[Lyric] Slaves In The New Testament: Literary Social and Moral Dimensions Introduction: Imagining Slaves (J. Albert Harrill)

INTRODUCTION
                                                Imagining Slaves
                          Slaves in the Ancient Literary Imagination

How did the early Christians think about slaves? In this book, I argue that they did so through the literary artifice of conventional figures and stereotypes familiar from ancient literature, handbooks, and the theater. Such stock characters included the domestic enemy, the comic, the trickster, the elite, and the faithful slave. Although modern scholars often consider such New Testament figures as the maid Rhoda (Acts 12:13-16) evidence for the "liberating" participation of slaves in early Christian communities, a careful study of the evidence shows them to be literary characters drawn from the ideologies that supported Roman slavery.

I advance this thesis primarily through close readings of particular passages in their ancient context, in order to trace the development of literary themes or social types. I work strictly as a historian; that is, I do not advocate a "faith" solution to or a theological position on the question of slavery and the Bible; such questions are best left to Christians, theologians, and ethicists to answer.But I do deny that appeals to "what the Bible says" can serve as a foundation for Christian moral arguments, because such appeals do not explicitly acknowledge the agency and contingency of the interpreter.1 Rather, any critical interpretation of the New Testament must start by situating the early Christian writings firmly in the literary, social, and cultural world of the early Roman Empire. Indeed, this book argues that the Roman context is particularly helpful in bringing clarity to difficult texts and in moving scholarship beyond tired, old cliches about the Bible and slavery that repeat un-examined presuppositions born of the modern abolitionist era. On the other hand, I do not argue that the resulting interpretations are the only valid ones. The professions of history and of biblical studies have happily moved beyond the objectivism of seeing historical facts naively, as prior to and independent of interpretation. Asserting an interpretative hegemony can no longer be intellectually justified. This should press us into caution, not despair. 2 We have gained some historical knowledge about ancient slavery that makes some interpretations from the abolitionist era (surveyed in chapter 7) impossible. Even if a reader disagrees with my exegesis at points, I hope that she or he nonetheless would see the value of exploring how an ancient Roman audience and its slaveholding culture would have heard the early Christian passages about slaves.

Rejecting the old "biblical theology" approach, I occasionally use early Jewish sources, such as Philo of Alexandria and Josephus, as a manifestation of Roman culture, seeing the integration of the Jewish material as a necessary part of good scholarship on ancient history. The problem with biblical theology is its totalizing interpretative framework that sets up an artificial cultural dichotomy between "Judaism" and "Romanness" (often conflated into "Hellenism") as code words masquerading as historical entities. The aim of that kind of scholarship is to urge the distinctiveness of Christianity against its "pagan" environment, a distinctiveness that it allegedly shared with ancient Israel. 3 Unlike other scholars who separate early Christianity from early Judaism or classical culture, and who compare the different "social worlds" to see how they are alike and how they differ, I study early Christianity as fully a part of and implicated in the ancient world. For this reason, I integrate Greek, Roman, and Jewish materials throughout all the chapters directly into my exegesis, rather than isolating them in some introductory "background" chapter. This volume, then, is an essay in biblical interpretation and hermeneutics, not a factual survey of slavery in the New Testament or early Christianity generally. 4

Let me sketch the book's main thesis. I argue that early Christian writings reflect, participate in, and promote the literary imagination about slaves and the ideology of mastery widely diffuse in the ancient Mediterranean, which supported what the Romans called auctoritas. Auctoritas denoted the quality of actual power in the individual person (the auctor) granted by the willing compliance of subordinates and the esteem of one's colleagues, in contrast to the transactional power from governmental magistracies, social status, or family name. The value was deeply moral, belonging to the cultural milieu of masculinity and competition in Rome's conflict culture. 5 By ideology I mean language that colludes with, supports, and makes sense of the current structures of authority and domination that a particular society uses to construct and maintain its social "reality" and in which writers can participate even if the collusion is not altogether conscious. 6 This focus on ideology avoids the pitfall of claiming that authorial intention alone controls "the meaning" of a text. As Dale Martin writes, "I may wish to speculate about what Paul thought he was doing, but that speculation does not have the power to settle the question of what he was actually doing." 7 Because the Romans traditionally perpetuated their moral values through the retelling of example stories (exempla), the use of slaves and masters as literary figures was commonplace and a natural referent for the early Christians accustomed as Romans to use such language for self-definition and the construction of a religious community. 8

The book is organized by corpora of texts, roughly in chronological order, and by theme. The first two chapters examine the Apostle Paul. Chapter 1 offers an exegetical study of Romans 7, one of the most important and controversial passages on the self in the Christian Bible. I side with a number of scholars who take the subject to be a fictive "I," a technique of speech-in-character (prosopopoiia), and examine what,remains unclear in this reading: Why a slave is chosen for the persona. Chapter 2 analyzes the rhetoric of the accusation, preserved in 2 Cor 10:10, that Paul was a religious fraud. I argue that the invective conforms to physiognomic conventions of what a "weak bodily presence" signified in ancient mediterranian culture-the slave. I then connect the slave physiognomies to Rorian ideologies of masculinity and manhood.

Chapter 3 is a study of Luke-Acts. I investigate the comedy of slavery in fictional characters that mock slaves. Rhoda, the slave maid in Acts 12:13-16, has been seen by modern scholars as a classic example of a touch a realism that lends authenticity to Luke's narrative. However, I argue that Luke has created an artificial stock figure from Roman comedy, a highly conventionalized sequence of narrative. Rhoda is the "running slave" (servus currens) whose function is to siphon implausibility from the scene by which the subsequence action could be made to seem more real. The second figure is the dishonest manager ("steward"), subject of the most difficult of all the parables in the Gospels to understand (Luke 16:1-8). A solution lies in reading the action as that of a parasite (parasitus) playing the clever slave (servus callidus). The servus callidus was the template that defined and measured the form of all tricksters in the ancient drama. This association held even for dramas that focused on nonslave characters. I argue that the parable of the dishonest Manager contains clear narrative tags signaling this particularly Roman dramatic convention. But the function was more than mere comic relief. I interpret the Dishonest Manager as part of a narrative sequence leading to the Rich Man and Lazarus (16:19-31), and so I find problematic the scholarly habit of taking either parable out of its Lukan context to find its "real" historical meaning. The Dishonest Manager and the Rich Man and Lazarus form a literary diptych that contrasted two complementary modes of comedy, the farcical and the naturalistic. Read in this way, the dishonest manager thus acts as a catalyst that provokes important insights from more serious and complex characters in the literary artifice. In other words, both Rhoda and the dishonest manager are made up and play to ancient slaveholding tastes and sensibilities.

