The Book:
Paul Among the People: The Apostle Reinterpreted and Reimagined in His Own Time
By Sarah Ruden
Image
2010
The Talk:
In her 2010 book Paul Among the People, classicist and translator Sarah Ruden takes on some of Apostle Paul’s most controversial passages in the Bible and places them within their Greco-Roman context. Her argument is that in each case Paul’s letters have been misunderstood by both his defenders and critics as meaning nearly the opposite of what a First Century Roman Christian would’ve read.
What was most interesting to me were the ways in which Paul’s approach to handling issues tended to treat everyone equally on principle but with the practical consequence of requiring free Roman men to change the most.
Ruden tackles five different topics—partying, homosexuality, women, the state, and slavery. And in each case Paul’s pronouncements elevated the status and protection of women and slaves and exhorted Roman men to abdicate their traditional prerogatives in imitation of their crucified savior.
Inventing a third way
To be clear, Paul was not pronouncing a universal morality for all humanity, nor was he advocating for change to Roman society. In that way, Paul was not progressive in the way we think today. Paul was interested in how people practically interact with other people. In fact, Paul most often gives general principles, leaving his reader to work out the specific details (or, rather, leaving the spirit of Jesus to inspire a creative solution).
But most importantly, what Paul was inventing in his letters to the early church was a third way of living in a community that was neither Judaism nor Roman polytheism. Although some early Christians were diaspora Jews, and some were “God-fearers” (converts to Judaism), many early converts—and the people Paul particularly wanted to win over—were non-Jewish Romans.
Christianity was particularly appealing to Roman women of all classes and to slaves. And Paul welcomed them all. But there was no existing Roman blueprint for how such an organization of men and women, free men and slaves, Romans and Jews, rich and poor, should work together that didn’t involve violence. In every case above, the former had free reign to abuse the later.
The default option would be to simply recreate or bless Roman social norms within the Christian community. But that was the very thing many women and slaves—and men, too—were trying to escape. It was going to have to be something different.
The Roman masculine ideal
Using Ruden’s book as a guide, let’s take a look at what the Roman version of a “man’s man” looked like—not what was allowed with disapproving looks, but was encouraged, celebrated, and honored in Roman society.
Roman men had wide prerogatives to commit violent abuse against anyone they could. Roman men participated in drunken midnight gangs called a kōmos where they would go hunting through town for anyone they could abuse physically and sexually.
Roman men were expected to beat their children, wives, and slaves. In fact, if your slave made a mistake while guests were visiting, it was a given that you had to beat your slave right there in front of your guests. (What kind of host were you otherwise?)
With the exception of other men’s wives, Roman men had free reign to have sex with any women they wanted, whenever they wanted, and any slaves, male or female. Sex with prostitutes, who were most often slaves, was common place. In addition, being the dominant male sex partner was praised as a sign of one’s strength, power, and manliness. (Conversely, being the submissive male sex partner was the fastest way to have your reputation as a man destroyed.)
A favorite pastime for Roman men was sexually abusing young boys. It was so common that a boy couldn’t be left unattended in public. Boys had to be watched by their fathers at all times or attended by a slave.
Men could divorce their wives at any time. Women could also divorce freely, but the outcome was basically catastrophic for them and their children. Men often got rid of their older wives and got newer, younger ones, all marriages being arranged.
Men could also form groups and public assemblies and discuss and debate topics that concerned the community. Women weren’t allowed to attend any public assembly. (The punishment for a reputable woman showing up at the theatre was death.) And women certainly weren’t applauded for having political opinions or asking questions.
Finally, a very important part of Roman manhood was exacting revenge, settling scores, starting feuds, participating in conspiracies, stirring up revolts, and fomenting dissention. “Politics,” such as it was, was violent and bloody. Women were not involved in this either.
