.3.5 and §6.3.2 supra.
Cf. Seneca, On Benefits 3.7.2â3: âIn the second place, although to repay grace (referre gratiam) is a most praiseworthy act, it ceases to be praiseworthy if it is made obligatory (desinit esse honesta, si necessaria est); (â¦) So we spoil (corrumpimus) the two most beautiful things in human lifeâa manâs gratitude and a manâs benefit (gratum hominem et beneficium).â
Cf. also Barclay 2015, 48.
Cf., on the independence of fides, Seneca, On Benefits 4.21.6: âIf it sees its own loyalty subjected to the chastisements reserved for treachery (Si vero bonam fidem perfidiae suppliciis adfici videt), it does not descend from its pinnacle, but abides there superior to its punishment. (â¦) [T]hough my very heart, brimming with conscious virtue, should drip with blood, it will delight in the flame through which its loyalty will shine forth (per quem bona fides conlucebit).â
The Loeb translation by John W. Basore (1935) renders fidem as âpromiseâ.
Hellegouarcâh (1972 [1963], 30, 35) makes a distinction between moral and social qualities and assigns fides to the latter and fidelitas to the first. Considering Senecaâs treatment of fides, this distinction seems unwarranted.
Seneca, On Benefits 3.14.2.
Seneca, On Benefits 3.14.2.
In the case of money lending, fides can be legally enforced to prevent excuses. See Seneca, On Benefits 7.16.3: âYet they [our forefathers] accepted no excuses in order to teach men that a promise must be kept at all costs (ut homines scirent fidem utique praestandam); in their eyes it was better that a few should not find even a good excuse accepted than that all should resort to excuse.â On contemporary discussion of this law in antiquity, cf. Griffin 2013, 333â334.
Morgan 2015, 105.
See Blanton 2017, 4, quoted above in §7.2.4.
This suggestion was also made by Jerome Neyrey (2005, 491â492, and cf. also Neyrey 2004, 253). See §7.4.2 infra.
Seneca, On Benefits 6.23.7.
Seneca, On Benefits 7.15.4, cf. 2.30.2.
Seneca, On Benefits 4.25.2.
Seneca, On Benefits 4.26.1: ââIf you are imitating the gods,â you say, âthen bestow benefits also upon the ungrateful; for the sun rises also upon the wicked, and the sea lies open also to pirates.â This point raises the question whether a good man would bestow a benefit upon one who was ungrateful, knowing that he was ungrateful.â
Seneca, On Benefits 4.28.1.
Seneca, On Benefits 7.31.2â5.
Seneca, On Benefits 7.32.
On the influence of patronage on the Corinthian community, see Coutsoumpos 2015, 38â42. In this interhuman context, it seems that symmetry was foregrounded, cf. Lampe 2016, 216: âIn summary, in early Pauline Christianity, there were no clear-cut and rock-solid static vertical relationships. Things were more dynamic.â
Cf. the contribution by Thomas Blanton (2017, chapter 3: âThe Benefactorâs Account Book: The Rhetoric of Gift Reciprocation According to Seneca and Paulâ), who argues that Paul does in fact exploit his own role as patron to Philemon by emphasizing that Philemon owed him, contrary to the type of advice Seneca gives. Cf., though, Lampe 2016, 224: âwherever we encountered vertical patron-client-like structures in the social life of Pauline Christianity, they were in conflict with the strong early Christian feeling that horizontal symmetry and equality should govern the social interactions of Christians. This maxim constantly questioned and undermined top-to-bottom social structures and often led to ambiguity in social relationships.â
Cf. on this passage Wright 1993, 206: âthe idea of the covenant ambassador, who represents the one for whom he speaks in such a full and thorough way that he actually becomes the living embodiment of his sovereignâ.
For an overview of polis language in the NT, see Porter & Pitts 2013, 261, with the comment: âperhaps the most significant is in Acts 23.1, in his defence before the Sanhedrin when Paul straightway affirms his living as a citizen for God (ÏεÏολίÏÎµÏ Î¼Î±Î¹ Ïá¿· θεῷ) in his opening statement, showing his ultimate allegiance. This is not accidental. Paul would have had ample opportunity or general exposure to, if not careful study of, ancient politeiai.â
Cicero, De officiis 1.124.