The fourth and fifth chapters examine the deuteropauline material on slavery. Chapter 4 surveys early Christian domestic codes that exhort believing slaves as moral agents and believing masters and subordinates of another Lord (Col 3:22-4:1; Eph 6:5-9; Epistle of Barnabas 19.7; Didache 4.10-11). 9 Although New Testament scholars have found irresistible a popular form of argument that these Haustafeln "upset" the domestic hierarchy of the ancient family and of slavery, I argue that they borrow the three didactic themes of justice, accountability, and piety widely diffuse in classical topoi on household management and best exemplified in the ancient handbook tradition on agriculture. A figure that previous scholarship has not thought to consider is the elite slave "bailiff" (vilicus) overseeing the estate in the place of the absentee estate owner (pater familias). 10 In the household codes, the Christian master is exhorted as a vilicus, in charge of a household yet also subordinate to another. Continuing the investigation of the deuteropauline letters, chapter 5 interprets the curious reference to "slave traders" in Tim 1:10. I explore the cultural stereotypes surrounding the slave-trading profession in classical antiquity. In early Christian self-definition, slave traders functioned as a stock term of abuse and pointed not to actual people dealing in slaves but to the use of stereotyping to get a congregation to think about opponents as correspondingly vicious.

The final two chapters address the legacy of the New Testament. Casting my net wider than the New Testament canon in order to gain a fuller picture of early Christianity, I analyze in chapter 6 early Christian apologies and martyrdoms that condemn the ordinary household slave as an instigator of family corruption, the "domestic enemy" par excellence. As in the case of the term slave trader, I argue that the language is more literary artifice than social reality. In the process, I call into question recent scholarship that sees martyrdom as a discourse that undermines ancient ideologies of the family. By looking at tales of slave martyrs, and of slaves who betray their Christian owners in early Christian apologies, I find that martyrdom did not entirely contest the prevailing ideology of the family in the case of slavery. Elements of that ideology do appear. in the moral polarity of "the slave" as either the domestic enemy or the faithful companion.

Chapter 7 shifts to the modern era and examines the use of the New Testament in the religious debate over legal slavery in antebellum America, offering several hermeneutical reflections on the book as a whole. I trace patterns in nineteenth-century exegesis that illumine a fundamental paradox in American religious culture-between literalism and moral intuition as opposing ways to read the Bible. The moral imperative of antislavery fostered an interpretative approach that found conscience to be a more reliable guide to Christian morality than biblical authority. Antislavery/abolitionist exegesis constituted an early form of biblical criticism that promoted more critical readings of the Bible, which prepared the way in the United States for the eventual reception of German higher criticism. My study thus illustrates the complicated relationship between the historical-critical interpretation of the Bible and Christian debate over moral issues, which carries implications beyond my case history of slavery. This book offers a hermeneutical challenge to the noble dream that biblical criticism can settle Christian moral debate, especially on family values.
Because a complex topic like slavery requires a diversity of interpretative approaches, as a historian I try out different methods in order to discover which best addresses the questions that a specific passage raises. Consequently, I do not conform my research to a consistent application of a single methodology or model. For example, I explore recent directions in gender studies and cultural theory, build on insights from literary approaches, do a great deal of social history, and pay close attention to what rhetorical analysis can yield. My approach is thus eclectic. 11

In sum, this book investigates in detail representative examples of the main kinds of evidence in the New Testament (and elsewhere) used to recover early Christianity's "challenge" and "answer" to ancient slavery. The findings show how difficult such claims are to maintain historically. Such references are literary figures that confirmed ideological stereotypes and bland moralistic polarities that slaveholders and those associated with the slave-holding orders of Roman society created and maintained. The evidence cannot support readings that purport to find early Christianity’s moral unease with ancient slavery. 12 Unfortunately, we cannot correct New Testament passages that appear to be immoral, even when the interest to do so serves the noblest of aims.

                                    Modern Literary Imagination:
                                        The Stories of Onesimus

But there were real slaves among the early Christians, and we know one of them by name-Onesimus. Surely one might think, in this case we can avoid stock figures and types and get some actual historical information about a flesh-and-blood Christian slave. Unfortunately, matters are not so simple. Modern literary imagination is just as capable as ancient literary imagination of producing a fiction. Many of the so-called stories of Onesimus behind Paul’s Letter to Philemon are more stereotype than history.

Modern biblical scholars prove to be as reliant as ancient authors on stock characters to "think with" when they use the Roman slave law of a "runaway” (fugitivus) or a “truant” (erro) to “explain” the text of Philemon. 13 Because Philemon is perceived in the history of interpretation to be the single most important text for understanding slavery and the Bible, I outline here the methodological difficulties with this approach, which has created multiple and conflicting stories of Onesimus. Current scholarship offers four different and competing reconstructions of the situation that Paul addresses: (1) the “runaway slave” hypothesis (the standard view); (2) the “intercession” hypothesis; (3) the "dispatched slave” hypothesis; and the hypothesis that Onesimus was not a slave but rather Philemon’s brother (for this last view, see chapter 7). Unfortunately, none of these hypotheses solves all of the exegetical difficulties of Paul's shortest extant letter. 14

Onesimus as Runaway Slave

The "runaway slave hypothesis assumes the letter to be what patristic commentators since John Chrysostom (fourth century) said it was-an epistle requesting the Christian slaveholder Philemon to take back his runaway slave Onesimus, who, after doing damage, theft, or some other wrong, had somehow met Paul in prison and had been baptized.

