Sunday, July 29, 2018

Joanna and Junia


Image result for joanna and junia

 
by
 
Damien F. Mackey
 
 
 
 
 
“Greet Andronicus and Junia, my fellow Jews who have been in prison with me.
They are outstanding among the apostles, and they were in Christ before I was”.
 
Romans 16:7
 
 
 
Some have suggested that the otherwise unknown “Junia” referred to in this verse could only have been a female, and may have been the “Joanna” of Luke’s Gospel.
 
Junia: The Jewish Woman who was Imprisoned with Paul
 
….

 

A Female Missionary

 
Junia, mentioned by the apostle Paul in his letter to the Romans, is a woman whose identity and whose ministry has been much discussed in the past few decades. It was first debated whether she was a woman or a man. But the overwhelming evidence from inscriptions and other ancient sources indicates that “Junia” was a common name for a woman, whereas the masculine equivalent, “Junias”, is non-existent. Practically all early Christian writers took Junia to be a woman, and the consensus among present scholars is the same: Junia was a woman. So this debate has been resolved.
 
The debate then shifted as to whether Junia was an apostle or not. The word “apostle” is translated from the Greek word apostolos and refers to a person sent on a mission.
….
The debate about whether Junia was “outstanding among the apostles” or, as some argue, that she was “well-known to the apostles” and not an apostle herself, has not been resolved…. But either way, Junia was a prominent figure in the apostolic church. …. Junia and her partner Andronicus were not part of the Twelve, but they were, most likely, well-known and respected Christian missionaries.
 
Mackey’s comment: According to an interesting hypothesis, Andronicus could have been the apostle Andrew, under the Greek form of his name. Thus we read at: https://www.theologyofwork.org/key-topics/women-workers-in-the-new-testament/the-jewish-palace-insider-and-benefactor-junia-romans-166
 
The Jewish palace insider and benefactor Junia (Romans 16:6)
 
Biblical scholars have puzzled over the years about Paul’s reference in Romans 16:6: “Greet Andronicus and Junia, my relatives who were in prison with me; they are prominent among the apostles, and they were in Christ before I was.” Who were these folks? Paul was clear that they were related to him, that they had shared prison time with him, they were prominent apostles, and they had become believers before he had. Who could fill that bill?
 
That points to someone who was Jewish, had known Jesus in his earthly ministry (the requirement for the title apostle), and had signed on as a Jesus-follower before Paul himself. Now they were in Rome.
 
In his book Gospel Women, noted biblical scholar Richard Bauckham untangles the knots in this mystery for us, starting with one of the women healed by Jesus, mentioned in Luke 8:3. She was Joanna, the wife of Chuza, the business manager for king Herod Antipas. It turns out that the name Joanna is the Hebrew equivalent of the Roman name Junia. Could Joanna in the gospels be the same person as the apostle Junia? Look at some of the possible clues leading to that conclusion.
 
The name Chuza is not a Jewish name, and he is thought to have been Nabatean (King Herod Antipas had other connections to the Nabatean royal family). But as the king’s finance minister living in the new Roman-style palace in the royal city of Tiberias, he needed a Jewish wife connected to a wealthy Jewish family. Enter young Joanna (probably just entering puberty when she was married to the much older, mature man, Chuza). While king Herod Antipas had some Jewish blood, his kingship depended on Rome, so palace life in Tiberias followed Roman practices. Joanna would likely have been given a Roman name (Junia) and would have been formed in Roman ways of acting and thinking.
 
We first meet Joanna in the Bible, however, not as part of the royal household, but as a woman in need of healing. Luke tells us that after Jesus healed her, she became part of his traveling band of women caring for the physical needs of the Savior. In short, she became one of his benefactors, providing funds for the support of his group.
 
What the Bible does not tell us is whether or not Chuza had died and Joanna was widowed, but scholars surmise this likely was the case (given the probable disparity in their ages). Nor does the Bible tell us that in traveling with Jesus’ band, she might eventually have remarried, becoming the wife of Andrew, one of Jesus’s disciples. If, however, this was the case, it would answer to all of the clues given in Paul’s greeting to this couple in Romans 16:6. We know that Peter first carried the Gospel to Rome, and to bring along his brother and fellow disciple, Andrew, is logical. So as Paul’s letter to the Romans was read to the assembled Christians, he addressed this apostolic pair by their Roman names – Andronicus and Junia. 
 
