The Gospel of Matthew: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary

By Craig S. Keener

This excellent commentary on Matthew offers a unique interpretive approach that focuses on the socio-historical context of the Gospel and the nature of Matthew’s exhortation to his first-century Christian audience. By merging a careful study of Matthew’s Gospel in relation to the social context of the ancient Mediterranean world with a detailed look at what we know of first-century Jewish-Christian relations, Craig Keener uncovers significant insights into the Gospel not found in any other Matthew commentary. 

In addition, Keener’s commentary is a useful discipleship manual for the church. His unique approach recaptures the full “shock effect” of Jesus’ teachings in their original context and allows Matthew to make his point with greater narrative artistry. Keener also brings home the total impact of Matthew’s message, including its clear portrait of Jesus and its call for discipleship, both to the Gospel’s ancient readers and to believers today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eerdmans
• Release date: Jul 24, 2009
• ISBN: 9781467465502

Craig S. Keener

Craig S. Keener (PhD, Duke University) is F. M. and Ada Thompson Professor of Biblical Studies at Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore, Kentucky. He is the author of more than twenty-five books, including Miracles: The Credibility of the New Testament Accounts, The Historical Jesus of the Gospels, and commentaries on Matthew, John, Acts, Romans, 1 and 2 Corinthians, Galatians, and Revelation. Especially known for his work on the New Testament in its early Jewish and Greco-Roman settings, Craig is the author of award-winning IVP Bible Background Commentary: New Testament and the New Testament editor for the NIV Cultural Backgrounds Study Bible.

Book preview

Front Cover of The Gospel of MatthewHalf Title of The Gospel of MatthewBook Title of The Gospel of Matthew

Previously published as A Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew (1999)

This edition © 2009 Craig S. Keener

All rights reserved

Published 2009 by

Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.

2140 Oak Industrial Drive N.E., Grand Rapids, Michigan 49505 / P.O. Box 163, Cambridge CB3 9PU U.K.

Printed in the United States of America

29 28 27 26 25 24 23 22 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Keener, Craig S., 1960-

The Gospel of Matthew: a socio-rhetorical commentary / Craig S. Keener.

p. cm.

Includes indexes.

ISBN 978-0-8028-6498-7 (pbk.: alk. paper)

1. Bible. N.T. Matthew — Commentaries.

2. Bible. N.T. Matthew — Socio-rhetorical criticism.

I. Title.

BS2575.3.K43 1999

www.eerdmans.com

To my parents,

John and Gail Keener

With love and gratitude

Contents

Preface to the New Edition (2009)

Acknowledgments

Abbreviations

Matthew and Greco-Roman Rhetoric

Introduction

COMMENTARY

Bibliography of Secondary Sources Cited

Preface to the New Edition (2009)

I am grateful to Ben Witherington III for welcoming this commentary into his socio-rhetorical commentary series. Given the nature of the series, I should first describe in what ways the commentary is socio-rhetorical. Then, in the addendum that follows, Matthew and Greco-Roman Rhetoric, I will provide some additional material that is rhetorical (mostly in the more traditional sense).

Although literary observations are paramount, I emphasized social observations in the commentary because these are those for which a well-trained reader most needs a commentary. Thus although in my teaching and preaching I highlight the literary features of the text, I felt that my limited space in this commentary was on the whole better devoted to placing such observations in their ancient context, to which most readers today have less access than the text itself.

On the matter of how ancients read texts, however, literary and social features converge, and the commentary offers many literary observations from ancient biographies and histories, which I took to be the most relevant genres for approaching a Gospel.¹ In the original version of the commentary, I offered some specifically rhetorical observations regarding Matthew’s redactional patterns and especially regarding Jesus’ use of conventional Jewish rhetorical devices (even a brief section on the rhetoric of Jesus under the introductory section addressing how reliably Matthew reports Jesus’ teachings). In these observations, and throughout the commentary, I sought to show how closely the rhetoric of Matthew’s Jesus approximated what we can reconstruct of the rhetoric of early Jewish sages (spanning the period from Sirach to the rabbis). The ancient Middle Eastern, Jewish milieu of Matthew’s Jesus is clearly evidenced in parables and in expressions such as, To what shall we compare X? X is like… (Matt 11:16; cf. Lk 13:18, 20), where we sometimes find exact verbal parallels.

A Gospel is not, however, a speech, so Greco-Roman rhetorical handbooks or even collections of Jewish wisdom sayings are not the best place to find parallels to Matthew’s overarching rhetoric. For this, we must find the closest parallels in ancient biographers and historians. A quick glance at the original index of primary sources will reveal the extent to which I have drawn from a variety of narrative genres to illustrate Matthew’s narrative techniques, with special attention to ancient biography and historiography. Here a writer like Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who was both rhetorically sophisticated and a historian, provides particularly useful comparisons for narrative techniques. (For example, I cited Dionysius nearly 200 times; Diodorus Siculus over 200 times; and Diogenes Laertius, who wrote biographies of Greek sages, also over 200 times, though I also used them for broader cultural observations about Mediterranean antiquity.) The commentary thus already included a large number of rhetorical observations as related to literary techniques; but most of these literary and rhetorical observations are buried in larger blocks of commentary.

I drew on specific rhetorical devices from Greco-Roman rhetoric to a lesser extent in this commentary, not because I believe that they are unimportant for NT research in general (one will find abundant documentation for them in my Corinthians, Acts, and, more cautiously, even John commentaries),² but because I found them less comparable to the Jewish sage who emerges at the center of Matthew’s portrayal. I doubt that Matthew had substantial exposure to rhetoric, apart from what filtered through his broader Syrian-Jewish (albeit apparently urban and Greek-speaking) culture. That is, the influence would have been more indirect than direct. I believe that scholars with significant competence in both Jewish and non-Jewish ancient sources will recognize the difference between a writer like Matthew (though his Judaism is part of the larger eastern Mediterranean milieu) and one like Paul (who specifically seeks to interpret his message in terms intelligible to a wider Diaspora audience).

For example, while one might portray the sermon on the mount as an epitome, some of the speeches in Matthew (in contrast to, say, those in Acts) sound more like speeches in testaments, Jewish apocalyptic sources, or sometimes wisdom collections than Greco-Roman speeches (see the commentary for comparisons). We may compare Jesus’ parables with rhetorical illustrations, but the closest parallels (as noted at Matt 13) are with other Jewish parables (sometimes offering even verbal parallels). Likewise, many of the individual sayings resemble wisdom sayings such as found in Sirach or Aboth, and only an insensitive straitjacket would force them into a rhetorical outline. (With a number of recent scholars, I now doubt that even Paul’s letters usually fit conventional outlines for speeches,³ though I do believe that they show many rhetorical devices and significant influence from rhetoric, even more than the speeches in Acts.) This observation is not intended to deny that some passages do fit rhetorical conventions (see comment on 6:1, below), but to suggest that traditional Greco-Roman rhetoric for speeches is not the dominant, shaping element in Matthew’s arrangement.