15 We know that ancient slaves fled their masters and typically sought asylum in a temple or at a statue of the emperor (Achilles Tatius, Leudippe et Clitophon 7.13), went underground in a large city (Cicero, Epistulae ad Quintum fratrem 1.2.14), joined marauding bands of maroon gangs in the countryside (Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae 265d-266e), or tried to enlist in the army under a false identity (Pliny, Epistulae 10.29-30). 16 Yet Onesimus, it is alleged, took none of these options (or was captured before he had a chance to do so) and either found himself (by remarkable luck) thrown into the same prison cell as Paul or took refuge among the associates of Paul. 17 Subsequently, Paul converted Onesimus-becoming his "father during my imprisonment" (Phlm 10)-and then sent Onesimus with the letter, back to the master Philemon.

Supporters of the runaway-slave hypothesis often draw an alleged parallel with the correspondence of Pliny the Younger (Epistulae 9.21 and 9.24) about an errant freedman being returned to his patron Sabinianus. 18 Pliny, after being convinced of the freedman's "genuine penitence," says that he gave the man a very severe scolding and warned him firmly never to make such a request again, in order to frighten the errant runaway (Ep. 9.21). But this comparison creates more difficulties than solutions. Paul, in contrast, does not say what we would expect of a situation involving a runaway: he does not ask Philemon (as Pliny does of Sabinianus) to forgive or have pity upon the fugitive. 19 Pliny talks to Sabinianus about having scolded the runaway, pardoned his crime as foolish, and gotten genuine penitence and reassurance that it will not happen again, which is not what Paul says to Philemon about Onesimus. And, in any case, Pliny discusses a freedman and not a slave at all. The story of Onesimus the runaway slave looks more and more to be a fiction of Pauline interpreters.

The Intercession Hypothesis

In recent decades, several New Testament scholars have cast doubt not only on the Pliny parallel but also on the entire runaway-slave hypothesis. This leads to the second interpretation, the "intercession" hypothesis, which claims that Onesimus did not simply run away to freedom but ran specifically to Paul for his intercession after some misdeed. Onesimus could not have been a criminal runaway because he does not fit the definition of a servus fugitivus in Roman slave law. 20 This argument has changed the discussion in the exegesis of Philemon, prompting a number of exegetes to reassess the runaway-slave hypothesis, the opinio communis on the letter. 21 This legal approach is understandable, given the importance of law as a Roman institution and its coherence as a body of evidence, but in the reconstruction of a historical context against which to read the letter it is misleading. In antiquity, as today, law codes were not positive indicators of social practice. The claim that Onesimus was not a runaway slave may be correct, but the law codes do not provide good evidence for it.

The argument against calling Onesimus a fugitivus uses the academic opinions of three professional Roman jurists, each of whom agreed that the intentionality (animus) of the slave should be determinative to decide such a hypothetical case. The jurist Proculus declared a slave "who, having in mind that his master wished physically to chastise him, left to seek a friend whom he persuaded to plead on his behalf" not a "runaway" (fugitivus) but a "truant" (erro) (Digesta 21.1.17.4). The jurist Vivianus declared a slave who left his master to go home to mother "in the hopes that a mother's entreaties would better extenuate some wrongdoing of his" not a fugitivus but an erro (Dig. 21.1.17.5). The jurist Paulus declared a slave who "runs away to a friend of his master to seek his intercession" not a fugitivus but an erro (Dig. 21.1.43.1). According to some New Testament scholars, since Onesimus fled not to freedom but to Paul to seek intercession for some misdeed, he was merely a delinquent "truant" (erro) and not a criminal "runaway" (fugitivus) . 22

The first methodological question' with this exegesis concerns the difficulty of making monolithic claims about Roman slave law. A survey of the Digesta of Justinian reveals that the legal technical term "runaway slave" (servus fugitivus) carried multiple and conflicting definitions, on which the jurists themselves did not agree. The bulk of the legal source material derives from the work of the famous jurist Ulpian (Dig. 21.1.17), who quotes previous jurists whom he respected. According to Ulpian, Aulus Ofilius defines a fugitivus as a slave "who remains away from his master's house for the purpose of flight (fugae causa), thereby to hide himself from his master" (Dig. 21.1.17.pr.). 23 Cassius Longinus says simply that a fugitivus is "one who with deliberate intent (certo proposito) leavesmhis master" (Dig. 21.1.17.2). Labeo defines "a truant (erro) as a petty fugitive (pusillus fugitivus) and, conversely, a fugitive (fugitivus) as a great truant (magnus erro)" (Dig. 21.1.17.14). Ulpian, however, disagrees with such simple definition and recommends nuance in meaning: "If we wish to be accurate, we define a truant (erro) as one who does not actually run away (qui non quidem fugit) but frequently indulges in aimless roaming and, after wasting time on trivialities, returns home at a late hour" (ibid.). Yet, following a senatorial decree that quotes the lex.Fabia, he reverses this opinion: "Fugitivus should be interpreted as covering an erro as well" (Dig. 11.4.1.5). Another jurist, Callistratus, calls for even greater gradation, distinguishing among fugitivus simplex and fugitivi of other kinds (Dig. 11.4.2). The Digesta, then, records a complex historical development (over a period of at least two hundred years) for the technical term servus fugitives, whose final definition could not be found without resorting to excessively fine distinction in reasoning. As intellectually stimulating as such hairsplitting may have been for the Roman legal minds, its relevance for the exegesis of Philemon is difficult to see.
This difficulty leads to a second, larger methodological question about the use of legal evidence in historical inquiry. Our access to the opinions of the various classical jurists is dependent largely on the sixth-century Justinianic compilation, the Corpus Iuris Civilis (containing the Digesta or Pandectae, Institutiones, and Codex). Justinian promulgated the ambitious project for two incompatible reasons; to preserve the best of classical literature and yet to reform and set out law in his own day. He ordered the compilers to alter the text, confident that no contradictions would be found that an acute mind could not reconcile. 24 The synthetic and prescriptive nature of the legal source material should caution against its uncritical use as social description in the exegesis of any Pauline letter, or in doing history. To accept juridical definitions of a fugitivus, which classify a runaway only in law and in theory, is methodologically questionable because legal codes, at best, provide only inexact knowledge about social practice and, at worst, can build a highly misleading model of slavery.

