1 Introduction

Joseph the Cypriot, nicknamed Barnabas, is a simultaneous insider and outsider. ¹ He is both crucial and marginal to the narrative. He is introduced as a migrant in Jerusalem, ‘a native of Cyprus’ ² (Κύπριος τῷ γένει), but is also depicted as a Levite who becomes a patron and pillar of the Jerusalem church. Despite the character’s significant role, he has suffered from a relative lack of scholarly attention. This might come as a surprise, given that, as Sean Adams has observed, ‘After Peter and Paul, [Barnabas is] one of the most important figures in the Acts narrative.’ ³ By the number of words ascribed to characters, Barnabas emerges as the third most prominent figure in Acts, after Saul/Paul and Peter. ⁴ Despite his significant presence, Barnabas’ characterisation is somewhat elusive. When the audience is informed that he speaks, his direct speech is not reported (Acts 9:27). Where dialogue is recorded, it is delivered in stereo with Paul (Acts 13:42, 46; 14:1; 15:2). Following his dispute with Paul, the character disappears from the narrative altogether (Acts 15:39). Within Acts, Barnabas functions primarily in a supporting role.

Most scholarly discussion about Barnabas centres on the etymology of the nickname. For many scholars, Luke’s awkward narrative aside in Acts 4:36 (ὅ ἐστιν μεθερμηνευόμενον υἱὸς παρακλήσεως) has obfuscated, rather than clarified its meaning. The etymological riddle presented in Acts 4:36 is likely to remain a subject of scholarly debate; however, this paper seeks to offer a fresh perspective on the ascription of the nickname ‘Barnabas’, drawing on sociological insights from migration studies and related research on nicknaming. To make this case, I will first summarise the primary positions on the name’s possible etymology. Second, I will compare Judean onomastic trends regarding the name Joseph in Palestine and the Diaspora. Third, I will offer additional insights on the pericope with reference to sociological perspectives on nicknaming in the context of migration. Fourth, this study will demonstrate how the characterisation of Barnabas subverts Greco-Roman stereotypes about Cypriots.

The nicknaming of Barnabas cannot be explained by etymology alone. Rather, it should be understood in relation to the social dynamics of nicknaming, which are especially relevant in the context of migration. The meaning of the nickname does not exist in isolation from its function within a social context. This is not to suggest that etymological discussions of the nickname are irrelevant, but they cannot reach a satisfying conclusion if the social context, as reflected in the narrative, is neglected. Nicknames are given, received, and adopted in a number of different social contexts and their meanings are always related to those contexts, but are further complexified by their malleability, which allows them to incorporate fresh or multiple simultaneous meanings. Joseph Barnabas’ nicknaming in Acts places an etymology within a narrative-historical setting. While the etymology of Barnabas’s nickname may remain uncertain, the act of nicknaming itself helps place this character within Luke’s broader theology and depiction of displacement, belonging, and hybrid identities in the early Christian movement.

2 Joseph Barnabas: Summary of Possible Etymologies

Significant debate surrounds the etymology of the name Barnabas, its origins, and its meaning. One area of consensus is that the name is derived from Aramaic and is patronymic. The first part of the name Βαρ- is equivalent to בַּר in Aramaic, ‘son of’. ⁵ Thus, the first part of Luke’s interpretive narrative aside ⁶ in Acts 4:36, υἱός, is straightforward enough. The puzzle relates to the suffix -ναβᾶς and Luke’s interpretation of it, for which there is no straightforward Aramaic or Hebrew parallel. This leads Daniel B. Glover to legitimately pose the question ‘Might this etymology indicate that Luke did not himself know Aramaic?’ ⁷

As a Jewish name, Barnabas is uncommon and is only attested once outside the NT. ⁸ However, forms of the name were popular among other Semitic peoples; it was a theophoric name associated with the Babylonian deity Nabu/Nebo (נבו). ⁹ The nickname in Acts is an example of Volksetymologie that has modified נָבִ֔יא with a Greek-inflected ending (-ς). Pagan Syrian forms of the name generally lack the Grecised suffix, though there is one possible attestation of Barnabas with the final -ς, dating to the 2nd or 3rd century CE, recorded by Julius Euting in the Florilegium Melchior de Vogüé. This attestation comes from Euting’s transcription of a now-destroyed mosaic in a pagan tomb at Edessa, which recorded a family member named Barnabas (). However, Sebastian Brock has raised doubts about the accuracy of Euting’s transcription. ¹⁰ Despite these reservations, it remains within the realm of possibility, given the influence of Hellenisation in the region, that Greek forms could have been adopted locally. ¹¹