That is not, however, to say that such rhetoric had no general influence on Matthew’s work, and even less to claim that it is not relevant. At the very least, the larger Mediterranean cultural continuum, and several centuries of massive interpenetration of west Asian and Hellenic cultures, suggest the likelihood of some shared cultural patterns and figures of speech. Matthew does, after all, write in Greek. Ancient rhetorical patterns certainly take us closer to Matthew’s milieu than modern guesses about it would. While the original index will show some use of Greco-Roman rhetorical works (e.g., roughly 80 citations of Cicero, 37 of Theon, over 20 of the Rhetorica ad Herennium, nearly 50 of Quintilian, over 50 of Isocrates, over 60 of Demosthenes, and so forth), there was room for more. Consequently, I have incorporated further rhetorical sources into the addendum, Matthew and Greco-Roman Rhetoric.

1. Widely argued today, but see most influentially Richard A. Burridge, What Are the Gospels? A Comparison with Graeco-Roman Biography (2nd ed.; foreword by Graham Stanton; Grand Rapids, Cambridge: Eerdmans; Dearborn, MI: Dove, 2004).

2. 1–2 Corinthians (New Cambridge Bible Commentary; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005); The Gospel of John: A Commentary (2 vols.; Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2003); Acts (3 vols.; Peabody: Hendrickson, forthcoming).

3. See discussion in, e.g., R. Dean Anderson, Jr., Ancient Rhetorical Theory and Paul (rev. ed.; Contributions to Biblical Exegesis and Theology 18; Leuven: Peeters, 1999), 114-27, 280-81; Carl Joachim Classen, Rhetorical Criticism of the New Testament (Boston, Leiden: Brill Academic Publishers, 2002), 6, 23; Jeffrey T. Reed, The Epistle, 171-93 in Handbook of Classical Rhetoric in the Hellenistic Period 330 B.C.–A.D. 400 (ed. Stanley E. Porter; Leiden: Brill, 1997); Stanley E. Porter, Paul of Tarsus and His Letters, 533-85 in Handbook of Rhetoric, 562-67; idem, Paul in Acts (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2001), 106-7; D. L. Stamps, Rhetoric, 953-59 in Dictionary of New Testament Background (ed. C. Evans and S. Porter; Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2000), 958; Jeffrey A. D. Weima, Epistolary Theory, 327-30 in Dictionary of Background, 329; idem, Letters, Greco-Roman, 640-44 in Dictionary of Background, 644; idem, What Does Aristotle Have to Do with Paul? An Evaluation of Rhetorical Criticism, CTJ 32 (2, 1997): 458-68.

Acknowledgments

I appreciate the academic and faith communities that have afforded me the opportunity to explore Matthew with them, especially the students in my Matthew seminars at Eastern Baptist Theological Seminary, now Palmer Seminary of Eastern University, in Philadelphia, the Center for Urban Theological Studies in Philadelphia, and Hood Theological Seminary in Salisbury, NC, and the members of Mt. Zion Baptist Church in Salisbury, NC. I am grateful to Ben Witherington of Asbury Seminary and John Simpson of Eerdmans for their guidance and support. I owe much gratitude to my copyeditor Milton Essenburg, who patiently and cheerfully worked through a long manuscript containing sometimes tedious notes. I am also grateful to Eerdmans and InterVarsity for allowing me the opportunity to present a much more academic version of my much more popular commentary published by the latter (1997a).

Abbreviations

Matthew and Greco-Roman Rhetoric

In the nearly a decade since this Matthew commentary was released, much has transpired in Matthean scholarship. Since I am offering merely a brief addendum rather than a new edition that would alter pagination, I will not attempt to include such new material here, which is available in more recent works on Matthew, for example, the magisterial work of R. T. France, The Gospel of Matthew (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007). This addendum is not, then, the place to look for additional secondary sources on Matthean scholarship.

Also, because the new notes I have taken on sources relevant for Matthean interpretation now run to 1378 pages of material, I cannot hope to summarize them in a concise addendum (my initial attempt to do so was projecting an addendum of perhaps 200 to 250 pages, inappropriate for a commentary this size, for reasons of expense as well as symmetry). Because the series is socio-rhetorical, however, it was felt that I should at least provide more rhetorical observations from Greco-Roman sources. I have been happy to add these, as the focus of this addendum. Again, however, I wish to emphasize that I believe them less relevant for Matthew than for many other areas of NT interpretation, and warn the reader not to use the addendum in isolation from the commentary proper (which focuses more on particularly Jewish context, though not to the exclusion of its broader Mediterranean milieu). Matthew’s speeches reflect a more Palestinian Jewish sage rhetoric, and Matthew’s own editing reflects also popular biographic techniques with somewhat limited analogies to the rhetoric of elite speeches.

This new addendum, then, is meant to supplement specifically the rhetorical aspect of the commentary, especially with Greco-Roman works comparable to most of the rest of this series.¹ Many of these observations reflect further documentation or ideas I have discovered while doing research for my commentaries (especially on two other early Christian narrative works, John and Acts). Because most of my personal notes involve features of Matthew’s social world that are not specifically rhetorical, I can keep the addendum fairly concise by limiting it mostly (with a few exceptions) to specifically rhetorical matters of some sort.

Please note that I will rarely repeat here rhetorical/literary observations based on ancient rhetoricians, biographers, and historians already cited in the commentary proper. With a few exceptions, I provide here only rhetorical observations (predominantly from Gentile sources), though it is often difficult to draw the line between strictly rhetorical observations and more general social observations involving speech and perception. This focus is meant to honor the designated purpose of the addendum without swelling the size of the book. One could make additional rhetorical observations (e.g., how rhetoricians would have titled various kinds of arguments), but I have sought to remain concise in the following sample.

I will leave almost entirely aside addenda to the introduction, since most of these are treated in my more recent book for Eerdmans on the historical Jesus of the Gospels (due for release in 2009 or 2010), which includes discussion of the role of rhetoric in constructing narrative works. I also covered some of that material (such as supplementing discussion of the ancient biographic genre and historical method) in the introductions to my commentaries on John and Acts, and will not take space to repeat them here.