There is a third methodological caution.The jurists (known as iurisprudentes or iurisconsulti) wanted general rules precisely because they did not have to participate, either as advocates or judges, in the practice of law. In pursuit of truth and its theoretical systematization, jurists were academic lawyers whose training and modes of argument were not the same as those of advocates, the practicing attorneys in actual court paid to use rhetoric to win their clients’ case. This distinction between academic law and the practice of law is fundamental: “In academic law the facts are clear whereas the law is often uncertain; in the practice of law, usually the facts are uncertain but the law clear. A large part of the practice of law lies in the handling and ascertaining of the facts." 25

The deliberations of the jurists were academic games having little to do with the practice of law. Cicero, not a jurist but an advocate who actuallypracticed law in court, 26 protests:

The jurists (iurisconsulti) often divide up into an infinite number of parts what is really based on a single principle, either for the purpose of deception, so that their knowledge may seem greater in amount and more difficult to acquire, or else, as is more likely, through lack of skill in teaching; for an art consists not merely in the possession of knowledge, but also in skill in imparting it to others. (De legibus 11.19 [47])

In another work, Cicero attacked the jurists and their profession as lacking "prestige (dignitas), much less public support," because their decisions were based on knowledge that had "no value outside Rome and not even at Rome during the vacation" (Pro Murena 28-29).To be sure, the passage reveals satire and stereotypes the great republican jurist Ser. Sulpicius Rufus, who was an accuser appearing in the trial of Murena, Cicero's client. Yet, granted its polemical status, the passage nevertheless demonstrates the plausibility such satire and stereotyping commanded before an ancient audience. 27

The rhetorician Quintilian accepted this stereotype of Jurists. The jurists, he writes "have preferred to become specialists in formularii, or 'legal hacks' (legulei), as Cicero calls them, on the pretext of choosing a more useful branch of study, whereas the real motive was its comparative easiness" (lnstitutio oratoria 12.3.11). The literary sources, in contrast to the legal, provide a control against uncritical reading of the Digesta. If Cicero and Quintilian conducted their daily affairs in Rome with little contact or regard for the technical deliberations of the iurisconsulti, then provincials like the Apostle Paul and Philemon would have had even less contact with or concern for such minutiae.

Even the jurists acknowledged their own irrelevance in the actual practice of slavery. Vivianus writes, "the common belief of laypeople (quod plerumque ab imprudentibus), which is that a slave who without the master's consent stays away for a night is a fugitivus, is not true; one has to assess the slave's purpose in so acting (ab affectu animi)” (Dig. 21.1.17.4). Vivianus admits that his ability to discriminate a merely delinquent truant (erro) from a criminal runaway (fugitivus) results from his professional training and not his observation of slavery. The jurist disdains both social actualities and the common sense of amateurs.

Such amateurs would have included practicing attorneys, judges, and Roman imperial magistrates. Roman magistrates in particular were not legal experts but had wide discretionary powers in local jurisprudence, and this was not unintentional. Under the early Principate, central and provincial administration was a government without a bureaucracy. For
non-Romans and provincials especially, the use of either Roman law or indigenous legal customs was uneven and opportunistic, depending on whichever best suited a litigant's interest, and followed the rule of "selfhelp" rather than depending on magistracy enforcement; "the police" in the sense of an institutionalized municipal service did not exist in antiquity. The law was in actuality a mixed bag of Roman, Greek, and local influences, and varied according to the region and the idiosyncrasy of the magistrate. 28

These difficulties make the use of the Roman jurists to interpret Philemon problematic. Such mistreatment of the evidence is symptomatic of the larger methodological mistake of relying on law exclusively for one's understanding of ancient slavery. In the end, the hypothesis that Onesimus was not a runaway slave based on juridical definition of servus fugitives does not hold. This finding, however, does not preclude a necessary reassessment of the "runaway slave" hypothesis to explain the social situation of the letter. Rather, we need to relocate the issue of slavery in the letter from a predominately legal question to one that stems from social, economic, and familial considerations. 29

Even if one accepts the intercession hypothesis, it nonetheless brings us back to the same doubts about the runaway-slave theory: Why does Paul not scold and rebuke Onesimus for leaving the household without permission? Why does Paul's letter not share the same tone as Pliny's letter to Sabinianus? Pliny's letter is, after all, the main example offered as a request for intercession. 30 The distinction between a runaway fugitives and an intercession-seeking erro existed only in the minds of the jurists. There was no substantial difference in the actual practice of ancient slavery. Both slaves had run away and deserved punishment. In the end, then, the intercession hypothesis is but a variation on the runaway-slave hypothesis and leaves still unanswered the original problem, that Paul's tone lacks a rebuke of Onesimus.

Onesimus as Dispatched Slave

One answer is the "dispatched slave" hypothesis. It holds that Onesimus did not run away but was sent to Paul by Philemon. 31 There is encouraging precedent for such a scenario. In Philippians, Paul thanks the congregation for sending Epaphroditus (who may have been a slave or freedman) to "minister to my need" (Phil 2:25). Paul acknowledges that "I have been paid in full and have more than enough; I am fully satisfied, now that I have received from Epaphroditus the gifts you sent" (Phil 4:18). Perhaps Onesimus served in a function on behalf of Philemon's congregation similar to that of Epaphroditus on behalf of the congregation at Philippi. 32 Rome had no penal system, because incarceration was not a punishment but a detention before trial or execution. Guards generally threw the accused into any available strong room or secure hole and left issues like feeding, clothing, and other needs to the criminal's friends or family to supply, with bribery being common. 33 Especially in rural areas, apprehended runaway slaves and freeborn victims of kidnapping often found themselves thrown into the private slave prisons ( ergastula) on estates of wealthy landowners, never to be heard from again. 34 Early Christian congregations would have known the dangers that an imprisoned Paul faced and at least on one occasion (recorded in Philippians) sent a representative with money and other gifts to sustain Paul while in prison. Onesimus could have served Paul as a servant, scribe, letter carrier, personal assistant, or a combination of all these things. The occasion of the letter would be, in this scenario, Paul's carefulness in not detaining the slave either whom Philemon had lent him or who went away to Paul on his own accord. 35