See, among others, Bultmann 1968, 213: âPaul can already use ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï in the sense of Christianity, which may be further differentiated into being a Christian and the Christian message, teaching or principleâ; Hay 1989, at 475: âIn 1.23 ἡ ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï seems to mean âthe kerygmaâ (cf. Rom 10.8)â; Brandenburger 1988, 169: ââDen Glauben verkündenâ (Gal 1.23): das charakterisiert nun, schlieÃlich auch dem Judentum gegenüber, exklusiv das von dieser Gruppierung propagierte Gottes- bzw. Christusverhältnis als Weg zum Heil.â
Cf. Watson 2018, 244: âÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï can serve as a metonym for the entire content of Christian preaching and teaching (Gal 1.23).â
Morgan 2017b, 175; Morgan 2015, 265â267; Morgan 2018b, 259â260. Although cf. Watson 2018 and Seifrid 2018.
See e.g. Tilling 2014, 251.
See Wolter 2017, 353 (commenting on Plutarch, On Talkativeness 503D and 1 Thes 2.13): âDas paulinische Glaubensverständnis basiert nicht auf dem Inhalt oder dem Gegenstand des Glaubens, sondern auf einem durch und durch alltagssprachlichen und trivialen Verständnis von âglaubenâ, nämlich als zustimmendes Hören, das das Gehörte für wahr hält.â Cf. Spaeth 2017, 375â376, who affirms the interpretation of pistis as hearing and accepting (at 397: âfür-wahr-haltenâ) by Wolter and Friedrich.
Morgan 2017b, 175; cf. also at 175: âthis is a reference to the structure rather than the story of divine-human pistis.â This interpretation of pistis in Gal 1.23 as a ârelationship of trustâ was endorsed and further refined by Peter Oakes (Oakes 2018, 267) as a ârelational way of lifeâ and as a âmetonym for the house churches of the early Jesus movementâ.
Cf. Morgan 2015, 305 (in her conclusion of the chapter on Galatians, Romans, Philippians, and Philemon): âThe process of developing this model also leads Paul to develop his use of pistis in some other passages: not dramatically, but in ways which will significantly shape later Christian thinking. In places in these letters the relationship of divine-human trust becomes something more like a bond of trust, a community of trust, the assurance created by the sacrifice of Christ, and perhaps even the new covenant in Christâs blood. This gradual semantic shift will lead to Christians defining the nature of their community, the content of its proclamation, and eventually the cult itself by the name hÄ pistis.â
LXX 2 Reigns / 2 Samuel 7.16: καὶ ÏιÏÏÏθήÏεÏαι á½ Î¿á¼¶ÎºÎ¿Ï Î±á½Ïοῦ καὶ ἡ βαÏιλεία αá½Ïοῦ á¼ÏÏ Î±á¼°á¿¶Î½Î¿Ï á¼Î½á½½Ïιόν Î¼Î¿Ï .
See Hay 2006, 206, who mentions 1 Corinthians 15.1â19 and Paulâs unmarked usage in 1 Corinthians 11.18 (âto a certain extent I believe itâ) as texts that belong to this âdimensionâ.
I use âloyaltyâ and âallegianceâ in this chapter to underline the formal and political connotations of pistis/fides. It is good to remember, however, that the pistis vocabulary does not permit this loyalty to be explained as unquestioning and blind dedication regardless of any emotional or relational state. See on pistis and loyalty Konstan 2018, 253 and Morganâs response in the same issue Morgan 2018a, 302.