The exception (in this paragraph) will be some observations specific to Matthew that have received little or no mention in my earlier work. Many of these simply reinforce what was already noted in the commentary. For example, ancient biographies did not need to follow the subject chronologically; they could follow it topically,² as Matthew often does. Regarding the common guess of Matthew’s Syrian provenance (which I continue to support for lack of what seems a more plausible alternative), first-century Syria was oriented west rather than east, toward Rome more than Parthia.³ This tension could help explain Matthew’s Greco-Roman form (biography) alongside its inclusion of a preponderance of traditional elements reflecting Jesus as a Middle Eastern sage. Matthew often abbreviates Markan material; ancient audiences with rhetorical preferences for conciseness might appreciate this practice.⁴ The proposed use of testimonia might reflect the wider ancient use of excerpting material.⁵

When a work’s title survived, it often appeared in the opening line or lines,⁶ although this seems likelier for Mark 1:1 than for Matthew 1:1. Relevant to Matt 1:1-17, both in literature and speeches, prologues or introductions usually introduced necessary background or major themes.⁷ Rhetorically sensitive speakers and writers also sought to use these introductory sections to establish rapport or goodwill.⁸

After an introduction, speeches of praise could ideally address a person’s genealogy (cf. 1:2-16).⁹ Respectable ancestry was praiseworthy; hence it could be used in introducing a person’s life.¹⁰ Birth was often the first subject in an encomium, though one would elaborate on only the most important points.¹¹ (In contrast to Matthew’s bare genealogy, speeches would normally pause to comment briefly on illustrious ancestors.¹² Matthew’s ideal audience, however, already knows well the biblical figures in the genealogy.)

That Matthew undoubtedly skips some later generations (contrast the additional length in Lk 3:23-27) is not surprising;¹³ it was better rhetorical strategy to focus on the illustrious ancestors and to skip those who were not so well known.¹⁴ The inclusion of some negatively viewed ancestors would not hurt the point.¹⁵ Matthew uses the descending form of genealogy dominant in Hebrew Scripture, as opposed to the ascending form dominant in hellenistic sources (and found in Lk 3:23-38).¹⁶ Families with important backgrounds could preserve their genealogies for many generations back.¹⁷ Rather than inventing fictitious ancestors,¹⁸ a speaker normally would use the genealogy only if it could be used in the protagonist’s favor;¹⁹ otherwise, one would insist that the person’s own virtue was what was praiseworthy.²⁰

In the rhetoric of honorable descent, Joseph as Mary’s husband (rather than as Jesus’ biological father) would confer the assigned heritage adequately (1:18-25).²¹ Adoption established one in the royal line, and adoptive sons of rulers would be called their sons;²² thus, for example, Germanicus calls the emperor Tiberius his father.²³ Likewise, Nerva is Trajan’s father, though the former adopted the latter at most four months before the former’s death.²⁴

Praising the virtue of Joseph and Mary fits ancient rhetorical emphasis on praiseworthy ancestry,²⁵ just as questions about paternity constituted severe insults.²⁶ Upbringing was a conventional element in praising a person’s background.²⁷ Joseph was a common Palestinian Jewish name at all social levels,²⁸ obviating any implied literary connection between the Joseph of 1:16-25 and Joseph of Arimathea (27:57-59). Nevertheless, one could play on others’ names,²⁹ including linking one to a positive namesake in an encomium,³⁰ so a proposal of some sort of play here on Genesis’s Joseph son of Jacob (cf. 1:2, 15-16) need not be implausible.

Although this need not inform Matthew 1–2, some would compare rapid growth of infancy legends, as seen in the case of Augustus.³¹ Epideictic speakers and writers did not ordinarily need to appeal to legends; they could appeal to dreams or other kinds of unusual signs at one’s birth,³² but these, too, were sometimes manufactured for political purposes.³³ That Matthew has in view the context of Is 7:14 (as we suggest in the commentary) is rendered still likelier by his reference to that context in Matt 4:14-16.

In the commentary on 2:1-12, we note rhetorical synkrisis, or comparison, of the new characters (the Magi, Herod, and Herod’s advisors). Although evident even in many OT narratives, rhetoricians made deliberate and considered use of this technique.³⁴ Some writers like Plutarch even developed this technique for entire biographies (e.g., Plutarch’s Comparison of Lucullus and Cimon).

Rhetoricians recommended praising a subject’s birth (cf. 2:1-12).³⁵ (Nevertheless, biographies did not have to include information about the subject’s birth,³⁶ hence Mark’s omission; indeed, in a much later era even a biographer writing within two decades of the biographee’s death could omit such information.)³⁷ Although Matthew’s move from genealogy to parentage to birth makes logical and chronological sense, a rhetorical perspective would have also welcomed it as appropriate; after praising a king’s country and family, a rhetorician would turn to praising his birth.³⁸

Ancient speakers and writers could adapt quotations from their classical sources for new contexts;³⁹ nevertheless, as we argued in the commentary, Matthew seems to evoke the original context for his biblically literate ideal audience in texts like Matt 2:15, 18: the context of Hos 11:1 involves a new exodus, and the context of Jer 31:15 involves both Israel as God’s son (Jer 31:20) and a new covenant (31:31-34).⁴⁰ Matthew’s use of Jer 31:15, modeling pathos, would have suited rhetorical expectations; Dionysius of Halicarnassus criticizes Thucydides for sometimes failing to evoke the appropriate horror at the sufferings of war.⁴¹ Regarding Matt 2:23, some other ancient writers combined or conflated passages⁴² (though in 3:3 Matthew removes the combination of Mk 1:2-3).⁴³

Regarding 3:1-12, rhetoricians would view John’s denunciation of elite Judeans in 3:7 as displaying parrhēsia, frankness, a widely appreciated virtue;⁴⁴ some observers warned, however, that insulting frankness could generate unnecessary hostility.⁴⁵ Nevertheless, ancient writers admired such truthful boldness in contrast to flattery.⁴⁶ Insults were conventional in public oratory; for example, Cicero calls Antony the most stupid of people.⁴⁷ Hearers who were not targets of one’s witty mockery might well laugh at it, but it carried risks, as Cicero learned.⁴⁸ The particular insult that John chooses would have been widely intelligible, and both here and elsewhere particularly fits Matthew’s charge that Pharisees actually dishonor the patriarchs and prophets (cf. 23:31, 33).⁴⁹ Other images in the context, such as stones turned to people, would also have been widely intelligible, though Gentiles would have missed the original covenant nuances of the image.⁵⁰