The church as a zero-male-abuse zone
It was this world of the Roman male that Paul confronted with his rhetoric, a world the Roman Christian man would have known very well. Paul’s advice across the board was against violence, abuse, and cruelty of any kind. No drunken gang rapes. No abuse of slaves or sex with slaves. No prostitute slaves. No sexual abuse of male slaves or boys. No divorcing your wife (because it would ruin them and their children). And NO getting involved in political strife, feuds, conspiracies, and revenge plots. All of these prohibitions were directed at—could only be directed at—free Roman men, not women or slaves.
In place of all of this, Christian Roman men should: forgive their slaves (!), forgive other men who wrong them (!), and give in to their wives when they desire their husbands sexually (!). In addition, Christian assemblies will have women in them (!), and even the Christian women who were once “available” for your taking in any other context, will be veiled as if they were married and “off limits” to you (!). Finally, if your wife has opinions and questions about the assembly, you should listen to her (!) and respond respectfully (!).
For women and slaves, Paul requires them to renounce hardly anything at all. Wives obeying husbands, and slaves obeying masters was the default already. The difference within the Christian community was that women and slaves musn’t be abused.
And women got to attend Christian assemblies without being in physical danger or losing their reputation. And they could ask questions of their husbands without being abused for it. Moreover, poor women and disgraced women who were banned from wearing veils in public “had” to wear veils in the Christian assembly, which raised their status and protection, making all Christian women essentially equal in the church.
Surely no community was perfect, but the goal Paul imagined was a community of abundant agape love, which meant at minimum—or perhaps above all—the absence of abuse by men. The natural consequence was the elevated dignity of women and slaves.
Celibacy as non-violence
Ruden speculates that Paul was never married, but we know at least that he was non-married and celibate during the writing of his letters. He thinks it’s the best way, but he knows it’s not for everyone. Who knows what was going on in Paul’s mind? But after reading Ruden’s book, it’s clear that from the Greco-Roman side there were very few examples of sexuality in the Roman world that were not cruel or coercive.
The point of having a wife in the Roman era wasn’t to find a soulmate, love each other, and grow old together; it was to bear sons, sons that would become men, men that would carry on virtue (virility) and proudly protect the household (and its slaves). The purpose of a woman was to bear children, end of story.
Paul, however, redefines marriage as not solely reproductive, but as a channel for sexuality to express itself in a non-violent, non-coercive way. He doesn’t think marriage is for procreation only but rather a kind of mutual serving of each other’s needs in which both sides have a say and should be heard. Paul’s idea that a husband and wife should mutually submit to each other was a new idea, by no means the default, and even probably difficult for his audience to comprehend.
But even more striking, Paul invents a new social category of the non-married celibate person. This category did not exist in the Roman world1.
Notably, this category is non-gendered. Both men and women can follow this path equally, and Paul makes no distinctions between male and female when describing this lifestyle. However, it seems implied that the Christian community would have to make extra effort to ensure the safety of women who chose to opt out of traditional sexual and gender norms in this way. (It might be weird for a Roman man to be unmarried and celibate, surely his masculinity would be questioned, but he wouldn’t be in danger.)
In other words, to be male, celibate, and unmarried in Paul’s world wasn’t to avoid sexual urges or romantic feelings but rather to refuse to own, control, or take advantage of anybody—a woman, a boy, or a slave. That was the “better way" Paul likely had in mind.
Why?
Ruden’s interpretation of Paul has a ring of authenticity that others do not, when we take into account Paul’s conversion experience.
Paul (called Saul before his conversion) was a zealous persecutor of Christians. Ruden emphasizes that this persecution was physical. Saul held the cloaks of men while they stoned Stephen, one of the first Christian martyrs. To stone someone took time, Ruden notes. It was violent, bloody, and brutal.
Saul was on his way to persecute (i.e. violently murder) more Christians when Jesus appeared to him in a vision and said, “Saul, Saul! Why do you persecute me?”
We could read this in any kind of voice—a gentle voice, a commanding voice, a wrathful voice, a divinely passive voice. But surely it’s reasonable to read it in a voice that is begging for mercy, no? The voice of the victim. That’s the question that rings down through every subsequent day of Paul’s life. Why are you abusing me? Why? Why? Why?