I agree with Morgan here (Morgan 2018b, 257): âWhat it takes to participate in the kingdom is not simply thinking that what Paul preaches is true, but responding to it with new actions and new relationships. When, therefore, ÏίÏÏιÏ/ÏιÏÏεÏειν brought the Corinthians to salvation, more than belief stricto sensu was involved in it.â
These chapters have traditionally been understood structurally as a parenthetical digression concerned with the status of Israel and its relation to the salvation of gentiles. The opposite position, that it is the climax of the preceding chapters or at least that the chapters are central to Paulâs analysis, has also received more and more proponents recently. Particularly their relationship to the rhetorical questions in Romans 3.1â9 is widely acknowledged. Apart from its subject matter, the abundant quotations from Scripture it contains are one reason why it is usually seen as a separate section, and the nature of this intertextuality has also solicited many scholarly contributions. An overview of outlines of the letter in different commentaries is given in Fowler 2016, 20â27. The chapters are treated separately by i.a. C.H. Dodd, Douglas J. Moo, James Dunn, and Robert Jewett. On the specific status of these chapters, cf. Aune 1991, 118; Keener 2009a, 115; Steyn 2015; Windsor 2014, 195â247 (chapter 6: âPaulâs Paulâs fulfilment of Israelâs vocation (Romans 9â11)â.
Dunson 2011, 29.
On the parallelism between Deuteronomy 30.12â14 and Romans 10.6â10, see Keener 2009a, 125â127.
Four can be traced back to the Septuagint version of Genesis 15.6 (âAbraham came to trustâ): Galatians 3.6 and Romans 4.3, 4.17, 4.18; one to Psalms 116.10 (âI came to believe, therefore I spokeâ): 2 Corinthians 4.13 (Paul uses the present tense when he compares the psalmistâs faith to that of the Christ community: ÏιÏÏεÏομεν). The others clearly denote the starting point of a pistis relationship: Galatians 2.16; 1 Corinthians 3.5 (also in context of a response to the proclamation of Paul and Apollos); Romans 13.11.
There is one interesting example in the Pauline corpus where pisteuÅ is limited to âbelieving to be true: âI hear that there are divisions among you; and to some extent I believe it (καὶ μέÏÎ¿Ï Ïι ÏιÏÏεύÏ)â. (1 Cor 11.18).
Lohse and Bultmann have argued that fides quae and fides qua are one and the same in this passage. Fides quae, however, is here limited to an acknowledgement of Christâs resurrection. It does not involve an elaborate credo or kerygmatic complex. Cf. Lohse 1977, 152: âdie Annahme der Mitteilung über Jesu Auferstehung schlieÃt zugleich die bejahende Zustimmung dazu ein, daà der gekreuzigte und auferstandene Christus der Herr, unser Herr und deshalb mein Herr ist. (â¦) Die fides quae creditur und die fides qua creditur bilden eine Einheit im Hören auf die Christusbotschaft, so daà Glaubensinhalt und Glaubensvollzug unlöslich zusammengehören.â And cf. Bultmann 1968, 209, and at 217: âSince á½Î¼Î¿Î»Î¿Î³Îµá¿Î½ and ÏιÏÏεÏειν are obvious equivalents in the synonymous parallelism (â¦), it is apparent that acknowledgement of Jesus as Lord is intrinsic to Christian faith along with acknowledgement of the miracle of His resurrection, i.e. acceptance of this miracle as true. (â¦) Kerygma and faith always go togetherâ.
Furnish 2009, 185.
See Dunson 2011, 38â39: â[Î]eginning in Romans 10.6â17 with Paulâs most expansive statement of what it means for righteousness to be revealed á¼Îº ÏίÏÏεÏÏ, we have seen that faith functions in a markedly individual fashion: faith is believing in Christ and receiving salvation and righteousness.â
Cf. 1 Corinthians 12.17 (âIf the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be (Ïοῦ ἡ á¼ÎºÎ¿Î®)?â) and Romans 10.16 (for Isaiah says, âLord, who has believed our message (ÏÎ¯Ï á¼ÏίÏÏÎµÏ Ïεν Ïá¿ á¼ÎºÎ¿á¿ ἡμῶν)?â). De Boer (2011, 175) strictly differentiates the faculty of hearing (as in 1 Cor 12.17) from the act of hearing, whereby he finds only Pauline evidence in favour of the rendering âmessageâ.
KJV and American Standard Version: âthe hearing of faithâ; NIV and NRSV: âbelieving what you heardâ.
See Friedrich 1982, 101: âPredigt des Glaubensâ; Betz 1979, 128: âproclamation of [the] faithâ; Hays 1983, 149: âthe faith-messageâ, i.e. either âthe message that evokes faithâ or âthe message of âthe faithââ; Martyn 1998, 284: âthe proclamation that has the power to elicit faithâ; Barclay 2015, 390: âthe message that was received in faithâ or âthe message that elicited faithâ. But cf. also the defence of the traditional interpretation by Sam K. Williams (1989).
