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Introduction
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Assessing the Role and Function of an Assistant
The Deacon in the First Two Centuries of Christianity
Bart J. Koet, Edwina Murphy and Esko Ryökäs
1. How Important is the Second Leader?
Nobel prizewinner Bob Dylan famously sang “the times, they are a-changin.”
Those were the days of the sixties, the days of the Cold War. The Iron Curtain
was a symbol of that war. But the Wall fell, and Communist parties disappeared
as snow under the sun. However, it was not the end of disturbing relations with-
in countries and between nations. Neither did it put an end to severe conflicts.
Putin emerged from the ashes of the Communist USSR as a modern Tsar. The
Arabian spring evolved into a hell of fire, and tensions around the world grew
instead of declined. In Europe, there emerged a resentment towards established
leaders; in the States, the dissatisfaction with political elites resulted in the elec-
tion of Trump.
One of the common denominators of these changes is that there is a crisis in
leadership. Not unexpectedly, there is a lot of attention in the scholarly and
business literature on that theme,1 not to mention blogs. There is less attention,
however, given to the phenomenon of assistant leadership. What are the roles
and responsibilities of the vice-president? How powerful is the vice-dean? Is the
civil servant not sometimes more powerful than the chosen leaders? Could it be
that this aversion to the power of some civil servants is one of the reasons for the
resentment against Brussels (i. e. the EU)?
This book focuses on the role and functions of such an assistant leader. How-
ever, it is a study of such a figure in the past: the deacon.2 Like assistant leaders
of this century, deacons and their roles are often neglected in the scholarly liter-
1 See, for example, The SAGE Handbook of Leadership (eds. Alan Bryman et al.; London:
Sage, 2011).
2 We realise that this concept will be understood in a variety of ways, in the context of
different countries, languages, and social structures. Instead of beginning with a definition of
the role of a deacon, then, we will examine what deacons actually did, which we hope will
allow a picture of their ministry to emerge.

4 Bart J. Koet, Edwina Murphy and Esko Ryökäs
ature, for example, in the assessment of leadership in early Christianity.3 There

is a lot of discussion about the first leaders of the church,4 an area of study quite
influenced by ecclesiastical presuppositions.5 In quite a few Protestant circles,
there is a tendency to reject the Catholic, Orthodox, and even Anglican practice
of rooting ecclesiastical offices like deacon and bishop in Scripture and early
tradition as Frühkatholicismus.6 An example of this is what happened in a meet-
ing of the Society of New Testament Studies. It was a seminar about 1 Clement.
Even before the presenter started to talk about 1 Clem. 44, a passage where
Clement compares leadership functions with those of Israel, the chairman de-
clared that it, of course, was NOT about ministry and thus the discussion was
closed even before it had begun.7
Catholic and Orthodox churches seem to follow Irenaeus of Lyon, who, in a
very short reference, appears to refer to Stephen as a deacon.8 However, even in
these churches, the diaconate as such is quite often neglected in studies about
ministry in the church.9 In the Orthodox churches, deacons remained an inde-
3 Just one example: the important church historian Peter Brown mistakenly transforms a
deacon into a priest. See Bart J. Koet, The Go-Between: Augustine on Deacons (Leiden: Brill,
2019).
4 See, for example, Alexandre Faivre, “La question des ministères à l’époque paléochréti-
enne. Problématique et enjeux d’une périodisation,” in id., Chrétiens et Églises : des identités
en construction : Acteurs, structures, frontières du champ religieux chrétien (Paris: Cerf, 2011),
117–50 and the literature mentioned there.
5 Sven-Erik Brodd (“The Diaconate as Ecumenical Opportunity: Historical Ecclesiologi-
cal Layers in Understanding the Diaconate,” International Journal for the Study of the Chris-
tian Church 13/4 [2014]: 270–85, 278) argues that, while both Lutherans and Anglicans during
the Reformations of the sixteenth century understood antiquitas as normative for other his-
torical ages, awareness of this does not seem obvious in the respective traditions: the dominant
ideas are inherited from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The lack of critical historical
ecclesiological readings of the traditions involved might underlie this.
6 Leander E. Keck, “Faith Seeking Canonical Understanding: Childs’s Guide to the Pauline
Letters” in The Bible as Christian Scripture: The Work of Brevard S. Childs (eds. Christopher
R. Seitz, and Kent Harold Richards; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013), 103–17, 112.
7 A common argument is that in Acts 6 , the narrative about the Seven, the word diakonos
is not used. Even Benedict XVI in the context of his reflection on caritas (for the English
translation, see Benedict XVI, Pope, Deus caritas est [2005]; http://w2.vatican.va/content/
benedict-xvi/en/encyclicals/documents/hf_ben-xvi_enc_20051225_deus-caritas-est.html
[29.6.2017]) seems to be cautious about typifying the Seven as deacons (he describes them as
“a group of seven persons”; see Deus caritas est, 21). In his first encyclical, he seems to under-
stand the office of the deacon in the early Church as a concrete expression of love. Using
Acts 6:5–6, he points out that it was seen as a service to the community and as a religious
function. See Deus caritas est, 21–23.
8 He refers to the seven in Acts 6 as deacons. Haer. 3.12.10: “And still further, Stephen who
was chosen the first deacon by the apostles.”

9 However, in 2002 Cardinal Ratzinger authorised a text on the diaconate by the Inter
national Theological Commission: “Commissione teologica internazionale, Il diaconato.

Evoluzione e prospettive,” La civiltà cattolica 154 (2003): 253–336. An English translation can
be found in International Theological Commission (= ITC), From the Diakonia of Christ to
the Diakonia of the Apostles (London: Catholic Truth Society, 2003). This document is a

Assessing the Role and Function of an Assistant 5
pendent ministry, often in relation to the bishop, but later also attached to the
presbyter or the parish.10 However, even in the Roman Catholic Church, dea-
cons who were not later ordained into the priesthood existed for much longer
than is often assumed.11
For this volume, we asked scholars from different backgrounds to return to
the sources with the idea that a fresh look can help to overcome old presupposi-
tions. We think, for example, that it can help our understanding to describe how
the different literary sources use the different leadership terms. Thus the ques-
tion is not whether in a given source, for example, diakonos is an office or not,
but rather what the text tells us about what deacons do. In this context, it is
possible to observe that often in the early church there is a two-fold leadership
structure (for example, 1 Tim 3:1–13).12
However, in order to assess διακονία (diakonia) 13 and deacons in the early
church and in our times, it is necessary to give some attention to the fact that
current ideas about the tasks and function of the diaconate in the Western world
are quite strongly influenced by ideas about diakonia as merely service towards
the poor. These grew out of impressive and important initiatives in German-
speaking countries in the nineteenth century: an attempt to revitalise Christian
presentation of historical and theological views on the diaconate. In the conclusion, it is men-
tioned that the diaconate in the Roman Catholic Church has different forms in different parts
of the world and it is stressed that more research is needed.
10 In orthodox traditions, the liturgical function of the deacon gradually became more and
more important. Lemma “Deacon” (John Chryssavgis), in The Concise Encyclopedia of Ortho
dox Christianity (ed. John Anthony McGuckin; Chichester: John Wiley & Blackwell, 2014),
141–42. See also John Chryssavgis, Remembering and Reclaiming Diakonia: The Diaconate
Yesterday and Today (Brookline, Mass.: Holy Cross, 2009), 85–89.
11 For example, Alcuin of York (c. 735–804), the minister of Charlemagne, St Francis
(1181/1182–1227) and Geert de Grote (1340–1384), a famous Dutch spiritual leader. Right up
until the nineteenth century, one can find quite a few cardinal-deacons as members of the
papal administration. The last cardinal-deacon who was not a priest, Teodolfo Mertel, died on
the 11th of July in 1899 at the age of 93. See Bart J. Koet, “Diakon: Adjutant des Bischofs oder
Sprungbrett zur Priestschaft. Randbemerkungen zur jüngsten Studie über Cursus Honorum,”
Diaconia Christi 41 (2006): 41–46.
12 A desideratum is to contextualise assistant leadership in the cultural context of early
Christianity. A question could be whether the relationship between the episkopos as respon-
sible for teaching in relation to the diakonos is comparable to the Jewish rabbi and his disciple/
assistant. An indication that such a comparison could be worthwhile is the fact that the
semantic field of serving is also present in the relation between a rabbi and his disciples. For
discussion, see Günther Stemberger, “‘Schaff die einen Lehrer, erwirb dir einen Kollegen’
(mAv 1,6) – Lernen als Tradition und Gemeinschaft,” in Beate Ego & Helmut Merkel, Reli
giöses Lernen in der biblischen frühjüdischen und frühchristlichen Űberlieferung (Tübingen:
Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 141–55, especially 144–52 (“Einem Meister dienen”).
13 In some of the articles the word “diaconia” is used. Sven-Erik Brodd describes the use of
the word “diakonia” in English as influenced by German-speaking tradition, not as a com-

mon word. Sven-Erik Brodd, “Caritas and Diakonia as perspectives on the Diaconate,” in The
Ministry of the Deacon: 2 Ecclesiological Explorations (eds. Gunnel Borgegård et al.; Uppsala:
Nordic Ecumenical Council, 2000), 26–27.

social and caritative works, using an interpretation of the Acts of the Apostles
as an inspiration and a model. This background will be sketched in the next
section.
2. Deacons and Deaconesses in the Twenty-First Century:

Differences and Common Roots?
Even the reintroduction of the diaconate as an independent ministry in the Ro-

man Catholic Church did not result in a scrupulous and intensive study of this
ancient function in the community of Jesus’ disciples.14 Referring to sources
from the early Church, the Second Vatican Council reopened the possibility of
a permanent diaconate in the Catholic Church. After fifty years of reinstate-
ment, there exist tens of thousands of permanent deacons in many local church-
es, but there are also quite a few variations between the vision of the diaconate
in Roman Catholic dioceses and the view of the tasks of a deacon in a given
community.15
While in the orthodox churches a deacon, albeit with different accents, re-
mained a visible figure and within the Roman Catholic Church he reappeared,
the diaconate is also considered as part of ecumenical dialogues. One of the
most important ecumenical documents, the so-called Lima Report, Baptism,
Eucharist and Ministry (BEM) explicitly mentions the deacon as one of the
ministries of the churches.16 It even suggests that the threefold ministry of
14 It is remarkable that historical surveys in earlier literature are more complete than cur-
rent studies on the diaconate, despite some limitations of sources and method. See, for exam-
ple, Johann Nepomuk Seidl, Der Diakonat in der katholischen Kirche, dessen hieratische
Würde und geschichtliche Entwicklung: eine kirchenrechts-geschichtliche Abhandlung (Re-
gensburg, 1884). A first attempt in the last century to assess the figure of the deacon in several
contexts is Diaconia in Christo: Über die Erneuerung des Diakonates (eds. Karl Rahner and
Herbert Vorgrimler; Freiburg: Herder, 1962). Although this publication was primarily in-
tended to stimulate the debate in the Roman Catholic Church, it was heavily influenced by
German Evangelical and Lutheran ideas about diakonia as service to the poor.
15 Gregory R. Ollick, “A Ministry in Search of a Mission,” National Catholic Reporter
(January 29, 2016). According to an analysis by Montserrat Martinez Deschamps, a board

member of the organization of permanent deacons, International Diaconate Centre (IDC):
“Even today, 50 years after the Council and the reinstatement of the diaconate of the perma-
nent rank, there is a huge lack of information in many communities regarding the nature of
the diaconate.” “Marriage and Diaconate, a Unique and Enriching Relationship,” Diaconia
Christi 51 (2016): 168–76, here 171–72.
16 Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry (Faith and Order Paper No. 111; Geneva: World Coun-
cil of Churches, 1982): “Chapter III. The Forms of the Ordained Ministry. A. Bishops, Pres-
byters and Deacons”, 19. The New Testament does not describe a single pattern of ministry
which might serve as a blueprint or continuing norm for all future ministry in the Church. In
the New Testament there appears rather a variety of forms which existed at different places
and times. As the Holy Spirit continued to lead the Church in life, worship and mission, cer-
tain elements from this early variety were further developed and became settled into a more

ishop, presbyter, and deacon may serve today as an expression of the unity
b
which the churches seek.17 In several churches there has been an attempt to
follow that advice.
One example is the Lutheran Church of Sweden where, since 2000, the church
ordinal sees three orders on the same level in the ministry (bishop, priest, dea-
con), 18 even if the ministry is seldom characterised as a threefold ministry.19
This kind of understanding of the church ministry is recommended for all of
the churches in ecumenical documents.20 Regardless, progress has not been
easy. This is exemplified by the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Finland: the
role of a deacon has been present in church legislation since 1913, but since 1959
there has been a vigorous but incomplete discussion to change the understand-
ing of the ministry from a lay function to an ordained one.21
An essential background to the discussion of deacons and deaconesses is the
revolutionary change in the evangelical tradition over time. In the middle of the
19th century, a lay ministry of helping the poor, widows, orphans, sick, disabled,
and others in need was combined with diaconal language.22 This method of
universal pattern of ministry. During the second and third centuries, a threefold pattern of
bishop, presbyter and deacon became established as the pattern of ordained ministry through-
out the Church. In succeeding centuries, the ministry by bishop, presbyter and deacon under-
went considerable changes in its practical exercise. At some points of crisis in the history of
the Church, the continuing functions of ministry were in some places and communities dis-
tributed according to structures other than the predominant threefold pattern. Sometimes
appeal was made to the New Testament in justification of these other patterns. In other cases,
the restructuring of ministry was held to lie within the competence of the Church as it adapt-
ed to changed circumstances.”
17 Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry, § 2 2: “Although there is no single New Testament pat-
tern, although the Spirit has many times led the Church to adapt its ministries to contextual
needs, and although other forms of the ordained ministry have been blessed with the gifts of
the Holy Spirit, nevertheless the threefold ministry of bishop, presbyter and deacon may
serve today as an expression of the unity we seek and also as a means for achieving it.”
18 The Church Ordinal (1999) “defines that ordination to all three orders, bishop, priest
and deacon are not hierarchically ordered, but are charges emerging from the gospels with
equal value.” Tiit Pädam, Ordination of Deacons in the Churches of the Porvoo Communion:
A Comparative Investigation in Ecclesiology (Uppsala/Tallinn: Kirjastus TP, 2011), 59. In the
church’s legislation, those three orders are described as on the same level: “Vigningarna till
biskop, präst och diakon är likvärdiga uttryck för evangeliets fullhet och kyrkans sändning
utifrån evangeliet.” Kyrkoordning 2017-01-01, 25 kap., Inledning.
19 Annette Leis (Den kyrkliga diakonins roll inom ramen för två välfärdssystem. [Uppsala:
Diakonivetenskapliga institutet, 2004], 19), sees the ministry as threefold. See also Biskop,
präst och diakon i svenska kyrkan. Ett biskopsbrev om kyrkans ämbete. (Biskopsmötet;
Uppsala: Ärkebiskopsämbetet, 1990).
20 Annette Noller, Diakonat und Kirchenreform: Empirische, historische und ekklesiolo-
gische Dimensionen einer diakonischen Kirche (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2016), 391–93.

21 Terttu Pohjolainen, “The Deacon in the Evangelical-Lutheran Church of Finland,” in
The Ministry of the Deacon: 1 Anglican-Lutheran perspectives (eds. Gunnel Borgegård and
Christine Hall; Uppsala: Nordic Ecumenical Council, 1999), 141–80. More specifically:
Mikko Malkavaara, Diakonia ja diakonivirka (Helsinki: Kirkkohallitus, 2015), 132.
22 For an overview of the discussion in light of the important Lutheran tradition of the

caritative helping spread primarily from the Kaiserswerth diaconal community

inspired by Theodor Fliedner. It was particularly successful among women,
quite a few of whom became deaconesses and were active, for example, in dea-
conesses’ hospitals.23
This caritative way of understanding the duties of a deacon was largely based
on John Calvin’s discussion of the New Testament, 24 which Fliedner was trying
to combine with patristic examples. Some prominent developers of the diaconal
movement, like Johan Hinrich Wichern, and Wilhelm Löhe, did not identify
this caritative role of a deacon 25 with the New Testament era.26 Despite that, the
lay function of deacons and deaconesses in the evangelical churches was com-
monly understood in the late 19th and 20th centuries as following the model of
the early Church. Later, towards the end of the 20th century this understanding
also influenced the Catholic understanding of the ministry in a more caritative
direction.27 Those German Catholic theologians who promoted the diaconate
and, to a certain extent, also presented themselves as founding fathers of the re-
emerged diaconate like Karl Rahner and his assistant Herbert Vorgrimler, 28
priesthood of all believers, see Eberhard Hausschildt, “Allgemeines Priestertum und ordini-
ertes Amt, Ehrenamtliche und Berufstätige. Ein Vorschlag zur Strukturierung verwickelter
Debatten,” Pastoraltheologie 102 (2013): 388–407. For discussion about the positions of dea-
cons and deaconesses in the Diakonie-movements, see 390–91 (19th century) and 400–402.
Further: Sven-Erik Brodd, “An Escalating Phenomenon. The Diaconate from an Ecumenical
perspective,” in Borgegård and Hall, The Ministry of the Deacon: 1, 11–50. For the fact that
deacons in most ecclesiastical traditions were not responsible for caritative work, see Esko
Ryökäs, “‘Diakonia’ ennen diakoniaa. Diakoniakäsite eurooppalaisissa yleistietosanakirjois-
sa,” Diakonian tutkimus 1 (2014): 32–49.
23 See for example Noller, Diakonat und Kirchenreform.
24 “[…] duo erunt genera Diaconorum: quorum alteri in rebus pauperum administrandis,
alteri in pauberibus ipsis curandis Ecclesiae feruient.” Jean Calvin, Institutio christianae reli-
gionis (Genevae 1559), 439; Kari Latvus, “Diaconal Ministry in the Light of the Reception and
Re-Interpretation of Acts 6 , Did John Calvin Create the Social-Caritative Ministry of Diaco-
nia?,” Diaconia: Journal for the Study of Christian Social Practice 1 (2010): 82–102.
25 Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry, 24 (31) states: Deacons “exercise a ministry of love
within the community.”

26 Wilhelm Löhe, Gesammelte Werke: Vierter Band (Neuendettelsau: Freimund-Verlag,
1962), 519: II Für die Diakonissen, Von der Barmherzigkeit, Siebentes Kapitel: “Wir reden
hier […] nicht von der Diakonissin überhaupt, sondern von der des 19. Jahrhunderts. […] so
müssen wir doch auch andererseits bekennen, dass die Diakonissin des 19. Jahrhunderts eine
andere ist als die der alten Kirche.”; Johann Hinrich Wichern, “Diakonen- und Diakonissen-
häuser,” in Real-Encyklopädie für protestantische Theologie und Kirche: Dritter Band, Come-
nius bis Eucyklische Briefe (ed. Dr. Herzog; Stuttgart: Rudolf Besser, 1855), 369–84. 370: “Es
mag dabei nicht verhehlt werden, dass die Berechtigung des Namens [Diakon, Diakonisse]
mit Grund zu bezweifeln ist […],” “Der Name Brüderhäuser statt der Diakonenanstalten ist
übrigens wirklich der gebräuchlichere […].”
27 John N. Collins, Diakonia Studies: Critical Issues in Ministry (New York: Oxford Uni-
versity Press, 2014), 52–53.

28 Another advocate of restoring the diaconate as an independent ministry was the Dutch
missionary and bishop, Willem van Bekkum (1910–1998; bishop of Ruteng, Indonesia). He
spoke at the First International Conference on Pastoral Liturgy (1956; Assisi, Italy). This is

promoted the idea that the deacon should be the social face of the church.29
Vorgrimler was so disappointed about the fact that Catholic deacons were often
also attuned to liturgical services that in his older age he wrote in a sour – and
even unfair – way about them.30
While Karl Marx responded to the poverty accompanying the industrial
revolution by writing Das Kapital, Fliedner responded by creating the move-
ment for deaconesses. This brought many blessings in Germany and elsewhere
in Europe. However, the founder of the evangelical Mutterhaus (Motherhouse)
system and the father of the deaconess movement based his ideas about diakonia
on a particular interpretation of Acts 6 and the patristic material. It must be
noted, however, that a rigorous examination of these source references has
shown that only a minority of them are correct and that the literary basis of his
ideas is therefore small. Most caritative tasks don’t have any references at all.31
This reading back into the patristic material of diakonia as an especially
caritative task is still quite common, as is clear from the extensive article of Paul
Philippi in the Theologische Realenzyklopädie.32 What he writes about the bish-
ops and widows is very precise, but the tasks of a deacon are described as more
caritative than the sources support.33 In an analysis of three modern presenta-
tions34 of the history of diakonia, Kari Latvus shows results like those described
above.35 In these studies, charity, love, and care for the poor in the early church
are well documented. On the other hand, evidence for the caritative role of
summarised in William T. Ditewig, “The Dachau Experience and Postwar developments,” in

The Deacon Reader (ed. James Keating; Mahwah: Paulist, 2006), 31–55, esp. 32–33.
29 We cannot discuss these views here, except to say that in the early Church, the bishop,
as pater pauperum, was responsible for the social activities of the community.
30 See Herbert Vorgrimler, “Liturgie, Diakonie und Diakone,” in Benedikt Kranemann et
al., Die diakonale Dimension der Liturgie (QD 218; Freiburg: Herder, 2006), 236–45, esp. 237;
but see Bart J. Koet, “Diakonie ist nicht nur Armenfürsorge. Neuere exegetische Erkennt-
nisse zum Verständnis von Diakonie,” in Lernen wäre eine schöne Alternative. Religionsun-
terricht in theologischer und erziehungswissenschaftlicher Verantwortung (eds. Christoph
Gramzow, Heide Liebold and Martin Sander-Gaiser; FS Helmut Hanisch: Leipzig: Evange-
lische Verlag-Anstalt, 2008), 303–18.
31 Esko Ryökäs, “Zur Begründung der Diakonie bei Theodor Fliedner, Anmerkungen
zum ‚Gutachten, die Diakonie und den Diakonat betreffend,’” in Diakonische Einblicke:
DWI-Jahrbuch Bd. 41 (ed. Christian Oelschlägel; Heidelberg: Diakoniewissenschaftliches
Institut, 2011), 49–71.
32 Paul Philippi, “Diakonie I,” TRE 8:621–44.
33 For this, see Esko Ryökäs, “Diaconia – A Make-Believe Which Continues?” Diaconia:
Journal for the Study of Christian Social Practice 6 (2015): 61–74.

34 Gottfried Hammann, Die Geschichte der christlichen Diakonie: Praktizierte Nächsten-
liebe von der Antike bis zur Reformationszeit (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2003);
James Monroe Barnett, The Diaconate: A Full and Equal Order (rev. ed.; Harrisburg: The
Trinity Press, 1995); and Jeannine E. Olson, Deacons and Deaconesses through the Centuries
(rev. ed.; Saint Louis: Concordia, 2003).
35 Kari Latvus, “The Conventional Theory about the Origin of Diaconia, An Analysis of
Arguments,” Diaconia: Journal for the Study of Christian Social Practice 2 (2011): 194–209.

eacons is lacking in the primary sources, but still supported by the authors.
d
The contemporary theory has obviously resulted in a misinterpretation of the
sources. And thus a question emerges: what did deacons do? To find an answer
to this question it is worthwhile to step back and assess possible biblical back-
grounds to diakonia.
3. The Need for Further Research Due to New Philological Ideas
In recent years, some scholars have focused on particular aspects of the diaco-
nate. Thus studies have appeared on the position of the diaconate in the cursus
honorum as well as quite a few on issues relating to deaconesses.36 Philological
research has also taken place on the importance of the word diakonia and relat-
ed expressions in classical Greek and New Testament Greek, such as in Luke-
Acts and Paul’s letters. One of the first scholars who noted difficulties in the
translation of the Greek “diakonia” words with “serving” words was the Ger-
man New Testament scholar and classicist Dieter Georgi.37 More or less in line
with his critical remarks, but dealing with the word diakonia in the broader
context, the Australian John Collins showed that understanding diakonia as
referring only to lowly service is not compatible with the Greek of Hellenistic
and Christian sources.38 Collins thereby challenged the consensus, demonstrat-
ing that the Greek word diakonia originally had nothing to do with charitable
work. Diakonia instead refers to an activity carried out by order or on behalf of
another person that can often describe a work of mediation. A deacon was not a
humble servant or assistant but rather something like a messenger or intermedi-
ary. According to him, a deacon was one of the leaders of the local community,
working in his or her ministry as a go-between, communicating both between
individual members and other ministers, and between separate communities.
Deacons had significant roles in the liturgy and could also have had special re-
sponsibility for money. In her 2007 German dissertation, Anni Hentschel large-
36 See, for example, John St. H. Gibaut, The Cursus Honorum: A Study of Origins and
Evolution of Sequential Ordination (Bern: Peter Lang, 2000) and Ordained Women in the
Early Church: A Documentary History (eds. Kevin Madigan and Carolyn Osiek; Baltimore:
The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2005).
37 For the assessment of 2 Cor 2:14–7:4 and 10–13, see Dieter Georgi: The Opponents of
Paul in Second Corinthians: A Study on Religious Propaganda in Late Antiquity (English

translation and greatly expanded edition of the German original 1964; Philadelphia: Fortress,
1986). See Stefan Dietzel, “Zur Entstehung des Diakonats im Urchristentum, Eine Ausein-
andersetzung mit den Positionen von Wilhelm Brandt, Hermann Wolfgang Beyer und John
N. Collins,” Diakonische Konturen: Theologie im Kontext sozialer Arbeit (eds. Volker Herr-
mann, Rainer Merz and Heinz Schmidt; Heidelberg: Winter, 2003), 136–70, 154.
38 John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1990). For a summary of his thesis, see the article by Bart J. Koet regarding
Acts 6 in this volume.

ly agreed with Collins, seeking to show that the word diakonia is also used in
the New Testament for different sorts of commissioning by God, Jesus, or the
Christian communities.39 By way of exception, it can also refer to a mandate to
engage in charitable activities, as in Acts 6:1–6. Often, however, it refers to pre-
siding over a community and to the proclamation of the gospel. Therefore,
diakonia can also mean tasks related to authority and reputation, not just sec-
ondary services.
The theses of Collins and Hentschel concerning diakonia during the New
Testament era have undoubtedly impacted our understanding of the tasks and
role of a deacon. This has already been shown in how dictionaries define the
word “deacon,”40 and has prompted further reflection on the consequences of
these reassessments.41 These have not been limited to philological studies on
the figure of the deacon and the meaning of related diakon-words, however.42
A field which has also been extensively assessed is that of the deaconess – not
39 Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament: Studien zur Semantik unter besonderer
Berücksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007).