In Matt 4:1-11, we note the conventional Jewish expression, It is written (e.g., 4:4).⁵¹ The context of Deut 8:3 (in Matt 4:4) is God’s faithful provision for his son (Deut 8:5) Israel during their testing in the wilderness (8:2); Jesus’ other quotations (from Deut 6:13, 16) are from the same context. Answering one citation (Matt 4:6) with another (4:7) would make sense in Greek as well as Jewish debate.⁵² Settling in a famous city (cf. Capernaum in 4:13, though only by local comparison with Nazareth) provided exposure (Plutarch Demosth. 2.1). Those of rhetoricians’ elite status would normally view most fishermen and fish sellers as poor (cf. 4:18-22).⁵³ Those who did advanced studies at the tertiary level, often starting around age 16, might spend six months to a couple years in such studies.⁵⁴ Some rhetoricians mocked the philosophers (noted in the commentary) who demanded everything.⁵⁵ On word spreading quickly, as in 4:23-25, we may compare many ancient portrayals in various genres regarding the rapid spread of rumor.⁵⁶ In light of ancient rhetoric, people would understand expressions like "all those in Syria" as hyperbolic.⁵⁷

Regarding Matt 5–7, for modern readers unaccustomed to thinking of orators addressing multitudes without a sound system, ancient literature is replete with such claims. These occur not only in designed amphitheaters but also on open fields before battles.⁵⁸ Jesus’ speech in this sermon, designed to communicate instruction rather than to argue his point, might also be heard more as that of a lawgiver than a philosopher.⁵⁹ We noted in the commentary that some have proposed rhetorical outlines for this composite speech.⁶⁰ But whereas it is reasonable to view 5:17 or 5:17-20 as articulating a thesis developed in 5:21-48, and 6:1 as a thesis developed in 6:2-18, a full, consistent rhetorical outline seems too much to ask.⁶¹ One wonders whether even Diaspora Gentiles would have required a Galilean sage to speak like a Greek or Roman orator (who did not invariably follow conventional rhetorical outlines anyway). I believe that Matthew’s contemporaries would have recognized, no less than we do, that Matthew offers collections of material rather than genuinely discrete speeches.

Epideictic rhetoric could praise people for being blessed (makarizein; 5:3-12).⁶² The commentary already treats the beatitude form; more generally, rhetoricians defined the repetition of a starting word or phrase as anaphora or epanaphora.⁶³ The commentary also notes the inclusio in 5:3, 10, a frequent rhetorical device.⁶⁴ For some philosophers, ill repute (5:11-12) was honorable,⁶⁵ or at least not dishonorable.⁶⁶ The commentary’s note about the rabbinic saying regarding the afterbirth of a mule fits a broader ancient pattern of ridiculing nonsense: thus the silliness of two philosophers could be depicted as follows: one of these fellows is milking a he-goat and the other is holding a sieve for him.⁶⁷

Regarding law codes, some Gentiles could regard changing the laws as criminal, but updating them to fit subsequent usage as appropriate (5:17-48).⁶⁸ They also debated how to reconcile or choose among laws that conflicted in some kinds of situations (cf. 5:31-32).⁶⁹ The law’s intention was important,⁷⁰ and debates about this (against its mere wording) could be important in forensic rhetoric.⁷¹ Gentiles would also understand Jesus’ warning against removing even the tiniest part of the law (5:18),⁷² though Jesus’ illustration is specifically Jewish.⁷³ The repetition of shall be called in the kingdom of heaven in two clauses of 5:19 would be viewed as antistrophe, or epiphora;⁷⁴ while Matthew might not have used such a label, repetition was rhetorically effective in his milieu as well. Although Jesus’ rhetoric in 5:19 has its closest parallels with Jewish sages, Stoics also averred that all sins were equal.⁷⁵

Early Jewish rhetoric often includes phrases similar to, You have heard it said, often, what was said or as it is said (cf. 5:21, 27, 31, 33, 38, 43).⁷⁶ Appeal to the ancients (5:21, 33) was often rhetorically persuasive.⁷⁷ In some legal systems, known libel or insults (cf. 5:22) could be prosecuted;⁷⁸ more often in practice, they simply invited responses.⁷⁹ Hyperbole (as in 5:28-30, 32) was, as we noted in the commentary, a common form of rhetoric.⁸⁰ Examples of ancient oaths (5:33-37), including in rhetoric, are too abundant to enumerate here.⁸¹

Much of Jesus’ rhetoric would have appealed also to Gentile audiences familiar with stories of philosophers. Some philosophers valued the ideal of nonresistance (5:39);⁸² on responses to ill repute, see also comment on 5:11-12 above. This nonresistance could include not caring about being stripped of their clothes.⁸³ The poor were already accustomed to the wealthy oppressing them in law courts.⁸⁴ In urban Mediterranean settings, enmity (5:43) generated considerable forensic rhetoric, often involving political factions.⁸⁵ With the sort of saying about how even Gentiles behave (5:47), we may compare other ancient condemnations of behavior that fell short of that of foreigners.⁸⁶

As Matt 6:1 offers a thesis illustrated by three examples (6:2-18), ancient rhetoricians often liked having three examples to support a rhetorical thesis.⁸⁷ Skilled rhetoricians complained, however, about those who always managed to fit everything into three points⁸⁸ (a pattern happily not pervasive in Matthew). Not letting one’s hand know what one was doing (6:3) reflects a Semitic figure of speech (whatever one’s hand finds to do),⁸⁹ but the image would also be intelligible to Gentiles concerning keeping secrets.⁹⁰

The threefold repetition of sou, your, at the end of successive clauses in 6:9-10 is antistrophe, or epiphora;⁹¹ as such it emphasizes God (i.e., seeking God’s kingdom before one’s needs, 6:33). Rhetoricians would have considered the appellation evil one for the devil (6:13) to be antonomasia, use of a descriptive epithet.⁹² Rhetoricians also could have appreciated Jesus personifying mammon (6:24) and tomorrow (6:34).⁹³ Describing a unit of time by a unit of measure (6:27) is catachresis, the inexact use of a like and kindred word in place of the precise and proper one.⁹⁴ The extended wisdom genre that included thoughts about nature (6:28) appears in 1 Kgs 4:33 (cf. e.g., Prov 6:6), but also more widely.⁹⁵ Not worrying about the future is widespread wisdom.⁹⁶