Several scholars suggest that the pagan origin of this name could explain its unpopularity among Jews, ¹² but the handwringing on this point is based on essentialist assumptions about Jewish identities. Gerard Mussies finds that ‘On the whole there was not much objection to pagan theophoric names.’ ¹³ Mussies also notes that in some cases this might have been ‘a superficial adjustment to new circumstances’, ¹⁴ but this does not indicate a particular aversion to names with pagan origins. In Egypt, Jews adopted Egyptian theophoric names like Isis, ¹⁵ and this practice extended beyond the Diaspora, as evidenced by pagan theophorics in Palestine. ¹⁶ Moreover, many biblical names have pagan origins. It could be argued that Mordecai, whose name is related to the Babylonian deity Marduk (Esth. 2:5), was adopted as a pragmatic survival measure. Yet there are other pagan theophorics in the Hebrew Bible: Ahimoth, Ahira, Assir, Harnepher, Hori, and Hur; even, possibly, Aaron. ¹⁷ Moses—the central figure in the Torah—most likely has an Egyptian name. ¹⁸ So, it is not impossible that Barnabas was a pagan theophoric name, but this bears no relation to the meaning of the aside, υἱὸς παρακλήσεως.

In addition to the possible identification of a pagan theophoric root, scholars have offered additional etymologies, linked to Aramaic and Syriac. ¹⁹

1. – בר נחמא (bar neḥmā) ‘son of comfort/consolation’: Gustaf Dalman suggested this etymology, which has the benefit of a more thematic alignment with Luke’s folk etymology. ²⁰ However, it seems less phonetically similar to Βαρναβᾶς than other options. Dalman’s position has been supported more recently in Michael Tilly’s study of the pericope in Syriac. He shows that Syriac renders Βαρναβᾶς as (Barnaba) and interprets it using (buyo’o) from the root (by’, ‘to comfort’). This vocabulary is also used in Acts 9:31 and 13:15. The translation is significant because the absence of the Greek ending -ς indicates that the translator understood it as Semitic, and the verbal formation with the pre-formative ×  (characteristic of Eastern Aramaic dialects) helps to explain both the name’s structure and its interpretation in the Syriac tradition. Tilly argues that the Syriac translator would have been writing in a context where the worship of Nebo was common; thus, tying the name to comfort/consolation is a deliberate way to distance the name from pagan connotations. Central to Tilly’s argument is that the Syriac translation appears to preserve an ancient interpretive tradition likely rooted in an Eastern Aramaic context, the same linguistic environment from which Luke may have drawn, with the name’s etymology, as recorded in Acts 4:36, likely originating in Eastern Aramaic. ²¹
2. – It is possible that the name may be associated with Nob near Jerusalem. ²² Josephus refers to this area as Ναβάν (AJ 6.242, 254, 260); the same location is called Νομβα in the LXX (1 Sam. 21:2; 22:9, 11, 19). If the name is geographic in nature, Barnabas would be referred to as ‘son of Nob’. In this reading, the name Barnabas could refer to the sale of his property to support the church (Acts 4:37). Again, this interpretation makes sense of a possible etymology but fails to account for Luke’s aside.
3. – בר נביא (bar nabi’a), ‘son of the prophet’ / בר נביאותא (bar nebi’uta) ‘son of prophecy’ is a popular theory for the underlying etymology. ²³ The greatest difficulty here is that it appears unrelated to Luke’s interpretation as υἱὸς παρακλήσεως. Barrett suggests that the simpler etymology is to be preferred: that Barnabas derives from either בר נביא (bar nabi’a) ‘son of a prophet’ or בר נביאתא/נביאותא (bar nebi’uta), ‘son of prophecy/inspiration’. Barrett acknowledges this as a possible understanding of Luke or the apostles, but crucially characterises it as a ‘popular rather than scientific etymology.’ ²⁴ This presents a methodological contrast to Tilly’s detailed linguistic argument: where Tilly sees significant evidence in the Syriac translation patterns and Eastern Aramaic features for a particular etymological understanding, Barrett suggests we might be overthinking what could simply be a popular etymology based on familiar Hebrew/Aramaic terms for prophecy. In contrast to Tilly, Sebastian Brock finds support for this reading in the Syraic (bar nbayya), but he admits that ‘we are in the realm of sheer speculation’ ²⁵ and notes that the n- prefix only emerged in the third century. ²⁶

All three options present difficulties. Beverley Gaventa leaves this as an unresolved question, stating that ‘no one has offered a convincing explanation of the name’s origin and meaning.’ ²⁷ Moreover, regardless of one’s preferred etymology, the narrative aside that the name means ‘son of παράκλησις’ is not a direct translation of any of the proposed etymologies. ²⁸ To further complicate matters, παράκλησις has a broad semantic range, including encouragement, exhortation, and consolation, ²⁹ and Luke uses all these senses of παράκλησις elsewhere in Luke 2:25, 6:24, Acts 9:31 (consolation), and 15:13 (exhortation).

