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Interest in the relationship between Paul's letter openings and Koine Greek letter-writing conventions has been steady for over a century, but little new data has emerged in recent years. In this study, Gillian Asquith offers a fresh perspective on Paul's epistolary practice by adopting a multidisciplinary method that synthesises sociolinguistics and lexicography. Comparing the language of Paul's letter openings with the register of language in documentary papyri, she demonstrates that high-register language in Koine Greek epistolary formulae contributes to warm and friendly relations between correspondents. Asquith argues that Paul creatively modifies epistolary norms by using unexpected, high-register language in the remembrance motif and litotic disclosure formula. Such usage, she posits, emphatically reassures Paul's recipients of his pastoral concern for them and heightens the persuasive force of his letters. Asquith's nuanced analysis contributes valuable new data to long-running debates around Paul's practice of prayer and the structure of his letters.
This Element re-evaluates the genesis and early development of Georgian literature. Sparked by the Christian invention of a Georgian script ca. 400 AD, this literature was a product of the Christianization of the Caucasus region. But to what extent was early Georgian literature a Christian one? What were the ecclesiastical, cultural, and linguistic contexts of Georgian literature? And how did Georgia's, and Caucasia's, existing ties to Iranian cultural world affect the evolution of a distinctly Georgian literature? All the while, this volume engages both the Christianization of Georgia's peoples and the Georgianization of Christianity.
This Element examines the forms of Arabic used by Christians in the early Islamic period in theological treatises and Arabic Bible translations. It argues that linguistic analysis of these texts not only clarifies the nature of early Islamic Arabic but also sheds new light on Christian institutional and intellectual culture. Focusing on nominal case, verbal mood, and gender and number agreement, the study challenges the common view that Christian authors wrote either flawed Classical Arabic or in a substandard register. Instead, it shows that their Arabic was typical of the early Islamic period. The Element also identifies differences in linguistic choices between theological treatises and biblical translations. After the Muslim conquests, Arabic was the language appropriate to both genres. The Element argues that Christians deftly and creatively adapted Arabic writing to their literary activities, in language appropriate to their different audiences.
There are differences between the opening of Philemon and Paul’s other letters. As was customary, Paul provides his own name as the sender (on Paulos, see Col 1:1), but in his other, more formal letters he describes himself authoritatively as Paul an apostle. The absence of his usual title here perhaps signals the informality or intimacy that he is using, since he is writing to an old acquaintance. Paul is not writing to Philemon leveraging his apostolic influence, at least not overtly; he is sharing with him a concern, about which Paul is offering a solution.
The city of Colossae (Kolossai) belonged to the region of ancient Phrygia and could be found in the Lycus Valley. Located in western Anatolia (modern Türkiye/Turkey), Phrygia was an old and distinct territory with its own culture, language, and religion centuries before the arrival of Rome. Phrygia’s home was originally along the Sakara (Saggarios; Latin Saggarius) River in northwest Anatolia, and its civilization peaked in the eighth century BCE, extending far south beyond Colossae. Major empires conquered it, from the Persians to Alexander the Great to even the Celtic tribal warlords who had migrated from the north. Each conqueror desired to control the trade routes running east to west. Centuries before Paul, the Persian Xerxes the Great camped near Colossae on his way to Greece, as did the Persian Cyrus. Herodotus says that Xerxes arrived at Colossae and described it as a “considerable city of Phrygia” (Herodotus 7:30). Both saw the Lycus Valley as a strategic gateway to the west (see Map 1).
To modern readers this opening may sound abrupt, but it was a formula in ancient Roman letter writing. Acts 23:26 begins another letter that traveled with Paul from Jerusalem to Caesarea following his arrest: “Claudius Lysias to his Excellency the governor Felix, greetings.” This is simply efficient: It identifies the author and, in some cases, includes the destination. Keep in mind that this letter did not travel with a modern envelope. It was likely rolled and then sealed for privacy. Only the courier knew its destination. 1Thess 1:1 shows a similar introduction: “Paul, Silvanus, and Timothy. To the church of the Thessalonians in God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ: Grace to you and peace.” By comparison 1 John has no greeting, and this suggests it is an essay; 2 John and 3 John are classic short letters written as custom expected.
Philemon is the shortest and most personal letter we possess from Paul. The only NT comparison is 3 John, which is similarly addressed – both are personal, private, and short. At 335 words, Philemon is longer than most personal letters from antiquity but is the shortest letter in the NT. When we remember that Paul commonly wrote long public letters we should not be surprised at its length. The Pastoral Epistles are also brief as well as personal. Yet they are discussing matters of church-wide interest that make it certain that they were intended not just for Timothy and Titus but for a public audience.
The poetry of Ephrem the Syrian abounds with vivid symbols for the conclusion of salvation history, which forms a path leading from Paradise back to God. His transfiguring glory-light nourishes and enriches the blessed. Those in Gehenna behold the same goal, yet due to self-inflicted inner blindness, they experience it in opposite fashion. Ephrem's eschatology takes shape along the relation between creator and creature rather than along the contrast between particular and universal outcomes. This Element argues that freedom's capacity for transformative growth in relation to God, even post mortem, establishes Ephrem's coherent epektatic account of blessedness, rooted in the quasi-infinite character of human desire despite the finitude of human effort. Freedom's inherent uncertainty makes the salvation of all unknowable. Ephrem refuses to collapse definitively the polarity between creator and creature. Yet a person's freedom remains capable, with divine assistance, of repentance and growth even in Gehenna.
Paul's letter to the Colossian church addresses the challenges encountered by a Christian community living in the Hellenistic world. Shaped by folk religion, Hellenistic mystery religions, Roman imperial cults, and other trends, the community lived in fear of turmoil and oppression if they did not placate the right gods and practice the correct rituals. Colossians is Paul's salvo into this context. More than a forceful response to a single church, it was a missive that addressed Hellenistic spiritual tendencies and how Christ confronts them. Gary M. Burge's study of this letter explores the Roman context for Colossians and demonstrates how Paul's gospel would overturn the religious beliefs that affected their lives. He also interrogates Paul's overlooked letter to Philemon, which accompanied Colossians and in which Paul intervenes on behalf of a Christian runaway slave named Onesimus. His novel interpretation offers new insights into this situation and how it enables us to understand slavery today.
For the Greeks and Romans, the world was full of gods, but this fundamental aspect of their experience poses major challenges to modern understanding. The concept of belief has been central to meeting those challenges but has itself been hotly debated, and has at times even been rejected as a supposedly Christianising anachronism. Others, meanwhile, have argued that a culture-neutral model of belief is both possible and essential, while the advent of the cognitive science of religion has offered new possibilities for understanding ancient religious worlds. The essays in this volume trace the historical development of the modern concept of belief, examine ancient debates about the nature of human knowledge of the divine, and draw on perspectives from anthropology, cognitive science and early modern history as well as classical studies to explore the nature and role of belief in Greek and Roman religion in ancient literature, society, experience and practice.