40 For example, Religion Past and Present (4 th edition), Lemma “Diaconate/Deacon/Dea-
coness” / “1. New Testament” is based on Collins’ thesis.

41 Hans-Jürgen Benedict, “Beruht der Anspruch der evangelischen Diakonie auf einer
Mißinterpretation der antiken Quellen?; John N. Collins Untersuchung ‘Diakonia’” Pastoral

theologie 89 (2000): 343–64; Articles by Hans-Jürgen Benedict (127–35), Stefan Dietzel (136–
70) and Ismo Dunderberg (171–83) in Diakonische Konturen; Paula Gooder, “Diakonia in the
New Testament: A Dialogue with John N. Collins,” Ecclesiology 3 (2006): 33–56; Eberhardt
Hauschildt, “Was bedeuten exegetische Erkenntnisse über den Begriff der Diakonie für die
Diakonie heute? Eine historische und hermeneutische Skizze,” Pastoraltheologie 97 (2008):
307–14; Kari Latvus, “The Paradigm Challenged. A New Analysis of the Origin of Diakonia,”
Studia Theologica – Nordic Journal of Theology 62 (2008): 142–57; Anni Hentschel, “Gibt es
einen sozial-karitativ ausgerichteten Diakonat in den frühchristlichen Gemeinden?,” Pasto-
raltheologie 97 (2008): 290–306; Bart J. Koet, “Whatever became of the Diaconia of the Word,”
New Diaconal Review 1 (2008): 22–31; Paul Avis, “Wrestling with the Diaconate,” Ecclesiol-
ogy 5 (2009): 3–6; Bart J. Koet, “Le diacre «évangéliste». Un diptyque sur le diaconat,” Com-
munio Revue Catholique Internationale 34 (2009): 3+4, 22–34; Bettina Eltrop, “Biblische
Grundlagen zum Diakonat, ” in Ortsbestimmungen: der Diakonat als kirchlicher Dienst (eds.
Richard Hartman, Franz Reger and Stefan Sander; Frankfurt am Main: Knecht-Verlag, 2009),
91–99; Bart J. Koet, “Exegetische kanttekeningen over diakonia in het Nieuwe Testament –
Leren of doen?,” in Diaconie in beweging: Handboek Diaconiewetenschap (eds. Hub Crijns et
al.; Kampen: Kok, 2011), 69–96; Anni Hentschel, Gemeinde, Ämter, Dienste – Perspektiven
zur neutestamentlichen Ekklesiologie (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2013); Collins,
D iakonia Studies, 41–53; Ryökäs, “Diakonia – A Make-Believe which Continues?”
42 However, studies about the diaconate often assume too easily that Acts 6 is a story about
diakonia as service to the poor. See Alexandre Faivre, “‘Diakonos’ L’Histoire d’un Idéal, Le
Pouvoir de servire. Panorama et problématiques à l’époque paléochrétienne,” Chrétiens et
Églises, 183–209. Faivre postulates on the one hand, a large gap between the data from the
New Testament and those of the later period (123–27, esp. 124), yet on the other, believes that
Luke saw the diaconate as more directed towards material service and that it was Ignatius who
rejected this (see 186 and 189). Although Faivre is thus one of the authors who reads too much
material service into Acts, he does show the different aspects of the diaconate in early Chris-
tianity.

unexpectedly, given discussions about the role of women in society, and thus in
the church.43 An impressive dossier of references to deaconesses has been assem-
bled by Kevin Madigan and Carolyn Osiek.44 They rigorously examined every
text from the patristic period, including books, letters, papyri, and grave in-
scriptions, thereby illustrating the manifold existence of female deacons and
deaconesses. Many of these sources had previously been under-utilised or ten-
dentiously labelled in theological discussions. This collection of texts shows
what could be helpful in enabling future research into female deacons. 45
Some important questions relating to the diaconate have, however, not been
answered. For example, we lack a thorough review of the specific tasks and
functions of the male deacon in the early church. What was their function in
liturgy? What was their function in the religious community? How did the dea-
con function as a teacher? The International Theological Commission made an
inventory of these questions and recommended further research as well as fur-
ther evaluation of the experience of the restored permanent diaconate in the
Catholic Church. These new studies and the lack of an overview of the early
Church were the reason that, in 2009, the Pontifical University Patristic Insti-
tute Augustinianum, together with two professors of the Tilburg School of
Theology, organised an international conference. The topic was the meaning of
the Greek word diakonia, the diaconiae as centres of caritas in Rome, and
deacons and deaconesses. In the proceedings published in 2010, Collins’ thesis
concerning diakonia was discussed, but there was no deep engagement with
what new light these philological investigations could shine on patristic views of
deacons.46 It therefore stands as a preliminary investigation of the topic.
43 Aimé-Georges Martimort, Les diaconesses, Essai historique (Roma: Edizioni Litur-
giche, 1982). Dorothea Reininger, Diakonat der Frau in der Einen Kirche: Diskussionen,
Entscheidungen und pastoral-praktische Erfahrungen in der christlichen Ökumene und ihr
Beitrag zur römisch-katholischen Diskussion (Ostfildern: Schwabenverlag, 1999); Moria
Scimmi, Le antiche diaconesse nella storiografia del XX secolo (Milano: Glossa, 2004).
44 Madigan and Osiek, Ordained Women.
45 Madigan and Osiek, Ordained Women, 4–5, rightly alert us to some methodological
problems. There is a possible discrepancy between ancient and modern concepts of ordained
ministry as well as chronological and geographical variations. They argue that scholars have
to keep in mind the differences between three aspects of leadership which affected women:
ordination, membership in the clergy, and special group status. These are also relevant for our
understanding of male deacons.
46 Diakonia, Diaconiae, Diaconato: Semantica e storia nei Padri della Chiesa. XXXVIII
Incontro di studiosi dell’ antichità cristiana. Roma, 7–9 maggio, 2009 (eds. Vittorio Grossi,
Bart J. Koet and Paul van Geest; Roma: Augustinianum, 2010). The philological thesis of
Collins is referred to in nine of the articles.

4. The Aim of This Collection
The conference in Rome was a first attempt to assess the meaning of diakonia
and the role of deacons in the early Church.47 In this collection, we aimed for a
more systematic approach, covering all the major references to deacons in the
first two centuries. This has not been fully realised: an important source such as
Job’s Testament, in which diakonia is associated with distribution of food
among hungry aliens, is not treated, nor is Epictetus’ stoic understanding of
diakonos.48 There is no assessment of inscriptions,49 nor is the reference to
Eleutherus in a fragment of Hegesippus discussed, although we mention it here
as another example of a deacon as an assistant to the bishop.50 Still, the treat-
ment is fairly comprehensive: we have supplemented the papers presented at the
conference held at the University of Eastern Finland and those commissioned
by the editors with two articles previously published in the proceedings from
Rome, as well as a few recently published articles, in order to present a cohesive
overview.51
Given the importance of this project for ecumenical dialogue, we have sought
contributors from a range of confessional backgrounds. There is also diversity
in the nationalities and disciplines represented, as well as a mix of seasoned
scholars and more junior researchers. The articles give particular insight into
the complex world of the first centuries of Christianity, especially its leadership.
Because it focuses on deacons in their context, it brings a new aspect of this
world to the fore – assistant leadership – which is also relevant to those holding
such positions in the church today. Given the significance of this work, we are
committed to continuing it through biennial conferences, and envisage that
these will also result in printed volumes.52
47 Bart J. Koet, “International conference on the sources of the diaconate: how it came
about and how it turned out: a first report,” Diaconia Christi 44 (2009): 124–28. Another,
smaller, conference was in Joensuu September 2015 with the theme: What did deacons do?
Theological foundations of deacons’ work and their practical applications.
48 See Georgi, Opponents, 27–29; Collins, Diakonia, 171–175; Dunderberg in Diakonische
Konturen, 178–179; Chiara Della Putta, “La nozione de διακονια nelle Diatribe di Epitteto,”
Diakonia, Diaconiae, Diaconato, 87–96.
49 However, one can find in Diaconia, Diaconiae, Diaconato, 453/612, some articles deal-
ing with epigraphical and archeological material.

50 Eusebius Hist. Eccl. IV, 30; See only the assessment in Paul August Leder, Die Diakonen
der Bischöfe und Presbyter und ihre urchristlichen Vorläufer: Untersuchungen über die Vor
geschichte und die Anfänge des Archidiakonats (Stuttgart: Ferdinand Enke, 1905), 153 n. 1. In
the writings of Eusebius one can also find a reference to another deacon of the second century:
Sanctus, deacon and martyr in Lyon (Hist. Eccl. V,1). For Polycarp about deacons, see Collins,
Diakonia, 241–42.
51 Our particular thanks to John N. Collins for providing the chapter on Clement of Alex-
andria at short notice.

52 The most recent conference was held in September, 2017 in Joensuu, Finland.

5. New Life from Old Texts
The role and tasks of deacons in the early Church could be forgotten if they
didn’t have any importance for today. But their ministry remains the subject of
discussion in many denominations and also has significance for the Church
more broadly. The path to understanding and unity goes – at least partly –
through the common roots of the Christian life. As yet, there is no consensus on
the role of a deacon, as shown in the Porvoo Agreement.53 In ecumenical discus-
sions between churches, it has mostly been discussed in combination with ques-
tions about the ministry of bishops and presbyters/priests.54 As the Anglo-Nor-
dic Diaconia Research Project (ANDREP) has shown,55 the renewed under-
standing of the ministry of a deacon must impact discussions of the other central
ministries of a church. This is confirmed by developments in the Lutheran
Church of Sweden: the findings of Collins and others seem to have caused a
deep reassessment of ministry and thus of leadership.56 Not only is the structure
of the church ministry under consideration, but also the specific tasks of con-
temporary deacons.
We believe that one of the best ways forward is to go back – back to our ear-
liest sources. In this volume, we examine references to deacons in the first two
centuries and ask: What did they do? In doing so, further questions come to the
fore: To what extent were deacons assistants? To what extent were they leaders
in their own right? What was the scope of their activities? We hope that the
answers to these questions will contribute to current discussions on the role of
deacons and deaconesses as part of the leadership of denominations and of the
Church as a whole. We would therefore like to thank Mohr Siebeck, particular-
ly Jörg Frey and Henning Ziebritzki, for supporting the publication of this
volume.
53 The Porvoo Common Statement (London: Council for Christian Unity of the General
Synod of the Church of England, 1993).

54 The most important ecumenical document on this topic, the Lima Report, interprets the
whole concept of ministry categories from service-discussion. Baptism, Eucharist and Minis-
try, 7 b.
55 The Porvoo Agreement, between mostly Nordic Lutheran and Anglican Churches, not-
ed that a separate analysis was needed on deacons. In the two volumes of ANDREP the thesis
of Collins was strongly used. See Borgegård and Hall, The Ministry of the Deacon: 1, but also
The Ministry of the Deacon: 2 Ecclesiological Explorations (eds. Gunnel Borgegård, Olav Fa-
nuelsen and Christine Hall; Uppsala: Nordic Ecumenical Council, 2000).
56 A Bishop’s Letter about Diaconia (Bishops’ Conference 2015; Uppsala, 2015), especially
78–81, 86: https://www.svenskakyrkan.se/default.aspx?id=1479690 (13.5.2017).

Biblical Sources

Exegetical Notes on Mark 10:42–45
Who Serves Whom?
Peter-Ben Smit
1. Introduction
The aim of this essay is to offer some marginal exegetical notes on Mark 10:42–
45, concerning the precise relationship of service and authority that the text
entails. Particular attention will also be given to the question of who is a διάκονος
to whom in this text. The essay is focused on furthering the discussion about
diakonia as it has been fueled by the exegetical insights of Collins and Hentschel
in particular, which the author thinks to be convincing at large; interaction with
secondary literature will, therefore, concentrate on that part of the discourse.
Its main characteristics will be outlined first, next a number of narrative and
contextual observations will be offered that prepare and lead to a discussion of
the question “who is a διάκονος to whom” in this pericope.
2. From the Old to the New Consensus
The work of John Collins,1 followed by that of Anni Hentschel,2 has, as it is well
known by now, led to a veritable paradigm shift in the interpretation of
“διακονέω/διακονία” in early Christianity, including the New Testament.3
From a paradigm in which lowly, usually charitable service, such as performed
by someone waiting at the table (see Acts 6 , John 13), was the point of departure
University Press, 1990).

2 Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007);
Hentschel rightly points to Dieter Georgi, Die Gegner des Paulus im 2. Korintherbrief (Neu-
kirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1964), 32–38, as an early instance of expanding the meaning of
διάκονος in relation to acting as emissary.
3 See also, for example, Bart J. Koet, The Go-Between: Augustine on Deacons (Leiden:
Brill, 2019), for an impression of the shifts that the new paradigm provokes in the study of
early Christianity at large, in this case in Augustinian studies.

18 Peter-Ben Smit
for the interpretation of this notion, new lexicographical research and research
into the use of the term in the Greco-Roman world at large has led to a new
paradigm. In this framework, the idea that a “διάκονος” is someone executing a
task on behalf of someone else, having been sent by this person, is key. This has
had at least two effects: (1) a broader spectrum of early Christian ministries can
now be understood as being more than just charitable or lowly, but rather as
ministries exercised under the commission of Christ; (2) the “lowly” character
has been relativised. Both of these effects also have consequences for the con-
ceptualization of the “diaconate” both ancient and modern.
This shift in interpretative paradigm has also had its impact on the inter
pretation of Mark 10:42–45.4 It has moved from being a paradigm of humble
service, indeed, an instance of “servant leadership.” From the point of view of
Hentschel, it now purports to indicate something quite different:
In der Sendung Jesu in die Welt, die seinen Tod am Kreuz aus Liebe für die Menschen
einschließt, offenbart sich in aller Tiefe die Liebe Gottes. Gemäß Mark 10,45 ist – Chris-
tus als Beauftragter (diakonos) Gottes nicht gekommen, um Aufträge zu erteilen – wie es
einem Boten Gottes nach antiken Vorstellungen durchaus zustehen würde – , sondern
um selbst (s)einen Auftrag im Namen Gottes auszuführen und sein Leben als Lösegeld
für viele zu geben. In der Treue zu Gott und in der pflichtgemäßen Ausführung des
Willens Gottes wird Jesus zum Vorbild für alle, die ihm nachfolgen. Insbesondere die,
welche Leitungsaufgaben innehaben, sollen sich bewusst sein, dass sie in der christlichen
Gemeinschaft nicht-autonom-Herrschende sind, sondern selbst im Auftrag eines Höh-
ergestellten stehen (vgl. Mk 10,42–44 par Lk 22,24–26), so dass nicht der persönliche
Status oder die eigene Autorität legitimes Ziel sein können, sondern nur die Loyalität
gegenüber Gott als dem eigentlichen Herrn der Gemeinde.5
Collins has also emphasised that the point of Mark 10:45 is not so much the
lowly character of the Son of Man’s behaviour, but rather its content in terms of
executing his charge by laying down his life as a ransom for many – this is where
he derives his ultimate dignity and value from, not from having many διάκονοι
at his own disposal. He again states this in his Diakonia (1990),6 and reiterates it
in Diakonia Studies (2014), summing up the point of the Markan pericope as
follows:
All the sayings [in Mark 10:42–45] are teaching disciples that in accepting a place in the
kingdom, members of the community are to abandon processes by which societies
operate. Instead they are to stand in relationships with God and with one another in a
community of discipleship. The sayings are not a call to abstain from the management of
affairs or to eschew the responsibility of authority. They are a call, however, to recognize
that the management of affairs and the deployment of authority are activities of this
4 See, for example, the overview provided by John N. Collins, Diakonia Studies: Critical
Issues in Ministry (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 3–20.

5 Anni Hentschel, “Dienen/Diener (NT),” http://www.bibelwissenschaft.de/stichwort/47
853/ (30.11.2016).
6 Collins, Diakonia, 251–52.

Exegetical Notes on Mark 10:42–45 19
world, whereas the kingdom of God establishes itself in a community of relationships.

The community will no longer provide communion when power distorts the dynamism
of relationships.7
The main interpretative shift in comparison with earlier interpretations, as

surveyed by Hentschel and Collins, 8 is that it is not so much the exemplary
humility of the Son of Man that is deduced from his acting as διάκονος, but
rather his exemplary execution of his duties, ultimately consisting of laying
down his life as a ransom. One issue that seems to be assumed rather than ar-
gued at length in all of this is that those acting on behalf of others act (directly)
on behalf of God. This is, however, not necessarily the most plausible interpre-
tation. In fact, following on a number of narrative and contextual observations,
it will be argued that it is more likely that the “acting on behalf of” happens
primarily in relation to the community.
3. Narrative and Contextual Observations
At this point, some observations on the narrative context of Mark 10:42–45 and
the occurrence of some of the motifs in the text in the broader Greco-Roman
world (including the Jewish colonised subculture) are in order.
First, the section of Mark that Mark 10:42–45 is usually seen to be part of is
significant. The broader section is 8:22–10:52, containing three passion predic-
tions: in 8:31; 9:31 (with a striking parallel to 10:43–44 in 9:35 and to 10:45 in
9:31); and finally in the section that runs from Mark 10:32–45 (prediction in vv.
33–34).9 This section is separated from its immediate narrative context by
means of two changes of place in vv. 32 and 46 that are accompanied by a change
of theme. As indicated also by the layout of NA28, this pericope can itself be
subdivided into three sections, one dealing with a passion prediction (vv. 32–
34), one with the request of James and John (vv. 35–40), and one dealing with
Jesus’ concluding teaching (vv. 41–45). The three sections are interconnected in
various ways, notably through the topic of death and martyrdom. For the pur-
poses of this essay, beyond the broader context that is permeated by the passion
predictions, one particular aspect of this is relevant. It is the connection be-
tween the passion prediction in v. 33 (ἰδοὺ ἀναβαίνομεν εἰς Ἱεροσόλυμα, καὶ ὁ υἱὸς
τοῦ ἀνθρώπου παραδοθήσεται τοῖς ἀρχιερεῦσιν καὶ τοῖς γραμματεῦσιν καὶ
κατακρινοῦσιν αὐτὸν θανάτῳ καὶ παραδώσουσιν αὐτὸν τοῖς ἔθνεσιν) and Jesus’
7 See Collins, Diakonia Studies, 89.

8 See Collins, Diakonia, 46–62; Hentschel, Diakonia, 11–24.
9 See Mark E. Moore, Kenotic Politics: The Reconfiguration of Power in Jesus’ Political
Praxis (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 63. On the structure see also John R. Donahue and Daniel
J. Harrington, The Gospel of Mark (SP 2; Collegeville: Liturgical, 2005), 314; Craig A. Evans,
Mark 8:27–16:20 (Waco: Word, 2015), 113–14 (on the relation to the passion predictions: 115–16).

20 Peter-Ben Smit
saying about the Son of Man in v. 45 (ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου οὐκ ἦλθεν διακονηθῆναι
ἀλλὰ διακονῆσαι καὶ δοῦναι τὴν ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ λύτρον ἀντὶ πολλῶν). The point is
twofold: (1) In both texts the (impending) death of the Son of Man is mentioned;
this connects the two texts. (2) The two verses are quite distinct when it comes
to describing the manner of this death. In v. 31, Mark uses passive tenses when-
ever the “Son of Man” is the subject of a verb and when others are the subject,10
he is rather emphatically the object of their actions.11 In v. 45, the reverse is the
case, here the Son of Man is the subject of all the verbs and each indicates an
action on his part, his death is even his laying down of his life. He even acts on
behalf of many in the later verse – in v. 33 the Son of Man ends up as the posses-
sion of the peoples (“Gentiles”). Within the scope of a few verses two totally
different representations of the Son of Man’s, i. e. Jesus’, death are presented.
The proximity of v. 33 to v. 45 will prove to be of interpretative significance
later on.
Second, it can be observed concerning the narrative leading into Jesus’ teach-
ing that here the question of the two Zebedean brothers, which refers to a future
(eschatological) glorious rule of Jesus (v. 37),12 be it earthly or heavenly, in which
they wish to take part prominently, is answered by Jesus by shifting the focus
10 Heinrich Baarlink, “Jesu Leben, ‘ein Lösegeld für viele’ (Markus 10,45),” in idem, Ver-
kündigtes Heil: Studien zu den synoptischen Evangelien (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 109,
elects to see the use of passiva divina here. It has disastrous exegetical results, as is usually the
case when this concept is employed. In Baarlink’s case, the effect is to marginalise any sugges-
tion of human agency and to turn the entire statement of v. 31 into one about God’s own of-
fering up of the Son of Man. The beauty of the use of an agentless passive is precisely that
room is given to multiple possible agents, without being clear as to who is ultimately in view.
Certainly, 8:31 suggests a divine necessity (δεῖ), but the entire Markan narrative, even the ex-
pressions used in 9:31, also indicate human agency. On the (largely fictitious nature of the)
passivum divinum, see Peter-Ben Smit and Toon Renssen, “The passivum divinum: The Rise
and Future Fall of an Imaginary Linguistic Phenomenon,” in Filología Neotestamentaria 47
(2015): 3–24; Knut Backhaus, “‘Lösepreis für viele’ (Mark 10,45). Zur Heilsbedeutung des
Todes Jesu bei Markus,” in Der Evangelist als Theologe: Studien zum Markusevangelium (ed.
Thomas Söding; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1995), 91–118 (100–101), also uses the no-
tion of the passivum divinum and sees a shift in agency in the Gospel of Mark, from God’s
“dahingeben” of the Son of Man to Jesus’ giving of himself. It is a beautiful theological image,
but the sequentiality hinges on seeing a passivum divinum in three instances (9:31; 10:33;
14:41). It would be preferable to do away with the use of this concept and to speak of a coin-
ciding of divine commissioning and sending of the Son of Man and the Son of Man’s active
execution of this commission. The one who is sent to give himself up indeed gives himself up.
11 Should Isa 53:12 LXX indeed be part of the background of Mark 10:45, then it is worth
noting that there the fate of the servant is described in passive terms (διὰ τοῦτο αὐτὸς
κληρονομήσει πολλοὺς καὶ τῶν ἰσχυρῶν μεριεῖ σκῦλα ἀνθ᾽ ὧν παρεδόθη εἰς θάνατον ἡ ψυχὴ
αὐτοῦ καὶ ἐν τοῖς ἀνόμοις ἐλογίσθη καὶ αὐτὸς ἁμαρτίας πολλῶν ἀνήνεγκεν καὶ διὰ τὰς ἁμαρτίας
αὐτῶν παρεδόθη), whereas Mark 10:45 states the fate of the Son of Man in active verbs. See
Adela Yarbro Collins, “The Signification of Mark 10:45 among Gentile Christians,” Harvard
Theological Review 90 (1997): 372.
12 See Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 311; Dieter Lührmann, Das Markusevangelium
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987), 179; and Evans, Mark, 116–17.

of the conversation to matters of martyrdom and death. This pertains both to

the reference of the cup and the baptism (vv. 38–39) and to the sitting at Jesus’
right and left hands, given that whereas the two ask about sitting ἐκ δεξιῶν καὶ
εἷς ἐξ ἀριστερῶν (v. 37), Jesus responds by referring to sitting ἐκ δεξιῶν μου ἢ ἐξ
εὐωνύμων (v. 40), which is an expression that returns in the account of his cru-
cifixion: καὶ σὺν αὐτῷ σταυροῦσιν δύο λῃστάς ἕνα ἐκ δεξιῶν καὶ ἕνα ἐξ εὐωνύμων
αὐτοῦ.13 Whereas this provides a preparation of the statement in 10:45 concern-
ing the Son of Man’s death, it also offers a near-Johannine reinterpretation of
what true glory amounts to,14 it seems, which is at the core of Jesus’ teaching in
vv. 42–44, with its own take as to what constitutes being “great” or “first.”15 In
the process, the Markan Jesus also shifts the focus from a future place of glory
to the role of leaders in the community, thus making the discourse transparent
for the Markan community and its office bearers.
A third observation concerns the occurrence of the contrast between rulers of
the nations and the way it ought to be ἐν ὑμῖν, i. e., in the community addressed
by Jesus through the Gospel of Mark (vv. 42–44). Of particular interest are the
possible backgrounds to the rhetoric of ruling and serving there. Recent schol-
arship shows a tendency to avoid following the (seeming) lead of Markan rhet-
oric here and pause to ask whether gentile leadership is general is in view, or just
particularly bad examples of it.16 While there is no consensus concerning the
genealogy of the topics found here in Mark, three remarks can be made. First, in
Jewish circles the combination of leadership, service, and self-offering, to the
extent of (expiatory, liberating) sacrifice on behalf of the people existed,17 both
13 See also Evans, Mark, 119, with emphasis on the irony of this.
14 See also the remarks of Eric Thurman, “Looking for a Few Good Men: Mark and Mas-
culinity,” in New Testament Masculinities (eds. Stephen D. Moore and Janice Capel Ander-
son; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003), 142.
15 The fact that Jesus indicates that it is not up to him to grant these honors may also indi-
cate that he is acting as an emissary with limited authority.