We have abundant examples of such cases, especially in the letters of Cicero, who was notorious for keeping his friends' letter carriers too long. "You too," reminds Publius Cornelius Dolabella in a letter to Cicero "on your part, honorable and courteous as you are, will see that the letter-carrier I have sent to you may be enabled to return to me, and that he brings me back a letter from you" (Cicero, Epistulae ad familiares 9.3). "I have been rather slow," writes Cicero to his friend Atticus, "in sending back your letter-carrier, because there was no opportunity of sending him" (Cicero, Epistulae ad Atticum 11.2). And Cicero apologizes: "What is happening here you may gather from the bearer of your letter. I have kept him longer than I should, because every day I am expecting something fresh to happen, and there was no reason for sending him even now, except the subject on which you ask for an answer" (Cicero, Att. 11.3). 36 A papyrus letter dated 12 September 50 C.E. provides further support. Mystarion, an Egyptian olive planter, asks Stotoetis, a chief priest, for the rapid return of his slave Blastos. Mystarion to his own Stotoetis, many greetings.
I have sent to you my Blastos for forked(?) sticks for my olive gardens. See then that you don't detain (katasches) him. For you know that I need him every moment (hekastes horas). 37

Two verbal parallels, clear in the original Greek, are immediately apparent. First, Mystarion asks not "to detain" (katechein) Blastos, and, similarly, Paul admits that he wants "to detain" (katechein) Onesimus (Phlm 13). Second, Mystarion emphasizes that he needs Blastos each "moment" (hora); likewise, Paul explains the need ("usefulness"; Phlm 11) to keep Onesimus for a "moment" (hora; Phlm 15). These similarities suggest the same kind of story: A slave was sent to aid a friend. The slave Onesimus must be sent. back as soon as possible, so Paul writes a letter to say the importance of not delaying the return of Onesimus. This scenario explains the absence of any rebuke on the part of Paul for the slave's actions and the lack of remorse on the part of Onesimus for wrongdoing.

Doubts nonetheless remain about this prehistory for the letter. One might object, for example, that the pledge Paul makes to "repay" any wrongdoing (Phlm 18) seems to support the runaway-slave hypothesis, or at least the idea that the fault lies with Onesimus. But Paul could refer to a number of things here-such as the peculium that Onesimus had at his disposal (which in law technically belonged to the master), the additional cost of keeping Onesimus from his regular duties at home, or the lost wages that the slave would have earned for his master had he not stayed away so long-but the text is too brief to be certain. One reply to this objection is that the radical change of a slave's religious commitment without his master's permission, and the slave's possible pledge of peculium in that conversion, could be taken as a wrong by a slave to the master. 38 Perhaps Paul was anticipating this reaction. He does not write that any wrong has actually taken place. Paul uses the subjunctive mood: "if he has wronged you at all, or owes you anything, charge that to my account" (Phlm 18), meaning possibly "not to the slave's account" (or peculium). Arguably, then, the hypothetical language implies that the wrongdoing was a perceived, not an actual, condition. 39 Paul addresses the letter to several people, including the church in Philemon's house (Phlm 2), to raise the honor-shame stakes to that of a public hearing, in the agonistic code of face-to-face rhetorical encounters. Paul pressures Philemon by making a public plea, before the entire house church, to strengthen his hypothetical language. 40

The exegetical problems are due in part to Paul's diction, which is unusually deferential and circumspect: "I preferred," he writes, "to do nothing without your consent, in order that your good deed might be voluntary and not something forced" (Phlm 14). On one interpretation, the "good deed" that should be "voluntary and not something forced" is manumission and/or granting Paul domestic authority over Onesimus. "Perhaps for this reason [Onesimus] was separated [or, 'went away'] from you for a while, so that you might have him back forever, no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother-especially to me but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord" (Phlm 16). The phrases "more than a slave" and a brother "in the flesh and in the Lord" may imply that Paul hopes to secure the manumission of Onesimus, 41 a possibility that Paul's ending the letter with a note of confidence supports somewhat: "knowing that you will do even more than I say" (Phlm 21). Paul first denies the validity of Onesimus's prior slave relationship with Philemon ("no longer a slave") and then substitutes a fraternal bond in its place ("a beloved brother"). Paul wants Philemon to accept Onesimus in accordance with the apostle's terms, making the slaveholder acknowledge Paul's mastery over Philemon's domestic affairs. By calling himself a "father" of Onesimus, Paul asserts rhetorical authority over Philemon's legal right to determine the future of his slave Onesimus. 42

Onesimus as "Apprenticed" Slave

To reconstruct what future Paul wants for Onesimus, I suggest a new hypothesis. This reading identifies the letter's genre (its style, contents, and function) in a particular kind of document. That document was the "journeyman apprentice" contract, such as those among the documentary papyri found at Oxyrhynchus, in Roman Egypt, especially associated with weavers and the textile industry. I argue that the letter asks Philemon to let Onesimus be apprenticed to Paul for service in the gospel (cf. Phlm 13). The value of this exegesis is its focus on the letter's future (its purpose and function) rather than on its prehistory (of which very little can be known).

Paul describes his relationship to Philemon as a "partnership" (koinonia) (Phlm 17 and 6). He uses technical formulations of a formal written appeal (9-10, 19) and asks for the "good deed" to be by consent and "not something forced" (14). Paul addresses Philemon with affective Ianguage-"coworker," "friend," and "brother" (1 and 7)-and expresses "joy" over the love (7) upon which Paul bases the whole proposition. Paul asks, "let me have this benefit" (20), asserting confidence in success (21) and the concrete expectation of a meeting (22). Paul also uses other formulae standard in apprentice contracts. Apprentice contracts contain a "command" for the slave to obey (cf. 8) (which Paul does not impose on Philemon but would on Onesimus), a reference to the slave "doing service" under the agreement (13), and the assumption that the proposed apprenticeship will turn a "useless" slave (one unskilled in any particular trade) into a "useful" one, both to the master craftsman and to its original owner. 43 Apprentice contracts end with the usual penalty clause by which the master craftsman guarantees assumption of any debts that might accrue (19) (such as missed sick days, loss of work due to truancy, and so forth) and the promise to return the slave, using the language of receipts (12). These parallels suggest that the Epistle to Philemon is a letter of recommendation: Paul recommends Onesimus for apprenticeship in the service of the gospel, an explicit "appeal" (10). Important to his appeal is Paul's enumeration of the slave's credentials (10). Onesimus, Paul notes, has already become “my child" (10), proven to be "useful" whereas before he was "useless" (11), and to be already a "beloved brother" (16). Onesimus, therefore, extends Paul's own self and should be received accordingly (12). Paul emphasizes also the creditworthiness of Onesimus (18-19). In short, Paul wants Philemon to entrust the slave with new responsibilities, as a business partner. 44