See Martyn 1998, 288: âPaul is not asking the Galatians which of two human acts served as the generative locus in which they received the Spirit, a decision on their part to keep the Law or a decision on their part to hear with faith. On the contrary, he is asking rhetorically whether that generative locus was: their act in becoming observant of the Law or Godâs message (akoÄ).â In response, Silva (2004, 234â236) connects the question to the pistis Christou debate. He is at pains to demonstrate that akoÄ pisteÅs pertains to the (divinely initiated) human response and could either mean âby believing what you heardâ or, with akoÄ itself referring to the human act, âhearing with faithâ. Cf. also Friedrich 1982: Friedrich interprets akoÄ as âBotschaftâ and views faith as âEntscheidung Gottesâ, see 108â111. And cf. De Boer 2011, 176, who takes akoÄ pisteÅs to refer to âGods act in Christâ, with akoÄ meaning either âhearingâ (âa human passivityâ) or âmessageâ.
See e.g. Spaeth 2017, 376: âDie á¼ÎºÎ¿á½´ ÏίÏÏεÏÏ, die Predigt des Glaubens, heiÃt, den Inhalt des Evangeliums, den Gekreuzigten zu predigen.â De Boer (2011, 174â184) argues for another option, namely that pisteÅs refers to the faithfulness of Christ, in analogy with Galatians 2.16. Nevertheless, the immediate context in 3.6, âjust as Abraham believed Godâ (ÎºÎ±Î¸á½¼Ï á¼Î²Ïαὰμ á¼ÏίÏÏÎµÏ Ïεν Ïá¿· θεῷ) with the active aorist of pisteuÅ which as De Boer acknowledges refers to human faith (p. 192), renders this reading less likely.
For an attempt to combine human faith in the sense of an acceptance of truth and the work of the Holy Spirit, see Spaeth 2017, 376â377.
Cicero, De officiis 2.69 and Seneca, On Benefits 3.14.2.
Seneca, On Benefits 3.15.4.
See Neyrey 2005, 491â492. Following a model of three types of benefaction, introduced to biblical scholarship by Bruce Malina, Neyrey uses the term âbalanced reciprocityâ for quid-pro-quo exchange, to be distinguished from both ânegativeâ reciprocity (for personal gain) and âgeneralizedâ or âaltruisticâ reciprocity (aimed at the otherâs wellbeing), which was often linked to both parenthood and to divine benefaction (at 469; see also Neyrey 2004, 253). Neyrey does not elaborate too much on his suggestion about Paulâs conception of faith and the law in this article or monograph, apart from some remarks on Galatians 3.5.
Cf. Neyrey 2004, 200: âThe course of ruin has to do with misconstruing the source of the benefaction. Whence came the âSpiritâ? By benefaction-as-gift or by labor that earns a wage?â
Cf. also Williams 1989, 89: âwith believing Abrahamâ. The active meaning of pistos as âtrustingâ is attested (e.g., Theognis, Elegiac Poems 283), yet it is commonly used in the sense of gullibility and much rarer than the passive meaning.
This connection is also noted by Williams (1989, 91), who concludes based on OT parallels: âTo hear is to heedâthat is, to allow oneself to be shaped by a threat, a command, a promise, or a word of wisdom or judgment. Thus does âto hearâ often bear the specific connotation of obeying.â Cf. Müller 1994, 439: âOffenbar geht es Paulus beim Hören des gelesenen Wortes nicht nur um ein Wahrnehmen, sondern ein Aufnehmen im Sinne der Verlebendigung im Lebensvollzug.â
Garlington 1991a, 14. Cf. Nanos 1996, 219: âPaulâs fascinating programmatic phraseâ.
Garlington 1990, 209, 223â224.
Garlington 1991b, 47.
See Bartsch 1968, 52: âThe proclamation of âthe obedience of faithâ understood as faith which is living as obedience towards the Law will unite the two groups into one congregation.â Cf. also Minear 2003 [1971].