16 This discussion is partially determined by the interpretation of the verbs κατακυριεύω
and κατεξουσιάζω in relation to the more common forms κυριεύω and ἐξουσιάζω, and whether
the former two verbs represent intensified forms of the latter two, potentially signifying in-
stances of tyranny and oppression. See, for example, Adam Winn, “Tyrant or Servant? Roman
Political Ideology and Mark 10.42–45,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 36 (2014):
342–43, for an overview of the discussion. It certainly would suit the context of colonial Pal-
estine and the experience of gentile rulership (see Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 312; simi-
larly, C.S. Mann, Mark [New York: Doubleday, 1986], 414; Evans, Mark, 118). Whether one
indeed thinks that tyranny is in view (as Winn himself does) or not, for the purposes of this
paper the more important question is the structure of the relationship between those who are
in charge and the communities involved. Even if no tyranny is involved, a relationship can still
have the shape of “ruling over” or “being commissioned by” when it comes to leadership roles.
Narry F. Santos, Slave of All: The Paradox of Authority and Servanthood in the Gospel of
Mark (London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003), 203, is right in stressing that the use of a
double example intensifies its impact.
17 See Jan Willem van Henten, The Maccabean Martyrs as Saviours of the Jewish People: A
Study of 2 and 4 Maccabees (Leiden: Brill, 1997). See also the texts collected in Jan Willem van

22 Peter-Ben Smit
with and without a direct relationship to Isa 53.18 Second, in extra-Jewish texts,
similar combinations can also be found, in particular when related to ideal
(philosophical) kingship,19 this also applies to the gift of one’s life as a λύτρον.20
Third, when considering Roman and affiliated political leadership in Mark, the
two prime examples are Herod and Pilate, both of whom fail spectacularly in
their roles, notably in Mark 6 and 15.21 The combination of these factors leads
to an interpretative situation in which not gentile leadership as such, or in its
ideal form, is at stake in v. 42, but its perversion, which the readers of Mark are
familiar with from Chapter 6 already, while both gentile and Jewish leaders will
be able to make sense of what follows, in particular in terms of ideal-typical
leadership.22 Common to the two discourses of leadership, of which the Jewish
Henten and Friedrich Avemarie, Martyrdom and Noble Death: Selected Texts from Grae-
co-Roman, Jewish and Christian Antiquity (New York: Routledge, 2002).
18 The connection between the “suffering servant” and Mark 10:42–45, in particular v. 45,
is a much debated question that cannot be addressed on its own here and which is also of sec-
ondary importance to the argument advanced here. Should there indeed be a direct connec-
tion between these two texts, then this would mainly reinforce what can be argued on the
basis of a more general pattern of ideals concerning leadership, self-giving, and service as well.
For a survey of the debate on scriptural backgrounds, including Isa 53, and the Markan text,
see for instance, J. Christopher Edwards, The Ransom Logion in Mark and Matthew: Its Re-
ception and Its Significance for the Study of the Gospels (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), sur-
veying most relevant secondary literature up to 2012. Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 313,
rightly point both to the Jewish martyrdom tradition and the Pauline/deutero-Pauline usage
of ἀπολύτρωσις, as well as to the suffering servant (315).
19 See David Seeley, “Rulership and Service in Mark 10:41–45,” Novum Testamentum 35
(1993): 234–50. Following Seeley’s line of thought, see also Matthew Thiessen, “The Many for
One or One for the Many? Reading Mark 10:45 in the Roman Empire,” Harvard Theological
Review 109 (2016): 447–66, who argues convincingly that Mark 10:45 can be understood
against the backdrop of prevailing imperial ruler ideology, albeit it with a twist: in the case of
Mark, the “ruler” gives his life for the people, rather than that it being assumed that the people
ought to give their lives for their king. Winn, “Tyrant,” 343, suggests that the (Roman) readers
of Mark would be able to recognise themselves in the ideals of rulership outlined here and may
have joined in denouncing poor exercise of power along these lines.
20 See Yarbro Collins, “Signification,” with reference to actual liberation through manu-
mission in relation to this term.

21 On Mark 6, see Peter-Ben Smit, Masculinity and the Bible – Survey, Models, and Per-
spectives (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 57–66. On the characterization of both Herod and Pilate, see
Adam Winn, “‘Their Great Ones act as Tyrants over them.’ Mark’s Characterization of Ro-
man Authorities from a Distinctly Roman Perspective,” in Character Studies and the Gospel
of Mark (eds. Christopher W. Skinner and Matthew Ryan Hauge; London: Bloomsbury,
2014), 194–214. For the suggestion that Herod and Pilate are in view here, see Alberto De
Mingo Kaminouchi, But It Is Not So Among You: Echoes of Power in Mark 10.32–45 (Lon-
don: Bloomsbury, 2003), 207, commenting in particular on the οἱ δοκοῦντες ἄρχειν in v. 42, as
indeed both rulers fail rather spectacularly, Herod as a host, Pilate as a judge. Joachim Gnilka,
Das Evangelium nach Markus (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1979), 103, considers this
an instance of irony. Similarly, R.T. France, The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary on the Greek
Text (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 418–19.
22 The use of a negative example about the “other” can also function as a rhetorical ploy: as
the Markan community may well have distanced itself from “pagan” practices at large, the last

one is more likely to be genealogically connected to the text, is however – and

for this the shift in agency between v. 33 and v. 45 is of significance – that it is
through intentional service on behalf of and for the benefit of the community
that a person leads and that it is precisely also due to this intentionality that it is
service exercised as leader. In other words: hierarchy and roles do not disap-
pear,23 they are only structured in a particular manner and filled with service,
which, to be sure, may still involve considerable exercise of power, or even vio-
lence.
4. Who is a Διάκονος to Whom?
In most literature and also in the quotation from Hentschel above, Mark 10:42–
45 is interpreted in such a manner that the injunction in v. 43 that whoever
wants to be great “among you” has to be a “servant” (ὃς ἂν θέλῃ μέγας γενέσθαι
ἐν ὑμῖν ἔσται ὑμῶν διάκονος), followed up in v. 44 by the parallel statement that
whoever wants to rank first “among you” needs to be the slave of all (ὃς ἂν θέλῃ
ἐν ὑμῖν εἶναι πρῶτος ἔσται πάντων δοῦλος),24 refers to a “Christ-like” (or “Je-
sus-like”) attitude among the community leaders, addressed by way of Jesus’
interlocutors in this pericope, the inner circle of his disciples.25 Mark 10:42–45
is thus read as suggesting that leaders in a community are acting on behalf of
Jesus and therefore ought to behave like a proper διάκονος or δοῦλος, i. e.: a
διάκονος commissioned by Jesus and acting on Jesus’ behalf or as a δοῦλος of
Jesus. This argument is often supported by Jesus’ commissioning of his disci-
ples to perform tasks for him throughout the Gospel of Mark.26 Yet, it is worth-
while to explore this question further, given that it is not necessarily as clear as
this who is a διάκονος or δοῦλος to whom.
To begin with, concerning the Son of Man, it must be noted that both the
question on behalf of whom this person is exercising a διακονία (with the geni-
thing that its leadership would want is to be seen as “typically pagan” leaders. By identifying
a particular style of leadership as “pagan,” it immediately becomes much less attractive to
members of the Markan community.
23 See in this respect also John N. Collins, “Does Equality of Discipleship Add Up to
Church? A Critique of Feminist Ekklesia-logy,” New Theology Review 12.3 (August 1999):
48–57, a thorough critique of Schüssler Fiorenza’s exegesis and ecclesiological agenda. Power
and hierarchy do not disappear in an “ekklesia,” rather the notion of διακονία helps to make it
visible and to position it under Christ as a specific gift of the Spirit.
24 For recognition of the parallelism and its interpretative value, see Mann, Mark, 414.
25 The line of thought presented in this section was developed in the biblical theology class
taught in the winter term of 2016/2017 at the Old Catholic Seminary, Utrecht; discussion with
Anne Miedema and David Ross, both participating in the class, particularly helped to develop
it.
26 See Hentschel, Gemeinde, 170–230, for an extensive overview of the commissioning and
sending out of the disciplines as part of their Nachfolge.

24 Peter-Ben Smit
tive understood as a genitivus subjectivus) and the question as to who its precise
beneficiaries are (to be indicated by a genitivus objectivus), at least in as far as it
concerns an object for the verb διακονέω in v. 45, seem to be open, in particular
because no one or nothing is mentioned in the required genitive. Of course, it is
likely that the idea is that διακονία is exercised on behalf of God and for the
benefit of the πολλοὶ. Another possibility would be that the (missing) object or
subject in the genitive would, in fact, be the same person: a service commis-
sioned by God and exercised for God, with the “many” as collateral beneficiar-
ies, rather than as those who are being served. This would come close to (men-
tally) inserting a genitive θεοῦ here in which objective and subjective meanings
coincide in a somewhat ambiguous manner, 27 akin to the way in which this
happens in the notorious expression πίστις Χριστοῦ.28 In the end, exegetical,
rather than grammatical considerations are needed to help resolve the issue.29
The key exegetical consideration in this case is probably that, whereas there is
no clear indication of any other addressee of the service – “the people of Israel,”
or “the community of disciples” are not indicated as such, for instance – the
resulting ambiguity can well be dissolved by emphasizing an interpretation of
the καί in the latter part of Mark 10:45, i. e.: καὶ δοῦναι τὴν ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ λύτρον
ἀντὶ πολλῶν, as a καί epexegeticum, a proposal that would find confirmation in
the work of Hentschel30 and Collins31 as well. This would turn the act of giving
one’s life for many (or “the many”– οἱ πολλοί, whether this may be intended
pejoratively or not must remain undiscussed here),32 into the content of the
execution of the commission indicated by διακονέω, not a separate act (which it
would be when reading καί as a coordinating conjunction). Therefore, the
“many” are not the ones on whose behalf the Son of Man acts as a διάκονος or
the ones vis-à-vis he exercises his commission, but rather God’s commissioning
of the Son of Man has as its content giving one’s life for the many in terms of a
27 This is probably still in line with the interpretations offered by Collins and Hentschel,
given that they are adamant to stress both that God commissions Christ and that Christ exer-
cises this commission for God, not in the service of human beings.
28 On which see Suzan J.M. Sierksema-Agteres, “Imitation in faith: enacting Paul’s am
biguous pistis Christou formulations on a Greco-Roman stage,” International Journal of Phi-

losophy and Theology 77 (2016): 119–53. The problem of an objective and a subjective genitive
coinciding could also be solved with reference to the notion of a “plenary genitive,” which
intentionally combines both senses. This has been proposed by, for instance, Daniel B. Wal-
lace, Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1996), 119–21; this, how-
ever, seems to be a somewhat doubtful category. The substantiation of the existence of this
grammatical phenomenon by Wallace provides little evidence or detail.
29 Following Moulton’s observation that working out which genitive is used in ambiguous
cases is frequently a question of exegesis rather than of grammar. See J.H. Moulton, A Gram-
mar of New Testament Greek 1 (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1908), 72.
30 Hentschel, Gemeinde, 185.
31 Collins, Diakonia Studies, 82–83.
32 Likely, its meaning is intended to cover a broad array of people, similar to “all,” see
Donahue and Harrington, Mark, 313; see also Mann, Mark, 416–20.

ransom.33 God would, therefore, be indeed be both subject of the διακονία of the
Son of Man, which produced, given the content of the διακονία at stake, also the
ransoming of the “many.” The statement about the Son of Man in v. 45, which
serves as an exemplum to back up Jesus’ preceding teaching, has, accordingly,
two key components: (a) the presentation of an authoritative, even normative
instance of an existence dedicated to acting on behalf of a higher authority, in
the case of the exemplum: God; (b) the contents of that existence: giving one’s
life for others. Thus, there are at least two possible tertia comparationis con-
tained in this statement about the Son of Man and, in line with the generic use
of exempla in the Greco-Roman world, not all need to match the case for which
it is intended.34
Concerning the first possible point of comparison, two main options exist: (a)
comparison is in particular with acting on behalf of God; (b) comparison is in
particular with regard to acting on behalf of a higher authority as such. For two
reasons, the latter option is by far the most attractive, despite Hentschel’s and
Collins’ preference for the first option. The reasons for this are twofold: (1) In the
majority of cases in which διάκονος occurs with a genitive, this genitive indicates
the person or institution on behalf of which someone acts. The Jewish, Christian,
and “pagan” materials referenced by Collins and Hentschel all indicate this.35
The beneficiaries of someone acting on behalf of someone else are frequently
indicated either through a construction with a preposition or by means of a da-
tive, although it is possible that a genitive is used as well, but it seems to be some-
what less common.36 The fact that in v. 45 the beneficiaries of the Son of Man’s
33 Although exegetes like Baarlink (following Jeremias and others; “Leben,” 109–11) opine
differently, there is absolutely no reason to think of an interpretation of Mark 10:45 in terms

of “Existenzvertretung” or “Stellvertretung”; the notion that Jesus, as the Son of Man has
come δοῦναι τὴν ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ λύτρον ἀντὶ πολλῶν is an image (metaphor) that interprets the
effect of Jesus’ life and death in terms of liberation or ransoming, which, in Mark is comple-
mented with other images (that have very little to do with “Stellvertretung” indeed, see Back-
haus, “Lösepreis,” 92). A(n ethically dubious) deal between God and the Messiah in terms of
arranging a situation in which a ransom can be paid to God as the “Preis für verwirktes Le
ben” (Baarlink, “Leben,” 110) is questionable to say the least. For instance, Backhaus, “Löse-
preis,” 108–9, also uses the concept of “Stellvertretung” rather as if it is quite self-explanatory;
however, his triad“‘Dienst’ – ‘Stellvertretung’ – ‘Lebenshingabe’” in order to sum up the dy-
namics of Mark 10:45 already shows how superfluous the concept is here. The execution of the
commission that the Son of Man has amounts to giving his own life as a ransom for the bene-
fit of many; this dynamic can, in line with the entire Gospel of Mark, be understood well in
terms of (a) denial of the powers that be; Jesus’ death overcomes the powers of death and ac-
cordingly liberates from them; (b) complete surrendering to God and accordingly a life in
communion with God, in which those following Jesus can participate. For further considera-
tions, see Brenda B. Colijn, Images of Salvation in the Testament (Downers Grove, Ill.: In-
terVarsity, 2010), 148–52.
34 On the theory and use of exempla in the first century C.E., see Peter-Ben Smit, Para-
digms of Being in Christ (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 16–30.

35 Collins, Diakonia, 73–243; Hentschel, Diakonia, 34–89.
36 For examples, see Hentschel, Gemeinde, 189 n. 481.

26 Peter-Ben Smit
acting on behalf of God, i. e. the “many,” are indicated by means of a more com-
plicated construction than just a genitive might also speak against seeing a paral-
lel on that level here: it would have been more likely to have parallel constructions
to indicate those who benefitted from someone’s acting on someone else’s behalf.
(2) In this manner it is much easier to make sense of the use of the term δοῦλος in
relation to πρῶτος in v. 44: these two terms express a hierarchy, which is exactly
what there would be should the genitive ὑμῶν in v. 43 express that one who wish-
es to be “great” is to be a διάκονος. It also agrees with the use of δοῦλος with a
genitive, which usually expresses a relationship of ownership, irrespective of
whether someone is a slave of God (see the LSJ entry). As both ὑμῶν and πάντων
are plurals, and in both v. 43 and v. 44 the focus is ἐν ὑμῖν, i. e., in the community,
the most likely referent is the community, not God, Christ, or both. Further-
more, when the statements about being ὑμῶν διάκονος and πάντων δοῦλος have
parallel meanings, which is certainly an appealing interpretative option, as it
would read the two statements as a synonymous or explanatory parallelism with
a καί epexegeticum at its centre, then the (unclear) first should be read in the light
of the (clearer) second one. Both being a slave happens, therefore, in relation to
the community and also enacting a role as διάκονος. However hyperbolic the
expression may be here – the context certainly invites one to consider this possi-
bility, as Jesus’ words are intended to be effective rhetorically and to contrast the
(exaggerated) desire for status among the disciples 37 – it does indicate, together
with what precedes it in v. 43 that the “first” and “great” in the Markan commu-
nity are to act on behalf of the community and are, in that sense, subordinate to
it, like a δοῦλος, just as the Son of Man acted on behalf of God.
These considerations find support in Mark 9:35, a parallel to 10:45: εἴ τις θέλει
πρῶτος εἶναι ἔσται πάντων ἔσχατος καὶ πάντων διάκονος. Here, both genitives
should be read as relational genitives, expressing that whoever wants to be first
needs to be the last in relation to all and to be the διάκονος in relation to all. In
line with what was observed before, this use of the genitive suggests that the
disciples, here admonished for their arguing as to who is the greater one among
them (v. 34), are also instructed to act on behalf of the community and thus in
its service. There is no suggestion here of acting on behalf of God, which rein-
forces the impression that the tertium comparationis between Mark 10:45 and
the verses preceding it is the notion of acting on behalf of others as such, rather
than acting on behalf of God in particular.
37 Winn, “Tyrant,” 345, argues that the reference to a “slave” here must be hyperbolic; in
any case, it goes beyond the terminology used in Greco-Roman leadership ideology. This
must be nuanced, given that at least δουλεία is indeed used in these contexts (see Seeley,
“Rulership,” 236, referring to Dio Chrysostom, Or. 3.75, where the sun, as supreme king, is
described by means of the expression δουλείαν δουλεύω). Yet, the statement remains a crass
one. It is also possible that the term δοῦλος is useful as a means for interpreting διάκονος here
because Jesus died a slave’s death.

Concerning the second possible point of comparison, which is of lesser im-

portance for answering the question of who is a διάκονος to whom, and which
has as its core the contents of the διακονία of the Son of Man and the acting as a
διάκονος of those who wish to be great among the disciples, it would seem that
the connection is looser than in the case of the first point of comparison. That is
to say the following: whereas there is little suggestion either here or elsewhere in
the Gospel of Mark that the (most prominent among the) disciples are to lay
down their lives as λύτρον ἀντὶ πολλῶν, which seems to be something that is
particular to the Son of Man, the immediate context does suggest strongly that
they will die as part of their discipleship, given Jesus’ words in v. 39: τὸ ποτήριον
ὃ ἐγὼ πίνω πίεσθε καὶ τὸ βάπτισμα ὃ ἐγὼ βαπτίζομαι βαπτισθήσεσθε; whereas the
reference to baptism may not be found in the text of Mark, the chalice is found
in Mark 14:36, where it clearly is a metaphor for Jesus’ impending fate.
Thus, when returning to the main question of this section: Jesus’ instruction
pertains to preeminence and greatness finding its expression in acting on behalf
of the community, rather than positioning oneself over it (and presumably
acquiring others to act on one’s behalf and/or as one’s servants or slaves, unlike
the Son of Man did). This would seem to imply acting on behalf of the commu-
nity, but this is not the focus of Jesus’ instruction. Also the potential lethal
consequences of such behavior is not the core of his injunction, even if it is a
likely corollary, given in parallel between the fates of the Son of Man and that of
the two Zebedean brothers, who give occasion for Jesus’ words of admonition.
For those living as preeminent and “great” members of the community of dis
ciples, in terms of the way in which relationships are structured, the community
occupies the place that God likely has in the relationship between God and the
Son of Man. In other words, the preeminent and distinguished members of the
community are not directly διάκονοι θεοῦ, rather they are this indirectly: by
being διάκονοι τῆς ἐκκλησίας (θεοῦ), or, in the words of Mark: πάντων.38
Accordingly, the most viable exegetical option is to posit that the “great” and
“first” in the community addressed by the Markan gospel should consider
themselves as servants of the community. This fully agrees with the introducto-
38 For another proposal concerning whether acting on behalf of God or on behalf of hu-
man beings is in view, see the following quotation from a review of Collins, Diakonia Studies
by Jeremy Worthen, Ecclesiology 12 (2016): 262–64, 264: “If the diakonos is at the disposal of
one with higher authority and greater honour, to undertake work on their behalf and thereby
share something of their status, then might we see Jesus, who is wholly at the disposal of the
one with the highest glory and therefore participates fully in it, doing God’s work by putting
himself at the disposal of sinful human beings and thereby exalting them in turn to divine
glory? Collins seems to presume that there has to be strict either/or in Mark 10:45, Jesus as the
diakonos either of God or of human beings in giving his life as a ransom for many and, be-
cause he has strong grounds for the former, he argues that this must exclude the latter. But
might not soteriology and indeed Christology turn on the encompassing of both in a trans-
formative exchange?”

28 Peter-Ben Smit
ry remark of Jesus in v. 42 concerning the authority of rulers (οἱ δοκοῦντες ἄρχειν

τῶν ἐθνῶν) of the Gentiles and the manner in which these “lord it over them,”
paralleled by Jesus’ subsequent statement that “their high officials (οἱ μεγάλοι)
exercise authority over them” (NRSV). In the equally parallel answer formulat-
ed by Jesus (vv. 43–44), the position of the great and preeminent ones in the
Markan community is delineated. Nowhere is the acting of the gentile authori-
ties in analogy or on behalf of a higher authority (for example, the emperor, a
deity, etc.) suggested. This is another reason, in addition to the ones adduced
above, to assume that the acting is as a διάκονος i. e.: a δοῦλος. Rather, the point
of contrast between the two gentile examples is the attitude vis-à-vis the com-
munity. Following Markan vocabulary, the contrast is between self-positioning
as “κύριος” or as someone endowed with “ἐξουσία” (see the verbs κατακυριεύω
and κατεξουσιάζω in v. 42) and as someone who is a διάκονος or δοῦλος of the
community. In other words, not the course of someone’s authority or the like is
at stake, but the way in which this authority is conceptualised and exercised
with regard to the community. The Gentile model positions the leader over the
community; the Markan model positions the community over the leader. When
expressing this in the terminology of the new paradigm of διακονία, the differ-
ence is between leadership that acts on behalf of the community (Markan) and
leadership that is seemingly autonomous in nature (Gentile). Verse 45 substan-
tiates this model of “diaconal” leadership, i. e. acting on behalf of someone else,
by using the paradigm of the Son of Man. That this is a further thought is indi-
cated by the structure of Jesus’ pronouncement, which consists of a contrastive
parallelism that contains in itself two synonymous parallelism, followed by the
Son of Man saying (the structure of Jesus’ statement can be represented as a, a’
[v. 42]–b, b’ [vv. 43–44]–c [v. 45]). The b, b’ sequence may well have an intensi-
fying and clarifying character, moving from διάκονος to “δοῦλος” in the pro-
cess.39 From this follows that acting on behalf of someone else, i. e. as διάκονος,
is fitting for the “great” and “first” in the Markan model, given this example, but
it does not follow that the leaders addressed by the statement are acting directly
on God’s behalf and for the benefit of “many,” as the Son of Man does – only the
notion that “acting on behalf of others” is appropriate behaviour is substantiat-
ed in this manner.40 Jesus employs a line of reasoning that can be characterised
as “a maiore ad minus”: if it was appropriate for the Son of Man to act on behalf
of someone else, then it would certainly be appropriate for lesser figures, even if
they are the “great” or the “first” in a community, to do so. The resulting Mar-
39 See the analysis of Narry F. Santos, “Jesus’ Paradoxical Teaching in Mark 8:35; 9:35; and
10:43–44,” Bibliotheca Sacra 157 (2000): 15–25, 23–24.

40 This is a slightly different interpretation than the one proposed by Winn, “Tyrant,” 348,
who sees Mark as propagating “service as the ultimate expression of authority.” The difference
is that Winn reads the διάκονος/δοῦλος vocabulary used here as referring to “service” rather
than as having been commissioned by someone.

kan paradigm of leadership in the community is leadership on behalf of, possi-

bly commissioned by, the community, rather than leadership that subordinates
the community to itself. The position of divine authority as implied in v. 45 in
all of this would, if it is of significance at all, be occupied by the community, not
by its leadership. This interpretation of Mark 10:42–45 retains the new interpre-
tation of διακονία, but gives a different answer to the question of who is exercis-
ing a διακονία on behalf of whom according to Jesus’s statement in vv. 43–45.
5. Conclusion
On the basis of the above considerations, some brief conclusions are warranted
that may serve to further the approach to the diakonia discussion that has come
to be associated with the names of Collins and Hentschel – without wishing to
deny or diminish the efforts and contributions of others who have worked in a
similar vein. First, it appears that Mark, through the Markan Jesus, presents
leadership in the community as being characterised by exercising authority on
behalf of others. This is inherent in the use of διακονία terminology. Second, in
the community that Mark imagines, such ideal-typical leadership consists of
acting on behalf of the community and in its service. This means a slight shift
from the perspective set forth by others, given that there those exercising
διακονία do so directly on behalf of God. Here, the community is positioned, as
it were, between God and the “deacon.” For an understanding of the role of
διακονία and the ministry of the deacon in contemporary theological and eccle-
siological reflection, this may well be worth taking into account. When doing
so, the gendering of notions of service (frequently considered feminine)41 and
acting on behalf of others, ought also to be taken into account: if acting on be-
half of others is gendered more masculine, what kind of masculinity would this
be and who can perform and embody it?
41 Hentschel, Gemeinde, 19, 39. See also Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, “‘Der Dienst an den
Tischen.’ Eine kritische feministisch-theologische Überlegung zum Thema Diakonie,” Con-

cilium 24 (1988): 311–12. See further the contribution of Christina Schnabl, “Solidarität. Ein
sozialethischer Grundbegriff – genderethisch betrachtet,” Solidarität – ein christlicher Grund
begriff?: soziologische und theologische Perspektiven (eds. Michael Krüggeler, Stephanie Klein
and Karl Gabriel; Zürich: TVZ, 2005), 135–61, as well as the queering interpretation of the
(Roman Catholic all-male) diaconate by Paul M. Zulehner, Dienende Männer – Anstifter zur
Solidarität: Diakone in Westeuropa (Ostfildern: Schwabenverlag, 2003), 23–24.