One way forward in the etymological debate has been proposed by Markus Öhler. While he argues that the Aramaic origin of the name suggests ‘son of prophecy’ or ‘endowed with prophecy’ as the most suitable etymology, Luke innovates his own interpretation (or records an earlier innovation). Öhler suggests that Luke utilises the semantic range of παράκλησις through the associated narrative aside: ‘Lukas die Mehrdeutigkeit dieses Wortes [παράκλησις] ausnützen kann.’ ³⁰ It is possible that the inability to pin down the nickname and its associated aside to a singular meaning is not due to a Lukan error or ignorance, but rather represents a deliberate attempt to imbue the nickname with multiple interpretive possibilities within a broad thematic understanding of παράκλησις. As stated by Rudolf Pesch with regard to παράκλησις, ‘was sowohl Trost, Ermahnung als auch Verkündigung bedeuten kann, das heisst, wenn die Verkündigung und Ermahnung hilfreich und befreiend wirken.’ ³¹ In any case, any attempt to understand the nicknaming of Barnabas cannot be resolved through etymology in isolation, as it appears that Luke (or his sources) innovated an etymology that functions within, or reflects, a social context as conveyed through the narrative.

The other assumption that hinders progress in the debate is the attempt to settle on a single or exclusive definition at the expense of others. As will be discussed below, an inherent feature of nicknames is their mutability and ability to carry different meanings both simultaneously and according to social context. This is fitting for a character like Barnabas who is introduced in the narrative via his hybrid identity: he is from the Diaspora, a Levite, and a person of wealth and therefore presumed influence, ³² who is also willing to submit himself to the leadership of the Jerusalem church, in an act of subverted euergetism. ³³ Luke’s portrayal of Barnabas’ hybridity does not present identities in contrast, or in tension, but rather a multifaceted character whose nickname is similarly multifaceted.

3 Name Frequency: Joseph and Barnabas and Judean Onomastics

Moving beyond etymology, reference to Jewish onomastics is crucial for understanding the nickname Barnabas. In the epigraphic record, only one Judean named Barnabas is attested. The name Βαρνάβιος was found on an ostracon discovered in the Jewish quarter of Apollinopolis Magna in Egypt, detailing taxes paid to Trajan by a certain Pamphilios, son of Barnabios, dated to 31 Oct 105:

1. 1. δ ἀμφό(δου) Πάμφιλος
2. 2. Βαρνάβιος λαο(γραφίας) η (ἔτους) Τραιανοῦ τοῦ κυρίου (δραχμὰς) δ
3. 3. χω(ματικοῦ) (δραχμὰς) γ (τετρώβολον) (ἡμιωβέλιον) (ἔτους) θ Ἁθὺρ δ ³⁴

1. 1. 4th district: Pamphilos
2. 2. Barnabios, for the Jewish tax of the 8th year of Trajan our lord: 4 drachmas
3. 3. For the dike tax: 3 drachmas, 4½ obols, 9th year, Hathyr 4

Of course, the epigraphic record is not complete and there were possibly other Jewish ‘Barnabases’ in the late first century. Here, it is worth noting that the tax-receipt ostracon was discovered in Apollinopolis Magna. Most of the names on the ostraca are so thoroughly Hellenistic that the only way epigraphers know they belong to Judeans is because they record payment to the fiscus Judaicus. ³⁵ The context of a punitive tax could explain why a pagan theophoric name was adopted by a Jew; a pagan theophoric is not an immediately obvious Jewish name, but could be imbued with an alternative meaning (such as Luke’s υἱὸς παρακλήσεως) for the bearer. The dual meaning could allow for assimilation where socially beneficial, or serve to avoid detection. ³⁶

What is often neglected but should be considered when attempting to understand the name Barnabas, is the frequency of the name Joseph in the Jewish onomastics. Naming trends among Palestinian Jews and the Diaspora differed significantly. In Palestine, names associated with the Hasmonaean dynasty (e.g., Judas, Simon, John, Eleazar) were popular. In the Diaspora, patriarchal names (e.g., Jacob, Sarah) were common. There was also evidence of acculturation, as Jews adopted names from Greek (e.g., Alexander, Apollonius, Dositheus, Jason), Macedonian (e.g., Ptolemaios), or Egyptian (e.g., Sarapion) traditions. ³⁷ Joseph, however, is one of the most popular Jewish names in both the Diaspora and Palestine. According to Margaret Williams the name is a ‘perennial favorite with Jews everywhere’ that is ‘found at all social levels.’ ³⁸ Crucial to understanding Acts 4:36 is this contrast in Jewish naming patterns: we find one of the most common names (Joseph) paired with one of the most uncommon (Barnabas).

In epigraphy, the name Joseph appears in multiple forms across both Palestinian and Diaspora Judaism, demonstrating its widespread popularity. However, its spelling is not uniform in the epigraphic record. In Hebrew and Aramaic, it occurs as both יהוסף and יוסף, while Greek sources preserve variants including Ἰωσήπος, Ἰωσή(ς) (a hypocoristic form), and Ἰωσήφ (undeclined). While these spellings differ, they retain a degree of phonetic similarity: the voiceless bilabial fricative (φ) and the voiceless bilabial stop (π) are more phonetically similar than the modern voiceless labiodental fricative (f) often used in contemporary pronunciations of φ. The spelling of the name evolved over time. In first-century Palestine, יהוסף was most common, with Ἰωσήπος and Ἰωσή(ς) appearing occasionally. By the third century, however, Ἰωσήπος (with π) had largely fallen out of use, while Ἰωσή(ς)/יוֹסף and Ἰωσήφ were equally common. A similar development occurred in the Diaspora: Ἰωσήπος dominated first-century inscriptions but, by the third century, had declined and was replaced by the hypocoristic form that became common in Palestine (Ἰωσή[ς]). The Greek spelling most associated with Palestine, the undeclined Ἰωσήφ, also began to appear in Egypt, Asia Minor, and Macedonia.