When he lays out his presuppositions (Garlington 1991a, 10â11), Garlington describes the OT-meaning of faith as more than belief, as always consisting of works, as a combination of trust and obedience. However, he appears to assume that the NT-meaning lacks the ethical component.
Garlington 1990, 210. Cf. at 208: âIn effect therefore the obedience which consists in faith cannot be abstracted from the (ethical) obedience demanded by the gospel.â
Davies 1990, 28.
Davies 1990, 29.
Davies 1990, 30.
Douglas A. Campbell (2005, 187) draws attention to this overlap in meaning as well.
Friedrich 1981, 119: âGlauben ist nicht ein psychischer Vorgang, sondern schlieÃt die Konsequenz des Handelns einâ.
Friedrich 1981, 119, âWenn beide Worte á½Ïακοή und ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï dieselbe Bedeutung haben, dann läge Röm 1.5 ein Pleonasmus vorâ, and at 120, âEs ist ferner zu beachten, daà Röm 1.5 bei einem Verständnis von ÏίÏÏεÏÏ als Genitivus epexegeticus die Ãbersetzung der Stelle Schwierigkeiten bereitet.â
Nanos 1996b, 224, n. 164: âWhile faith and obedience are parallel terms they do maintain some distinction that this conclusion [i.e. hypakoÄ pisteÅs as appositional genitive] fails to uphold. Why bother with the phrase if Paulâs point is the faith of the faith?â In Romans 15.15 (âyour obedience is known to allâ) hypakoÄ is used separately, and thus less refined, although even here there is an echo of pistis from Romans 1.8 (âyour faith is proclaimed throughout the worldâ).
Friedrich 1981, 121.
Deuteronomy 6.4â9. See Nanos 1996b, 222, who refers to Dunn 1988b, 17.
Engberg-Pedersen 2000, 76, referring to Chrysippus in SVF 3.615.
Diogenes Laertius, Lives 7.88 (Zeno). See §3.3.5 supra.
On this wordplay, cf. Williams 1989, 87: âPaul is playing upon the double sense of á¼ÎºÎ¿Î® (âwhat is heard/hearingâ) as he moves from the meaning of the term in the Isaiah quotation (âwhat was heardâ) to the meaning he wishes to highlight (âhearingâ).â
Plutarch, Titus Flaminius 12.5. See §7.3.4 supra.
Seneca, On Benefits 6.30.3â5. See §7.3.3 supra.
Pseudo-Seneca, Octavia 449â452, 456â457. See §7.3.5 supra.
Strecker 2005, 245.
Ehrensperger 2013, 173. She continues: âin terms of structure, there was no army or economic power that could have coerced those called into the relationship with the God of Israel through Christ; and in terms of content instead of a request to become the same there was the opposite.᾿
Gruen 1982, 61; Friedrich 1981, 120â121.
Though I did not address this aspect here (but see §3.4.1 and §6.4.2 supra), it is thus very much directed at collectives. Cf. for a different point of view Hay 2006, 63: âWhen Paul speaks of âthe obedience of faithâ and of disbelief in the gospel as disobedience to God (â¦), he implies that God calls in the kerygma and that individuals are responsible for their answers.â
A recent monograph on faith in Romans 4 also takes the perspective of patronage into account: Tan 2018. In contrast to the present study, however, Tan relies on secondary sources (i.a. Barclay and Morgan) to describe this discourse and his overall approach is focused on the reconstruction of how the rhetorical structure addresses social struggles between Judean and non-Judean Christians in the primary intended audience.
Cf. the antithesis in Romans 11.6: âBut if it is by a gift, it is no longer on the basis of works, otherwise the gift would no longer be a giftâ (εἰ δὲ Ïá½±ÏιÏι, οá½Îºá½³Ïι á¼Î¾ á¼ÏγÏν, á¼Ïεὶ ἡ Ïá½±ÏÎ¹Ï Î¿á½Îºá½³Ïι γίνεÏαι Ïá½±ÏιÏ. Here, the ones receiving this gift are compared to the Israelites âwho have not bowed the knee to Baalâ (Rom 11.4: οἵÏÎ¹Î½ÎµÏ Î¿á½Îº á¼ÎºÎ±Î¼Ïαν Î³á½¹Î½Ï Ïá¿ Îάαλ), i.e. those who are loyal to God in an enduring pistis relationship.