Rhetoricians would appreciate Jesus’ rhetorical questions in 7:3-4.⁹⁷ For humorous mockery (as in 7:3), see comment on 3:7. Summary statements such as we find in 7:28 and after each of Matthew’s five main discourses resemble models in both the OT and broader Mediterranean society.⁹⁸ In addition to other (probably more relevant) observations we provided about the messianic secret (8:4), some believed that divine matters were not to be publicly divulged.⁹⁹ Rhetoricians and other members of the elite do express concern for the deaths or illnesses of favorite slaves,¹⁰⁰ though typically not as deeply as in 8:5-6 (and a centurion would not actually belong to the elite per se). Centurions normally obeyed unquestioningly (8:9); to do otherwise invited reprimands.¹⁰¹ The form of command authorities would give could resemble the example in 8:9, though one might specify to whom the command was directed.¹⁰²

Speaking of being driven into exile or homelessness (cf. 8:20) could generate pathos,¹⁰³ and rhetoricians could apply the image to exiled virtues such as truth.¹⁰⁴ Failure to bury parents was an actionable offense in some cultures,¹⁰⁵ and invited disdain everywhere.¹⁰⁶ Teachers who got youths to obey them more than their parents often provoked hostility,¹⁰⁷ and Jesus’ radical views on family (probably often hyperbolic; see comment on 5:28-32, above) later were used against Christianity (see Apocrit. 2.7-12).

The rhetorical situation envisioned in 9:11 is unclear; at banquets people might engage in friendly banter and questions,¹⁰⁸ but the situation here seems more hostile. Comparisons with physicians (9:12) were common (among rhetoricians and others): those compared with them included rulers;¹⁰⁹ sometimes orators¹¹⁰ or historians;¹¹¹ and most often, sages or moralists who helped the soul.¹¹²

Lists constituted a common rhetorical form (cf. the vice list in 15:19), including lists of names, as in 10:2. With Homer’s catalogue of ships as a model (Il. 2.484-877), catalogues of names (e.g., deities and human genealogies) flourished as a literary form.¹¹³ In subsequent centuries readers could note such lists (Philost. Hrk. 6.3; 7.2), expanding them with other traditions and imagination (Philost. Hrk. 6.3; cf. later Christian hagiographic elaboration on early apostolic lists). Lists of disciples (e.g., Iambl. V.P. 23.104) sometimes included only the most prominent (Iambl. V.P. 35.251),¹¹⁴ such as the Twelve in the Gospels. Matthew’s James, [son] of Zebedee (10:2) is a readily comprehensible Greek construction.¹¹⁵ Judas Iscariot, the one who betrayed him (10:4), may function as epitheton or antonomasia.¹¹⁶

If the speech in 10:5-42 has a formal deliberative proposition of some sort, it might be 10:7, but despite Matthew’s expansion of the speech with material from other contexts, he does not seem to have conformed it to usual Greek or Roman rhetorical conventions.¹¹⁷ Regarding 10:9-10, rhetoricians often targeted sages they thought were greedy (as philosophers had denounced sophists). Speakers often mentioned the simple garb of philosophers,¹¹⁸ especially Cynics,¹¹⁹ but the mere garb of philosophers (as opposed to their character) could also be employed in charging them with hypocrisy.¹²⁰ Although the urgent, prophetic simplicity of the disciples here is hardly Cynic,¹²¹ it would be intelligible to any hearers sensitive to rhetorical critiques of that particularly northern Mediterranean urban phenomenon. Those who gave freely (10:8) would in any case evade the stereotype of the greedy preacher.¹²² The developing repetition of elements in 10:21 makes good rhetorical sense.¹²³ The implicitly hortatory future rhetoric in 10:22 fits the Jewish martyr tradition.¹²⁴ That harm to the body could spare the soul (10:28) also developed in the philosophic tradition and was sometimes employed by philosophically minded orators.¹²⁵

In 10:36, Jesus repeats in different words the basic thought of 10:35; rhetoricians called this sort of repetition epimone.¹²⁶ The threefold repetition of is not worthy of me in 10:37-38 is antistrophe;¹²⁷ that the first two elements also include whoever loves … more reflects also basic anaphora (Cicero Orator 39.135). The ironic reversal of expectations in 10:39 would be classified as antimetabole.¹²⁸ The repetition of whoever receives in 10:40-41 reflects anaphora.¹²⁹ Recommendations often identified the one sent with the sender.¹³⁰

A rhetorician might construe the rhetorical question in 11:16 as aporia, feigned helplessness,¹³¹ but the phrase, to what shall we compare? was simply a common way to introduce parables.¹³² Rhetoricians also noted the use of simile, which appears in Jesus’ response.¹³³ For the form of oracles against cities and nations, see commentary on 11:20-24. A hyperbolic, figurative ascent to heaven (11:23) appears widely in ancient sources.¹³⁴

The behavior of students was held to reflect on teachers’ character (as in 12:2).¹³⁵ One could respond to charges not simply by denying them but by seeking to explain the reason for which one committed the act (cf. 12:3-8).¹³⁶ Have you not read? (12:3) makes sense as Jewish rhetoric, as we noted, but is intelligible enough elsewhere.¹³⁷ Witty repartee was a valued skill,¹³⁸ but could incur the enmity of the interlocutor at whose expense the wit succeeded.¹³⁹ Articulating one’s response in the form of questions may have toned down the level of hostility to some degree, but various forms of rhetorical questions were customarily employed in advancing one’s case.¹⁴⁰ Many ancient audiences would value suspending laws temporarily for the sake of the laws’ intention.¹⁴¹ Jesus’ How can … ? arguments in 12:26, 29, reflect a familiar argumentation form.¹⁴² Showing that, if the accused is guilty, the accusers share guilt on the same grounds (12:27) was or came to be a conventional rhetorical approach.¹⁴³ The treatment of non-enemies as friends (12:30) was generally viewed as commendable.¹⁴⁴ Appealing to opponents’ own words for their conviction (12:37) was good forensic rhetoric.¹⁴⁵ In 12:43-45, Jesus essentially returns with interest his opponents’ demonization charge. Returning charges was conventional in forensic rhetoric.¹⁴⁶

The commentary on Matt 13 treats ancient Greek fables and especially Jewish parables.¹⁴⁷ Here I simply mention the more general use of riddles,¹⁴⁸ illustrations, and metaphor¹⁴⁹ in rhetoric. Nevertheless, outsiders unfamiliar with Jewish parables might criticize Jesus’ parables for their obscurity.¹⁵⁰ Even riddles could be clarified with interpretations, however.¹⁵¹ Shocking language (e.g., 13:9, 13-16) could be used to grip attention.¹⁵² Given their dependence on agriculture, ancients not surprisingly often used seed figuratively or as illustrations (cf. 13:3, 19);¹⁵³ other images in these parables (e.g., 13:38) are also familiar, including in figurative usage.¹⁵⁴ Some listened to philosophers only for nice-sounding words rather than for true change (cf. 13:19; Mk 6:20).¹⁵⁵