The Rhetorical Value of Διακον- in Matthew 25:44
John N. Collins
The setting of the Judgment of the Nations (Matt 25:31–46) could hardly be
more dramatic. In the section beginning at Matt 21, Jesus enters Jerusalem, is
engaged in confrontation with the religious authorities, and delivers the escha-
tological discourse with dire forebodings of end times to fall upon all (21:1–
25:30). The section concludes with this narrative of judgement, while the next
opens upon Jesus at Passover in Jerusalem and continues with the rapid succes-
sion of his arrest, condemnation, and death.
This powerful scenario emphasises the universal relevance of the narrative of
judgement, shifting the gospel’s earlier focus from the tutoring of a small group
of fragile disciples to the fates confronting every man out “in the field,” every
woman at the “grinding of the grain,” every “house owner,” every master’s
“slave,” every “bridesmaid” at her joyful celebrations, and every individual of
whatever “talent” (24:40–43,48; 25:1,30). At this point, the telling of the Judg-
ment of the Nations provides reassurance to those with ears to hear. Doers of
good things to those in need – they have given food to the hungry, drink to the
thirsty, have welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, taken care of the sick,
and have visited those behind bars (vv. 34–36) – “will inherit the kingdom” pre-
pared for them “from the foundation of the world.”
Reassuring as this message is, listeners will remain alert to the grave warning
embodied in what “the king” (so entitled vv. 34,40) includes in his judgment of
those who have not been doers of good things. They are “accursed,” and receive
a sentence of exclusion from the kingdom and “eternal punishment” with “the
devil and his angels” (vv. 41,46).
1. Translating the Διακον- verb
The considerations that follow, as the title indicates, are not an exegesis of the
passage but focus on the role that the Greek verb διακονέω plays in this narra-
tive. Thus, discussion will not include the question of literary genre (the passage
is not pure parable, although with the opening image of sheep and goats many

32 John N. Collins
think of it as such), nor will it enter into the protracted debate surrounding the
identity of “the least of my brethren” (v. 40, RSV; NRSV: “of these who are
members of my family,” see v. 46: “the least”: are these the disciples or are they
Christians in general or are they peoples of “all the nations,” v. 32?) The focus is
restricted to determining and illustrating the meaning of the verb διακονέω in
v. 45 in order to demonstrate what this verb contributes to the import of the
passage.1
Those whom the Son of Man had separated to stand on his left-hand side and
who have already received their sentence appeal to “the king” (v. 44): “Lord,
when was it that we saw you hungry […] and did not take care of you?” The
italicised words here are the translation in NRSV of the Greek verb διηκονήσαμεν.
The same English phrase or an equivalent expression occurs in most modern
English translations of the New Testament (take care of: NAS, help: NIV, TEV,
CEV). Translations in other languages will provide occasion for similar reflec-
tions as those here. What we notice in English at this point (v. 44), however, is
that the earliest English translations from the Greek had here used the verb
minister, thus William Tyndale (1526): “when […] have [we] not ministered unto
thee?” Similarly AV/KJ (1611). This verb minister survived in RSV (1945) but
was replaced by take care of in NRSV (1989).
Does any significance attach to this change from “minister” to “taking care
of,” “helping”? By 1989 were ministry terms simply out of date – at least in cer-
tain contexts? At Acts 1:17 and 25, NRSV did not hesitate to translate διακονία
as “ministry” in reference to the commissioning of the apostles. Similarly in
regard to the “ministry” of Paul at Acts 20:24 and 21:19, just as in Paul’s own
reference to his “ministry” at Rom 11:13 and “ministry” of others in the church
at Rom 12:7. The difference emerges especially, however, when a third party is
understood to be the recipient of a beneficent activity. Thus, when the disciples
in Antioch hear of famine in Jerusalem, NRSV reports that they determined to
“send relief/diakonia” by the hands of Barnabas and Saul (Acts 11:29). But when
the crisis is past, in reporting that the two delegates had completed their “diako-
nia” (12:25), the NRSV now calls it a “mission.”
Similar differences – which are really blatant inconsistencies – could be traced
across much of the usage of the διακονία terms in modern translations of the
New Testament across all languages. An awareness of this singular phenome-
non alerts us to the need to take note of what has been happening in modern
times to the understanding of the διακον- verb in Matthew’s passage. Its pres-
ence in the passage has certainly attracted keen interest, as we will have occasion
1 Comprehensive exegeses are, e. g., Ulrich Luz, Matthew 21–28: A Commentary, trans.
J. E. Crouch (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2005); Egon Brandenburger, “Taten der Barm-
herzigkeit als Dienst dem königlichen Herrn (Matt 25:31–46),” in Diakonie – biblische Grund
lagen und Orientierungen: Ein Arbeitsbuch (eds. Gerhard K. Schäfer and Theodor Strohm;
Heidelberg: Winter, 1994), 297–326.

The Rhetorical Value of Διακον- in Matthew 25:44 33
to observe. First, however, we will draw attention to the position held by this
verb among the eight other verbs in the passage. The point in this is to observe
the priority given in modern times to the notion of caring carried by διακον- in
this narrative.
2. Διακον- among Other Verbs
A string of verbs designating specific activities occurs in more or less identical

form on three occasions:
i when the king lists the activities of those “blessed by [his] Father”
ii when “the righteous” ask when it was that they had performed such activities
iii when the king informs “those at his left hand” that they had not performed
these activities
In these three contexts the verbs are as follows in English (with the Greek verb
identified in brackets):
i 35. I was hungry: you gave me food (ἐδώκατε)
I was thirsty: you gave me to drink (ἐποτίσατε)
I was a stranger: you welcomed me (συνηγάγετέ)
36. I was naked: you gave me clothing (περιεβάλετέ)
I was sick: you took care of me (ἐπεσκέψασθέ)
I was in prison: you visited me (ἤλθατε)
ii 37. when was it that you were hungry: we gave you food (ἐθρέψαμεν)
thirsty: we gave you to drink (ἐποτίσαμεν)
38. a stranger: we welcomed you (συνηγάγομεν)
naked: we gave you clothing (περιεβάλομεν)
39. sick or in prison: we visited you (ἤλθομεν)
iii 42. I was hungry: you gave me no food (ἐδώκατε)
thirsty: you gave me nothing to drink (ἐποτίσατε)
43. a stranger: you did not welcome me (συνηγάγετέ)
naked: you did not give me clothing (περιεβάλετέ)
sick and in prison: you did not visit me (ἐπεσκέψασθέ)
One other verb function is also to be noted. When the king refers to the totality
of these activities, the narrative employs on two occasions a verb with a generic
reference, thus, in reference to the activities firstly of “the righteous” and sec-
ondly of “those at his left hand”:
40. just as you did it to one […] you did it to me (ἐποιήσατε)
45. just as you did not do it to one […] you did not do it to me (ἐποιήσατε)
Here we see that the king refers to the diverse activities of giving food, giving
drink, welcoming, clothing, taking care of, visiting by use of one verb denoting

34 John N. Collins
“doing things” for others and for himself. This raises the question about the new
verb expressed by “those at his left hand” when those people are appealing to
the king against the sentence he has passed on them. Unlike the king, who twice
summarised the activities by the use of the generic verb “to do” (vv. 40,45), the
condemned introduce a new verb to the narrative to summarise the list of the
same activities, as follows:
44. when was it that we saw you
hungry / thirsty / a stranger / naked / sick / in prison:
did not take care of you (διηκονήσαμέν)
If we look back to the list of NRSV translations of the other verbs, we notice
that the English verbal phrase “take care of (epeskepsasthe)” has occurred in
reference to the sick person at v. 36, although not in reference to the sick and
imprisoned at v. 43. Here the Greek text again has ἐπεσκέψασθε, while the Eng-
lish translation of ἐπεσκέψασθε this time changes from “take care of” to “visit”
(a legitimate translation). We soon realise, however, that this change has oc-
curred for the purpose of leaving the translators room to re-introduce the no-
tion “take care of” into the following verse as the translation of the new verb on
the lips of the condemned: διηκονήσαμεν. According to this reading of the
narrative, the attendants are protesting how well they have been “taking care
of” the king.
3. The Διακον- verb and the Modern Tradition of Diakonia
At the root of this seemingly minor inconsistency is a mid-twentieth century

conviction about the singular semantic value said to be carried by this new verb
in early Christian writings. The verb belongs to the διακονία word group and,
by a now longstanding and almost universal consensus (embodied in vol. 2 of
the Kittel Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament of 1935), words of
this group have come to be understood as giving expression to a lowly and car-
ing love that has a specifically Christian character deriving from the example
and the teachings of Jesus. In this reading, the peak expression of the character
of the mission of Jesus is what he himself had taught his disciples, namely, that
he had come “not to be served but to serve […] ” (Mark 10:45). This serve verb
translates also the διακον- verb that occurs in our passage of Matt 25:44. In the
Kittel Dictionary, Hermann W. Beyer had written of this verb at Mark 10:45 as
being “much more than a comprehensive term for any loving assistance […] It is
understood as full and perfect sacrifice, as the offering of life which is the very
essence of service, of being for others […] ”2 By force of this conviction – really,
2 Hermann W. Beyer, “διακονέω κτλ,” in TWNT 2 (1935), 81–93; Engl. trans.: TDNT 2
(1964), 81–93.

merely a newfound mid-20th century convention – the NRSV translators of the

verb διακονέω at v. 44 did not want ἐπεσκέψασθε of the preceding v. 43 to an
ticipate the idea of “care for others” that they had already attributed to this verb
in v. 36, so at v. 43 they opted to translate it “visit.” This left “take care of” to be
available at v. 44 to represent the meaning of the διακονέω verb there.
This Greek verb in precisely this verse had achieved a very high profile in
early to mid-20th century pastoral theology, especially in German-speaking
lands and within pastoral practice of the Evangelical and Reformed Churches.
Since the mid-19th century, these churches had been the home of what became
a vibrant renewal of a modern diaconate dedicated to social services to those in
need. The dedication of deaconesses and deacons to this calling was hugely in-
spired by what they understood of the διακονία of the Son of Man who came to
“serve/διακον-” (Mark 10:45) and of the summons in the Judgement of the Na-
tions to “serve” the needy through the church’s διακονία. Their own designation
within the church as deaconess and deacon, titles deriving directly from the
original Greek title διάκονος, resonated with the constant call to διακονία. Even
by the mid-19th century the term had already become a simple German neolo-
gism in the form Diakonie. And under this title the Evangelical Church soon
developed its organization of Christian social services (Diakonie activated in
das diakonische Werk). Today the organization employs some 450,000 people in
over 1,000 service centres (Diakoniestationen), in tertiary diakonic institutes,
and in administration.
Clearly, the narrative of the Judgement of the Nations is an important docu-
ment within such a strongly diakonic religious culture. Writing on “Diakonie in
der Gemeinde/Diakonie in the Parish,” Günter Ruddat and Gerhard K. Schäfer
asserted:
Diakonie takes on a specific signification precisely when the verb διακονέω (to serve)
refers directly to situations of basic need and to “the works of mercy” (Matt 25:31–46)
[…].3
This culture has been broadly shared across central Europe, in Scandinavia,
North America, and wherever the German deaconess movement took root.4 In
1966, contributing a chapter to Service in Christ, a volume dedicated to Karl
Barth who, in Church Dogmatics 4:2, had forcefully promoted the significance
3 “Spezifische Bedeutung gewinnt ‘Diakonie’ dann insofern als diakonein (dienen) inhalt-
lich auf elementare Notsituationen und die Werke der Barmherzigkeit bezogen (Matt 25.31ff)
[…],” Günter Ruddat and Gerhard K. Schäfer, “Diakonie in der Gemeinde,” in Diakonisches
Kompendium (eds. Günter Ruddat and Gerhard K. Schäfer; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck &
Ruprecht, 2005), 203–27, 214.
4 See the section “The Impact of a ‘Revolutionary Word,’” in John N. Collins, “Theology
of Ministry in the Twentieth Century: Ongoing Problems or New Orientations?” Diakonia

Studies: Critical Issues in Ministry (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 165–86, 168–
73; also in Ecclesiology 8/1 (2012): 11–32.

36 John N. Collins
of διακονία for an authentic life within the Christian church,5 Charles E. B.
Cranfield had called Matt 25:44 “the locus classicus” of the Christian ideal of
loving service, 6 a concept the German language is able to express as Liebesdienst
(service of love). Ulrich Luz identifies the passage as “the foundational text of
Christian Diakonie,”7 while Theodor Strohm invokes the image of the text as
“the Magna Charta of Diakonie,”8 a figure drawn upon also by Gerhard K.
Schäfer and Volker Herrmann.9
Illustrating the widespread acceptance of this diakonic style beyond the EKD
(Evangelische Kirche in Deutschland), the German pope, Benedict XVI, intro-
duced Part 2 of his first encyclical God is love under the title “On the Practice
of Love in the Church.” Here he was emphasizing the foundational ecclesial
dimension of love – Liebesdienst (n. 20) – on the basis of the institution of The
Seven in Acts 6 , and wrote (n. 21):
With the formation of this group of seven, “diaconia” – the ministry of charity exercised
in a communitarian, orderly way – became part of the fundamental structure of the
Church.10
In a study of this encyclical, Heinrich Pompey pointed to this emphasis on

“caritative diakonia” (“caritative Diakonie”) as unprecedented in former papal
teachings on social issues.11
5 Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, vol. 4, The Doctrine of Reconciliation, part 2 (trans.
Geoffrey W. Bromiley; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1958, German original 1955), 694.
6 Charles E. B. Cranfield, “Diakonia in the New Testament,” in Service in Christ (eds.
James I. McCord and T. H. L. Parker; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1966), 37–48, 39.
7 Ulrich Luz, “Biblische Grundlagen der Diakonie,” in Diakonisches Kompendium, 17–35,
24.
8 Theodor Strohm, “Diakonie – biblisch-theologische Grundlagen und Orientierungen.
Problemhorizonte,” in Studienbuch Diakonik: Bd. 1 (eds. Volker Hermann and Martin

Horstmann; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 22008), 15–25, 19.
9 Gerhard K. Schäfer and Volker Herrmann, “Geschichtliche Entwicklungen der Diako
nie,” in Diakonisches Kompendium, 36–67, 40.

10 “[…]war nun die “diakonia” – der Dienst gemeinsamer, geordnet geübter Nächsten-
liebe – in der grundlegenden Struktur der Kirche selbst verankert.” Text from Benedict XVI,
Pope, Deus caritas est (2005); http://w2.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/encyclicals/docu
ments/hf_ben-xvi_enc_20051225_deus-caritas-est.html (29.6.2017).
11 Heinrich Pompey, Zur Neuprofilierung der caritativen Diakonie der Kirche: Die Caritas-
Enzyklika ”Deus caritas est,” Kommentar und Auswertung (Würzburg: Echter Verlag, 2007),
129. And see the discussion in John N. Collins, “The Problem with Values carried by Diako-
nia/Diakonie in Recent Church Documents,” in Diakonia Studies: Critical Issues in Ministry
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 49.

4. Disrupting the Consensus on Diakonia
Since 1990, however, two major linguistic investigations of the διακον- terms
have contested the validity of the consensus that attributes this caritative di-
mension to the semantic range of διακον- terms in early Christian sources.12
In fact, Hentschel and I both insist that διακον- terms have never given expres-
sion in any ancient Greek source to a notion of benevolent activity. Any activity
designated by a διακον- term is one that is mandated by some authority – heav-
enly, civic, ecclesial, or merely personal – just as any person designated by a
διακον- term is a person who acts under a permanent or temporary mandate.
A particular point of grammar is that in the case of the διακον- verb, a de-
pendent dative case of a person or institution is not an indication of some bene-
fit to that person or institution. On the contrary, the dependent dative is identi-
fying the source of the mandate under which the activity occurs. In instances
recording Paul’s involvement in the Collection for Jerusalem, this critical factor
is rarely understood. Thus, at Rom 15:25, with translations of the italicised
Greek dative case:
I am going to Jerusalem
διακονῶν τοῖς ἁγίοις
[NRSV] in a ministry to the saints
[RSV] with aid for the saints
[NIV] in the service of the saints there
What we are really to understand from the Greek dative is that “the saints”
designated there are not intended to be identified as the members of the commu-
nity in Jerusalem whom Paul is on the way to assist. Rather, as Paul proceeds to
indicate (v. 26), the saints of v. 25 are members of the communities in Macedonia
and Achaia. The dative ἁγίοις indicates that Paul is acting at the behest of those
communities. We see this construction in Plato’s depiction of the responsibili-
ties of politicians and bureaucrats (Lg. 955c): “Those who perform some activity
in the name of the state (τοὺς τῇ πατρίδι διακονoύντάς τι) are to act without re-
ceiving gifts.”13 We should understand Paul’s statement at 15:25 as “I am on my
way to Jerusalem on a delegation from the saints [in Macedonia and Achaia].”
Returning to Matt 25, we see that the διακον- verb occurs on the lips of those
at the left hand of the king with a dependent dative pronoun (διηκονήσαμέν σοι).
Accordingly, we are to understand that in anything these people do in relation
University Press, 1990); Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament (Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2007).
13 On this usage see the discussion in ch. 11, “Emissaries in the Church,” in Collins,
D iakonia, with particulars of grammar at note 9 there (p. 327); on Plato, Leg. 955, 145; also
John N. Collins, Deacons and the Church (Leominster, UK: Gracewing; Harrisburg, USA:
Morehouse, 2002), 66–76.

38 John N. Collins
to the king, they are professing themselves to be acting as his faithful agents or
attendants. They have no other objective in mind. If the king instructed them to
visit the sick, they would visit the sick; if the king calls for his supper, they will
bring his supper. The needs of the destitute are not within their frame of refer-
ence, and for this the king will declare them “accursed.” They have demonstrat-
ed that they have no understanding of the nature of the kingdom.
An ancient Greek-speaking audience would have immediately recognised the
singular relevance of the διακον- verb in the narration of this scene of judge-
ment. The audience would have perceived also the exclusive reference of the verb
to the royal person; in addition, the audience would have recognised the διακον-
verb as the appropriate expression for language within a royal court. In the con-
text of today’s theology of ministry, however, readers and translators of this
passage from Matt 25 understand entirely different things in this reference to
διακονία. Since the 1950s, under the impact of influential studies like Eduard
Schweizer’s Church Order in the New Testament,14 Hans Küng’s The Church,15
and Thomas O’Meara’s Theology of Ministry,16 the theologically educated have
taken for granted that, in ancient Greek, διακονία was, in Küng’s phrase else-
where, “a very ordinary and not a religious term.”17 Perhaps the most strongly
worded description in the modern era of the semantic values understood to be
carried by διακονία was provided by Gisbert Greshake in 1982:
The ministry of Christ is more specifically described as diakonia, a word which basical-
ly means “service at table.” But since in ancient times service at table was felt to be dis-
honourable, the word took on the pointed meaning of “lowly service,” the service of a
slave. It is a service which involves becoming dirty: it counts for nothing and is despised
by all. The corresponding noun diakonos came to have almost the same meaning as
doulos. The mission of Christ was to a “slave service” of this kind.18
As late as 2002 such insistence upon the lowly character of activities named
diakonia was embedded in the “Historico-Theological Document” that the In-
ternational Theological Commission had produced after investigations lasting
the whole preceding decade. The document is known in English under the title
From the Diakonia of Christ to the Diakonia of the Apostles,19 and investigates
the origins and theology of the diaconate. After some opening reflections upon
διακονία as “putting oneself at the service of others to the point of self-renunci-
14 Eduard Schweizer, Church Order in the New Testament (trans. Frank Clarke; London:
SCM, 1961).
15 Hans Küng, The Church (trans. Ray and Rosaleen Ockenden; London: Burns and
Oates, 1967).
16 Thomas F. O’Meara, Theology of Ministry (rev. ed.; Mahwah: Paulist, 1999, original 1983).
17 Hans Küng, Why Priests? (trans. John Cumming; London: Collins Fontana, 1972), 26.
18 Gisbert Greshake, The Meaning of Christian Priesthood (trans. Peadar MacSeumais;
Westminster, USA: Four Corners Press, 1989; German original, 1982), 144.
19 International Theological Commission, From the Diakonia of Christ to the Diakonia of
the Apostles (trans. the Catholic Truth Society; UK; Chicago: Hillenbrand Books, 2003).

ation and self-giving, for love” – a description deriving from a prior publication
by the ITC’s own president 20 – references in chapter 2.I.2 on “Data from the
New Testament” are exclusively to German literature, highlighting Ernst
Dassmann’s study, 21 but pointing to the origins of this line of interpretation in
Hermann W. Beyer’s article on the διακον- terms in vol. 2 of Kittel’s Theological
Dictionary of 1935.
My studies, along with those of Hentschel, have, by contrast, established not
only that activities designated as diakonic in one way or another are all in fact
activities carried out according to a mandate and never imply benevolence, but
also that any such designated activities are not inherently lowly. The literature
surveyed in chapter 6 of Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources 22 – to
take just one tranche of the literary usage – provides ample evidence of the broad
sweep of agents identified in those sources. Apart from numerous philosophical
considerations on such matters as the human voice transmitting ideas and the
moon transmitting the sun’s light – these being διακον- verbs – human agents
(διακον-) appear in the persons of Rachel, Athenian politicians and generals,
Roman military officers and procurators, the patriarch Joseph’s palace steward,
the prophet Samuel, God’s own angels, and the daemons through whom God
manages the universe.
5. Among “the Great Ones”
Of particular relevance to the scene in the royal court at Matt 25:31–32 is Greek
usage of διακον- terms in the context of the households and courts of those des-
ignated by Mark’s gospel as “great ones” (10:42).23 The reference we will focus
on is service at table, if only because, as has been noted, this is normally consid-
ered the basic reference or “fundamental meaning” of all διακον- terms; in fact,
however, the διακον- terms have no identifiable (or translatable) “original mean-
ing,” and perhaps the preceding sampling of usage has already suggested some-
thing along this line.
An eloquent introduction to table usage is Philo’s comparison of the classic
Greek symposium with the gathering of the Jewish guild of Therapeutae. This
occurs in his De vita contemplativa. Here Philo paid particular attention to the
style and quality of the Jewish attendants, a large part of his aim being to bring
20 Gerhard Ludwig Müller, Priestertum und Diakonat, Der Empfänger des Weihesakramen
tes in schöpfungstheologischer und christologischer Perspektive (Freiburg: Johannes Verlag,

2000), 152. See further about this connection in John N. Collins, Gateway to Renewal (Mel-
bourne: Morning Star, 2016), ch. 6: “A litany of errors in ITC document.”
21 Ernst Dassmann, Ämter und Dienste in den frühchristlichen Gemeinden (Bonn: Boren
gässer, 1994).
23 The material reported here is again selected from Collins, Diakonia, 150–68.

