Introduction

In this book we shall examine the situations underlying the Thessalonian correspondence with a view to determining points of continuity and discontinuity and whether a plausible course of development between these situations can or cannot be educed. Our special concern is the eschatological problems assumed by these letters.

The necessity of such an analysis comes into relief when we consider the critical problems relating to 2 Thessalonians that have repeatedly surfaced in the literature of the last two hundred years, and the breakdown of the scholarly consensus regarding the nature of the problems addressed in 1 and 2 Thessalonians. We shall examine each of these in turn.

The need for the study

Four critical problems concerning 2 Thessalonians

There are essentially four primary problems concerning 2 Thessalonians which have given rise to hypotheses of pseudonymity (and a plethora of other theories for relating 2 Thessalonians to 1 Thessalonians): (1) the unprecedentedly extensive literary parallels between 2 and 1 Thessalonians; (2) the perceived contradiction between the eschatology of the second letter and the first, specifically between premonitory signs in 2 Thessalonians and imminence/suddenness in 1 Thessalonians; (3) the difficulty of interpreting 2 Thess. 2:2 and 3:17; (4) the difference in tone between 2 and 1 Thessalonians, as suggested by the addition of ὀϕείλομεν to the expressions of thanks in 2 Thess. 1:3 and 2:13, together with 2 Thessalonians' lack of personal remarks like those of 1 Thess. 2:1–3:10, and its perceived greater stress on authority.

The title of this monograph encapsulates well not only its contents, but also a significant aspect of my experience in writing it. For, three years into my research, in March 1999, I travelled to Thessalonica and environs with my wife, Sirscha, to see the various sites of archaeological significance. On the evening of 16 March, we left Thessalonica for Philippi in our rental car. By the time we had reached Asprovalta, outside Thessalonica, the rain was coming down in torrents. As I was driving around a bend in the road, I saw a car stationary in the road in front of me and braked, only to skid into the other side of the road, as though on black ice. In spite of my efforts to manoeuvre the car into the ditch, we careered head-on into an oncoming lorry.

In the crash my wife sustained a terrible head wound and three fractures in her left arm, and I fractures in my sternum, ribs and right leg (tibia and fibula). Astonishingly an ambulance happened to be passing by with two empty beds. My wife was taken to the Hippokratia hospital and I to Saint Paul's hospital in Thessalonica. For sixteen hours I lay in pain and despair, wondering whether my wife would survive and, if she did, whether she would have her mental faculties. During that time, the gentleman in the bed opposite me died and I heard his wife's scream of despair as she heard the news.

Introduction

A formidable barrier to the acceptance of the reading of 2 Thessalonians' eschatological problem proposed in the preceding chapters is the assumption of most scholars in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries that the false eschatological claim of 2:2c underlies the problem of ‘idleness’ in 3:6–15. Indeed, it has been argued that 2 Thess. 3:6ff. reveals why the eschatological problem of ‘the Thessalonians’ needed to be addressed. Disagreement exists regarding whether ‘Paul’ is suggesting that the eschatology intensified the community members' perception of the parousia's imminence, with the consequence that they concluded there was no point in working, perhaps feeling that proclamation of the nearness of the eschaton was more important and urgent; or whether he is assuming that excited anticipation of the parousia so seized ‘the Thessalonians’ that they felt unable to carry out their tasks. Some scholars question whether the false eschatology was the primary causative factor, preferring to see it as one contributing ingredient in a larger problem or merely as a pretext. Others view the ἄτακτοι as the originators of the erroneous eschatological claim referred to in 2:2c.

Difficulties of reading 2 Thess. 3:6–15 as an eschatological problem

The most striking difficulty of reading the idleness of 2 Thess. 3:6–15 as an eschatological problem is the silence of 2, and indeed 1, Thessalonians regarding any explicit link between the idleness and eschatology. Not only is there no reference to eschatology in 2 Thess. 2:1ff. (or 1 Thess. 4:13–5:11) had direct ethical consequences.

Introduction

With the ultimate goal of ascertaining whether the situations underlying 1 and 2 Thessalonians are compatible, in the preceding chapter we turned our attention to 1 Thess. 4:13–18. Although relatively neglected in comparison to that text, 5:1–11 is equally fundamental for understanding the nature of the eschatological confusion underlying 1 Thessalonians. On the basis of this passage it has been variously suggested that the Thessalonian community are expecting the parousia with deep imminentist excitement or restless impatience, that they are falsely secure, that they are unwilling to live with the ‘uncertainty’ of a future eschatology, and that they are worried that more might die before the parousia finally occurs or worried that they might be unprepared for it when it does come. Unfortunately, however, there has been a notable dearth of constructive scholarly interaction and debate regarding the situation of 5:1–11. In this chapter we shall attempt to cut a fresh path through this difficult terrain, all the while critically assessing previous contributions, with a view to establishing the background situation giving rise to this section.

Does idle speculation underlie the Thessalonians' question?

Paul opens 5:1–11 with περὶ δέ, which in 1 Corinthians is employed to demarcate the commencement of his response to specific questions posed by his addressees in a letter (7:1, 25; 8:1; 12:1; 16:1, 12).

Introduction

Having offered a reading of the situation underlying 1 Thessalonians, we now turn to examine 2 Thessalonians in order to determine the nature of the eschatological problems it confronts. Our starting-point is 2 Thess. 2:1–3:5, which explicitly and directly confronts the eschatological idea which has gained currency among ‘the Thessalonians’ – namely ἐνέστηκενἡμέρατοῦκυρίου (2:2c). Unfortunately, what precisely ‘Paul’ and ‘the Thessalonians’ understood this claim to mean is unclear and has been much debated. Most reject the literal meaning of the statement as impossible, choosing instead to avoid the perfective sense of ἐνέστηκεν and/or to soften the meaning of ἡ ἡμέρα τῦο κυρίου.