The NRSV translates the verb ÏιÏÏεÏÏ as âtrustsâ and the noun ÏίÏÏÎ¹Ï as âfaithâ, which somewhat mystifies the coherence here, wherefore I adapted the translation at this point.
Cf. Young 2015, 43: âAs such, this speaks to Paulâs claim in Romans 3.31 that his gospel upholds the law: the law itself establishes how the Judean god may righteous people, especially gentiles, apart from the law.â
Cf. Romans 11.6: âBut if it is by a gift, it is no longer on the basis of works, otherwise the gift would no longer be a giftâ (εἰ δὲ Ïá½±ÏιÏι, οá½Îºá½³Ïι á¼Î¾ á¼ÏγÏν, á¼Ïεὶ ἡ Ïá½±ÏÎ¹Ï Î¿á½Îºá½³Ïι γίνεÏαι Ïá½±ÏιÏ). Here, the ones receiving this gift are compared to the Israelites âwho have not bowed the knee to Baalâ (Rom 11.4: οἵÏÎ¹Î½ÎµÏ Î¿á½Îº á¼ÎºÎ±Î¼Ïαν Î³á½¹Î½Ï Ïá¿ Îάαλ), i.e. those who are loyal to God in an enduring bond of pistis, not a fickle allegiance or temporary transaction.
Seneca, On Benefits 3.15.2.
Based on this Graeco-Roman inclusion of pistis in what justice is about, I agree with Anthony Thiselton, who states that âfaith may now be seen not as a merely external means which somehow âprocuresâ justification, but as part of what justification is and entails. In Wittgensteinâs terms, to say âjustification requires faithâ is to make an analytical statement about the grammar or concept of justification. It is like saying, âGreen is a colourâ, or âWater boils at 100°Câ. It does not so much state a condition, in the sense of qualification for justification, as state something more about what justification involves and is.â (Thiselton 1977, 100) See also Philoâs discussion of Gen. 15.6: âAnd it is well said âhis faith was counted to him for justiceâ (Gen 15.6), for nothing is so just or righteous as to put in God alone a trust which is pure and unalloyed.â (Philo, Who is the Heir? 94).
The idea that Abraham was the âfather of a multitude of nationsâ was perhaps mediated by later Hellenistic Jewish interpretations of Abraham like Sirach 44.19â21.
Seneca, On Benefits 5.21.1. See §3.3.5 supra.
Livy, History of Rome 5.27.12â14.
Several manuscripts (including the original Sinaiticus and codex Ephraemi Rescriptus) include Ïá¿ ÏίÏÏει or (in a correctorâs hand of the Sinaiticus, in the Alexandrinus and in copies of the Vulgate) á¼Î½ Ïá¿ ÏίÏÏει. The words are absent from i.a. Vaticanus and Claromontanus.
Young 2015. According to Young, the view that pistis in this passage refers to the Christ-followerâs faith in Christ has âattained an assumed and axiomatic statusâ, even amongst proponents of a subjective genitive interpretation of pistis Christou (35). Youngâs own alternative based on a ârereadingâ of Romans 3.21â4.25 is that at Romans 5.1, âPaul strategically explains how gentiles have access to the power and blessings of a foreign deity, the Judean godâ (p. 31). While Young does not (re)read any extrabiblical sources to arrive at this conclusion, it is mostly in accordance with my analysis.
McFarland 2015b, 116.
Stendahl 1963, 202. The one exception is a quote from LXX Psalm 31.1 in Romans 4.7, the text under consideration in this subsection.
Breytenbach 2010, chapter 8: âSalvation of the reconciled (with a note on the background of Paulâs metaphor of reconciliation)â. Cf. his earlier study Versöhnung: eine Studie zur paulinischen Soteriologie (1989), esp. 40â83.
Cf. Harrison 1999 on Christ as âcosmic Saviour-Benefactorâ like Augustus in Romans 5.
Cf. for more reconciliation language the subsequent verses: 2 Corinthians 5.19â20.