40 John N. Collins
out the highly religious character of the Jewish gathering in contrast to the dis-
solute practices of the Greeks. The following is an edited extract (with διακον-
terms identified):24
[64] I will oppose to the Greeks the entertainments of those persons who have devoted
their whole life and themselves to the knowledge and contemplation of the affairs of na-
ture in accordance with the most sacred admonitions and precepts of the prophet Moses.
They come together clothed in white garments, and joyful with the most exceeding grav-
ity, and before they sit down to meat, standing in order in a row, and raising their eyes
and their hands to heaven, they pray to God that the entertainment may be acceptable.
And the order in which they sit down to meat is a divided one, the men sitting on the
right hand and the women apart from them on the left; at all times and in all places they
practice a liberal, gentlemanlike kind of frugality, hating the allurements of pleasure
with all their might.
And they do not use the ministrations [70: διακον- ] of slaves, looking upon the pos-
session of servants to be a thing absolutely and wholly contrary to nature, for nature has
created all men free. Accordingly in this sacred entertainment there is, as I have said, no
slave [71: δοῦλος], but free men minister [71: διακονέω] to the guests, performing the of-
fices of servants [71: διακον- ] not under compulsion, nor in obedience to any imperious
commands, but of their own voluntary free will, with all eagerness and promptitude
anticipating all orders, for they are not any chance free men who are appointed to per-
form these duties, but young men who are selected from their order with all possible care
on account of their excellence; and they come in to perform their service ungirdled, and
with their tunics let down, in order that nothing which bears any resemblance to a slav-
ish appearance may be introduced into this festival.
Such an elaborate context and dedicated rhetoric exhibit just what it is that the
διακον- terms contribute to this scene and what the scene says to us about the
semantic role of διακον-. Whereas the Greeks degrade their symposium through
the use of slaves, no shadow of slavery falls across the διακονία carried out by the
young carefully selected Jewish men. Indeed, we easily discern that this διακονία
contributes mightily to the elite and pious elegance of the occasion, enhancing
rather than detracting from the nobility of the young men. The way they go
about the duties of their διακονία embodies what had once been the ideal of the
ancient Greeks. Philo’s readers would have no difficulty in recognizing that the
proceedings were appropriately designated διακονία.
The same quality pertains to usage within a large body of material not neces-
sarily referencing waiting at tables but including other activities by attendants
within the courts of royalty and of other great personages, thereby further illus-
trating the character of the usage employed in regard to the διακον- verb at Matt
25:44. Thus in the courts of heaven, Lucian presents Ganymede attending on
Zeus (DDeorum 4.4), as do also Hebe and Hephaestus (5.2), while Hermes
24 Adapting the online 19th century translation: Charles D. Yonge, On the contemplative
life of suppliants in The Works of Philo Judaeus: The contemporary of Josephus (trans. from the
Greek; London: Bohn, 1854–1890), http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/yonge/book34.
html.

a ttends on Hercules and Dionysus (24.2); a fragment of Strato (APL 12.194)

presents a youth transported to the home of the gods “for ministrations (διακον-)
to the blessed ones [of glorious nectar].”
Among mere mortals, Athenaeus, who constructed a large depository of
Greek customs at symposia, insisted that the ancients had maintained the ap-
propriate procedures for invoking the presence of the gods at their banquets. In
his Deipnosophistae (or Wise Men at Table) he wrote (192b):
With the ancients the only reason for gathering to drink wine was religion, and any gar-
lands, hymns or songs they used were in keeping with this, and the one who was to do
the waiting (διακον- ) was never a slave, rather young sons of free men would pour the
wine […] just as we read in fair Sappho of Hermes pouring wine for the gods.
Significantly, in a work that reports frequent interventions of waiters at work,

Athenaeus reserves the διακον- terms to explicitly religious contexts. The same
religious dimension is evident in the public monuments recording the names of
those who performed διακονία at festivals.25
Elsewhere in literature we encounter numerous references by means of
διακον- to royal and princely courts. Suffice to mention διακονία of tables in the
context of Augustus being entertained by Vedius Pollio (Dio Cassius 54.23.4);
the white raiment and careful toiletry of attendants in the Persian court (Hera-
clides, FHG. 2.96), the διακονία in the court of Cotys, king of Thrace (Plutarch,
Mor. 174d), and διάκονοι in the court of a tyrant and in the household of a pole-
march (Xenophon, Hiero 4.2; Historia Graeca 3.4.6). The usage features also in
reports by Josephus about events in Pharaoh’s court (AJ 2.65); the courts of
King Saul (6.52); Amnon, the Davidic prince (7.165); King Solomon (8.169);
King Belshazzar of Babylon (10.242); King Xerxes of Persia (11.163,166); King
Artaxerxes (11.188); King Herod (15.224); King Agrippa (18.193).26 In accord
with usage in these passages, the Septuagint Book of Esther records several in-
stances (1:10; 2:2; 6:1,3,5), these being of additional interest in that, apart from
them and three other instances (Prov 10:4a; 1 Macc 11:58; 4 Macc 9:17), the
Septuagint does not employ the word group. The ground for this striking ab-
sence of the terms is, in my view, the correlation between the usage and Hellen-
istic religious culture.
A later instance from Clement of Alexandria (c. 200 C.E.) illustrates how
readily the ancient Greek speaker recognised the correlation intended by an
author between διακον- and royalty. Commenting on the angels ministering
(διακον- ) to Jesus in the desert (Mark 1:13), Clement wrote, “as if he were al-
ready a real king.”27

26 See further Collins, Diakonia, 154–64.
27 Exc. 4.85; Trans. http://stephanus.tlg.uci.edu.

42 John N. Collins
6. The Diakonia of “the Accursed”
In the light of the semantic profile of the διακον- terms that the preceding over-
view of ancient sources suggests, it is not difficult to see why the Greek author
of the parable should have drawn upon the διακον- verb for the purpose of des-
ignating the activity of the “accursed” people who had prided themselves on
being attendants in a royal court. The διακον- term that suddenly intrudes into
the narrative is wholly appropriate in the context of attendants pleading with
their king to take into account the high and exclusive attention they know they
had given him. The situation lends itself to a paraphrase in more conventional
modern terms. The condemned attendants are in shock, indeed, in terror, and
exclaim, “Your Majesty, when was it that we did not comply with any of your
demands upon us?”
The lesson to be taken from the scene is thus nothing associated with the
διακον- term itself. That term merely identifies the relationship between the
royal attendants and the king. They are now learning that their dedication to the
king had blinded them to their responsibilities within the kingdom, namely, to
fellow members in need.
The modern theological/ethical construct of diakonia can take nothing for its
enrichment from the occurrence of the διακον- verb at Matt 25:44. The term is
simply part of the royal décor. As such, however, it adds powerfully to the in-
tensity of the teaching in this scene that nothing should distract the Son of
Man’s followers from attending to the needs of those around them. How this is
to be done in social circumstances of changing eras is not for discussion here.
Relevant, however, is a reminder of difficulties attending any attempt to change
understandings of foundational texts when alternative views have been in place
across several generations inspiring the development and consolidation of – in
our case – a churchwide “diakonic” culture.
7. Conclusion: Diakonia and Diakonie
Confronting this issue, Anni Hentschel graciously concedes that, although

διακονία does not signify loving service of neighbour, the 19th century institu-
tions of diakonia arising from that mistaken understanding had nonetheless
heightened the awareness of love of neighbour.28 Exploring the same problem,
which is acute in the German language and within German religious culture,
Hans-Jürgen Benedict, who first publicised in Germany the re-interpretation of
28 Anni Hentschel, “Diakonie in der Bibel,” in Diakoniefibel: Grundwissen für alle, die mit
Diakonie zu tun haben (eds. Klaus-Dieter K. Kottnik and Eberhard Hauschildt; Gütersloh:
Gütersloher Verlag, 2008), 20.

διακονία, 29 could come to no satisfactory resolution, concluding only, “there is

no going back” from the re-interpretation.30 Interestingly, while Benedict reg-
isters the import of the courtly διακον- term for an understanding of the para-
ble,31 he does not attempt to find a German alternative for “Diakonie,” whereas
Rüegger and Sigrist, throughout their book and in deference to the re-interpre-
tation, replace “Diakonie” with “Handeln” (although they offer no comment on
διακον- in our passage).32 More frankly and, it would sadly seem, more realisti-
cally, the editors of the large Dutch collection Diaconie in beweging, which
contains a lengthy survey by Bart Koet of διακον- usage in the New Testament
from the point of view of the re-interpretation, advised readers in regard to “the
so-called ‘Collins-debate’”:
In this book we propose to proceed on the understanding of the term “diaconate/diaco-
nia” as the church’s response to people in need […] starting from the idea that such ser-
vice constitutes an essential part of what being church is.33
If the passage in Matthew purports to tell us what that church is to do, the
church needs to be clear on what διακονία designates and what it does not.
29 Hans-Jürgen Benedict, “Beruht der Anspruch der evangelischen Diakonie auf eine
Missinterpretation der Antiken Quellen? John N. Collins Untersuchung ‘Diakonia,’” Pasto-

raltheologie 89 (2000): 343–64.
30 Hans-Jürgen Benedict, “Diakonie als Dazwischengehen und Beauftragung. Die Collins-
Debatte aus der Sicht ihres Anstoßgebers,” in H.-J. Benedict, Barmherzigkeit und Diakonie.
Von der rettenden Liebe zum gelingenden Leben (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2008), 129–37, 136.
31 Benedict, “Diakonie als Dazwischengehen,” 135.
32 Heinz Rüegger and Christoph Sigrist, Diakonie – eine Einführung (Zürich: Theologis-
cher Verlag, 2011), 69.

33 Hub Crijns and Herman Noordegraaf, “Inleiding” in Diaconie in beweging: Handboek
Diaconiewetenschap (eds. Hub Crijns et al.; Kampen: Kok, 2011), 10–15, 13 (my translation);
see Bart J. Koet, “Exegetische kanttekeningen over diakonia in het Nieuwe Testament,” in
Diaconie in beweging, 69–96.

Luke 10:38–42 and Acts 6:1–7
A Lukan Diptych on Διακονία
Bart J. Koet
Before writing his classic works, Karl Marx made a journey to Great Britain and
the Netherlands. On this journey his encounter with the poverty arising out of
the industrial revolution prompted deeper reflection. The result of his experi-
ence is well known. Around the same time, another German journeyed to the
Netherlands and Great Britain. This was Theodor Fliedner (1800–1864). But
the response of Fliedner to the poverty of the period differed from that of Marx.
On returning to his homeland, Fliedner founded a movement for women who
would care for forsaken children, the disheartened poor, and for prisoners. In-
spired by Acts 6 , he called these women deaconesses.1 Eventually, and in large
part as a result of Fliedner’s initiative, διακονία (“service”) became a general
term for merciful and loving assistance.
1. Lexicography
In his linguistic study of διακονία, the Australian scholar John N. Collins ar-
gued that this pastoral endeavor, and its success among German Lutherans, led
to the linguistic study of Wilhelm Brandt which presented διακονία in early
Christian writings as a specific and distinctive expression of the Christian con-
ception of service.2 In a highly influential and widely cited study by Hermann
W. Beyer, Brandt’s ideas were broadly disseminated.3 Collins has accurately
recorded how this definition of διακονία as Christian service became an accept-
1 On Fliedner, see Martin Gerhardt, Theodor Fliedner: Ein Lebensbild (2 vols.; Düsseldorf-
Kaiserswerth: Buchhandlung der Diakonissen-Anstalt, 1933–1937); Anna Sticker, Theodor

Fliedner (Düsseldorf: Diakoniewerk Kaiserswerth, 61975).
2 Wilhelm Brandt, Dienst und Dienen im Neuen Testament (Gütersloh: Bertelsmann,
1931), see John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Ox-
ford University Press, 1990), 11.
3 Hermann. W. Beyer, “διακονέω κτλ,” in TWNT 2 (1935), 81–93; Engl. trans.: TDNT 2
(1964), 81–93.

46 Bart J. Koet
ed fact of Christian lexicography, with the result that neologisms like the
German “Diakonie” began to appear.4 In recent decades, both in churches and
theology, the word diakonia is often synonymous with lowly service either
within the church or expressed more broadly towards the needy in society. In
theological discourse, diakonia became a general word for merciful and loving
assistance.
Collins, however, opposes such a signification. In his study he analyses usage
of the Greek διακον-words in the literature of antiquity. Through meticulous
research into the meaning of the διακον- clusters in ancient literature, the extent
to which the “Christian” Greek of the NT differs from common early usage
becomes clear. In two appendices to his book, Collins provides a survey of the
possible uses of the διακον-words in the NT.5
The first meaning for the noun διακονία provided by the Theologisches Wörter
buch zum Neuen Testament is “waiting at table” with “a rather wider sense
‘provision for bodily sustenance.’”6 The second usage recorded is “‘discharge of
service’ in genuine love.” The third usage is described as “discharge of certain
obligations in the community” (for example, the office of being an apostle). A
fourth quite specific usage is given in relation to the collection for Jerusalem and
is depicted as “a true act of love” (Rom 15:30–32; 2 Cor 8:1–6, esp. 8:4; 9:1,12–15).
For the verb διακονέω, TDNT explains that the first meaning is “in the orig-
inal sense of ‘to wait at table,’” while the second represents a change to “the
wider sense of ‘to be serviceable.’”7 In third place, the verb is rendered gener-
ally as “to serve.” But in TDNT we see in regard to the verb an emphasis on the
aspect of lowly, caring service. To show that serving and being happy cannot go
together, Beyer quotes from a dialogue of Plato: “How can a man be happy
when he has to serve someone?” (Gorg. 491e). However, the verb used here is
δουλέω and not διακονέω. Such a low estimation of the meaning of service
among pre-Christian Greeks allows Beyer to envisage a higher value of service
among early Christians influenced, as it is, by the “loving service/diakonia”
evident in the life and death of Jesus. According to Beyer, as a result, Christian
use of διακονέω represents a whole new semantic field.
The consequence of Beyer’s linguistic study was a taken-for-granted inter-
pretation of διακονία as lowly, caring service. As already noted, Collins has se-
riously questioned any such assumption. He examined the διακον- words
against the background of Greek literary activity across 800 years in the classi-
4 Collins, Diakonia, 11.

5 Ibid., 335–57.
6 For the four meanings mentioned in this paragraph, see TDNT 2, 87–88.
7 Ibid., 2.84–85. Beyer argues that the concept of “waiting at tables” underlies all other
usages in the NT: “The same change in evaluation as we find in respect of waiting at table ap-
plies everywhere in the NT to διακονέω in the wider sense of “to be serviceable.” Sometimes
the link with waiting at table may still be discerned (for example, Luke 8:3).” Ibid., 2.85.

Luke 10:38–42 and Acts 6 :1–7 47
cal and Hellenistic eras. Collins’ most important conclusion is that the Greek
διακον- terms were “floaters.”8 Context determines the sense of each instance
and, as Collins puts it, “to come closer to what the Greek word said to the Greek
mind we need to reach out into the range of ideas it is associated with.”9 He
adds, “To know a word, it helps to know the company it keeps.” In light of this
methodology, Collins concludes that the διακον- terms were not used specifical-
ly to express a notion of loving and caring service. Rather, because of their in
determinate character, the terms can assume a variety of contexts. They occur
in Plato as designations of commercial functions (Resp. 370e) because of their
capacity to connote the idea of exchange. Similarly, however, Plato calls divina-
tion “part of a ‘diakonic’ skill” because the diviner, as an interpreter of the gods,
is also engaged in a process of exchange (Pol. 290c–d).10
However, the verb can also designate the carrying out of orders and the per-
formance of deeds.11 These deeds vary widely between such things as contract
killings and waiting on others at a meal or banquet. It seems possible to find a
common denominator in this range of activities by describing them as being of
an “in-between” kind. Central notions expressed by διακονία might cluster
around notions of “mediation, intercession, agency, and mission in the name of
a principal.” Thus the notion of “mandate” can be prominent.12 Commensurate
with this is the fact that the διακον- words often designate honorable tasks of
duty or office. Such a usage was not part of everyday language but had a more
formal character and included a recognisable place in religious contexts.
In the years after its publication, Collins’ stimulating study caused, in some
theological circles, a small landslide.13 The material he has collected is extensive
8 In his discussion of Plato, Collins even refers to the word diakonos as a “colourless”
term (Diakonia, 79, subsection heading). However, he shows that quite often, according to
context, διακον- can introduce quite strong colour to a particular context: there can be mutu-
al interchange between the term and the context, the one “colouring” the other. He later refers
to a quite telling example (ibid., 106) and argues that diakonia can designate Constantine’s
mission from God to extend the sway of Christian truth.
9 This quotation and the next are from Collins, Diakonia, 3.
10 Ibid., 77–89 (on Plato’s use of diakonos).
11 Ibid., 89.
12 In a certain sense this definition resembles the descriptions given in an older lexicon like
Carolus Gottlieb Bretschneider, Lexicon manuale Graeco-Latinum in libros Novi Testamen-

ti, I (Leipzig: 1829), where the entry for διάκονος says that a deacon is cursor, qui mittititur ut
nunciet, faciat, adportet aliquid (“a runner who is sent to announce or do or bring some-
thing”). See also LSJ, 398 (on διάκονος).
13 See Anton Houtepen, “Diakonia als Einladung Gottes. Über den Diakonat als eine
missionarische und katechumenale Aufgabe,” Diaconia Christi 30/3–4 (1995): 33–45; for
διακονία in 2 Corinthians, see Reimund Bieringer, “Paul’s Understanding of Diakonia in
2 Corinthians 5,18,” in Studies on 2 Corinthians (eds. Reimund Bieringer and Jan Lambrecht;
Leuven: Peeters, 1994), 413–28; see also Dieter Georgi, The Opponents of Paul in Second
Corinthians: A Study of Religious Propaganda in Late Antiquity (Studies in the New Testa-
ment & Its World; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1986).

48 Bart J. Koet
and well-documented. His book is important not only for the exegesis of the
NT but for all disciplines depending on such study, for example, ecclesiology.
The work deserves wide discussion in theological circles, part of which would
obviously comprise the testing of his theses in passages of the NT. In this article
I will use Collins’ book as background to my investigations of Luke-Acts.
However, although I share Collins’ main thesis that διακονία is not merely a
designation of merciful and loving assistance to the needy, I do not share his
interpretation of διακονία in Acts 6. One reason for this is that Collins has not
dealt with the relationship between Acts 6 and Luke 10; a relationship essential
to the right reading of the passage.
In this article I will use the research of Collins that focuses on διακονία in
Acts 6. Starting with a summary of his thesis regarding Acts 6 ,14 I will develop
the argument by focusing on the relationship between Luke 10:25–42 and
Acts 6:1–7. Some commentators have already established a connection between
these two passages, and I would like to examine the implications of that connec-
tion more closely and within the specific terms of our own question. Within this
context, I will try to show that in the two passages Luke (as I will call the author
of Luke-Acts) makes a connection between the ministry of the word and the
ministry of deeds. Such a connection will be seen to resemble comparable dis-
cussions in the later rabbinic tradition concerning the relation between study-
ing and doing.
2. Acts 6:1–7 as a Narrative about Ministry of the Word

within the Book of Acts
Although quite clearly connected to the context, Acts 6:1–7 is, relatively speak-
ing, a literary unity.15 This unity is above all apparent from the correspondence
between 6:1 and 6:7. These notes on the growth of the number of disciples con-
stitute a literary inclusion, but alongside such similarities there is also one im-
portant difference: it seems that the growth mentioned in 6:1 was itself the rea-
son for the problems. Acts 6:7 suggests that the solution of the problem leads to
further growth. It is significant that 6:1 is the first place in Acts to use the term
ὁί μαθηταὶ (“the disciples”). In the Gospel of Luke this term serves to describe
the followers of Jesus. Because Jesus is a teacher, his followers are supposed to
learn from him. The summary in Acts 6:7 repeats the theme of the growth of the
disciples (mentioned both in 6:1 and in 6:2). This indicates that the growth of
Jesus’ teaching concerning the Word of God is one of the primary themes of this
14
See Collins, Diakonia, 230–32, and the notes about usage on 329.
15
For the context and literary unity of this passage, see Ralph Neuberth, Demokratie im
Volk Gottes: Untersuchungen zur Apostelgeschichte (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2001),
20–34.

Luke 10:38–42 and Acts 6 :1–7 49
passage. Related to the remarks about the spreading of the Word of God, is the
pronouncement of the apostles that they will give themselves continually to
διακονία of the Word (6:2).
The corresponding verses 6:1 and 6:7 frame a story on the installation of the
Seven. In literature it is often argued that this story has quite a few remini
scences to comparable stories from the OT. Thus, Ralph Neuberth describes
Acts 6:1–7 as an installation story,16 and OT parallels include Gen 41:29–43;
Exod 8:13–26; Num 11:1–25; 27:15–23; and Deut 1:9–18.17 An installation story
can be divided into three phases: first, a certain need is recognised in leadership;
second, a solution is proposed (in direct speech); and third, the solution is effect-
ed by the installation of wise persons as substitutes or assistants to the leader(s).
Because of the limitations of this article I will not deal extensively with the
structure of OT background models for this passage.18 However, the fact that
OT installation stories are quite clearly presupposed as background to Acts 6:1–
7 helps us to interpret this passage. The OT models suggest that in Acts 6:1–7
the service at stake is more like serving as a minister to the Crown than as an
attendant in a soup kitchen. Just as Joseph became minister of Pharaoh, just as
the seventy are made rulers assisting Moses, and just as the seventy are made
prophets, so the seven men in Acts are installed to a public function under
someone’s direction, as ministers of the apostles and as prophets of the Word of
the Lord. Our investigation of the use of the term διακονία in Acts 6:1–7 will
corroborate this interpretation.19
In his 1990 book, Collins argues that with regard to Acts 6:1–7, Luke uses the
semantic field διακον- to frame and comment upon the important statement he
16 Neuberth, Demokratie im Volk Gottes, 54: “Ingesamt weist Apg 6,1–7 aber auch erheb
liche Analogien zur Gattung der atl. Bestallungserzählung bzw. zum Einsetzungsbericht auf,
auch wenn sich die atl. Parallelen meist etwas umfangreicher präsentieren.”
17 Rudolf Pesch, Die Apostelgeschichte (Apg 1–12) (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener,
1986), 225–26. For a comparison between the vocabulary of Acts 6:1–7 and the passages in the
LXX, see Neuberth, Demokratie im Volk Gottes, 53–64, esp. 56–64. For the laying-on of
hands, see Joseph Coppens, “L’imposition des mains dans les Actes des Apôtres,” in Les Actes
des Apôtres: Traditions, rédaction, théologie (ed. Jacob Kremer; Leuven: Peeters, 1979), 405–38.
18 See also David Daube, “A Reform in Acts and Its Models,” in Jews, Greeks, and Chris-
tians (eds. Robert Hammerton-Kelly and Robin Scroggs; Leiden: Brill, 1976), 151–63, here
152–53. He argues that the narrative of Acts 6:1–7 is influenced by three OT stories, describ-
ing the installation of judges (Exod 18), the seventy elders (Num 11:24–30), and the officers of
the tribes (Deut 1). Regarding Acts 6:1 he says, that “‘murmuring’ definitely is not an ordinary
term. It recalls the situation in Exodus and Numbers, especially Num 11:1, where the people
murmured. The grievance of the people concerns the provision of food, and so, apparently,
does the grievance in Acts; compare ‘daily diakonia’ with collection of Manna (Exod 16:5: ‘for
day unto day’).”
19 Here there is no space to deal with the use of the verb διακονέω in Luke-Acts (where
Luke 22:24–27 is especially important). But see Bart J. Koet & Wendy E.S. North, “The Image
of Martha in Luke 10.38–42 and in John 11.1–12.8,” in Miracles and Imagery in Luke and John
(eds. Gilbert van Belle et al.; FS Ulrich Busse: Leuven: Peeters, 2008), 47–66.

50 Bart J. Koet
is making about development and change. In Acts 1:17,25 the word διακονία

designates a function that can be interpreted as synonymous with apostleship
(1:25).20 In Acts 6 , in a context of “ministry” and “ministering,” Luke returns to
the theme of the Twelve and introduces the new theme of the Seven. Because of
the solemn character of Acts 6:4 it seems that here διακονία also refers to apos-
tleship. Collins argues that if we are to think that Luke is writing only about the
“daily distribution of food” (6:1 NIV; in Greek: διακονία) then there is a surpris-
ing inconsistency with the previous and more solemn sense.21 Translations of
the διακον- terms here as “distribution” (6:1), “to give out food” and “to wait at
table” (6:2) do not seem to harmonise with the more formal meaning of διακονία
in 6:4. Collins argues that in 6:1 as well as in 6:4 διακονία indicates a duty, a
public function under someone’s direction. In his later books Collins elaborates
on this interpretation.22 In Acts 6:1 we read: “because their widows [i. e., of the
Hellenists!] were neglected in the daily ministration” (KJV; διακονία). In mod-
ern translations of Acts 6:1–7 the Greek word διακονία appears as a broad range
of activities from something like a soup kitchen to the apostolic preaching: “(a)
a distribution of food to needy widows; (b) the activity of serving this food at
tables; and (c) the prime responsibility of the Twelve.”23
As mentioned above, Collins suggests that in Acts, Luke uses the διακον-
words as code words for the ministry (διακονία) in the sense of “sacred commis-
sions of one kind or another.”24 His ancient audience would relate διακονία in
Acts to other kinds of Greek historical and romantic narrative where διακονία
held the same connotations.25 In Acts, the word marks major stages in the spread
of the Word of God (Acts 1:17,25; 6:4; 20:24; 21:19).26 If this is so, it is hard to
believe that in Acts 6:1 the translation “distribution of food” does justice to this
concept.27 Accordingly, Collins sketches a different interpretation. He argues
that in Acts 6, the Greek-speaking members of the community complained
against those who spoke Aramaic that their own housebound or shut-in wid-
ows were being overlooked in the great preaching that was going on day by day
in the environment of the Temple. This is related to the preceding verse (5:42),
where we learn that the apostles did not cease to teach daily in the Temple and
20 Collins, Diakonia, 213.

21 Ibid., 230.
22 John N. Collins, Deacons and the Church: Making Connections between Old and New
(Leominster, UK: Gracewing, 2002), 47–58; see John N. Collins, Are All Christians Minis-
ters? (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1992), 36–40.
23 Collins, Deacons and the Church, 50.
24 Ibid., 57.
25 Ibid.
26 Ibid., 54.
27 Likewise, he argues that διακονία in Acts 11:29 and 12:25 does not refer to help for those
in need, but indicates a formal mission, and both accounts include some other indications as
to the formal character of the undertaking (ibid., 66–68).

Luke 10:38–42 and Acts 6 :1–7 51
in every “house.” Collins claims a firm connection between 5:42 and Acts 6. Just
as in Acts 5 (5:12,18,29,40), in Acts 6:2 the apostles are the protagonists.
Because these Greek-speaking widows were without the same freedoms en-
joyed by the Jewish women, they were, according to Collins, not free to attend
the gatherings in the Temple and he also supposes that they could not under-
stand the apostles. Thus, these widows were in need of preachers who could
teach them in Greek when, as Greek-speakers, they came together at their tables
(6:2).28 The Seven are the new group of preachers; they guarantee the increase of
the Word: according to Collins, that is what their service at table constitutes.
Collins’ argumentation is original and compelling. Part of the scenario of
Luke’s Gospel is Jesus’ long journey through Israel to Jerusalem. Indeed, this is
one of the most distinctive features of his gospel. In Acts there is a comparable
movement: the long journey of the Word through the world, with Rome as its
aim (and new beginning: Acts 28:16–31; see 19:21 and 23:11). Collins rightly
stresses that Acts 6 represents a crucial phase in this journey and that the Seven,
as a new group of preachers, make a decisive contribution to this continuity.
Concerning Collins’ argumentation, I do have some questions. To me it seems
more appropriate to assume that the widows in Acts 6 are Jewish, albeit Greek
speaking.29 It is quite common to say that by Acts 6 the mission among the Gen-
tiles had not yet emerged as an issue, since this mission starts a little bit later.
After the spreading of Jesus’ teaching exclusively among Jews comes Philip’s
preaching among the Samaritans (Acts 8:1–5). The move to “the Gentiles” un-
folds in the sequence of Acts, beginning with Peter’s visit to Cornelius.30 How-
ever, it seems to me that Collins has it right when he refers to the fact that lan-
guage does play a role in this passage. It is no accident that in 6:9 there is refer-
ence to the synagogues of diaspora communities.
Regarding Collins’ treatment of διακονία in Acts 6:1, I do have some further
reservations. I think that some material care for the widows is at stake in this
story. Within the limitations of this article I will elaborate only one argument.
This will be to claim that the interpretation of Acts 6:1–7 could be more reliably
28 “As speakers of Greek and, further, as widows without the same freedom as Jewish
women to take part in the kind of public life that temple worship was, they were neither free
to attend the large gatherings in the temple forecourts nor linguistically equipped to under-
stand what these Aramaic preachers were saying.” Ibid., 57.
29 It seems to me that this is exactly the reason for Collins’ supposition that they were
bound by Greek custom in regard to appearing in public places. I am not so sure that these
Greek-speaking Jewish women in Jerusalem would have had less freedom of movement than
other Jewish women. For a more general picture, see Shmuel Safrai, “Relations between the
Diaspora and the Land of Israel,” in The Jewish People in the First Century: Historical Geogra
phy, Political History, Social, Cultural and Religious Life and Institutions (eds. Shmuel Safrai
and Menachem Stern; Assen: van Gorcum, 1974), 184–215.
30 See Bart J. Koet, Five Studies on Interpretation of Scripture in Luke-Acts (Leuven: Leu-
ven University Press, 1989), 143–50; Günter Wasserberg, Aus Israels Mitte – Heil für die Welt
(Berlin: de Gruyter, 1998), 273–305.