Despite these orthographic shifts, the name’s pronunciation probably remained similar across contexts, and its popularity cut across all social strata, making it notably different from the rarer and more distinctive Barnabas. ³⁹ It is, therefore, unnecessary to be overly preoccupied with orthographic variation when considering the form of Joseph’s name in Acts. The spelling used in Acts, Ἰωσήφ, is attested in the Diaspora as early as 174 BCE in a Fayum papyrus detailing a loan agreement in which a certain Ἰούδας Ἰωσήφου Ἰουδαῖος (‘Judas son of Joseph a Jew/Judean’) is the lender. ⁴⁰ Though this spelling with the φ (Ἰωσήφ) is an outlier in the Diasporan epigraphic record, it nonetheless attests to the ubiquity of the name.

Here is where the study of nicknaming as a social phenomenon in the context of migration provides a helpful insight into how the name might function. Some scholars have hinted at this but have failed to draw out the implications. Referencing the onomastic data presented by Williams, Keener concludes: ‘His original name, “Joseph,” was so common as to require a surname or nickname to distinguish him from others by that name (cf. 1:23). It is frequently attested in both the Diaspora and Palestine, and the latter includes it “at all social levels.”’ ⁴¹ Is the one non-Hasmonean name that was as common as Hasmonean names in first-century Palestine. Patrick James also arrives at a similar conclusion: ‘A name as common as Joseph may have required a designation quite independently of a nickname bestowed by the apostles. Indeed, the mention of a different Joseph with his own pair of designations (Acts 1:23) might prompt the addition of a designation here.’ ⁴² These conclusions hint at something that remains unexplored: the social context of the nicknaming. In Acts 4:36–37, Luke explicitly draws attention to issues of migration (Barnabas is from Cyprus) and identity (a Levite).

4 Nicknaming and the ‘Mnemonic of Community’

Nicknaming is a common phenomenon that cannot be understood through etymology alone because it is a social process. Paul L. Leslie and James K. Skipper argue that nicknames are a form of ‘socio-onomastics’, because ‘The meanings of names are the result of complex social negotiations, learned, interpreted, and reified through socialization.’ ⁴³ It follows that the etymology of a nickname is only one aspect of its meaning, as it can only be understood with reference to its social use. To return to Leslie and Skipper’s theory of nicknames, they argue that ‘Meanings of nicknames are not to be found in dictionary definitions or even necessarily in their origins, but in their uses in everyday life.’ ⁴⁴ The major scholarly definitions of nicknames reflect their socially embedded nature. In the Oxford Handbook of Names and Naming, Eva Brylla provides the following definition: ‘A byname ⁴⁵ (or a nickname…) is a name a person bears added to his or her official or “real” name… The function of a byname is to individualize, to identify, and to differentiate people with the same given name. [They] are unofficial names in contradistinction to official ones, that is, given names and surnames/family names.’ ⁴⁶

In the same volume Emilia Aldrin offers a similar definition: ‘…nicknames are connected to personal identity, in terms of who the name carrier is expected to be within a certain group… Since the uses of nicknames vary according to contexts, these names may be more suitable than official names for exploring the flexible nature of identity.’ ⁴⁷ Another definition, also from the handbook, is formulated by Irma Aavitsainen and Andreas H. Jucker, ‘Nicknames and terms of endearment differ very considerably in their pragmatic meaning… There is also a range from colloquial registers to very formal language. Social and attitudinal meanings are embedded into the terms of address with subtle shades of meaning.’ ⁴⁸

To synthesise these key definitions for the purposes of analysing the episode in Acts 4:36–7, nicknames are distinguished by five features:

1. 1. They serve as an additional identity marker, often distinguishing between people with the same official name.
2. 2. Nicknames are unofficial and often function outside of formal or official identification systems.
3. 3. These unofficial names are closely related to personal identity; they can reflect how a person is perceived by a group or have an aspirational aspect, showing how that person wishes to be perceived by a group, or vice versa.
4. 4. Related to this aspect of social negotiation, nicknames are not static and their meaning is not always determined by etymology, but can morph and adapt over time.
5. 5. With this social element taken into account, nicknames are capable of carrying multiple meanings, often depending on the current social situation; thus, the nickname makes space for a hybrid identity.