Ancient auditors might surmise (at 14:6) that Antipas allowed birthday speeches in his honor, according to the custom,¹⁵⁶ but nothing in the text specifically points to the practice. A narrative’s mention of a severed head at a banquet (14:11) could stir pathos (or indignation).¹⁵⁷ An honorable teacher might ignore the insults of one whose dignity he did not respect, while the teacher’s students might take great offense (15:12-13).¹⁵⁸ Blindness (15:14) was a frequent rhetorical metaphor (as well as prevailing in other forms of literature, both Jewish and Gentile).¹⁵⁹ Although Cynics welcomed the title,¹⁶⁰ most people used the title or image of a dog insultingly when applying it to people (15:26-27).¹⁶¹

Vice lists (15:19) are common in both Jewish¹⁶² and Gentile sources. Among the latter, they are common among Stoics¹⁶³ and other philosophers,¹⁶⁴ but they were also common (for different reasons) among rhetoricians.¹⁶⁵ These lists can be brief, containing merely several elements, or can contain over a hundred (such as the particularly extensive one in Philo Sacr. 32).

The play on Peter’s name in 16:18 (rock) is paronomasia, frequently used by rhetoricians, among others.¹⁶⁶ In contrast to 16:21-23 (but cf. 17:13), disciples sometimes understood and took up their sages’ figurative challenges regarding the future’s hardships.¹⁶⁷ Rhetoricians could employ the sort of rhetorical questions found in 17:25; 18:12; 19:4; and 21:16, 42.¹⁶⁸ The image of children as dependents on the Father in 18:1-4 (evoking the same idea as in 7:7-11) would not normally appeal to those of rhetoricians’ elite status.¹⁶⁹ Others also commented on the appropriate nature of reproof (18:15).¹⁷⁰

Not only Jewish teachers (as in 19:3-4, 7) but also Gentiles cited laws against each other, often for the purpose of qualifying their application;¹⁷¹ each side in a case would attempt to argue the legislators’ intention to their advantage (19:6-9).¹⁷² For hyperbole (cf. 19:9, 24), see comment on 5:28-32; for metaphor (19:12), see comment on ch. 13; others also employed figures of speech analogous to a camel through a needle’s eye (19:24).¹⁷³ For the inclusio of 19:30 with 20:16, see comment on 5:3, 10.

Others could offer open-ended requests as in 20:20,¹⁷⁴ and women could get away with making requests that men could not.¹⁷⁵ The wording, not to be served but to serve, is a sort of play on wording similar to (though perhaps not precisely the same as) the kinds of wordplays that rhetoricians called antimetabole.¹⁷⁶ The question, What do you want me to do for you? (20:21, 32), seems a natural one when a suppliant is present.¹⁷⁷

Scholars have offered insights how a reader using rhetorical analysis could approach chs. 21–23.¹⁷⁸ Perhaps relevant to the triumphal entry, a new governor should be not only hailed but greeted with speeches on his arrival (cf. 21:9-11).¹⁷⁹ Shouts could include acclamations (21:9).¹⁸⁰ Most people held that curses (21:19) could be efficacious.¹⁸¹ At urban festivals, many people would be speaking, competing with one another and the din of the crowds.¹⁸² Challenge-riposte exchanges such as we have in the Gospels (e.g., 21:23-46) fit agonistic urban Mediterranean culture.¹⁸³ Naturally, therefore, insults were common in ancient rhetoric.¹⁸⁴ Although people widely prized the skill of witty repartee (e.g., 21:24-27; 22:29-32),¹⁸⁵ shaming one’s accusers could secure their enmity.¹⁸⁶ Rhetoricians could employ the mock demand, tell me! (21:24).¹⁸⁷ Jesus’ opponents recognize that the demand in 21:25 offers a logical trap, just as they will offer a trap to him in 22:17.¹⁸⁸ Circumventing answering a pointed question, when necessary, could be counted rhetorically praiseworthy.¹⁸⁹ Jesus’ questions with obvious answers, as in 21:31, would drive home the point.¹⁹⁰

For background on parables relevant to 22:1-14, see comment on ch. 13. If we may consider the exchanges within the parable (including invitations and implicit refusals) relevant to our discussion in some sense, we may observe that a wedding banquet (22:1) was a huge undertaking, even for an ordinary wedding.¹⁹¹ Attendance was a social obligation,¹⁹² and not to promise to come could hurt feelings.¹⁹³ Nevertheless, to accept a banquet invitation and not show up (22:3) was rude when invited even by merely a social peer,¹⁹⁴ and worse than rude for a banquet by a king. The invited guests prove worse than rude by any standards, however (22:6); even sending messengers back to a king with a contemptuous answer could provoke a war.¹⁹⁵ Later in the chapter, the inability of opponents to answer (22:46) signals rhetorical victory.¹⁹⁶

Polemic, as in Matt 23, was common in forensic speeches, which often sought to deconstruct and discredit the opponent’s position.¹⁹⁷ Even mockery was common;¹⁹⁸ see comment on 3:7. Even Roman senators, disregarding public decorum, might sometimes abuse one another during meetings of the Senate (although this may have been exceptional practice).¹⁹⁹ Failing to rise to greet people of particular social station could be deeply offensive (cf. 23:7),²⁰⁰ though one might not expect one of much higher status to return a greeting.²⁰¹ Not to return greetings could be seen as provoking enmity.²⁰²

Rhetoricians could appreciate as rhetorical antithesis²⁰³ the contrast between the one exalting oneself being humbled and the one humbling oneself being exalted (23:12),²⁰⁴ though the basic idea appears in Jewish sources before significant influence from Greco-Roman rhetorical forms.²⁰⁵ Forensic orators could seek to weigh the relative importance of competing laws (23:23).²⁰⁶ Gnats were proverbially small,²⁰⁷ and the sort of hyperbole that appears in 23:24 would not be lost on Greco-Roman audiences.²⁰⁸ Appeal to the behavior of ancestors to explain or influence the behavior of descendants (23:31) was common,²⁰⁹ and irony (23:32) was very common,²¹⁰ including, as here, in ironic invitations to act.²¹¹