52 Bart J. Koet
developed in light of a parallel text in the Gospel of Luke, the previously men-
tioned pericope 10:38–42.31 In approaching this, I will show how in both pas-
sages we are presented with a discussion about the relationship between learn-
ing and doing.32
3. Luke 10:38–42
Luke 10:38–42 is part of a larger unit. When we compare the Gospel of Mark
with that of Luke, two well-known features emerge. First is “the great omis-
sion”: the text of Mark 6:45–8:26 does not appear in Luke 9:17–18. Whereas
Luke’s multiplication of bread (ending at Luke 9:17) is parallel to Mark 6:30–44,
and Peter’s confession in Luke (beginning at Luke 9:18) parallels Mark 8:27–30,
between these two pericopes Mark 6:45–8:26 deals quite extensively with die-
tary laws and with certain remarkable words and actions of Jesus (including
Jesus’ voyage to non-Jewish land in Mark 7:24–31). The second important fea-
ture in Luke’s Gospel is the so-called “great interpolation” (Luke 9:51–19:28).
Since Friedrich Schleiermacher, the name of the middle section of Luke’s Gos-
pel in exegetical literature has been the “Travel Narrative.”33 In an interesting
study, Reinhard von Bendemann raises questions about the correctness of this
31 The connection between the two passages is already noted in exegetical literature. Here
I refer to an article of Veronica Koperski (although she does not offer an exegesis of these
passages): “Luke 10,38–42 and Acts 6 ,1–7: Women and Discipleship in the Literary Context of
Luke-Acts,” in The Unity of Luke-Acts (ed. Joseph Verheyden; Leuven: Peeters, 1999), 517–
44. On the connection between Luke 10:38–42 and Acts 6 , Koperski refers to Birger Ger-
hardsson, Memory and Manuscript: Oral Tradition and Written Transmission in Rabbinic
Judaism and Early Christianity (Uppsala: Gleerup, 1961), 234–45, esp. 239–41. Gerhardsson
is one of the few scholars to mention that both texts deal with comparable problems: occupa-
tion with the Word of God is placed on a higher level than mundane duties. Neuberth
(Demokratie im Volk Gottes, 36–39), does show some word parallels, but stresses above all the
opposition between service of the Word (Wortdienst) and table service (Tischdienst).
32 In A Feminist Companion to Luke (ed. Amy-Jill Levine; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press, 2002), we find three articles on Luke 10:38–42: 1) Loveday C. Alexander, “Sisters in
Adversity: Retelling Martha’s Story,” 197–213; 2) Warren Carter, “Getting Martha out of the
Kitchen,” 215–31; 3) Pamela Thimmes, “The Language of Community: A Cautionary Tale
(Luke 10:38–42),” 232–45. These authors do not pay much attention to the connections be-
tween Luke 10:38–42 and Acts 6:1–7. However, Carter (“Getting Martha out of the Kitchen,”
220–23) does signal the fact that the use of diakonia in Luke 10:40 is connected to the use in
Acts 6:1–4 and that this connection indicates that in 10:40 diakonia does not necessarily mean
a preoccupation with kitchen tasks. He argues that Acts 6 and the subsequent narrative show
the futility of attempting to differentiate rigidly between these two types of ministry.
33 Friedrich Schleiermacher, Über die Schriften des Lukas: Ein kritischer Versuch, I (Ber-
lin: 1817), 161; see Adelbert Denaux, “Old Testament Models for the Lukan Travel Narrative:
A Critical Survey,” in The Scriptures in the Gospels (ed. Christopher M. Tuckett; Leuven:
Peeters, 1997), 271–330. For an account of historical-critical research into the Lucan Travel
Narrative, see Filip Noël, The Travel Narrative in the Gospel of Luke: Interpretation of Lk
9,51–19,28 (Brussels: Voor Wetenschappen en Kunsten, 2004).

Luke 10:38–42 and Acts 6 :1–7 53
designation.34 He argues that, especially in regard to Luke 11:1–18:30, other

themes are more important than travelling, such as the instruction of the dis
ciples, the call to repentance, and judgement announcements.35 Though relying
on them, the following discussion cannot take von Bendemann’s ideas further.
In Luke 10:38–42, a certain motif draws attention to a theme of “learning”
that can be of decisive importance for the interpretation of this pericope.36
Learning is not an insignificant aspect of the preceding passage either. In the
parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25–37), a certain lawyer comes with a
question about “doing”: “Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” In re-
sponse, Jesus asks: “What is written in the Law: How readest thou?” (10:26
KJV). The lawyer answers (10:27) by combining a quotation from Deut 6:5 with
one from Lev 19:18: “Love thy neighbour as thyself.”37 The first command
stresses the love of YHWH by means of a total personal response with the four
faculties of an individual (heart, soul, might, and mind). The love of God is a
quite significant Deuteronomic theme.38 Jesus announces that the lawyer has
given the right answer and adds: “Do this and you shall live” (10:28). Doing and
thus living (sometimes even in combination with learning) is also quite a promi
nent Deuteronomic theme.39
But in 10:28, the interchange between the lawyer and Jesus is not yet over.
The man comes up with another question: “Who is my neighbour?” Jesus ans
wers by telling the familiar story, at the end of which the word “doing” is again
significantly present. To Jesus’ question (“Which of these three, thinkest thou,
was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves?”), the lawyer replies: “He
that did (ποίει) mercy unto him.” Jesus concludes: “Go, and do thou likewise”
(10:37 KJV). In this passage we can see a relation between interpretation of the
Torah (ἐν τῷ νόμῳ, 10:26) and praxis; between learning and doing. These ele-
ments are quite clear Deuteronomic features. Indeed, a Deuteronomic element
in this Lucan story is the actualisation of Deuteronomic wisdom, whereby do-
ing leads to living.40
34 Reinhard von Bendemann, Zwischen ΔΟΞΑ und ΣΤΑΥΡΟΣ: Eine exegetische Untersu-
chung der Texte des sogenannten Reiseberichts im Lukasevangelium (Berlin: de Gruyter,

2001).
35 For an extensive review of von Bendemann’s book, see Noël, Travel Narrative, 208–
353.
36 On the coherence of these passages see Ulrich Busse, “Die Unterweisung im sogen-
annten ‘Reisebericht.’ Dargestellt an Lk 10,25–42,” in Die Weisheit – Ursprünge und Rezep-

tion (eds. Martin Fassnacht et al.; Münster: Aschendorff, 2003), 139–53.
37 It is well-known that this verse is one of the most important texts within Judaism.
38 See, for example, Deut 11:13,22; 19:9; 30:16.
39 Deut 4:1; 5:1–3; 6:24–25; 8:1; 11:8; 12:1; 31:12–13.
40 Between the composition of Deuteronomy and the rise of the NT, most of Israel’s wis-
dom literature came into being. Although there is not so much overt appeal to the traditions
of Israel, there are some parallels, such as between Proverbs and other biblical books. An im-
portant locus of such parallels is the book of Deuteronomy, as has been shown by Moshe

54 Bart J. Koet
In the following pericope (Luke 10:38–42), a relationship between doing and

learning is also at stake, but this time from a different angle.41 On his journey to
Jerusalem (see 9:51) a certain woman named Martha (which means something
like “mistress”)42 receives Jesus in her home.43 Carter rightly argues that Mar-
tha thus appears here as an embodiment of the positive responses named
throughout chapter 10: “In receiving Jesus, Martha is a child of peace (Luke
10:6) who has encountered God’s reign (Luke 10:9).”44 He adds that Martha’s
receiving (ὑπεδέξατο) Jesus signifies an embracing of his eschatological mission:
a fact evident from the six uses of dechomai prior to chapter 10 (see Luke 2:28;
8:13; 9:48 [4x]). It also expresses openness to the Word of God. Carter concludes
that Martha appears as a model disciple in contrast to those who do not receive
Jesus’ messengers (9:52–53; 10:10).45
This woman has a sister named Mary.46 Mary is firstly described as Martha’s
sister and only after this receives her name. This construction and the beginning
rhyme of these names (Martha and Mary) suggest that these two sisters have a
special relation, and we will see that the attitudes they seem to represent are not
oppositional but are in a relationship of kinship. Carter argues that Mary, like
Martha, is responding in a positive way to Jesus. The verb used to denote her
listening (10:39: ἤκουεν) appears in Luke 10:16 as an antonym for “rejecting” the
disciples, Jesus, and God, and hence as a synonym for “receiving them” (see also
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic School (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1972), 62–65. For Luke as using Deuteronomistic material, see David P. Moessner, Lord of the
Banquet: The Literary and Theological Significance of the Lukan Travel Narrative (Minnea
polis: Fortress, 1989).
41 Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Gospel according to Luke (2 vols.; Garden City: Doubleday,
1981–1985), 2:891, argues that this story is unrelated to the preceding passages. However, for
their close connection with Luke 10:38–42, see Carter, “Getting Martha out of the Kitchen,”
216–18.
42 Fitzmyer, Luke, 2:893 and Koet & North, “The Image of Martha.”
43 Note that some important manuscripts underline Martha’s independent position by
including the phrase “into the house” (P3 S) or “into her house” (A;D;W).
44 Carter, “Getting Martha out of the Kitchen,” 217.
45 Ibid., 218. It is interesting to note that Cyril of Alexandria in his homily on Luke 10:38–
42 (Hom. 69 In Lucam) sees this passage as a story about Christ as the one who is received; for
the text, see Jean-Baptiste Chabot, S. Cyrilli Alexandrini Commentarii in Lucam, Pars Prior
(Louvain: Imprimerie Orientaliste, 1961), 273–77.
46 Because of the limited objective of this article I cannot deal with the interesting role of
this passage in feminist exegesis. Besides the articles previously noted in A Feminist Compan-
ion to Luke (ed. Amy-Jill Levine), see also Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, In Memory of Her: A
Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins (Engl. trans.; London: SCM, 1983),
165; for a critical review of her position, see John N. Collins, “Did Luke Intend a Disservice
to Women in the Martha and Mary Story,” BTB 28/3 (1998): 104–11. For other literature from
a feminist angle, see Turid Karlsen Seim, The Double Message: Patterns of Gender in Luke-
Acts (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994), 97–118; Barbara E. Reid, Choosing the Better Part?
Women in the Gospel of Luke (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1996), 144–62; Sabine Bieberstein,
Verschwiegene Jüngerinnen – vergessene Zeuginnen: gebrochene Konzepte im Lukasevangeli-
um (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), 123–43.

Luke 10:38–42 and Acts 6 :1–7 55
Luke 10:23–24). To hear is the desired response to Jesus and his teaching. Carter
suggests that this indicates the joint participation of the sisters in the communi-
ty of the disciples of Jesus.47
Mary sits down at the feet of “the Lord” (so P3 S) and is listening to his Word.
Birger Gerhardsson suggests that she sits among the other disciples.48 To be
“sitting at (his) feet” is to assume the position of a disciple at the feet of the mas-
ter (see Luke 8:35), just as Paul declares that he was “brought up in this city at
the feet of Gamaliel” (Acts 22:3).49 “Mistress/Boss” Martha is wheeling about
with much serving.50 She is the one who receives Jesus as a guest (Luke 10:38).
Her activities are summarised as “much serving” (πολλὴν διακονίαν).51 She re-
proaches Jesus: “Lord, dost thou not care that my sister left me to minister
(διακονεῖν)?” (10:40 KJV).52
Jesus calls Martha twice by name. Elsewhere in Scripture, such a double nam-
ing can be the beginning of a call narrative, as in the case of Moses (Exod 3:4)
and of the apostle Paul (Acts 9:4; 22:7; 26:14).53 Jesus answers her that she is be-
ing anxious (μεριμνᾷς) 54 and that she is troubled (θορυβάζῃ; NT hapax) about
much, but that only one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen that good part
which will not be taken away (οὐκ ἀφαιρεθήσεται) from her.55 From this we see
that being a disciple, on the one hand, and being engaged in ministering and
doing, on the other, seem to be in opposition: Mary is learning and Martha has
a certain διακονία.
Jesus stresses that listening to the “Word” (his teaching) is the good part.56
As Joseph Fitzmyer argues, in a way it is to repeat the Lucan message of
8:15,21.57 However, this is not to say that the status quo of the relationship be-
tween the sisters remains. Although the good part will not be taken from Mary,
there is room left for Martha. She can become Jesus’ disciple too. In this story,
47 Carter, “Getting Martha out of the Kitchen,” 218.

48 Gerhardsson (Memory and Manuscript, 239) refers to Harald Riesenfeld’s observation
that the formula ἣ καὶ (“who also”: not in all the manuscripts) seems to imply that she is not
sitting alone at the feet of the Master, but with other disciples.
49 For comparable rabbinic usage see m. Abot 1:4.
50 For this translation, see also 10:40 Vulg.: Martha autem satagebat circa frequens minis-
terium (“Martha however was busied with constant serving”). It will be not coincidental that
the verb περισπάω is often used in a military context, for instance, to describe the activities of
a general (LSJ 1386).
51 Bieberstein (Verschwiegene Jüngerinnen, 137) rightly refers to the fact that in 10:38–42,
Martha’s qualities are above all positive. As one of her arguments she uses the meaning of
Martha’s name.
52 Here we find the same verb as in Acts 6 .
53 Compare the double naming of Abraham in Gen 22:11.
54 On this verb, see LSJ 1104.
55 The difficulty in interpreting (or digesting) this sentence is clear from the number of
Greek textual variants; see Reid, Choosing the Better Part?, 149.
56 See Neuberth, Demokratie im Volk Gottes, 74.
57 Fitzmyer, Luke, 2.892; see Carter, “Getting Martha out of the Kitchen.”

56 Bart J. Koet
Jesus emphasises that the learning process is the better part. This part cannot be
taken away from anyone. This concurs to a certain extent with Jesus’ enigmatic
pronouncement in Luke 19:26 KJV (// Matt 25:29): “Unto every one which has
shall be given, and from him that has not, even that he has shall be taken away”
(ἀρθήσεται; this Greek word is derived from the same root as in 10:42).
Luke 10:38–42 can thus be considered – although to say so may be a slight
exaggeration – as Martha’s call to discipleship. Martha’s work is certainly not to
be described as lowly service. She is the mistress, the house-owner, the boss,
who can receive such an important guest as Jesus, who can have the manage-
ment of a house, and who dares to admonish her guest and to ask him to teach
Mary a lesson. The opposition apparent in this is not an opposition between low
work and high position; rather, the opposition is between doing and learning as
two possible aspects of being a disciple.
4. Acts 6:1–7 as a Narrative about Ministry of the Word

in Light of Luke 10:38–42
Martha’s occupation or business is described in Luke 10:40 by the Greek word

διακονία. It is the only place in the gospels that this noun appears. However, in
Acts (which, with most NT scholars, I regard as the sequel to the Gospel of
Luke) it occurs eight times. The most important parallel to Luke 10:38–42 is
Acts 6 where an opposition is at stake, resembling the one in Luke 10:38–42. In
Acts 6 , the theme of murmuring recalls the people’s murmuring in the desert
(Num 11:1). However, to a certain extent, reproaching is also part of the link
between Acts 6:1–7 and Luke 10:38–42. Martha’s reproach of Jesus is one of the
key elements in this episode and the occasion for Jesus’ answer.
Apart from the parallel between themes, it is also important to note quite a
few remarkable similarities between the words chosen in Acts 6:1–7 and those
used in Luke 10:38–42. In her question to Jesus, Martha combines the verb
διακονέω with the verb καταλείπω (“leave”).58 The latter verb appears in Matt
19:5 and Mark 10:7, the famous Genesis quotation regarding a man’s leaving of
his parents and his cleaving to his wife. Elsewhere in the NT, καταλείπω occurs
in other situations dealing with important choices. In Luke 5:28, Levi has to
leave everything when he follows Jesus, while in 15:4 the shepherd leaves nine-
ty-nine sheep in his choice for the lost sheep. To be sure, in Acts 6:2 and Luke
10:40 there is the important choice between two different forms of διακονία. In
both passages the notion of “Word” is important: in Luke 10:39 it is indicating
Jesus’ teaching, while in Acts 6:2,4,7 it refers to the teaching of the apostles. In
58 This verb appears 4x in Matthew; 4x in Mark; 4x in Luke; 5x in Acts; 7x elsewhere in the
NT.

Luke 10:38–42 and Acts 6 :1–7 57
both passages a crucial role is played by the word χρεία (“need” or “task”).59
Finally, in both texts we hear explicitly about choices: Mary chooses to be a
disciple, while the whole multitude chooses (ἐκλέγω) 60 the seven men. The fact
that Acts 6:1 is the first time that the term “disciple,” so well-known from the
gospels, appears in Acts contributes to the whole context of learning (see also
Acts 6:7).
These similarities of vocabulary and theme between the two passages can be
taken as an indication that Luke seems to have made a connection between them,
thus inviting his readers to enter into a comparison. Thus, the passage Luke
10:38–42 (and its context) has to be interpreted by Acts 6:1–7 (and vice versa).
This is, more often than not, Luke’s strategy. For example, he divides allusions
and quotations among several phases of his story. In the presumed source of
Luke 8:1–15 (namely Mark 4:1–20), we find an extended allusion to Isa 6:9 (see
the quotation in Matt 13:14–15). Luke cuts this allusion down and postpones an
elaborate use of the text to the last chapter of Acts by quoting Isa 6:9–10 in
Acts 28:25c–27. 61 We can conclude that in both of our passages there is a compa-
rable opposition or contrast. In Luke 10:38–42, Martha’s διακονία is more or less
contrasted with the discipleship of Mary, while in Acts 6:1–7 the διακονία of the
Word (Acts 6:4) is likewise contrasted with the “ministering of tables” (6:2).
The introduction to the latter passage mentions that at a time of significant
growth in the number of disciples there was “murmuring among the Hellenists”
(γογγυσμὸς τῶν Ἑλληνιστῶν) against the “Hebrews.”62 The widows of the “Hel-
lenists” were neglected in the daily διακονία. The apostles call the multitude of
the disciples together and argue that it is not acceptable (or “pleasing”) that the
apostles leave the Word in order to minister at tables. Therefore, the whole
group has to look for seven men of honest report (boni testimonii in the Vulgate)
whom the apostles, may appoint to meet this “need” (6:3). 63 The apostles them-
selves are planning to “adhere firmly” (προσκαρτερέω) 64 to prayer and to the
διακονία of the Word (6:4); for adhering firmly to prayer, we may compare
Acts 1:14 and 2:42.65
59 This noun occurs 7x in Luke; 5x in Acts; 37x elsewhere in the NT.
60 This verb is present 1x Mark; 4x Luke; 5x John; 7x Acts; 5x elsewhere in the NT.
61 See Bart J. Koet, “Isaiah in Luke-Acts,” in Isaiah in the New Testament (eds. Steve
Moyise and Maarten J. J. Menken; London: T&T Clark, 2005), 79–100, esp. 95–99; reprinted
in Bart J. Koet, Dreams and Scripture in Luke-Acts: Collected Essays (Leuven: Peeters, 2006),
51–79.
62 For text-critical remarks and analysis of the structure of the passage, see Neuberth,
Demokratie im Volk Gottes, 1–92.

63 For a discussion of Acts 6 , see Gottfried Schille, “Konfliktlösung durch Zuordnung:
Der Tischdienst der Sieben nach Apg 6,” in Diakonie – biblische Grundlagen und Orientie
rungen: Ein Arbeitsbuch (eds. Gerhard K. Schäfer and Theodor Strohm; Heidelberg: Winter,
3
1998), 243–59.
64 On this verb, see LSJ 1515.
65 Besides prayer, Acts 2:42 also mentions adhering firmly to the teaching of the apostles,

58 Bart J. Koet
In Acts 6 , the διακονία of the Word and the ministering at tables are to a cer-
tain extent in competitive tension. Collins saw in the ministering at tables a kind
of house-preaching to the Hellenists’ widows, who were in need of preachers
who could teach them in Greek. However, the quite strong parallel with Luke
10:38–42 suggests something else. In that passage Martha’s διακονία – in other
words, her being a mistress of the house – is opposed to Mary’s listening as a
disciple to Jesus’ Word. Martha’s service is clearly not – as is quite often suggest-
ed – a housewifely job or, even worse, some work usually done by “slaves.” As
the owner of the house, she is in charge and responsible for the material care of
guests during Jesus’ visit (a quite clear “learning session”). 66 The apostles stress
that the διακονία of the Word takes precedence, but not at the expense of the
ministering of tables. In Acts 6 it is a service to the widows.
At this point in the discussion, I think it may be worthwhile to ponder the
symbolic value of the widows who are in need within the narrative. Elsewhere
in Scripture (Exod 22:22; Deut 10:18; 14:29; Isa 1:17; Jas 1:26–27), a widow is
often a symbol of somebody with material need. Although it is quite clear that
the laws of charity toward widows were aimed at caring for those who were
deprived of the financial care of a husband, it should also be remembered that in
days of famine widows were the first to suffer (1 Kgs 17:1,8–24; Luke 4:25–26). 67
Another argument, then, for the thesis that the ministering at tables involves
material care seems to be the use of the word τράπεζα (“table”) elsewhere in bibli
cal literature. 68 Here it seems to me sufficient only to mention the fact that in
Luke-Acts the word τράπεζα is used exactly in a context of material care, wheth-
er in sharing food (Luke 16:21; 22:21,30; Acts 16:34; see Matt 15:27; Mark 7:28;
Tob 2:2) or for business (Luke 19:23/Matt 21:12/Mark 11:15). In this context, it is
also quite illuminating to see how Ben Sira employs the word τράπεζα in the
context of hospitality and thus material care, referring to table situations where
there is a lack or an abundance of food (Sir 6:10; 14:10; 29:26; 31:12; 40:29 LXX). 69
In Acts 6 , the seven men are chosen to meet the needs of hungry widows.
However, as we will see in the surrounding chapters of Acts, there is no exclu-
sive division between material care and the διακονία of the Word.70 Such can be
and the fellowship, and the breaking of bread (see 2:46). In Acts 6 , prayer belongs to the diako-
nia of the Word and the ministering of the tables. In Jewish tradition there is a triangle of
Torah, prayer, and service (m. Abot 1:2).
66 Perhaps in this sense we may also understand the role of Phoebe, who is called “deacon
of the church in Cenchreae” (Rom 16:1) as well as “patron” (Rom 16:2).

67 For widows in Luke as persons in need, see also Luke 7:11–17; 18:1–8; 21:1–4, esp. 21:4;
Mark 12:40. In Codex D and some other manuscripts of Mark 12:40, we find the addition
“orphans,” which stresses the connotation that a widow could be seen as a person in need.
68 See also LSJ 1810.
69 On the banquet tradition in Ben Sira, see Dennis E. Smith, From Symposium to Eucha-
rist: The Banquet in the Early Christian World (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003), 134–44.
70 It is important to note that for their election, it is mentioned that some qualifications are
required; they have to be πλῆρεις πνεύματος [ἁγίου] καὶ σοφίας (“full of the [Holy] Spirit and

Luke 10:38–42 and Acts 6 :1–7 59
determined from Acts 5:1–2. Here Ananias brings a part of his money and lays
it at the feet of the apostles (the place where disciples are supposed to be and
where learning is the issue; see Acts 22:3), thus suggesting that the apostles are
responsible for the material side of the nascent and growing community. This
indicates that this part of their responsibility is also at stake in Acts 6:2. How-
ever, if this part of their responsibility seems to be at the expense of their preach-
ing and learning, then the apostles argue that this διακονία of the Word here
takes precedence over the ministering at tables. The seven men from Acts 6 get
the commission to replace the apostles and thus to share with them the διακονία
of the table. In Acts 6:1–7, they take over a material part-time responsibility of
the apostles, but in the following chapters it becomes clear that they also share
in the διακονία of the Word. In Acts 6 , as in Luke 10:38–42, we find a plea for the
importance of the Word (either in the form of learning, of preaching, or of
something else), although the importance of the Word does not prevent materi-
al care from being a part of it.71
Moreover, elsewhere in Luke-Acts the verb διακονέω (“minister”)72 is related
to “caring for” people. In Luke 8:1–3, we read of how some women who have
been healed by Jesus share their “substance” with him and the Twelve. The wom-
en mentioned here are quite clearly comparable to the wealthy women of Acts.
Turid Karlsen Seim rightly argues that the expression ἐκ τῶν ὑπαρχόντων αὐταῖς
(“from their substance” or “from the things belonging to them”) presupposes
that these women have means at their own disposal.73 As in Luke 10:38–42,
sharing from your belongings (maybe even from your wealth) is related to the
verb διακονέω. So then, the women in 8:3 are depicted, like Martha in 10:38–42,
as women who are independent in means and socially well-to-do. Sharing your
wealth with such an important teacher as Jesus is not the same as doing lowly
housekeeping like the laundry.74 Dirk Jonas argues that Jesus, in his answer to
Martha, does not pick up the semantic field of service.75 However, Jonas fails to
wisdom”: Acts 6:3). It is clear that these qualifications indicate that the Seven have to be qual-
ified for being leaders or teachers. For this background see Axel von Dobbeler, Der Evangelist
Philippus in der Geschichte des Urchristentums: eine prosopographische Skizze (Tübingen:
Francke, 2000), 258–63.
71 Collins (Diakonia, 245) argues that in the gospel, the words mainly designate menial
attendance of one kind or another.