All of these factors are present in the pericope of Barnabas’s nicknaming:

1. 1. Additional identity marker: The text explicitly describes Βαρναβᾶς as an additional name to his official name Ἰωσήφ. This helps distinguish him from other ‘Josephs’ in the early Christian community. The text specifically notes (ἐπικληθεὶς Βαρναβᾶς ἀπὸ τῶν ἀποστόλων) ‘whom the apostles called’, indicating this is a supplementary identifier.
2. 2. Unofficial: The phrase ‘whom the apostles called’ (ἐπικληθεὶς Βαρναβᾶς ἀπὸ τῶν ἀποστόλων) indicates this was an informal designation. It emerged from community usage rather than formal channels. It is not described as a birth name or an official Levitical designation.
3. 3. Reflection of personal identity: The text connects the name to his character through its meaning ‘son of encouragement/exhortation’ (υἱὸς παρακλήσεως). This reflects how the apostolic community perceived him. The immediate action of selling his field and giving the proceeds demonstrates how he lived up to this name, or the kind of activity that made the name an appropriate designation.
4. 4. Non-static/adaptive nature: The text provides both the name ‘Barnabas’ and its translation ‘son of encouragement’. The presence of both Hebrew/Aramaic form and Greek interpretation shows linguistic adaptation and indicates a significance beyond straightforward etymology.
5. 5. Multiple meanings: The name ‘Barnabas’ resists a single definition. As argued above, Luke makes use of the broad semantic range of παράκλησις to allow for multiple interpretive possibilities. For example, in Acts 4:36–37 it reflects Barnabas’s praxis of selling a field and giving the proceeds to the community, while it also foreshadows his later role as an encourager, particularly of Saul/Paul and Mark. The nickname therefore can function both linguistically and socially, with its meaning shaped by narrative context rather than etymology alone. This aspect of the nickname makes space for the character’s hybrid identity with which he is introduced and, later, how the character navigates that identity.

In some situations, nicknaming is not always mutual or welcomed by the ‘nicknamee.’ In his study of nicknaming, David Gilmour argued that nicknames are ‘a form of verbal aggression’ that ‘should be seen as manifestations of aggressive, controlling impulses, as partially unconscious attempts to gain dominance over others by attacking their sense of self-identity^.’ ⁴⁹ We cannot know what the historical Barnabas thought of his nickname, but at least in Luke’s depiction of the episode, it does not appear to be an act of coercion. The use of the passive form (ἐπικληθείς) may indicate that Luke intends to describe the nicknaming without implying that it was imposed. Although this form of ἐπικαλέω only occurs in the NT in Acts 4:36, the form is often used elsewhere to describe the giving of honorific second names in both literary and epigraphic sources. ⁵⁰

If the nickname is an expression of intimacy, the study of nicknames might also offer some support for the בר נביא (bar nabi’a) as the root etymology suggested above. Fitzmyer suggests that the Aramaic etymology ‘fails to explain the second ‘b’ of Barnabas.’ ⁵¹ However, what is referred to as ‘duplication’ ⁵² (or sometimes ‘reduplication’ ⁵³ ) in affectionate nicknames is, according to Mary V. Seeman, ‘common in all languages.’ ⁵⁴ She cites examples such as: Luigi to Gigi, Francisco to Cici, Miriam to Mimi, and Ernestine to Tintine. ⁵⁵ In his study of Chinese nicknames, Robert L. Moore suggests that sound reduplication is a consistent feature of nicknames that express endearment and intimacy. ⁵⁶ Given the context, it is possible that the nickname in Acts 4:36 features phonetic reduplication of the ‘b’ in בר נביא and also benefits from resembling an existing (if rare) name from the Diaspora. Additionally, the spelling of nicknames is not always consistent. Ivona Baresova and Marcel Pikhart found that nicknames—in this study, Taiwanese migrants adopting English nicknames—are often given unconventional spellings for distinctiveness. ⁵⁷

Similarly, Öncel Naldermirci’s study of nicknaming among Turkish migrants in Sweden reinforces Glazier’s analysis. ⁵⁹ Naldermirci stresses that the mnemonic nature of nicknames serves as an avenue for integration into a community. That is, they can be a means of fostering a new identity without losing one’s original given name. Another valuable aspect of Naldermirci’s analysis is that he not only focuses on what the nickname means for the individual, but also on how it reflects on the community. He relates a conversation about a certain Mehmet who was nicknamed ‘Crazy’, because he initially stated that he assumed he would remain permanently in Sweden shortly after his arrival. This seemed irrational to other migrants who still wanted to leave open the hope of returning home to Turkey; however, most in this community remained in Sweden indefinitely. It turns out that Crazy Mehmet was not crazy. His statement about remaining permanently was prescient. The reason the nickname is so memorable to this migrant community is because it is set in a narrative of their own shifting aspirations. Many remain reticent about considering Sweden a permanent home, even if that is ultimately what it has become. As Naldermirci’s interviewee concludes, ‘I mean, we stayed. We are all crazy, as crazy as Mehmet is.’ ⁶⁰

The reporting of Crazy Mehmet’s nickname reflects the community’s emerging self-identification as reluctant residents, serving as an ironic expression of their own lack of foresight. The crazy one was, in reality, the wise one. When considering the nicknaming of Barnabas, we can see a similar social function at work in the Jerusalem church, where nicknames reflected communal identity and aspirations. The name reflects the early church’s aspiration to be a community of mutual encouragement and support. Luke’s subsequent reporting of Ananias and Sapphira (Acts 5:1–11) along with the neglected Hellenist widows (Acts 6:1–6), further underscores this aspirational aspect of the nickname.