Paul doesn’t tell us that back in Palestine they had been Andrew and Joanna, but all of his clues fit that possibility.
 
Mackey’s comment: Back to Marg, she, too, will arrive at the conclusion that Junia was Joanna
 

A Jewess and Jesus’ Follower

 
What hasn’t been discussed as much is Paul’s description of Andronicus and Junia as suggeneis.[3] This Greek word can mean “relative/relation” or “compatriot” and it is translated with either meaning in various English translations of Roman 16:7. But which meaning is correct?
 
The couple were among the first people to become Jesus followers, and all the first Christians were Jewish. So it is safe to assume that Andronicus and Junia were Jews, as Paul was. If they were family relations of Paul (and we don’t know if they were) this would also make them Jewish. All in all, “fellow Jews”, or “compatriots”, is the safest rendering of suggeneis in Romans 16:7.
 
Paul states that Andronicus and Junia were “in Christ” before him, and Paul was converted sometime during the years 33-36 AD. I wonder if the couple had travelled to Jerusalem for the feast of Pentecost that is the setting of Acts 2. Did they hear Peter preach at that time? Did they accept Jesus as Messiah, and then return to Rome?[4] Or did Junia become a follower of Jesus even earlier?
 

Are Junia and Joanna the same person?

 
Some scholars, notably Richard Bauckham and Ben Witherington III, argue that Junia may be one and the same as Joanna, a female disciple of Jesus who is mentioned in Luke 8:3 and Luke 24:10.[5] Luke tells us that Joanna was the wife of Chuza, the steward of Herod Antipas.
 
As part of Herod’s court, Joanna would have known Latin and been familiar with Roman customs, making her a suitable missionary, or founding apostle, of the church at Rome. And she may have changed her Hebrew/Aramaic name to the Latin “Junia” to suit her new surroundings in Rome.
 
Another part of this Joanna/Junia scenario is the understanding that her husband Chuza died at some point, and that Andronicus became her new husband and ministry partner.
….

Monday, July 2, 2018

Saint Polycarp and Socrates


 Image result for martyrdom polycarp

 

by

 

Damien F. Mackey

 

 

 

 

“Thus we might ask whom Polycarp is imitating, Jesus or Socrates?

Or both?”


 

L. Stephanie Cobb

 

 

This was unexpected.

An article providing striking similarities between Polycarp and Socrates, L. Stephanie Cobb’s

Polycarp’s Cup: Imitatio in the Martyrdom of Polycarp (2014):


 

Not so unexpected is that the pagan Socrates, an un-historical figure according to my revision, could be considered in this article to have been the prototype.

 

The author, Cobb, firstly compares, and contrasts, the martyrdom of Polycarp with the death of Jesus Christ (p. 226):

 

While the Gospels are the most obvious texts on which this author [Michael W. Holmes] draws, they may not be the only texts this author used to illuminate Polycarp’s character. It is striking—and, given the tendency toward imitatio Christi in this text, perhaps troubling — that Polycarp stands by his own power as he is burned to death. Those in charge of the execution bound him to the pyre and then sought to nail him — surely bringing Jesus’ crucifixion to the audience’s minds — but Polycarp stopped them: “Leave me thus; for the one who allows me to endure the fire will allow me — without the security of your nails — to remain in the pyre unmoved” (13.3).5 This is an extraordinary statement. Throughout his narrative, the author has shown how Polycarp’s actions imitated Jesus’, but here, at the death scene, we see not pious imitation but, perhaps, one-upmanship: Polycarp does not need to be nailed the way Jesus was.6

 