72 The verb occurs 37x in the NT (6x Matthew; 5x Mark; 8x Luke; 3x John; 2x Acts; 5x
Paul; 3x Pastoral Epistles; 2x Hebrews; 3x First Peter).

73 Seim, Double Message, 64.
74 Therefore I disagree with Seim, Double Message, 72, who argues that the healing of the
women had the effect of confirming their conventional role. In Luke 10:38–32, as well in Luke
8:3, this seems not to be the case. It could be even argued as a consequence that the use of
διακονέω in Luke 4:39 does not indicate that Peter’s mother-in-law has a traditional serving
role in the family.
75 For the cognate terms, see Dirk Jonas, “Diakonein–Diakonia–Diakonos. Studien zum
Verständnis des Dienstes (‘Diakonie’) bei Markus und Lukas,” in Diakonische Konturen:

60 Bart J. Koet
recognise that Luke does use this field because he lets Jesus refer (via his men-
tioning of the better part) to listening to the Word in 10:39. This listening to the
Word is, for him, part of the semantic field of διακονία in Acts 6:1–7. It is exactly
because Jonas limits διακονία too much to service that he fails to make the link
between the two different attitudes of diakonia at stake in Luke 10:38–42.
Nevertheless, material care and the διακονία of the Word are like sisters: they
belong together. In Luke 10 and Acts 6 it is argued that in their relation there
may even be, not a difference of importance, but (as I would like to suggest) a
difference in time. In Luke 10:38–42 and in Acts 6:1–7, it is assumed that the
διακονία of the Word (in a sense, a kind of collective noun for Jesus’ teachings)
precedes material care. Indeed, we find that the διακονία of the Word precedes
doing, since elsewhere in the Gospel (for instance, in Luke 6:47 and 8:21) there
is a stress on the fact that listening comes before doing (compare Luke 18:18, and
see Deut 5:1).
5. Conclusion: Learning and Doing in Rabbinic Judaism
In rabbinic tradition, the relation between learning and doing is hotly debated.
There is a discussion among the rabbis about the question of whether learning
or doing is more important. We can find an example of such a discussion in an
explanation of Deuteronomy, the Sifre to Deuteronomy.76 At the beginning of
this discussion Deut 11:13 is quoted: “And it will come to pass, if you shall
hearken diligently unto my commandments.”77 As a first interpretation the
rabbinic preacher argues that this verse is connected with Deut 5:1,78 and the
preacher quotes the last phrase: “that you may learn them and keep on doing
them.” After quite a number of references to other scriptural passages, the fol-
lowing discussion is put forward to support and explain this statement.
Once Rabbi Tarfon, Rabbi Akiba and Rabbi Josse the Galilean were reclining at Bet’
Aris in Lod, when this question was presented to them: What is greater: learning or do-
ing? 79 Rabbi Tarfon said: greater is doing. Rabbi Akiba said: greater is learning.
Every one present agreed that study is great; for study leads to doing.
Theologie im Kontext sozialer Arbeit (eds. Volker Herrmann, Rainer Merz and Heinz
Schmidt; Heidelberg: Winter, 2003), 63–126, esp. 94.
76 Sifre to Deuteronomy, Piska 41 (a commentary on Deut 11:13). The Sifre is a running
exegetical Midrash to the Book of Deuteronomy, often expounding verse by verse and chapter
by chapter. It is a collection of various interpretations to Deuteronomy. Because the Sifre to
Deuteronomy and to Numbers were unknown to the Talmuds, it seems that they were ar-
ranged and edited no earlier than the end of the fourth century C.E.
77 The following statement is left out: “which I command you this day to love your God
and to serve him with all your heart and with all your soul.”
78 “Hear O Israel, the statutes and judgments which I speak in your ears this day, that you
may learn them and keep on doing them.”

79 Here and in the next sentences: literally “great” instead of “greater.”

Luke 10:38–42 and Acts 6 :1–7 61
This rabbinic text is part of a larger unit. In this larger unit the relation between
learning and doing is dealt with from different angles.80 In this special part,
three rabbis (well-known in the rabbinic tradition) are presented in a quite
specific situation. In the context dealing with the relation between learning and
doing a question is formulated: What is more important: “learning” or “do-
ing”?81
Rabbi Tarfon is the first to answer. He argues that the doing (i. e., practice) is
great(er). Rabbi Akiba, however, votes for learning, but before the reader gets
the impression that it is about real alternatives, all together answer: great is
learning, because it leads to practice. This way the statement of Rabbi Akiba is
deepened. At first it is said that learning is more important than doing. Conse-
quently it is explained why: learning leads to doing, which in a certain sense
even suggests that doing and practice may be the most important. Regarding
this text, Pierre Lenhardt and Peter von der Osten-Sacken stress that the most
important factor is that this learning and doing are not (simply) opposed, but
that their relationship is depicted as complementary. In other words, learning is
not played off against doing, nor are study and practice put in opposition; rath-
er, they belong together. This dilemma is part and parcel of the wisdom circles
in Jewish traditions. 82
Although the words and ideas used are not always the same, the relationship
between these two aspects appears elsewhere in rabbinic traditions. In the fa-
mous and well-known tractate Pirqe Abot, one of the first statements is by Sim-
eon the Righteous, who used to say: “On three things the world stands: on the
Torah, on Temple service, and on acts of piety (gemillut chassidim)” (m. Abot
1:2). We see here the combination of study, praying, and charity. An interesting
saying regarding the relationship between studying and doing is also to be
found in m. Abot 1:17. Simeon, the son of Gamaliel says: “All my life I grew up
among sages and have found nothing better for anybody than silence. Not study
is the chief thing, but action. And he who is verbose brings on sin” (1:17). In the
examples mentioned here, we see that apparently in Jewish circles there was a
discussion on the relationship between learning the Torah in all its aspects and
doing. It is an essential characteristic of rabbinic literature that no one statement
expresses the whole truth, but that the juxtaposition of different points of view
is passed on. From the times of the Deuteronomist the theme of learning and
doing was important. The texts of Sifre, and maybe also the texts of Pirqe Abot,
belong to that chain of discussions.
80 Pierre Lenhardt and Peter von der Osten-Sacken, Rabbi Akiba: Texte und Interpreta-
tionen zum rabbinischen Judentum und Neuen Testament (Berlin: Institut Kirche und Juden-
tum, 1987), 200–221.
81 The fact that there are several variants of this discussion indicates that it was an impor-
tant issue.
82 Lenhardt and von der Osten-Sacken, Rabbi Akiba, 214.

62 Bart J. Koet
The great Jewish scholar, Abraham Joshua Heschel, argues that Jewish think-
ing and living can only be adequately understood in terms of a dialectic pattern,
containing opposite or contrasted properties.83 As in a magnet, the ends of
which have opposite magnetic qualities, these terms are opposite to one another
and exemplify a polarity which lies at the very heart of Judaism. We can find in
the above-mentioned rabbinic texts (and their parallels) a dilemma which has
quite a few elements in common with Luke 10:38–42 and Acts 6:1–7. 84 In the NT
we find analogous discussions, albeit with different terms (which is to be ex-
pected because the texts of the NT are in Greek, and the rabbinic writings in
Hebrew or Aramaic), but with comparable concepts.85
In the pericope in which the parable of the Good Samaritan is told, the narra-
tion revolves around the question: what am I to do to inherit eternal life? Jesus
answers by referring to Deuteronomy. In this book, but also elsewhere in the
OT and in Jesus’ teaching, we find clues to the things to do. In this teaching
(Luke 10:27), Jesus refers to Deut 6:5, and the message of the whole passage can
be summarised in the phrase: “praxis is more important.” However, as is clear
from the following passage, the story of Mary and Martha, learning of the Word
is the better part. Jesus stresses the fact that Mary may keep her part. Implicitly
the possibility remains open that Martha too can start to sit down at the Lord’s
feet, because everybody can become a disciple of Jesus. Mary and Martha are as
sisters within a family; similarly in their story, their attitudes – the busy διακονία
of Martha and the learning of Mary – are related: these attitudes belong togeth-
er. As elsewhere in his two-volume work, Luke gives his readers the opportuni-
ty to interpret a passage from the Gospel with one from Acts. Even more than
in Luke 10:38–42, in Acts 6:1–7 the διακονία of the Word (semantically related
with teaching and preaching Jesus’ lessons; see Acts 5:42) happens to take prec-
edence. Yet the serving at the tables, the caring for the widows has also to be
provided.
Now I will return briefly to the work of Collins. He has delivered a very
important contribution to the “demythologising” of the concept of διακονία.
Although he rightly stresses that in Acts 6 διακονία and its cognates do not refer
to lowly forms of service, I do not think that they refer only to the preaching of
the Word. In Acts 6 the widows also have a material problem. The apostles, who
83 Abraham Joshua Heschel, God in Search of Man: A Philosophy of Judaism (New York:
Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1976 [first edition 1955]), 336–40.

84 Although this text is admittedly much later than our texts from the NT, the discussions
are certainly older than their final redaction. Between the two passages from Luke-Acts on
the one hand and the rabbinic text on the other there are some quite remarkable conceptual
resemblances. A discussion about learning at table – quite comparable with a symposium –
was not totally unknown to the rabbis. We find such learning discussions also in the NT (for
example, Luke 14:1–24).
85 Besides Jas
1:22–27, see also Jas 2:20–25 and its “counterparts” in Gal 2:15–21 and
Rom 2:13.

Luke 10:38–42 and Acts 6 :1–7 63
(as is clear from Acts 5) are also responsible for the economic welfare and finan-
cial administration of the communities, start to share this responsibility with
the Seven. This arrangement facilitates their concentration on the preaching.
However, in line with Jesus and his Old Testament inspiration, this preaching
calls for action, particularly on behalf of widows (and orphans). In Acts 6 , the
Seven start with taking care of material needs on behalf of the apostles but, as
becomes clear from the narrative of Acts, this is not their only task. Just like
Martha, they are also invited to embrace both responsibilities, not only the
διακονία at table but also the responsibility for the Word. Immediately after
Acts 6 we read that both Stephen and Philip start to evangelise. That these Seven
are meant not only for material care is also suggested by the writer of Acts when
the story later returns to Philip. The narrative mentions that Philip is one of the
Seven but calls him first Philip the evangelist (Acts 21:8). In this last reference to
the Seven, it is also clear that they have an important responsibility for the
Word. Luke T. Johnson argued that the problem of Acts 6:1–7 is that there is no
obvious relation between the purported role of the Seven and their actual func-
tion.86 I would like to argue that attending to material care and attending to the
Word of God have a dialectic relation, and thus they belong together.
86 Luke T. Johnson, The Acts of the Apostles (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1992), 111.

Like a Royal Wedding
On the Significance of Diakonos in John 2:1–111
Bart J. Koet
Boymans van Beuningen museum in Rotterdam displays a panel which for a

long time has been ascribed to Hieronymus Bosch. It depicts the marriage at
Cana. Bride and groom sit down to a banquet. We see them leaning over the
table in a corner to the left of the viewer. Jesus himself, too, sits at the banquet,
but is situated centre-right for the viewer. Centre-left, but close to Jesus, sits
Mary. In the background, a dish holding a large bird is being carried in. This is
probably a swan, the main dish of the “zwanebroeders” (knights of the swan).
In the foreground a man stands bent over a large jar. As often in medieval paint-
ings the whole has become a mixture of medieval customs and data from John’s
text. An instance is the styling of the bride’s hair.2 The cutlery, too, is a medi-
eval touch, with only knives on the table. A clearly biblical element is the six jars
in the foreground of the picture. These are from John 2:6.
On the left in front of the table two men are having a chat. On the right in
front of the table a lady is drinking something out of a bowl. Her hair is up, in-
dicating that she is married. The day after their wedding, women were expected
to put up their hair. In front of the table stands a kind of icon of two saints. Next
to the icon stands a midget male person. He is sandy-haired. In one hand he
carries a large chalice and in the other something that looks like a piece of bread.
He wears a beautiful green garment. From under the garment a small white rim
peeps out. On the outside of the garment he wears a narrow white band slanting
downwards.
1 This article is a translation and extended version of a Dutch article: Bart J. Koet, “Wijn-
schenken bij de bruiloft van Kana, Over de betekenis van diakonos in Johannes 2,5.9,” in
Harm W.M. van Grol and Piet van Midden, Een roos in de lente. Theologisch palet van de FKT
(FS Panc Beentjes: Utrecht, 2009), 136–44. In what follows we shall leave both words (episko-
poi and diakonoi) for the most part untranslated and use transcribed forms.
2 The bride’s clothes and hair fit the requirements of the time; see Jeroen M.M. van der
Ven, In facie ecclesiae: De katholieke huwelijksliturgie in de Nederlanden van de 13e eeuw tot
het einde van de Ancien Régime (Leuven: Peeters, 2000), 116.

66 Bart J. Koet
Could it be that with this character the artist has wanted to depict one of the
characters from the story of the Cana marriage? Could the narrow white band
be a deacon’s stole?3 And is the garment a dalmatic? And does he carry the
chalice in his hands because that is the liturgical task of the deacon? Could this
little character point to a particular group of actors from the story of the Cana
marriage?
As is well known, this story is about Jesus’ first sign in the fourth Gospel.
There it is told that on the third day there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee. The
mother of Jesus was there (throughout John’s entire Gospel she is not designated
by the name “Mary”), and Jesus, too, has been invited together with his disci-
ples (in Greek we read a form of the verb καλέω, which means first of all “to
call”). When the wine runs out, the famous story follows of water being changed
into wine. It is the mother who, without her son’s knowledge, tells the servants
to do whatsoever he says unto them.
The Greek word used here for “servants” is the dative plural of diakonos. In
John 2:9 they are mentioned again. In the rest of John’s Gospel, the term
diakonos occurs only at John 12:26.
In the Rotterdam panel of this biblical story the table servant seems to be
clothed with the liturgical garb of a (medieval) deacon. But what kind of diako-
noi would they be in John 2? To many listeners the word diakonos and the words
derived from it in Latin (diaconus) and in many Romance (diacono [Italian],
diácono [Spanish], diacre [French]) and Germanic languages (for example,
Diakon [German], deacon [English] or diaken [Dutch]) refer to lowly service. In
1990, the Australian John Collins published a detailed study of diakonia and
related words.4 In various contributions, I have shown what his enquiry means
for the interpretation of Luke 10:38–42 and Acts 6:1–6.5 For the conference
dedicated to “Diakonia, the diaconiae, and the diaconate,” I would like to ex-
amine whether the enquiry by Collins is also relevant to the few instances of the
word stem διακον- in John’s Gospel. Because of the limited scope of this article,
I focus on John 2:1–11. And since a translation of diakonos as “servant” evokes
3 That a stole worn on top of a dalmatic was not unusual is apparent from a work by Hans
Memling, an altarpiece for John’s hospital, Bruges (1474–1479); see Dirk de Vos, The Flemish
Primitives, the Masterpieces (Amsterdam: Princeton University Press-Amsterdam University
Press, 2002), 177.
University Press, 1990, reprinted in 2009).

5 “De diakonia van het ‘Woord’: Over een samenhang tussen Lukas 10,38–42 en Hande-
lingen 6,1–6” in Tussen Cairo en Jeruzalem: Studies over de Bijbel en haar Context (eds. Bob
Becking et.al.; FS Meindert Dijkstra & Karel Vriezen: Utrecht, 2006), 47–56; “The Image of
Martha in Luke 10.38–42 and in John 11.1–12.8” (together with Wendy E.S. North), in Mira-
cles and Imagery in Luke and John (eds. Gilbert van Belle et al.; FS Ulrich Busse: Leuven:
Peeters, 2008), 47–66; “Luke 10,38–42 and Acts 6,1–7: a Lucan Diptych on Diakonia,” in
Studies in the Greek Bible (eds. Jeremy Corley and Vincent Skemp; FS Francis T Gignac:
Washington DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 2008), 163–85.

Like a Royal Wedding 67
certain strong associations, I simply transcribe the Greek word diakonos. Al-
though it will become clear that the diakonoi in John 2 do not shed direct light
on the phenomenon of the deacon in the early church, indirectly this narrative
will show us something about the cultural background within which the minis-
try of deacons arose.
1. John 2:1–11 in Short6
The first miracle in John’s Gospel seems to comply with the pattern of miracle
stories.7 In this pericope, Maarten Menken distinguishes first of all an introduc-
tion (2:1–2) in which the setting of the story is outlined, and then an exposition
(2:3–4). The wine runs out, and Jesus’ mother draws her son’s attention to this
fact. His mother tells the diakonoi to do whatsoever he says unto them. Menken
characterises 2:6–8 as the preparation for the miracle. At first it is said that there
are large stone jars and they number no less than six. This information is needed
to understand what follows, because Jesus commissions the diakonoi with two
tasks. First he tells them to fill these jars with water (2:7). After they have filled
them up to the brim, he tells them to draw out water and to take it to the
άρχιτρίκλινος (translated in the King James Bible as “governor of the feast”).8
When this architriclinos has tasted the water that was made wine but does not
know where it has come from, he turns to the bridegroom. Thus we are in-
formed that a miracle has occurred but are not given a description of it. In 2:10
the archtriclinos more or less calls the bridegroom to account for what has hap-
pened: “Every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine; and when men
have well drunk, then that which is worse: but thou hast kept the good wine
until now.” (KJV). In a parenthesis to the narrative, the author typifies what
happened in Cana as the beginning of the signs. In 2:12 he reports that Jesus, his
mother, his brethren, and his disciples go down to Capernaum and stay there for
a couple of days.9
6 There is some disagreement as to where this passage ends, some exegetes considering
2:12 to mark the end.

7 See for this the short description at Maarten J.J. Menken, Numerical Literary Tech-
niques in John: The Fourth Evangelist’s Use of Numbers of Words and Syllables (Leiden: Brill,
1985), 72–74.
8 The term άρχιτρίκλινος appears for the first time in Greek literature in John 2. After
that, only in Church Fathers commenting on John 2 except for some instances in the novel
Aethiopica of Heliodorus, whom some people suspect of being a Christian bishop! See the
Thesaurus Linguae Graecae. The Vulgate translates this word by architriclinus. The reader
may recognise that άρχι stands for head and τρίκλινος refers to the Hellenistic triclinium or
dining room. In the following I am using the transcripion of this word.
9 John 2:11 is one of the statements in this Gospel that appear to be “parenthetical” to the
preceding narrative. Such parentheses are more a reflection on the story than part of it. For the

68 Bart J. Koet
The story of the Cana marriage as the first miracle story has a special position
in John’s Gospel. In his exhaustive work on images and rituals in John’s Gospel
Ulrich Busse writes: “Das ‘Anfangszeichen’ des Johanneischen Jesus im präzis
definierten galiläischen Kana (1,43; 4,46.54; 21,2) ist eine der faszinierendsten
und attraktivsten Wundergeschichten der neutestamentlichen Tradition.”10
Therefore it is not to be wondered at that much has been written about it.11
Busse points to a number of details which have often attracted attention.12
He mentions the somewhat peculiar indication of time, “the third day.” Also
notable is the role of Jesus’ mother in this story. Why is she at the marriage be-
fore Jesus and his disciples? The mother then says there is no wine. Jesus’ reply
[2:4: Τί ἐμοὶ καὶ σοί, γύναι; οὔπω ἥκει ἡ ὥρα μου] gets a lot of attention in exeget-
ical literature. Busse also points to the fact that the modern reader is surprised
at the enormous quantity of wine.
Busse notices that the diakonoi are the only ones who can see that at this
marriage Jesus takes over the position of host from the bridegroom. They are
also the only ones who can know this, for they have done what Jesus’ mother
has ordered them to do. And in 2:9 the narrative expressly states that they know.
2. Are the Diakonoi in John 2:1–11 Humble Slaves?
Busse, then, in the first part of his book points to the special role of the diakonoi
in this miracle story. In the third part (“Űber die Bildlichkeit zur Verständi-
gung”), however, he explicitly enters into their significance in this pericope. In
his work Busse wants to further investigate the special symbols of John’s Gos-
pel. These symbols and metaphors indeed have a particular power to touch the
reader affectively and are therefore also important in engaging the reader. In the
third part Busse works with literary-sociological questions. He starts with a
review of the social hierarchy in John 2:1–11.13 Busse states that, while Luke-
Acts and Paul’s letters have indeed been examined from literary and sociological
perspectives, little such attention has been given to relevant texts in John’s Gos-
pel. However, in his view, paying attention to socially relevant elements can
help us discover the emotional associations evoked within the reader of the
use of these parentheses in John, see Gilbert Van Belle, Les parenthèses dans l’évangile de
Jean: Aperçu historique et classification texte grec de Jean (Leuven: Peeters, 1985).
10 Ulrich Busse, Das Johannesevangelium: Bildlichkeit, Diskurs und Ritual (Leuven:
Peeters, 2004), 87; for a detailed bibliography dealing with John 2:1–11, see 457–59.
11 For Bultmann’s suggestion that this passage is taken from a pagan legend about Diony-
sius and superimposed upon Jesus, see now Wilfried Eisele, “Jesus und Dionysos: Göttliche
Konkurrenz bei der Hochzeit zu Kana (Joh 2,1–11),” ZNW 100 (2009): 1–28 and literature
mentioned in note 2.
12 For this see Busse, Johannesevangelium, 87–92.
13 Busse, Johannesevangelium, 275–81.

time.14 In illustration, Busse mentions Jesus’ statement that He is “the bread of

life”: such an image evokes quite different emotions in a society where bread is
expensive from any that might be evoked in the present context of Western Eu-
rope where one can buy newly baked bread every day.
Busse starts his literary-sociological enquiry with John 2:1–11. He states that
this story can be used to make clear a not-very-striking but nonetheless essen-
tial topos of John’s Gospel, namely, humble service. This topos is represented in
terms relating to “slavery” (including “diaconia”). According to Busse, the to-
pos is present in John 2:1–11, John 8, in the Valedictory Oration (13–16), and in
the epilogue, John 21.
As far as John 2:1–11 is concerned, Busse points out that the wedding party is
described only in outline. All kind of important information is lacking: Where
is the bride? Is there a wedding contract (Ketubba)? Nothing is said about the
Jewish custom of making the marriage feast last a number of days. In connec-
tion with the lack of wine, Busse refers to an example in Plutarch [Moralia, 678
E–F] where the dignitas of the host, in this case the bridegroom, is at stake when
bread and wine are short.15
According to Busse, the instruction given to the diakonoi by Jesus’ mother is
the actual start of the narration. In his first treatment of John 2:1–11, Busse had
already noticed that the diakonoi are the only ones who know Jesus’ sign. Since
it is noteworthy that secondary characters get such a leading role, critics have
attempted to identify various editorial stages here.16 Busse, however, thinks
that a social-historical perspective offers a more plausible solution. He thinks
there is a social contrast between the diakonoi and the architriclinos and that
this contrast is part of the author’s strategy to make something clear as to Jesus’
message. Therefore, Busse first examines the possible status of the last men-
tioned. The word architriclinos itself is extremely rare, but by invoking related
concepts Busse ascertains that the functional profile and the social status of the
architriclinos must have been rather high. This is what makes it credible for this
character to lecture the bridegroom on social expectations. The presence of an
architriclinos suggests that this is a marriage within upper levels of society, an
aspect important to Busse. Those with a high social status (bridegroom and
architriclinos) know nothing of the origin of the good wine, whereas the slaves
have first-hand information.17 So to Busse it stands to reason that the diakonoi
14 Busse, Johannesevangelium, 275.

15 Busse, Johannesevangelium, 276.
16 Busse himself tried this years ago. Now he considers this to be a kind of juvenile sin:
Busse, Johannesevangelium, 88. For a surview of historical-critical research of John 2:1–11,

see Walter Lütgehetmann, Die Hochzeit von Kana (Joh 2,1–11): Zu Ursprung und Deutung
einer Wundererzählung im Rahmen johanneischer Redaktionsgeschichte (Regensburg: Fried
rich Pustet, 1990), 41–122.
17 Busse, Johannesevangelium, 280–81.

70 Bart J. Koet
from John 2 are slaves and that diakonos and δοῦλος are practically synony-
mous.18
And that is exactly what must be questioned. Birger Olsson in his work on
the structure of the fourth Gospel explicitly pays some attention to the use of
the word diakonos.19 He states that describing the servants as slaves is not so
obvious as far as the Greek language is concerned.20 He thinks that the word
may have been used here because it is the task of diakonoi to wait at table. He
argues that the wording has prompted some scholars to interpret the servants in
the light of Acts 6:1ff, Luke 22:27, and the diakonia motif in the NT. He con-
cludes that “the wording alone does not call for such comparisons, but by reason
of its special possibilities of association the word diakonoi is more open than,
for example paides or douloi. It may have been chosen because of the total mes-
sage of the text.”21
Walter Lütgehetmann presents an interesting view on the diakonoi. He sees
the term as evidence of a connection between John’s story and the role of diako-
noi in the Dionysius-cult within Dionysius legends.22 Each mystery-associa-
tion had special diakonoi in charge of the distribution of wine. To a certain ex-
tent these diakonoi carried out a religious ministry.
3. Is the Diakonos a Slave?
In this light, it is not self-evident that we should translate the word diakonoi as
slave or humble servant. As I have written before, we ought to pay closer atten-
tion to the range of possible meanings conveyed by the word diakonia and relat-
ed words with the stem diakon-.23 I have already referred to the major work of
the Australian theologian John N. Collins, whose extensive examination of di-
18 In 12:26, John has Jesus say that when anyone wants to serve him he should follow him
and that where he is (ego eimi), there his diakonos will be. Busse ( Johannesevangelium, 284)
refers to this as though it were a “Logion vom Sklaven, der bei seinem Herrn sein soll.”
19 Birger Olsson, Structure and Meaning in the Fourth Gospel: A Text-Linguistic Analysis
of John 2:1–11 and 4:1–42 (Lund: CWK Gleerup, 1974), 45–46 and 110–11.
20 Olsson, Structure and Meaning in the Fourth Gospel, 45: “The description of the serv-
ants as hoi diakonoi does not seem to come quite naturally in the Greek, but may be explained
as meaning that they were serving the meal.”
21 Olsson, Structure and Meaning in the Fourth Gospel, 45–46. He argues that in 12:26,
diakonos denotes a disciple of Jesus.