The unusual nickname Barnabas, with Luke’s distinctive and multifaceted description of the name and its meaning, is characteristic of mnemonic nicknaming. Nicknames are often not literal. The nickname Barnabas is memorable because (1) it is unusual and (2) the meaning is not straightforward. ⁶¹ In a study of nicknames in East Java, Annisa A. Dianitami, Widyastuti Widyastuti, and Slamet Setiawan found that there can often be a disconnect between the origin of a nickname, its etymology, or definition and the meanings it can carry for the nicknamee and their community: ‘[S]ome nicknames exist without knowing where they came from. Some nicknames are well-known, although they have no idea why people refer to them by their nicknames. Generally, such nicknames have literal meanings. Their meanings, however, are not usually the same as the purpose for their designation.’ ⁶² A nickname often evades precise lexical definition but instead acquires a unique and shared meaning within the community. Even if the etymology or definition is unknown, it can express social intimacy.

One of the most significant unique features of migrant nicknames, according to Naldemirci, is the practical aspect: differentiation when there is significant overlap of popular names within a community. ⁶³ Thus, the name Barnabas was chosen as a means of identification because Joseph was such a common name that it could be anonymising. This theory, suggested by scholars such as Keener and James, perhaps inadvertently, reflects the documented reasons why migrants adopt nicknames. The narrative then displays the reciprocal integration between Barnabas and the Jerusalem church. He is designated as someone more important than yet another anonymous Joseph, a name so common that it risks becoming a cliché. The reader gains insight into the typically concealed realm of nicknaming by exploring this process through its narrative depiction from Luke’s ‘insider’ perspective. The unique moniker ‘Barnabas’ may have an indirect connection to technical etymology or conventional definitions. Instead, the episode places the process of acquiring a nickname at its centre, revealing intra-community definitions that describe the character’s relationship to prophecy and the multifaceted dimensions of παράκλησις demonstrated by Barnabas throughout his ministry.

I have referred to studies in contemporary sociology, which can provide a useful model for understanding the social context Luke describes in Acts 4:36; nicknaming is not a modern phenomenon. Similar dynamics can be observed in the ancient world. Williams has argued that although nicknaming was uncommon in the Diaspora, it was a unique feature of ‘Palestinian naming practices.’ ⁶⁴ Luke’s depiction of Barnabas receiving a nickname in Palestine reflects a recognised trend for nicknaming that has been observed in Palestinian Judean onomastics.

Rachel Hachlili has catalogued a comprehensive corpus of funerary inscriptions, among which nicknames occur with some frequency in the Second Temple period. ⁶⁵ While there is no need to reproduce all of her findings here, I will highlight and comment on several significant examples that illustrate the variety of nicknames and their diverse, socially grounded etymologies in the table below:

In the Palestinian Judean onomastics, nicknames can describe geographic or ethnic origin, profession, status, personal traits, and family heritage, but as shown by Hachlili’s inscriptions, they are often not bound by literal definitions or etymology. For example, Cinnamon represents a positive association with a person and a pleasant aroma, rather than being a person’s literal smell. Both Williams and Hachlili have offered a highly practical reason why nicknaming was so popular in Palestine: to distinguish individuals with identical names. As has been noted already, this is also a common motivation for assigning nicknames in contemporary migrant communities. ⁷⁴ Within first-century Palestine, name variation was limited. Yet in contrast, as Williams remarks, ‘For Diasporan Jews… such a need never arose… Centuries of habitation in a multiethnic environment had led to (a) a great reduction in the practices of papponymy and patronymy and (b) the widespread adoption of 17 Gentile names.’ ⁷⁵

When Barnabas receives a nickname, it shows that he is emplaced in the narrative as a valued member of the Jerusalem community. He is set apart with a distinctive and memorable nickname. He is not just another anonymous Joseph. Luke’s portrayal of the practice of giving nicknames fits conventions observed in Palestinian Judean onomastics.

5 Nicknames and the Negotiation of Identity

In addition to their function in the community, nicknames can provide a way to mediate danger and conflict. This is a key finding in Cristina Sánchez-Carretero’s study of Dominican migrant nicknames. A nickname can be used to avoid detection by hostile authorities or to navigate tensions between host and migrant communities. ⁷⁶ A social situation like this could provide a credible backdrop for the mediating role of Barnabas later in Acts. The text is not clear about what happened to Barnabas during the persecution described in Acts 8:1: ‘On that day a great persecution broke out against the church in Jerusalem, and all except the apostles were scattered throughout the regions of Judea and Samaria.’ The proposal suggests that the Hellenist Christians were dispersed, while the Hebrews were able to remain in Jerusalem. This reading makes sense of ‘all except the apostles’. ⁷⁷ In Acts 9:26–27, the implication seems to be that Barnabas never left Jerusalem and is able to act as a mediator between Saul and the ἐκκλησία there. To the community, he was known as Barnabas, but beyond the ἐκκλησία he could use a more anonymising name like Joseph. This may have helped him avoid detection by potential agitators.