Prodigies and omens²¹² characterized both pagan concerns for the future and Jewish apocalyptic speculations, and may inform some of Jesus’ warnings in 24:6-8.²¹³ Rumors of war were common;²¹⁴ the variation in form here resembles polyptoton.²¹⁵ Repetition of nation and kingdom is epanalepsis (24:7).²¹⁶ Although Jesus is restrained in his description of the suffering, even mild descriptions like 24:19 invite pathos.²¹⁷ Let the reader understand (24:15) is a parenthetical digression;²¹⁸ a reader was often the one who would read the material publicly to other hearers,²¹⁹ whether or not that is the only sense here. Never before (24:21) was suitable evocative hyperbole, sometimes found in historians and speeches.²²⁰ The repetition of not pass away in 24:35 is antistrophe.²²¹ The summons to alertness (24:42) reflects the eschatological perspective of the gospel tradition, but from a rhetorical framework it fits the rhetorical practice of comminatio, urging an audience to be on their guard.²²²

The wedding song could invite the bride to leave her home, coming forth bravely to meet her groom.²²³ Because weddings happened at night,²²⁴ nuptial torches at weddings (25:1) were a standard image.²²⁵ One (specifically rhetorical) element of a wedding banquet once the doors were shut would be wedding speeches,²²⁶ although this knowledge is at most taken for granted in the audience’s imagination and is not relevant to the action of the story. The excluded virgins’ Lord, Lord (25:11) is emphatic epanalepsis.²²⁷ Notwithstanding such minor observations, however, the predominant rhetoric of all the eschatological parables (24:45–25:46) is what we find in Jewish parables and Jewish eschatological texts.²²⁸

An ancient audience accustomed to the rhetorical and literary practice of comparing characters (see comment on 2:1-12) would readily contrast the responses of the unnamed woman, the disciples, and Judas around the question, How much is Jesus worth? (26:7-15). The hope that one’s name would endure for future generations,²²⁹ often through literary works,²³⁰ was common; in some cases one could claim that particular deeds would be recounted everywhere (cf. 26:13).²³¹ Speakers could lament that it was better to have died²³² or never have been born (26:24)²³³ than to face a particular fate. Designating Judas as the betrayer (26:48) is antonomasia.²³⁴ Punishment fitting the crime (cf. 26:52) appears widely in ancient Mediterranean thought and speech.²³⁵

Forensic rhetoric could attack or defend the integrity of witnesses as needed to support one’s case (cf. 26:59-61).²³⁶ A rhetorical handbook could provide techniques for how to employ witnesses to deceive hearers in courts. Thus in one earlier handbook, one could refuse to swear on the grounds that one did not wish to expose the defendant’s crime (thereby implying the person’s guilt without perjuring oneself by claiming it; Rhet. Alex. 15, 1432a.4-9). If one’s opponents attempted the same maneuver, however, one should demand written depositions (15, 1432a.9-11, LCL 347).²³⁷ To avoid being charged with perjury, one could swear about a statement that contained both a truth and an untruth, and if later interrogated one could explain that the oath applied to only the former part (Rhet. Alex. 15, 1432a.4-5). (Not surprisingly, one notorious false accuser later became a teacher of oratory!)²³⁸ Appealing to what the court had already heard, a speaker might reject the need for further reiteration or witnesses (cf. 26:65).²³⁹ Since rhetoric included proper gestures,²⁴⁰ we may also note the persuasive significance of tearing clothes for mourning,²⁴¹ including in mourning over blasphemy.²⁴² It is less clear how we should visualize the procedure in 26:66, since ideally hearers would give their opinion in an orderly way,²⁴³ but shouting and commotion also occurred in court scenes.²⁴⁴

Later speakers looking for moral illustrations could present as noble a refusal to answer in the face of insurmountable injustice (27:12),²⁴⁵ although many would have seen such lack of concern for one’s defense as foolish and unnecessary if one had any chance of winning the case.²⁴⁶ By omitting gore and most details about Jesus’ anguish (which a writer could have legitimately inferred almost directly from the nature of crucifixion), Matthew (like the other Gospel writers) mostly forgoes the opportunity to stir pathos here.²⁴⁷

In 28:18-20, Matthew climaxes the Gospel and ties together many of its most important themes: Jesus’ authority (7:29; 8:9; 21:23-24; esp. authority on earth in 9:6) in 28:18, as king in the kingdom of heaven (cf. 3:2; 4:17; 10:7); all peoples in 28:19 (cf. 1:3-6; 2:1; 3:9; 4:15; 8:11, 28; 10:15; 11:23-24; 12:41-42; 16:13; 24:14; 25:32; 27:54); God with us (1:23; 18:20); discipleship; Jesus’ teaching; and so forth. Such a climax fits rhetorical expectations for speeches and many other works. Speeches often included a closing summary or recapitulation;²⁴⁸ epilogues by the rhetorically astute often summarized the forgoing work.²⁴⁹ While both ancient speeches and literary works sometimes had abrupt endings,²⁵⁰ Matthew’s summarizing conclusion thus comes as no surprise.

One could go on. Nevertheless, I conclude this brief exercise by reiterating that though rhetorical observations from the wider Greco-Roman world are helpful for a general context, they cannot replace the importance of exploring the more specifically Jewish rhetoric in this Gospel and its traditions, which often provide much closer analogies (sometimes even in specific wording or images) than Greek or Roman rhetorical handbooks do. This observation especially holds for scenes that transpire in a rural Galilean setting; Jesus’ debates with urban aristocrats in Jerusalem could naturally take on more of the conventional flavor of public verbal conflicts characteristic of other Mediterranean urban settings. The Jewish context of Matthew is highlighted more deliberately in the following commentary.

1. E.g., in my own work on 1–2 Corinthians and Acts, I have regularly profited from the insights of Ben Witherington III, Conflict and Community in Corinth: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary on 1 and 2 Corinthians (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995); idem, The Acts of the Apostles: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998); rhetorical insights are profoundly important for these parts of the NT.

2. Herwig Görgemanns, Biography: Greek, 2:648-51 in Brill’s New Pauly: Encyclopaedia of the Ancient World (ed. Hubert Cancik and Helmuth Schneider; English ed. editor Christine F. Salazar; Leiden: Brill, 2003).

3. Martin Hengel and Anna Maria Schwemer, Paul Between Damascus and Antioch: The Unknown Years (trans. John Bowden; London: SCM; Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1997), 21-22.

4. See, e.g., Cicero Orator 40.139; Brutus 43.158; Dionysius of Halicarnassus Dem. 18, 20, 23; Philostratus Lives 2.4.569. Nevertheless, one should avoid excessive brevity (Cicero Pro Amer. 32.89; Verr. 2.1.9.24-25). Although I cannot enter a discussion of authorship here, those who affirm some level of Matthean authorship after the publication of Mark might be encouraged to find that eyewitnesses did sometimes draw on earlier sources (see esp. Xenophon Hell. 3.1.2); cf. also Xenophon’s dependence on another eyewitness source more than on his own limited experiences with Socrates (Xenophon Apol. 1.1-2).