I propose this new hypothesis to explain the letter in full knowledge that doubts may still remain. This exegesis suggests that Paul used stock formulae of slaves in apprentice contracts, probably familiar from his manual labor associated with the weaving industry, to "think with," perhaps without realizing the wider cultural habit in which he participated. But many of the parallels that one could draw from the documentary papyri read more like phrases used in ancient slavery generally, not technical "formulae" of apprentice contracts alone. 45 And the shift from literary genre to social description of the "story" in the letter's prehistory gives one pause, because it takes the stock caricatures of slaves in apprentice contracts (an ideology of masters) to be neutral reporting of objective "facts" about Onesimus. 46 The same doubts expressed above regarding the runaway-slave hypothesis remain: How did Onesimus and Paul end up in the same prison? By remarkable luck? And why would any ancient slave have gone voluntarily to a prison?

Apprentice contracts, in the end, express the narrow manner in which ancient slave owners judged both slaves and their actions, consisting of a bland moralistic division into "the useful" and the "the useless," and so are ideology, not social description. 47 Such material is not evidence of Onesimus's "story" but of Paul's participation and deep implication in ancient slavery. It does not tell us whether the historical Onesimus was really "useful" but that Paul thought about slaves in terms of stereotype and bland moralistic polarities. Even if the journeyman-apprentice hypothesis holds (and it might), the affective language is still a cliche. Paul still treats Onesimus instrumentally, as a "thing" to be transferred, owned, and used. Although we can invent stories of Onesimus that help the text seem more moral, the letter gives no hint that Paul or Philemon listened to what Onesimus may have wanted to do; we, in fact, have no evidence of what Onesimus wanted or what decision he made. No matter which story of Onesimus they tell, even the most imaginative modern historians cannot restore to this Christian slave his voice or agency. There is no story that Onesimus tells. Paul considers Onesimus's wishes to be unimportant, at least not important enough to mention to Philemon. The idea that Onesimus wanted any other life than working for Paul seems an unthinkable proposition in the letter. The slave literally is a "living tool" caught between two "masters" deciding on the use of his services.

I discuss Onesimus as a flesh-and-blood slave only as a prelude to the aim of this book. In the pages that follow I talk less about real slaves and more about stock character types that the ancient writers created. One might object that literary conventions are conventions precisely because they reflect real life. Such claims, however, are more often asserted than proved. Our first test case will be Romans 7, in which Paul impersonates a slave who is dominated by the wrong master. This "I," as we shall see, is a discursive, literary speech-in-character that is a product of the particularly Roman ideology of mastery known as auctoritas.

                                                            1

                                              THE SLAVE SELF

                                       Paul and the Discursive "I"

                                                    The Problem

The Apostle Paul considers the inner subjectivity of a slave in Romans 7, one of the most important and controversial passages on the self in the Christian Bible. The traditional reading, which goes back to Augustine, credits Paul with centering his attention on the split internal to the individual and the resulting incapacity of the self to carry out its own will. Augustine first took the passage to depict the introspective conscience of the unregenerate human, and later came to identify Paul's words, assumed to be autobiographical, with his own agonizing struggle against sin, described in the Confessions. Interpreting his own conversion retrospectively, in light of the Platonic myth of the soul (its alienation from the good and its return), Augustine created from Romans 7 a normative model of the religious self, which in Western culture has become the archetype for inquiry into the individual, influencing Thomas Aquinas, Martin Luther, John Calvin, and the Protestant Reformation, as well as Søren Kierkegaard and Sigmund Freud. 1 Biblical scholars advancing this psychologizing model of the self assume that the mythical picture of bondage and helplessness in Romans 7 is direct testimony of Paul's interior, subjective religious life. The claim is that the voice is both personal and realistic. 2

Viewing Paul's letters from the perspective of Greco-Roman literary conventions, however, sharpens the problem of this psychologizing approach to the ancient Christian self. One of the successes of modern biblical criticism is the discovery that there is little indication that Paul

ABBREVIATIONS :

SBLSBS Society of Biblical Literature Sources for Biblical Study

SBLSP Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers

SBLWAW Society of Biblical Literature Writings of the Ancient World

SC Sources chretiennes

SCH NT Studia ad Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti

SNTSMS Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series

SP Sacra Pagina

StPatr Studia Patristica

Str-B Strack, H. L., and P. Billerbeck, eds. Kommentar zum Neuen Testament aus Talmud und Midrash, 6 vols.;Munich, 1922-61

SVTP Studia in Veteris Testamenti Pseudepigrapha

TAPA Transactions of the American Philological Association

TB Theologische Bucherei

THKNT Theologischer Handkommentar zum Neuen Testament

TLC Thesaurus Linguae Graecae electronic database of Greek works

TS Theological Studies

TZ Theologische Zeitschrift

UNT Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament

VC Vigiliae Christianae

VCSup Vigiliae Christianae Supplements

WBC Word Biblical Commentary

WUNT Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament

ZNW Zeitschrift fur die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der alteren Kirche

ZPE Zeitschrift fur Papyrologie und Epigraphik


                                                NOTES :

                                             Introduction:

                                        Imagining Slaves

1. Dale B. Martin, "Arsenokoitesand Malakos: Meanings and Consequences," in Biblical Ethics and Homosexuality: Listening to Scripture (ed. Robert L. Brawley; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996), 130-31.