Contained in the dual name ‘Joseph-Barnabas’ is an identification with Jews broadly, as well as with the particularities of the Diaspora experience. There is, of course, some speculation here and some filling in of Luke’s narrative gaps with what is known about migrant social negotiation through official and unofficial names. However, the curious presence of Barnabas in Jerusalem after the persecution is well explained by these social dynamics. Barnabas’s functionally hyphenated name, preserved in Acts 4:36, reflects his ability to mediate between the Antiochene and Jerusalem communities, as those with hybrid identities are often able to do.

When Hellenists like Philip are forced to flee (Acts 8:5), Barnabas clearly had both the aspiration and capability ⁷⁹ to remain in Jerusalem despite the διωγμός (Acts 8:1).

After Barnabas mediates on behalf of Paul with the Jerusalem church (Acts 9:27) and the migrant church in Antioch (Acts 11:25–26), he links with existing social networks in Cyprus (Acts 13:7) and argues for the validity of the Gentile mission (15:12). Barnabas is depicted as a mediating figure, but this does not mean that he is a social chameleon without conviction. He drops from the narrative after his disagreement with Paul (Acts 15:39) and returns to Cyprus with John Mark. Although the Barnabas story ends on a somewhat sour note (Luke, however, records no value judgement on either party), this is an example of Luke’s penchant for open-ended conclusions. ⁸⁰ The sudden departure of Barnabas from the narrative suggests that all of his actions up to this point have been on his own initiative. Luke’s inclusion of this detail adds validity to his mediating role earlier in the narrative. In the end, Barnabas has the agency to disagree with Paul, despite his support for the Pauline mission. Though the church benefits from Barnabas’ mediation, his parting also reflects the documented tension experienced by those with hybrid identities.

Such negotiations can be a source of stress and trauma; ⁸² Luke’s use of παροξυσμός (15:39) reflects the acridity of the disagreement. If Col. 4:10 is correct in stating that John Mark was Barnabas’s nephew, combined with Luke’s aside that Barnabas returned to Cyprus (τόν τε Βαρναβᾶν παραλαβόντα τὸν Μᾶρκον ἐκπλεῦσαι εἰς Κύπρον), this offers a glimpse into the pressures migrants faced from both familial and geographic ties. ⁸³

6 Barnabas and Cypriot Stereotypes

Luke describes Barnabas as Λευίτης Κύπριος τῷ γένει (a Levite, native of Cyprus) in Acts 4:36. If the nickname ‘Barnabas’ represents different aspects of the character, then the geographic reference to Cyprus also underscores his ideal role as a mediator. It is Barnabas who brings Paul to the Apostles (Acts 9:27), welcomes him into the Antiochene community (Acts 11:25), and initially takes prominence ahead of Paul to advocate for the Gentile mission at the Jerusalem council (Acts 15:2, 12). ⁸⁴

Luke often uses geographic origins to shape audience expectations. A well-known example of this is Priscilla and Aquila’s encounter with Apollos (Acts 18:24–26). Pontus was popularly depicted as a Barbarian backwater, whereas Alexandria was associated with knowledge and wealth. Thus, there is a subversion of expectations when two Pontians (one of them a woman taking the lead, thereby challenging expected gender dynamics ⁸⁵ ) pulled aside the charismatic and learned Apollos who ‘more accurately explained the way of God to him’ (Acts 18:26). It is possible that there is a similar characterisation via geography in the description of Barnabas.

Thus, Cyprus was not peripheral but a space where fluid and hybrid identities could flourish; as a Cypriot, Barnabas also reflects the hybridity of his native island.

In contrast, many Roman literary sources reduce the island to stereotypes. Graeco-Roman literary depictions of Cyprus often focus on its rich natural resources ⁸⁹ or, in historiography, on its role as a place of refuge, ⁹⁰ rather than its people and customs. Where Cypriots are mentioned, they are often subject to unflattering, and often contradictory stereotypes. Athenaeus describes Cypriot men as ἀνδρῶν δασυπρώκτων (‘men with hairy bottoms’), ⁹¹ but Valerius Maximus describes them as effeminate, to the extent that he questions whether they are really men. ⁹² Perhaps playing on Pliny the Elder’s naturalistic observation that oxen in Cyprus were fed human excrement, ⁹³ the phrase βοῦς Κύπριος became a coded insult meaning σκατοφάγος (lit. ‘shit eater’). ⁹⁴ Roman dramatic comedy often played on the trope that Cyprus was a hotbed of sexual promiscuity. ⁹⁵

Some Jewish perspectives about Cyprus are less salacious, ⁹⁶ yet Diaspora Judaism took its own unique shape on the island, because there was little friction with Rome—at least until the revolt in 115 CE, which was violently crushed by Trajan. ⁹⁷ Magical Hypsistarianism was popular in Cyprus. Both Pliny the Elder and Josephus describe Cypriot Jews as being involved in magical practices. ⁹⁸ In the epigraphic record, dedications to Θεῶι Ὑψίστωι are common in Cyprus in Judean, Christian, and pagan epigraphy. ⁹⁹ The curse tablets from Amathous show that the Jewish God Adonai was mentioned alongside pagan underworld deities. Luke’s inclusion of the dispute between Barnabas, Saul, and the politically established magician Elymas (Acts 13:6–12) suggests that he was aware of Cyprus’ association with magic. In this context, Barnabas acts against type, while Elymas embodies those magical archetypes, echoing the impression of Cyprus’ reputation found in archaeological and epigraphic evidence.