5. David E. Aune, The Westminster Dictionary of New Testament and Early Christian Literature and Rhetoric (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2003), 173-74, 456-58.

6. E.g., Tob 1:1; PGM 13.343; A copy of the book ‘The Words of the Vision of Amram,’ 4Q543 fr. 1.1 (in Michael Wise, Martin Abegg Jr., and Edward Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls: A New Translation [San Francisco: Harper SanFrancisco, 1999], 434); Rev 1:1.

7. See, e.g., Rhet. Alex. 29, 1436a.33-39; Cicero Orator 40.137; Dionysius of Halicarnassus Thuc. 19; Pliny Ep. 2.3.3; Fronto Eloquence 3.4; Bernhard Zimmermann, Prologue, 12:2-4 in Brill’s New Pauly (2008), 2-3; R. Dean Anderson Jr., Glossary of Greek Rhetorical Terms Connected to Methods of Argumentation, Figures and Tropes from Anaximenes to Quintilian (Leuven: Peeters, 2000), 67-68; for examples, Polybius 3.1.3–3.5.9 (esp. 3.1.7); 11.1.1-5; Virgil Aen. 1.1-6; Dionysius of Halicarnassus Lys. 24; Seneca Controv. 1.pref.21; Dio Chrysostom Or. 38.8; Aulus Gellius pref. 25; Soranus Gynec. 1.intro.2; Philostratus Vit. Apoll. 7.1; 8.1; Monika Asztalos, "Apuleius’ Apologia in a Nutshell: The Exordium," Classical Quarterly 55 (1, 2005): 266-76.

8. See, e.g., Rhet. Alex. 29, 1436a.33-39; 1436b.17–1438a.2; 36, 1441b.36–1442b.27; Dionysius of Halicarnassus Lys. 17; Cicero Inv. 1.15.20; Quintilian Inst. Or. 3.7.23-24 (cf. 4.1.16, 23); Hans Armin Gärtner, Prooemium, 12:16-18 in Brill’s New Pauly (2008), 16; Lucia Calboli Montefusco, Exordium, 5:272-73 in Brill’s New Pauly (2004), 272; Aune, Dictionary of Rhetoric, 176; Malcolm Heath, Invention, 89-119 in Handbook of Rhetoric, 103; for examples, see Aeschines Ctes. 1; Cicero De or. 1.31.143; Quinct. 2.10; Sest. 1.2; Rosc. com. 3.7; Fam. 13.66.1; Statius Silvae 2.pref.; Dio Chrysostom Or. 34.7-8; 39.1; 41.1; Heraclitus Homeric Problems 59.7; Ps.-Dionysius Epideictic 1.256-57; Menander Rhetor 2.3, 378.4-9; 2.4, 392; Chariton Chaer. 5.7.1; Let. Aris. 1–2; Sipre Deut. 343.1.2. Cf. also Aristotle Rhet. bk. 2, esp. 2.1.1-9, 1377b–1378a; and the 56 selections in Demosthenes’ Exordia.

9. Rhet. Alex. 35, 1440b.23-24; see, e.g., Tacitus Agricola 4. One starts with pedigree both for people and animals (1440b.24-29). One’s background was an important element in biography; see, e.g., Suetonius Aug. 1-2; Louis H. Feldman, Philo’s View of Moses’ Birth and Upbringing, CBQ 64 (2, 2002): 258-81. Some Jewish traditions may have differed by region (cf. R. Kalmin, Genealogy and Polemics in Rabbinic Literature of Late Antiquity, HUCA 67 [1996]: 77-94).

10. E.g., Xenophon Ages. 1.2; Eunapius Lives 498; Gorgias Hel. 3. Ancients inspected pure lineage for participation in priesthoods (e.g., Hermogenes Issues 65.4-6; David Frankfurter, Religion in Roman Egypt: Assimilation and Resistance [Princeton, NJ: Princeton University, 1998], 199) and other public honors (cf. even Indian philosophers in Philostratus Vit. Apoll. 2.30).

11. Hermogenes Issues 46.14-17. Others, though, might start with one’s city (Menander Rhetor 2.1-2, 369.18–370.8) before discussing one’s family background (370.9-28), birth (370.28– 371.17), rearing (371.17-23), and education (371.23–372.2). For origin and birth in ancient encomia, see Bruce J. Malina and Jerome H. Neyrey, Portraits of Paul: An Archaeology of Ancient Personality (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996), 24-26.

12. Rhet. Alex. 35, 1440b.29-30.

13. Genealogies could skip generations (Aune, Dictionary of Rhetoric, 195, citing Esther, Plutarch and Appian). For the sake of chronology, one might also underestimate some time spans (thus the later period in Tacitus Dial. 16).

14. Rhet. Alex. 35, 1440b.33-38, allowing one to skip later ancestors if only the earliest were great (reversing this, if the nearer ancestors were the great ones, in 1440b.38–1441a.5). People were more prone to notice honorable characteristics or achievements if they also ran in one’s family (e.g., Philostratus Vit. soph. 2.25.611); many people expected that one from a bad family would turn out badly (e.g., Theophrastus Char. 28.2), and could deride another by ridiculing his low birth (e.g., Josephus Ag. Ap. 2.41). A city might invent foreign birth for a particularly unsavory character (e.g., Polybius 2.55.9).

15. Suetonius freely notes the negative ancestors in Tiberius’s line (Tib. 1.1–2.4), though his point is admittedly not unmitigated praise of Tiberius (cf. Tib. 3.1).

16. Aune, Dictionary of Rhetoric, 195. Matthew’s formula for linking ancestors also fits the rhetorical form sorites (Aune, Dictionary of Rhetoric, 446-47).

17. E.g., Xenophon Ages. 1.2 (the Loeb note cites other sources), though this case includes legendary or mythical ancestors. The earliest ancestors in Greek mythical tradition were often confused (C. W. Fornara, The Nature of History in Ancient Greece and Rome [Berkeley: University of California, 1983], 6), but Jews had a fixed canon for the early ancestors. Like many biblical genealogies, Matthew’s is longer than typical Greek and Roman ones (Aune, Dictionary of Rhetoric, 195).

18. Ancient historians could develop and expand a true datum, but disapproved using known fiction for this purpose (Fornara, Nature of History, 134-36). A more fictitious work, of course, could develop more