2. Troels Engberg-Pedersen, Paul and the Stoics (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2000), ix; and Wayne A. Meeks, "The Christian Proteus," in idem, The Writings of St. Paul (New York: W.W. Norton, 1972), 439. See also Peter Novak, That Noble Dream: The "Objectivity Question" and the American Historical Profession (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 1-17; and Elizabeth A. Clark, History, Theory, Text: Historians and the Linguistic Turn (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University ,Press, 2004), who suggests how to attend to theoretical considerations in early Christian studies.

3. Wayne A. Meeks, ".Judaism, Hellenism, and the Birth of Christianity," in Paul beyond the Judaism/Hellenism Divide (ed. Troels Engberg-Pedersen, Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001), 21; idem, "Why Study the New Testament," NTS51 (2005): 155-70; and Dale B. Martin, The Corinthian Body (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995), xiii-xiv.

4. Readers can find surveys of ancient slavery and the New Testament in previous works: J. Albert Harrill, "Paul and Slavery," in Paul in the Greco Roman World (ed.J. Paul Sampley; Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 2003), 575-607; and idem, The Manumission of Slaves in Early Christianity (Tubingen: Mohr [Siebeck], 1995), 11-56.

5. Karl Galinsky, Augustan Culture: An Interpretive Introduction (Princeton, NJ.: Princeton University Press, 1996), 10-41; and Kathleen McCarthy, Slaves, Masters, and the Art of Authority in Plautine Comedy (Princeton, NJ.: Princeton University Press, 2000), 22-25.

6. Martin, Corinthian Body, xiii, xiv-xv; James C. Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990), 45-69; and Peter L. Berger and Thomas Luckmann, The Social Construction of Reality: A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1966).

7. Martin, Corinthian Body, xiv, emphasis in original.

8. On the retelling of exempla as the main vehicle by which- Romans traditionally perpetuated their moral and religious values, rather than through systematic philosophy or sacred texts, see Richard P. Saller, Patriarchy, Property and Death in the Roman Family (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 109.

9. I agree with the consensus of most New Testament scholars who take Colossians, Ephesians, and the Pastoral Epistles to be pseudepigraphy, written by followers after Paul's death, and that the author of Ephesians used Colossians as a source. The findings of chapters 4 and 5 are independent of and do not depend on these conclusions, however.

10. Here and in subsequent chapters, I use the term paterfamilias in its ancient meaning of "estate owner"; see Richard P. Saller, "Pater Familias,Mater Familias, and the Gendered Semantics of the Roman Household," CP 94 (1999): 182-97.

11. I situate my use of social history, cast in the language of current debates in New Testament studies, in Harrill, Manumission of Slaves, 4-5.

12. Pace John M. G. Barclay, "Paul, Philemon, and the Dilemma of Christian Slave-Ownership," NTS37 (1991): 161-86.

13. One of the better but nonetheless problematic attempts to solve the exegetical difficulties by the method of story creation is Norman R. Petersen, Rediscovering Paul: Philemon and the Sociology of Paul's Narrative World (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1985).

14. Among the more insightful studies that rightfully criticizes scholars for turning hypothesis into "fact" is Brook W. R. Pearson, "Assumptions in the Criticism and Translation of Philemon," in Translating the Bible: Problems and Prospects (ed. Stanley E. Porter and Richard S. Hess; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), 253-80.

15. For an overview of the exegetical issues, see S. Scott Bartchy, "Philemon, Epistle to," ABD, 5:305-10.

16. On maroon gangs, see Keith R. Bradley, Slavery and Rebellion in the Roman World, 140 B.c.-70 B.c. (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1989), 4-11, 38-41, 54, lll, 123-24. On the ancient stereotyping of runaways as robbers and murderers, see Fridolf Kudlien, "Zur sozialen Situation des fluchtigen Sklaven in der Antike," Hermes ll6 (1988): 232-52.

17. We do not know the location of Paul's imprisonment. It could be either Rome, Ephesus, or Caesarea in Palestine, but I find Ephesus the most plausible city; see Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Letter to Philemon: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (New York: Doubleday, 2000), 9-11.

18. Eduard Lohse, Colossians and Philemon: A Commentary on the Epistles to the Colossians and to Philemon (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1971), 196-97.

19. Paul, furthermore, imbues his letter with kinship imagery, something lacking in Pliny's letter; Chris Frilingos, "For my Child, Onesimus': Paul and Domestic Power in Philemon," ]BL ll9 (2000): 92.

20. Peter Lampe, "Keine 'Sklavenflucht' des Onesimus," ZNW76 (1985): 135-37; idem, "Der Brief an Philemon," in Die Briefe an die Philipper, Thessalonicher und an Philemon (ed. Nikolaus Walter, Eckart Reinmuth and Peter Lampe; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), 206-7. The juridical clarification of servus fugitivus was noted previously by W. W. Buckland, The Roman Law of Slavery: The Condition of the Slave in Private Law from Augustus to Justinian (1908; repr., New York: AMS Press, 1969), 268.

21. Jean-Francois Collange, L'ipitre de Saint Paul a Philemon (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 1987), 18 n. 12; Hermann Binder, Der Brief des Paulus an Philemon (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1990), 34-35; Brian M. Rapske, "The Prisoner Paul in the Eyes of Onesimus,'' NTS 37 (1991): 195-203; Bartchy, "Philemon,'' 307-8; John G. Nordling, "Onesimus Fugitivus. A Defense of the Runway Slave Hypothesis in Philemon," JSNT41 (1991): 97-119;James D. G. Dunn, The Epistles to the Colossians and to Philemon: A Commentary on the Greek Text (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans; Carlisle: Paternoster, 1996), 304; Allen Dwight Callahan, "Paul's Epistle to Philemon: Toward an Alternative Argumentum," HTR86 (1993): 357-76; idem, Embassy of Onesimus: The Letter of Paul to Philemon (Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 1997), 6; Hans Hubner, An Philemon. An die Kolosser. An die Epheser (Tubingen: Mohr [Siebeck], 1997), 34; and Fitzmyer, Philemon, 17-23.

22. Lampe, "Keine 'Sklavenflucht,'" 137. A better argument could be made from Greek fictional letters; see C. D. N Costa, ed., Greek Fictional Letters (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), 65-67, for a "comic" letter by the Sophist Aristaenetus (third century C.E., probably used in declamation) on the case of a slave running to a friend for intercession.