Syntactically, the description of Barnabas as a Levite precedes his geographical origin. Perhaps this is another example of Luke playing with stereotypes. Though Levites are often associated with the Temple in Jerusalem, James Charlesworth has argued that the Qumran scrolls show that Levites had roles outside the Temple cult of Jerusalem. ¹⁰⁰ A discussion of what the function of Levites outside Jerusalem might have looked like is beyond the scope of this article, but in the LXX, they are described as religious insiders: they supported the priests (Num. 1:50; 3:6, 8; 16:9; 1 Chr. 9:22, 26–27; Ezra 3:8–9) and had a role in the interpretation of the Torah (Neh. 8:7; 9:2; 2 Chr. 17:7–9). This close relationship of Levites to the centre of Judean religion stands in contrast to the creative magical syncretism that is often associated with the island. This is evidenced by Barnabas’ financial deference to the Jerusalem apostles (Acts 4:27) and could also display, according to Luke, his alignment with the proper centre of Christian movement. His exemplary behaviour also subverts the many negative Graeco-Roman stereotypes associated with Cyprus. Elymas the Jewish magician (Acts 13:8), on the other hand, is the embodiment of those stereotypes.

7 Conclusion

In conclusion, I have argued that that the nicknaming of Barnabas can be better understood by assessing the nickname beyond etymologies and definitions when viewed with reference to name frequency in the Judean onomastic record and through the sociology of nicknames in migration studies. In this case, the unusual nickname Barnabas is attached to a Joseph, which indicates his acceptance by and integration into the Jerusalem church. However, as shown by his advocacy for, and later dispute with, Paul, he remains a character who maintains individuality and agency.

Nicknaming is common among migrants and social-scientific studies provide a useful model for understanding the social dynamics described in Acts 4:36, offering us an insight into how the nickname can function, even if Luke’s etymology remains elusive. Finally, the depiction of Barnabas confounds common stereotypes associated with Cyprus. The nicknaming episode, with its elusive aside in Acts 4:36, makes the audience privy to the internal and unconventional nicknaming of the earliest Christian community. For Luke’s audience, this could encourage the subversion of ethnic stereotypes and model the kind of welcome that allows for integration but does not minimise the agency of the migrant.

Barnabas is, of course, not the only character with a hybrid identity who appears in Acts. In Acts 2:5, the narrative setting of Peter’s Pentecost speech is addressed to Ιουδαῖοι… ἔθνους τῶν ὑπὸ τὸν οὐρανόν (‘Jews… from every nation under heaven’); according to Daniel Marguerat, ‘Cette avalanche de noms concrétise la mention éditoriale du verset 5’. ¹⁰¹ Although the speech may address both visitors to Jerusalem for the Pentecost festival and longer-term resident Diaspora Jews, the list also, as Steve Walton states, ‘highlights the hybrid ethic identity of many first-century diaspora Jews.’ ¹⁰² Barnabas, however, is the first named character who comes from this group. ¹⁰³ Later in the narrative, other significant characters with stated hybrid identities are the ‘Hellenists’ Philip and Stephen (Acts 6:5), the so-called Antiochene community which is remarkable not only for the diversity of names of its leadership, but also that nobody in it is described as actually being from Antioch (Acts 13:1), and the Jewish-Greek Timothy (Acts 16:1–3).

Even if Luke’s legitimisation of such identities is within the bounds of a particular community, the character of Barnabas speaks to both the ability to find belonging and to support the movement, but also the potential to challenge and shape that community. If Barnabas’ nickname de-anonymises him and preserves his hybrid identity, the way that Luke describes him later highlights his agency. In Acts 15:1–2, he argues against the τινες κατελθόντες ἀπὸ τῆς Ἰουδαίας (‘certain individuals from Judea’), acting as an advocate for Paul (Acts 9:25; 11:22–5; 15:12), but also as one who is willing to stand his ground and part company with Paul on a matter of conscience (Acts 15:39).

For the migrant member of the community, Barnabas expresses the potential for empowerment and agency within a new community. His story illustrates how one can navigate the complexities of identity and belonging while maintaining individual convictions. The character of Barnabas embodies the idea that integration does not necessitate the loss of cultural heritage; instead, the character represents Luke’s legitimisation of hybrid ethnic identities, as well as the aspiration for a richer, more diverse, and reciprocal community gathered along The Way.