How was ἐνέστηκεν ἡ ἡμέρα τοῦ κυρίου understood?

It has been suggested by some that ἐνέστηκεν should be translated ‘is imminent’ rather than ‘has come’. However, the perfect tense represents a present state resulting from a past action. Moreover, the perfect of ἐνίστημι always seems to function perfectively. Certainly Paul used it thus, as indicated by Rom. 8:38 and 1 Cor. 3:22, where it contrasts with μέλλοντα (see also Gal. 1:5; 1 Cor. 7:26; Heb. 9:9). And it was employed in this manner by Philo, Josephus and the Epistle of Barnabas, and in the LXX, classical literature and the papyri.

In our quest to ascertain whether the situations underlying 1 and 2 Thessalonians are compatible, we have first turned our attention to 1 Thessalonians and specifically the eschatological section of the letter, 4:13–5:11. The hypothesis we formulated concerning the eschatological problems underlying 1 Thess. 4:13–5:11 must, of course, satisfactorily accommodate the data from the rest of the letter. In this chapter we shall examine the remainder of 1 Thessalonians to see whether and how it confirms and develops or contradicts our conclusions regarding the situation reflected in 4:13–5:11.

Specific features of the text confirming our hypothesis regarding the eschatological situation

1 Thess. 1:10b and c

In verse 10b and c there is a notable shift from the Greeks' report concerning events at Thessalonica (verses 9–10a) to dogmatic statements relating to the eschaton, the second-person plural being replaced by the first-person plural. It is worth asking why. Although many claim that verses 9–10 constitute a largely pre-formed, ‘pre-Pauline’ Jewish-Christian or Christianised Jewish tradition, whether missionary sermon, baptismal hymn or credal statement, this claim is built on weak foundations, as Hooker has demonstrated. She rightly concludes, ‘There are one or two unusual phrases, one unique verb – but any passage in Paul could easily provide as many oddities. The Pauline material we have available is too scanty for us to be able to conclude that certain words and phrases are non-Pauline.’

Summary of the situation underlying 1 Thessalonians

In our analysis of the situation underlying 1 Thessalonians in Part 2, we concluded that the Thessalonian community had been deeply perturbed by the deaths of fellow-community members on account of their failure to think in terms of a resurrection of saints, probably because of ignorance concerning it (4:13–18). Without such a hope for their dead, they seem to have inferred that the deceased would not be able to participate in the salvation of the parousia.

With regard to 5:1–11, we proposed that the unexpected deaths may have raised doubts about the status and destiny of the whole community before God, for if some of their number had by their deaths proved to be non-elect, the foundation of the others' hope became suspect. Indeed, we suggested that the deaths may ultimately have been perceived to be a prodigium, causing the Thessalonians to wonder whether the Day of the Lord qua judgment was about to come upon them.

The rest of 1 Thessalonians confirmed and developed our hypothesis about the eschatological aspect of the situation underlying 4:13–5:11. The readers needed to be reassured regarding their destiny (1:10c; 2:12; 5:24), were without hope (3:6), were lacking in some fundamentals of their faith (3:10) and could be described as ‘faint-hearted’ and ‘weak’ (5:14).

In the centuries from the late Republic to the reign of the emperor Septimius Severus, Romans – as far as we know – laid down no written rules for themselves about what did or did not prove an act had taken place, nor any strict guidelines for judges or juries to follow when evaluating evidence in court. One of the great benefits of such a system, or such an absence of system, was that it permitted fides to make its case unconstrained by rigid and petty matters of proof, which if codified might be applied with no concern for the quality of the participants. Yet within this freedom, it was nonetheless possible to see paradigms for the proper weighting of fides and the authoritative use of tabulae. Together they made their own kind of system, one that melded a traditional belief in the efficacy of ceremony with the social certainties that privilege imparted to the privileged. The marriage of fides and formality in a free system of proof constructed not just a new and improved tabula but also a new kind of legitimacy, one much like the old because based in its traditions, but also glitteringly and solidly appropriate for its day, appealing to fundamentals that all Romans of the Right Sort would understand and that others could learn, even if sometimes the hard way.

Tabulae had their origins in ceremonial acts that, when performed correctly as ascertained by witnesses present and observing for flaws, were authoritative beyond the possibility of question. Only over time did the second life of tablets develop, the one in which fides sought to demonstrate its weight and proof of an act could be demanded – the life in which tabulae, rather than merely existing, were put to use in the business of daily life, as chapters six and seven have shown, but also, and perhaps especially, in court. Here tabulae in their various forms were quietly ubiquitous, especially as peculiarly potent forms of proof, inducing Pompey-sized headaches in opposing counsel and inspiring some truly nimble argumentation in practitioners and theorists. But fides was aggressively important in this context too. Roman courts, as recent work has been showing, are not as familiar to us as we once thought: their dramas were less those in which truth was uncovered and more those in which carefully constructed plausibilities clashed, and in which, as a consequence, every fact had to be first embedded in the social standing that helped determine character, motive, and the limits of possibility. Fides and prestige spoke powerfully and plausibly to judges and juries, telling them what people were like and what facts like those embodied by tablets actually meant; the conveyance or construction of fides and prestige was therefore the major frame taught by Roman rhetorical handbooks.

To the god the emperor of the Romans sent tablets; to the emperor the god of the Greeks sent papyrus in reply. Apollo was far the more practical: Egyptian papyrus was the paper of the ancient world, inexpensive and, in the East, ubiquitous. In parts of the Roman Empire where papyrus could not be had cheaply, as in the cold camps on Hadrian's Wall, folk might write instead on the bark of trees.