23. Aulus Ofilius was a jurist of equestrian rank closely connected with Julius Caesar; Bruce W. Frier, The Rise of the Roman jurists: Studies in Cicero's pro Caecina (Princeton, NJ.: Princeton University Press, 1985), 265.

24. Barry Nicholas, An Introduction to Roman Law (1962; repr., Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1982), 42-43.

25. J. A. Crook, Legal Advocacy in the Roman World (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1995), 16; see the larger discussion on pp. 1-29, 37-46.

26. Richard A. Bauman, Lawyers in Roman Republican Politics: A Study of the Roman jurists in Their Political Setting, 316-82 B.C. (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1983), 1-4.

27. Bauman, Lawyers, 2.

28. Peter Garnsey and Richard P. Saller, The Roman Empire: Economy, Society and Culture (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1987), 21-40; Crook, Law and Life, 282; Nicholas, Introduction to Roman Law, 209; Fergus Miller, "The World of the Golden Ass," JRS7l (1981): 63-75. Cf. Hartmut Galsterer, "Roman Law in the Provinces: Some Problems of Transmission," in L'impero romano e le strutture economiche e sociali delle province (ed. Michael H. Crawford; Como, Italy: New Press, 1986), 13-27.

29. E.g., Craig S. Wansink, Chained in Christ: The Experience and Rhetoric of Paul's Imprisonments (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), 179-99.

30. See Fitzmyer, Philemon, 20-23.

31. Sara C. Winter, "Paul's Letter to Philemon," NTS 33 (1987): 1-15.

32. Wansink, Chained in Christ, 188-89.

33. Brian Rapske, The Book of Acts and Paul in Roman Custody; vol. 3 of The Book of Acts in Its First-Century Setting (ed. Bruce W. Winter; Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans; Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 1994), 195-225.

34. Harrill, Manumission of Slaves, 35; and Fitzmyer, Philemon, 13.

35. On the second alternative, see Peter Arzt-Grabner, "Onesimus erro: ZurVorgeschichte des Philemonbriefs," ZNW95 (2004): 131-43.

36. Wansink, Chained in Christ, 189-90.

37. BGU 1.37; Adolf Deissmann, Light from the Ancient East: The New Testament Illustrated by Recently Discovered Texts of the Graeco-Roman World (rev. ed.; 1927; repr., Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1995), 170. For commentary, see W. Hersey Davis, Greek Papyri of the First Century (New York: Harper and Bros., 1933), 57-59; Petersen, Rediscovering Paul, 44-53, 78-81; Peter Arzt, "Brauchbare Sklaven: Ausgewahlte Papyrustexte zum Philemonbrief," Protokolle zur Bibel 1 (1992): 44-55; and Peter Arzt-Grabner, Philemon (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2003), 98-99, 210, 216.

38. David E. Garland, Colossians and Philemon (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 1988), 337.

39. Wansink, Chained in Christ, 183-88; Clarice J. Martin, "The Rhetorical Function of Commercial Language in Paul's Letter to Philemon (Verse 18) ," in Persuasive Artistry: Studies in New Testament Rhetoric in Honor of George A. Kennedy (ed. Duane F. Watson; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991), 321-37.

40. See Frilingos, '"For My Child, Onesimus,"' 99.

41. The argument that the letter is a manumission request, perhaps "among friends" (known in Roman private law as manumissio inter amicos and per epistulam), does not depend on Onesimus being a runaway and is a separate issue to consider. Interestingly, similar affective language does appear in a letter to Cicero by his brother Quintus expressing joy at Cicero's recent decision to manumit Tiro (Cicero's faithful secretary): "preferring us to have him as a friend rather than a slave" (Epistulae ad familiares 16.6); see Keith R. Bradley, Slavery and Society at Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 1; and Harrill, Manumission of Slaves, 2-3, 54. But the claim that Paul is clearly making a manumission request is risky.

42. Frilingos, "'For My Child, Onesimus,"' 102-3.

43. How "to use" a slave properly was an ancient philosophical topos; see Dio Chrysostom, Orationes 10.2-22; and Epictetus, Diatribai 1.19.22-23 (ArztGrabner, Philemon, 234 n. 203).

44. This paragraph summarizes the evidence in Arzt-Grabner, Philemon, 66-70, 190-263. The best examples of apprentice contracts are P. Mich. 5.346; P. Oxy. 2.275; 41.2971 and 2977. See also Allan Chester Johnson, Roman Egypt to the Reign of Diocletian; vol. 2 of An Economic Survey of Ancient Rome (ed. Tenney Frank; Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1936), 388-94; Ethel H. Brester, ''A Weaver of Oxyrhynchus: Sketch of a Humble Life in Roman Egypt," TAPA 58 (1937): 132-54;John Rea, "A Student's Letter to his Father: P.Oxy. XVIII 2190 Revised," ZPE 99 \1993): 75-88; W. L. Westermann, ''Apprentice Contracts and the Apprentice System in Roman Egypt," CP9 (1914): 295-315; and Jean A. Straus, "L'esclavage dans l'Egypte romaine," ANRW2.10,l 0988): 841-911.

45. For example, the so-called formula "I command," cited in Arzt-Grabner, Philemon, 66.

46. My hypothesis builds on what I see are the implications of ArztGrabner, Philemon, although he himself does not go in this direction.

47. While not stated explicitly, professional transformation of a slave from "useless" to "useful" was the aim of apprenticeship.

                1. The Slave Self: Paul and the Discursive "I"

1. Stanley K. Stowers, A Rereading of Romans:Justice,Jews, and Gentiles (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994), 1-4, 258-59 ;J. Louis Martyn, ''A Formula for Communal Discord as a Clue to the Nature of Pastoral Guidance," in Putting Body and Soul Together: Essays in Honor of Robin Scroggs (ed. Virginia Wiles, Alexandra Brown, and Graydon F. Snyder; Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 1997), 207; Eugene TeSelle, "Exploring the Inner Conflict: Augustine's Sermons on Romans 7 and 8," in Engaging Augustine on Romans: Self, Context, and Theology in Interpretation (ed. Daniel Patte and Eugene TeSelle; Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 2002), 111-46;