This is not the only place a negative comparison could be drawn between Polycarp’s and Jesus’ actions. After Polycarp is placed on the pyre, he offers a prayer to God, in which he thanks God for granting him “a share, among the number of martyrs, in the cup [poterioi] of your Christ” (14.2). There are at least two possible referents for Polycarp’s cup. On the one hand, in John 18:11, Jesus asks, “Am I not to drink the cup [poterion] that has been given to me by the Father?” If Polycarp’s cup is an allusion to John 18, then we have here one more positive example of imitatio Christi. But the parallels to Jesus’ life in this text are not drawn exclusively from John, so we cannot assume the author — much less the audience — has this passage in mind. According to the Synoptic Gospels, Jesus begs God to remove the cup [poterion] … from him.7 The author’s use of the identical term in Polycarp’s prayer, [poterion] … could imply a negative contrast: Polycarp, unlike the Jesus of the Synoptic Gospels, was willing to drink from the cup given by God.8 Since Polycarp’s cup comes immediately after the emphatic statement that he does not need to be nailed, this may be another instance of the author distancing Polycarp from a problematic Jesus tradition. ….

 

and she then (pp. 227-228) proceeds to draw some strong comparisons between Polycarp and Socrates:

 

On the other hand, an ancient audience might recall another death scene in which a cup figures prominently: Socrates took the cup [kylix] … “without dread, without changing colour, or his countenance” (Phaed. 117B). The different Greek term notwithstanding, Polycarp’s desire for the metaphorical cup of martyrdom is much more like Socrates’ act than that of Jesus in the Synoptic Gospels.9 Thus we might ask whom Polycarp is imitating, Jesus or Socrates? Or both? A close reading of the Martyrdom of Polycarp reveals that allusions to the death of Socrates may play a role in the theological and social meaning of this text.10 Thus the reader who is not bound by the Christian canon may find in the Martyrdom of Polycarp not only imitatio Christi but also imitatio Socratis.

 

Many comparisons may be drawn between Socrates and Polycarp.11 Both men, for instance, were described as “noble” (Phaed. 58D; Mart. Pol. 2.1), and they were both charged with atheism (Euth. 3B; Mart. Pol. 3.2; 12.2). Socrates refused to flee Athens in order to save his life (Phaed. 98E–99A).

Similarly, after receiving the vision that he must die, Polycarp refused to flee (Mart. Pol.

7.1). Neither man was willing to use persuasion to save his life (Apol. 35D; Mart. Pol. 10.2). Socrates took control of his death by requesting the hemlock rather than waiting for it to be administered to him (Phaed. 116D); Polycarp took control of his death by removing his own clothes and standing on the pyre without being nailed (Mart. Pol. 13.2–3). Both Socrates and Polycarp prayed before dying (Phaed. 117C; Mart. Pol. 14.1–3), and the accounts of both of their deaths refer to sacrifices (Phaed. 118A; Mart. Pol. 14.1). Both men are explicitly said to have been old (Apol. 17D, Crito 52E; Mart. Pol. 9.3), and their deaths were models for others (Phaed. 115C; Mart. Pol. 1.2; 19.1).

 

The three elements Holmes identifies as central to a martyrdom “according to the Gospel” in the Martyrdom of Polycarp — divine call, concern for others, and endurance — are also central to the noble death tradition, known through the ancient genre exitus illustrium virorum, which was based on the death of Socrates.12 If Holmes is correct that the Martyrdom of Polycarp is concerned with demonstrating “a particular approach to” death, then the text fits perfectly into this tradition.

 

In what follows, I will explore Holmes’s three components of a “martyrdom according to the Gospel” — endurance, concern for others, and divine call — preceded by a discussion of another commonly identified aspect of the noble death tradition — sacrificial metaphors — to demonstrate how an ancient audience could have interpreted Polycarp’s death through the lens of traditions relating noble deaths. Then I will suggest one way these literary allusions may function apologetically.13 Ultimately, I am interested in the literary product that emerges when we read the Martyrdom of Polycarp with an eye to widely circulating elements of noble deaths. Thus, by identifying various literary allusions in the Martyrdom of Polycarp, I hope to explore — to borrow Ellen Finkelpearl’s phrase — “meanings available in the source text beyond the  obvious” — that is, imitatio Socratis not merely imitatio Christi, though these function reciprocally rather than competitively or in isolation.14

 

Even more directly, the author will name the next section (pp. 229 f.):

The Death of Polycarp as Imitatio Socratis.

 

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