We can imagine, in that flash of light, the full cruelty of Paul’s actions flooded his mind. (What else could conversion feel like?) Paul had felt fully justified in his violence. But Paul’s conversion was now to Jesus the crucified, from confident executioner to humbled identifier with the executed. Paul’s conversion to Christ was inseparable from his renunciation of violence.
This is particularly poignant because it appears that Paul struggled with his own temper. Ruden marks several passages where Paul starts to get angry and then pulls back and reorients himself toward the Jesus of his conversion.
Some of the most famous parts of Paul’s letters that have passed into cliché shine brilliantly anew in this interpretation. Paul writes that love is patient, love is kind; it doesn’t envy; it doesn’t boast; it isn’t proud; it keeps no record of wrongs. He describes the fruit of the spirit as love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness.
Paul was not listing off virtues that came naturally to him or that were admired in Roman culture. When we see these as exhortations to Roman men, when we set these passages next to the cultural expectations of Roman men, it’s a complete antagonism. It’s an either/or proposition. There’s no peace AND feuds. There’s no gentleness AND beatings. There’s no patience AND violence. There’s no kindness AND revenge.
Something has to give. Something has to die.
Behold the man
According to Ruden, there are no accounts of female crucifixion. It was something that only happened to men. Total emasculation was part of the punishment. A man would be stripped naked in public, his genitalia exposed to mockery:
For maximum humiliation, and maximum edification of others, crucifixion was public. Crosses with their victims on them might stand beside roadsides or on hills. The crucified were totally naked, without loincloths. Anyone could point and comment, and Greeks and Romans, with their intense interest in the phallus, no doubt did. Was it too large (a not unknown complaint)? Not dainty and shapely (as they preferred)? Was it—grotesque!—circumcised?
It goes without saying that crucifixion was something a man never came back from. Physically or reputationally. It was society’s final verdict on a man’s worth.
A Roman man would never describe himself as crucified unless he was fully, once and for all, surrendering every right, every prerogative, every dignity, every privilege that was due to a man by society. So when Paul refers to himself as “crucified” he is renouncing the status hierarchy that was considered normal at the time. He is signing away all the perks, benefits, and rewards that were his privilege as a man.
In opting out, Paul believed that he was choosing the crucified Jesus, who had called him away from his life of violence—a choice that, in his own cultural context, was a uniquely male choice to make.
Paul doesn’t sugar-coat this for his male readers. He doesn’t market, as we might, an “alternative vision of masculinity.” He doesn’t write books that satisfy Roman cultural norms to help a Christian man save face around his peers. Rather he makes it explicit that his way of life exposes him to mockery—and that mockery ain’t coming from women!
Again and again, Paul calls for his Roman male reader to give up on the dream: Dominating as many men, children, women, and slaves as one can; maintaining a reputation among one’s peers for domination; responding to any and all slights with violence; exacting revenge on all rivals; raising sons to behave the same way.
At the same time, we know there were men in the early church who felt drawn (called, like Paul was) to leave traditional gender and sexual norms of their day behind. Paul’s teaching was challenging, but men found in the vision of a publicly humiliated man on a cross something that traditional masculinity couldn’t offer—a way out, a door to an alternate universe of respect, dignity, and kindness for all, men and women, free and slave, rich and poor.
Some men found this inspiring. Some still do.
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Turkey keeps ruins open after dark to combat heatwaves (Art Newspaper, 9/16/24)2
There were the Vestal Virgins, but you could not choose to be one nor could they choose to not be one.
“Heatwaves are forcing tourist destinations across the Mediterranean to devise new coping mechanisms. Near Ephesus, temperatures broke records in June, exceeding 40ºC some days and making traipsing through its ruins onerous, if not hazardous.”
Really fascinating, Ryan! Thanks for this bit of exegesis
I find it's often over-emphasized how much of Christianity was a reaction to Rabbinical Judaism and under-emphasized how much of Christianity was a reaction to Roman pagan society.