22 Lütgehetmann, Die Hochzeit von Kana, 280–81.
23 Bart J. Koet, “De diaken ook boodschapper? Exegetische kanttekeningen bij de liturgische
rol van diaken in de liturgie,” Communio 31 (2006): 453–63; Id., “De diaken als evangeliever-
kondiger? Een drieluik over het diaconaat,” Communio 33 (2008): 58–71, in id., “Diakonie ist
nicht nur Armenfürsorge. Neuere exegetische Erkenntnisse zum Verständnis von Diakonie,”
in Lernen wäre eine schöne Alternative: Religionsunterricht in theologischer und erziehungs
wissenschaftlicher Verantwortung (eds. Christoph Gramzow, Heide Liebold and Martin Sander-
Gaiser; FS Helmut Hanisch: Leipzig: Evangelische Verlag-Anstalt, 2008), 303–18.

akonoi at festivals greatly expands our understanding of their function and sta-
tus.24 Collins claims that the notion of diakonia as more or less synonymous
with the humble service of the church to the poor is mainly of German origin.
In my view, his argument in relation to the semantics is convincing.25 Recently
a German New Testament scholar has evaluated those principles and in general
confirmed Collins’ findings.26
In his study Collins examines the use of these words in Greek literary sourc-
es of the classical and Hellenistic periods. This careful investigation enables us
to discern to what extent the Christian Greek of the New Testament and of the
early church shows a different usage. In an appendix to his work, Collins out-
lines the range of possible meanings, and emphasises that particular meanings
are to be determined by context. He finds that the διακον- terms occur in three
distinct fields of meaning relating to (1) “message”; (2) “agency”; and (3) “attend-
ance.” One common element of meaning relates to an activity of an in-between
nature. Another is that the activity is an assignment in the name of a principal.
The terms are part of more formal language and often occur in a religious con-
text. But what is the relevance of such usage to the interpretation of John 2:1–11?
In what follows I will not specifically engage ancient Greek usage, but in the
light of newer linguistic research I will review recent literature concerning John
2:1–11, particularly in regard to what is raised there in reference to the appear-
ance of the diakonoi.27
4. The Diakonoi in John 2:1–11
We saw above that Ulrich Busse claims that in John 2, Jesus does more or less
reveal his glory to the poor diakonoi, who stand for the humble waiters. Collins
points out that despite the frequency with which ancient literature records feasts
and dinner parties, the word diakonos is a designation of waiter in only twenty
of the hundred instances of the word.28 He further shows that the διακον-
words can designate waiters and their duties in the courts of rulers, in the abode
24 Collins, Diakonia, especially 156–68.

25 I disagree with Collins only on some exegetical details; see my discussion of his treat-
ment of Acts 6 in Koet, “The Image of Martha in Luke 10.38–42 and in John 11.1–12.8,” and
id., “Luke 10,38–42 and Acts 6 ,1–7.”
26 Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament: Studien der Semantik unter besonder-
er Berücksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007); see my review in
English in: Bijdragen 69 (2008): 110–12. Between Collins and Hentschel there is only a differ-
ence in emphasis. While Collins argues that a diakonos is somebody who is an agent, Hentschel
stresses more the fact that a diakonos is somebody with a mandate.
27 For John 2:1–11, see Collins, Diakonia, 245, but see also his description of diakonoi in
connection with formal and religious meals (74–76), chapter 7 (especially 150 and 154–68).
28 See Collins, Diakonia, 154.

72 Bart J. Koet
of the gods, and at dinners of a usually elaborate kind.29 In connection with

Collins’ enquiry, I suggest that the diakonoi in John are not intended to make
clear Jesus’ theological option for the poor. I rather think that these diakonoi
play a somewhat less pretentious role, namely, they are among the elements
which characterise the Cana marriage as a special marriage, a marriage like that
of a king. That the Cana marriage reminds us of a wedding as an image of the
covenant between God and His people has been noted before.30
A rather extreme point of view is taken by Roger Aus.31 He claims that in a
very inventive way, the author used haggadian traditions concerning Esther
1:1–8 as materials for this pericope. Aus mentions no less than eight items from
which it would appear that John 2:1–11 depends on Esther and later Jewish read-
ings of this story.32 As an important first item, Aus points out that Jewish tra-
ditional exegesis of Esther 1 and the narrative of John 2 are both concerned with
a wedding party. Suffice to point to the fact here that, whereas in the Hebrew
text of Esther 1:5 the issue is not a wedding party at all, Greek translations ex-
plicitly state that we are dealing with a marriage.33 It is Aus’ opinion that the
large quantity of wine drunk at Ahasuerus’ wedding party is in part the back-
ground of the enormous quantity of wine at Cana.34 Aus considers architriclin-
os to be the author’s ad hoc creation.35 As a possible model for this character he
sees the rav beto of Esther 1:8. It is interesting that LXX turns it into a plural:
οἰκονόμοι. Aus also refers to Esther 7:8 where Targum Sheni uses the word tri-
29 See Collins, Diakonia, 156, and footnote 1, 309–10. Here Collins lists numerous occur-
rences of διακον- words in courtly contexts. Here I refer only to instances in Flavius Josephus:
A.J. 2,65 (the court of the Pharaoh); 6,52 (King Saul); 7,165 (Amnon, the prince); 8,169 (Solo-
mon); 10,242 (Belshazzar); 11,163,166 (Xerxes); 11,188 (Artaxerxes); 15,224 (Herod); 18,193
(Agrippa). And see the broader reference in note 27 above.
30 See among others for example Menken, Numerical Literary Techniques, 81–82, who
refers to Isa 54:4–8, 62: 4–5, Jer 2, Ezek 16, and Hos 1–3. Jocelyn McWhirter, The Bridegroom
Messiah and the people of God: Marriage in the Fourth Gospel (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-
versity Press, 2006), 47–50, argues that for some of the contemporaries of the author of the
Gospel the advent of the Messiah was associated with abundant wine. She refers to 2 Bar 29,
3.5–6.
31 Roger Aus, Water into Wine and the Beheading of John the Baptist: Early Jewish-Chris-
tian Interpretation of Esther 1 in John 2:11 and Mark 6:17–29 (Atlanta: Scholars, 1988); for
connections between Esther and John 2:1–11, also see John Bowman, The Fourth Gospel and
the Jews: a Study in R. Akiba, Esther and the Gospel of John (Pittsburgh: Pennsylvania Pick-
wick Press, 1975), 161–63.
32 In my opinion Aus is not convincing in all respects. I find, for example, the way he tries
to date his material somewhat unconvincing. Since in his view haggadic material has already
been found in LXX and in Josephus, he thinks that the material of much later Jewish texts also
contain older material (Water into Wine, 25–26), whereas that is exactly what he needs to es-
tablish.
33 Aus, Water into Wine, 9; see also Hanna Kahana, Esther: Juxtaposition of the Septuagint
Translation with the Hebrew Text (Leuven: Peeters, 2005), 15–16.

34 Aus, Water into Wine, 14, estimates between 453 and 681 litres.
35 For this and following, see Aus, Water into Wine, 15–17.

clinon for “hall for parties.” In his opinion the reference to the ritual purifica-
tion in John 2:6 is to be explained on the basis of several rabbinic commentaries
on Esther which indicate that at Ahasuerus’ party there was room for kosher
food. The fact that in Esther 1:8, Ahasuerus gives an order is to be the back-
ground of the order of Jesus’ mother to the diakonoi.36 In addition, Aus thinks
that the king’s display of his splendour at Esther 1:4 has influenced the wording
of John 2:11.37
It would carry me too far afield to report here and comment upon all of Aus’
arguments. Although Aus adduces much in support of his claim that the author
of John 2:1–1138 used the haggadian material concerning the Esther tradition,
I think that he is putting too much weight upon the evidence available. Al-
though it is difficult to establish the argument proposed by Aus that John used
the Esther material, I do think it useful to compare these traditions. The most
important element emerging from the comparison is that in both the Esther
story of the LXX and in John 2 a royal wedding is in process.
However, although Aus’ list of comparable elements between John 2 and the
Esther tradition is quite lengthy, sometimes he overlooks other material rele-
vant to the comparison. Aus scarcely goes into one striking resemblance be-
tween the Greek versions of the book of Esther and John 2:1–11. Esther is the
only book in the Greek translations of the Old Testament where the word di-
akonoi occurs several times, and John 2:1–11 is the only story from that Gospel
in which this word occurs twice (in the rest of the Gospel only once, 12:26). As
I have pointed out elsewhere, the word diakonos appears seldom in the LXX.39
In Esther 1, the word diakonoi is used in the account of the festivity – character-
ised in the Greek text as a wedding. The story starts with a description of a week
of exuberant royal festivity. The king invites the entire population for seven
days with wine in gold cups, each one more splendid than the other. The queen
entertained the women at their own festival. On the seventh day the king wants
to parade with his wife and asks her to show herself to the people and fel-
low-countrymen adorned with a diadem. He orders seven men to collect her
(1:10). In the New Jerusalem Bible one reads: “On the seventh day, when the
king was merry with wine, he commanded Mehuman, Biztha, Harbona, Big-
tha, Abagtha, Zethar and Carkas, the seven officers in attendance [sic] on the
person of King Ahasuerus of King.” Esther 1:10 [LXX] could be translated as
“seven eunuchs, the diakonoi.”40 The very exalted characterisation of these
36 See Aus, Water into Wine, 19–20.

37 See Aus, Water into Wine, 23–24.
38 Aus, Water into Wine, 26 thinks that the author of this pericope is not the author of the
rest of the Gospel.

39 More detailed in my article, “De diaken ook boodschapper?” 456–59 and id., “Diakonie
ist nicht nur Armenfürsorge,” 311–13.

40 Esther 1,10 (LXX): ἐν δὲ τῇ ἡμέρᾳ τῇ ἑβδόμῃ ἡδέως γενόμενος ὁ βασιλεὺς εἶπεν τῷ ᾿Αμὰν

74 Bart J. Koet
men as personal servants of the king (in Hebrew) is represented in the Greek
with the word diakonos. Elsewhere as well, diakonoi act in the Greek text of
Esther. At 2:2 they are advisers to the king; similarly, 6:3,5. In my article I drew
the tentative conclusion that on the few occasions that the word diakonos is used
in Esther it designates high officials in court, so high that they can face the king
(and in those days that meant a lot more than in our time).
One can find in Matt 25:44 another quite unexpected indication that a διακον-
term introduces an allusion to a royal court. Although, as is well known, Matt
25:31–44 is the locus classicus for Jesus’ social teaching, the use of the verb dia
koneo in 25:44 is not itself an expression of the good works demanded of the
kingdom’s inhabitants (feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, welcom-
ing the stranger, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and the prisoner). John
Collins has indentified in diakoneo in the mouths of the wicked here an element
of fawning. In their appeal to the king, they use courtly language in indicating
that they have had eyes only for the king and have not neglected his least wish.
This understanding fits the context. The Son of Man is depicted as a royal per-
son. He is sitting on the throne of his glory. The wicked thought it sufficient to
serve this king. They have not seen the king thirsty or hungry, naked or as a
stranger (25:44). They did not realise that this king is not attuned to people who
want to serve only him and have no care for their fellow subjects. They did not
realise that this king and the poor are of the same stock.41
In conjunction with the term architriclinos, I propose that the term diakonoi
rather points to the royal character of the Cana marriage than to any hierarchi-
cal contrast between bridegroom and architriclinos on the one hand and servile
attendants on the other.
5. The Diakonoi of John 2 in the Church Fathers
In this last section, I present some indications of whether these diakonoi of John
2 were seen in the early church as lowly servants, as proposed by a modern
author like Ulrich Busse, or whether they accord with one of the early uses of
diakonos as member of a royal court.
Although it is quite probable that early Fathers like Ignatius of Antioch and
Justin Martyr knew and used the Fourth Gospel, it seems that Heracleon was
the first who wrote a commentary on the gospel (ca. 170).42 Origen’s commen-
tary is the first patristic commentary of which substantial parts have been pre-
καὶ Βαζὰν καὶ Θάρρᾳ καὶ Βαραζὶ καὶ Ζαθολθὰ καὶ ᾿Αβαταζὰ καὶ Θαραβά, τοῖς ἑπτὰ εὐνούχοις τοῖς
διακόνοις τοῦ βασιλέως ᾿Αρταξέρξου.
41 See Collins, Diakonia, 64–65.
42 See Charles Kannegieser, Handbook of Patristic Exegesis: The Bible in Ancient Christi-
anity, Vol. I (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 345.

served, and it quoted extended fragments of Heracleon’s work.43 Kannegieser

argues that John’s Gospel played a key part in the Trinitarian and Christological
discussions, especially in the great controversies of the fourth and fifth centu-
ries. He adds that, unfortunately, a good number of commentaries written in
this context have been lost or survive only as fragments in catenae.44
However, important commentaries like the eighty-eight homilies by John
Chrysostom, the Tractates on the Gospel of John by Augustine, and two Greek
commentaries of Theodor of Mopsuestia and Cyril of Alexandria have been
preserved.
In early Christianity, John’s story about the wedding of Cana was well-
known.45 Because it was presented as Jesus’ first miracle, and maybe also be-
cause of the appealing motive of a wedding and the fascinating aspect of the lack
of wine, it was quite often mentioned as a specific miracle of Jesus. We find
many passing references to this pericope in John (see, for example, Arator sub-
diaconus, Liber 1, 154 or Gregory of Nyssa, Orationes Theologicae 3,20).
In the more elaborate commentaries just mentioned, one can find extensive
discussions of the passage. Augustine deals with this wedding in two tractates
and John Chrysostom discusses it in his sermons.46 In such patristic literature,
attention often focuses on the role of Mary and on Jesus’ puzzling statement in
2:4 (“Woman, what have I to do with thee?”).47 So we are not to be surprised
that the diakonoi of John 2 are not often discussed when fathers of the church
deal with the wedding in Cana. Augustine, for example, does not mention them
in his sermons on John 2 (Tractatus in Joannis evangelium, VIII and IX).48 But
when they do attract comment, they are not described as slaves or low-servants.
Sometimes a special role is attributed to them in the narrative.
A father as early as Origen (fr. 29, Io GCS 10, 505) argues that the evangelist
is careful because he “introduces Jesus, charging not His own disciples, but the
servants of the feast, about drawing the water; if Jesus’ disciples had drawn it,
43 Origen, Comm. Jo.

44 Kannegieser, Handbook of Patristic Exegesis (Vol. I), 346;  see Johannes-Kommentare
aus der griechischen Kirche: aus Katenenhandschriften gesammelt und hrsg. von Joseph Reuss
(Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1966). Although in the fragments left by Apollinaris of Laodicea,
Theodor of Heraclea, Ammonius of Alexandria, and Photius of Constantinople there are
references to John 2:6–9, in these fragments there is no specific identification of the type of
diakonoi.
45 See Adolf Smitmans, Das Weinwunder von Kana: Die Auslegung von Jo 2, 1–1 – bei den
Vätern und heute (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1966). See also Harold Smith, Ante-Nicene Exe-
gesis of the Gospels: Vol II (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledged, 1926).
Smith summarises patristic exegeses of several important pericopes of the NT. For John 2:1–
11, see 6–13.
46 For Augustine, see George Lawless, “The wedding at Cana: Augustine on the Gospel
according John, Tractates 8 and 9,” in Augustinian Studies 28 (1997): 35–80.

47 Smitmans, Weinwunder von Kana, 98–125.
48 Cyril of Alexandria (PG 73, 225 C/D) refers to the diakonoi as “helpers at the feast.”

76 Bart J. Koet
calumniators might have said ‘They filled the waterpots with wine, while pre-
tending to have filled them with water.’” 49 The fact that, to a certain extent,
these diakonoi guarantee the truth of the miracle is specified in some later ser-
mons. Pseudo-Hippolytus and John Chrysostom, for example, argue that they
are potential witnesses should doubt arise. John Chrysostom asks why Jesus
needs the diakonoi. He suggests that they are needed as witnesses.50 Although
this is not a statement about the status of these diakonoi, it does imply that they
are not slaves, but free persons who can witness.
Smitmans argues that in the later tradition of the West there is another expla-
nation of the role of the diakonoi in John 2. They are interpreted in a symbolic
way. He refers to Ps Augustinus’ Sermo 92. Smitmans argues that, in this ser-
mon, Mary is the symbol for the church which directs her priests to recognise
revelation of Christ.51 However, it is interesting to note that in this sermon the
ministri are compared with the Levites.52 And in patristic thinking, the word
“Levites” is usually seen as a referent for deacons, not priests.53
Gaudentius gives a comparable interpretation and argues that he holds the
ministri of the convivium also to be apostles and apostolic priests.54 This con-
curs with a statement of Pseudo-Maximus, who states that the ministri signify
the apostles and the teachers of the Church.55 Those tiny pieces of evidence
converge in one direction. When the fathers of the church try to explain the
diakonoi in John 2, these figures do not lead them to think of slaves or servants
49 I quote here the translation used by Smith, Ante-Nicene Exegesis of the Gospels, 10.
50 Chyrsostom, Migne PG 59, 134. Pseudo Hippolytus: “Why did he say, ‘Fill the pots
with water?’ Could not He who had through a word created the heaven and established the
earth and all things in it, Himself fill the pots? But He said ‘Fill them with water.’ Why? That
if any should deny the fact, the hands of those who had filled the water and the shoulders who
had carried it might be able to convict them of falsehood.” I quote here Smith, Ante-Nicene
Exegesis of the Gospels, 8–9.
51 Smitmans, Das Weinwunder von Kana, 129: “dass Maria die Kirche darstellt, die ihre
Priester der von ihr anerkannten Offenbarung des Lehrers Christus unterstellt (Sermo app
92, PL 39, 1923f.).” We have to note that Smitmans translates ministri with priests. Probably
one has to translate it with deacons!
52 Pseudo-Augustine, PL 39, 1923–1924, here 1924: Dicit Maria ministris, Facite quaecum
que jussevit; hoc est, obtemperate doctori, ministris mandat Ecclesia. Qui sunt ministri, nisi
officia Levitarum, quae Dei mysteriis sunt deputata?
53 See, for example, the moving story of the martyrdom of Lawrence (Ambrosius, Off. 1,
41, 204–206). The deacon Lawrence, who, seeing Xystus, his bishop being led to martyrdom
was weeping. But bishop Xystus said: “Cease weeping; after three days you shall follow me.
This interval must come between the priest and his levite.”
54 Tractatus IX, De evangelii lectione, II, CSEL 68, 81: sed iuxta spiritalis convivii rationem
primo[s] ministros Novi Testamenti intellego esse apostolos, deinde apostolicos sacerdotes. See
also Gaudentius’ interpretation of John 2:6: Vocatis ergo Iesus ministris–apostolis videlicet et
eorum successoribus (CSEL 68, 84).
55 Pseudo Maximus B, PL 57, 275–276: Ministri autem qui impleverunt hydrias significant
SS. Apostolos et doctores ecclesiae, qui predicant praecepta Dei, de qui recte dicitur: Et impleve
runt eas usque ad summum.

ith a low status; rather, the diakonoi suggest to them persons with a special
w
role within the narrative of being potential witnesses or persons involved in the
proclamation of God’s word.
6. Conclusion
The aim and the theme of this article is modest. What is the role and function of
the diakonoi in John 2:1–11? We have seen that in the story of John 2:1–11, there
are several links to a comparable story in the book of Esther. The diakonoi in
the book of Esther act as court-officials in a royal party. Would not the diakonoi
in John 2:1–11, especially in combination with the distinctive character of the
architriclinos, suggest to contemporary readers of the Gospel that the wedding
where Jesus` mother was present and to which Jesus and his disciples were in
vited, implied a royal occasion? Scarce patristic evidence shows that while the
diakonoi are not the most important players in the story, when they do elicit
comment it is not in relation to their servility. They have the status of witnesses,
of teachers of the church, and even of Levites.

Philip, One of the Seven in Acts (6:1–6; 8:4–40; 21:8)
Joke H. A. Brinkhof
The apostles who remained in Jerusalem after the resurrection and ascension of
Jesus faced a considerable challenge. Not only the increase in the number of
adherents, but also the fact that their work was soon no longer confined to Jeru-
salem, required some kind of organisation. They energetically took it in hand as
we see in Luke’s second book, Acts. Acts can be considered as the main source
of New Testament information for the early years of “Christianity.” Luke ar-
ranges characters and events in a way that forms an orderly overview to show
his addressee Theophilus, “the certainty of those things wherein he has been
instructed” (Luke 1: 3–4). This purpose of Luke means that Acts is no simple
report of facts and data but a historical monograph.1 However, the author
seems to rely on the existing reality of the Christian communities of his day,
just as we read in Paul’s letters. Paul presupposes a particular structuring of the
people and groups to which he writes, a structure that is recognizable as based
on or derived from that of the Jewish community.
In the way the expansion of the “Christian movement” is described, there are,
besides the apostles, other authoritative disciples in the foreground. This article
looks at one of them, Philip, who is known as “one of the seven.” Although the
story about the appointment of these seven men for the table service has been
seen, since the second century C.E., as the founding of the ordained ministry of
deacon (Acts 6:1–6), this article does not focus on the historical reality of Philip
or deacons or the development of the ministry of deacons in churches. Philip
will be considered, by carefully reading the storylines, as a narrative character,
portrayed by the author of Luke-Acts.
First, the appointment of these seven men will be discussed (§ 1). After this,
the focus will be on Stephen and Philip (§ 2), two of the seven to whom the author
devotes special attention. Though Philip is the main subject of this study, dealing
with Stephen (§ 3) is necessary to get a closer view on the activities of Philip (§ 4)
who preaches outside the familiar surroundings of Jerusalem and lays the foun-
1 See Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Acts of the Apostles: A New Translation with Introduction
and Commentary (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998), 55–60.

80 Joke H.A. Brinkhof
dation for preaching to non-Jews (Acts 7–8). It will be clear that the role of the
“deacons” is more than serving at tables (§ 5). After this section about Stephen
and Phillip, no more “deacons” are mentioned in Acts. Only Philip emerges
again many chapters later. He is called “one of the seven” and “evangelist” and
is the host of Paul (Acts 21:8). This draws attention to the narrative role of P
hilip
compared to Peter and Paul (§ 6). The concluding section of this article shows
that the intermediary work of the seven, or the deacons, is underlined narrative-
ly by the way the paragraphs about them in Acts are constructed (§ 7–8).2
1. Seven Men Chosen
After the departure of Jesus, Acts continues with the selection of a new twelfth
apostle. The death of Judas, the traitor (ὁ προδότης, Luke 6:13),3 caused a vacan-
cy. Peter, referring to the book of Psalms (Ps 69:26; 109:8), notes that this apostle
had a share in the ministration (ἡ διακονία) of the apostles and was numbered
among them (Acts 1:14–20). Therefore someone else has to receive the share of
this ministration and apostleship of Judas. Just as Jesus chose his apostles from
a larger group of followers (see Luke 6:13), the believers now have the choice of
several candidates. Peter sets out the criteria for an apostle. It must be someone
(a man) who from the baptism by John until the Ascension was with the apostles
and now can be, like them, a witness to the resurrection (Acts 1:21–22).
The number of apostles, twelve, matters. That is evident not only because the
number of eleven remaining apostles apparently is not sufficient, but also be-
cause, although there are two excellent nominees, Justus and Matthias, only one
of them is chosen. So not eleven, not thirteen, but twelve. The lot falls upon
Matthias. His inclusion in the group of apostles goes without any extra ritual:
it is simply said that Matthias is numbered with the eleven. The symbolic value
of the number of twelve4 is underlined by the fact that from this point on some
of the apostles as individuals are never mentioned again, but, as in the Gospel of
2 In the last decades, several monographs about Philip have been published: F. Scott
Spencer, The Portrait of Philip in Acts: A Study of Roles and Relations (Sheffield: JSOT Press,
1992). Axel Von Dobbeler, Der Evangelist Philippus in der Geschichte des Urchristentums:
Eine Prosopographische Skizze (Tübingen: Francke Verlag, 2000). Patric Fabien, Philippe
“l’Évangéliste” au tournant de la Mission dans les Acts des Apôtres: Philippe, Simon le Magi-
cien et l’Eunuque Éthiopien (Paris: Cerf, 2010).
3 Unless otherwise stated, references are restricted to Luke-Acts.
4 Besides the number of the apostles, twelve is also the number of the tribes of Israel,
according to the sons of Jacob (Gen 49:28; Num 17:16–17; Deut 1:23; Josh 3:12;4:2); the parts
of the abused wife of the Levite (Judg 19:29); the water wells at Elim (Num 33:9); the stones in
the river to the promised land (Josh 4:1–8); the years of illness of a woman and the age of the
daughter of Jairus (Matt 9:20; Mark 5:25,42; Luke 8:42–43); and the age of Jesus when he is
found in the midst of the teachers (Luke 2:42).

Philip, One of the Seven in Acts (6:1–6; 8:4–40; 21:8) 81
Luke, there are references to them as “the apostles”5 or “the twelve” (οἱ δώδεκα),6
which name they have only once in Acts (6:2). These twelve apostles appear to
be the leaders of the community in Jerusalem.
The title, “the twelve,” for the group of apostles, used in Acts 6:2, creates the
connection to the other group of ministers, “the seven.”7 These “seven,” all
with Greek names, are introduced in that same pericope (Acts 6:1–6): Stephen,
Philip, Prochorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicolaus. Their number is
seven, but in this episode they are not mentioned as such. That will only happen
in Acts 21:8, where Philip, the second one in the above list, is called “the evange-
list, one of the seven” (Φιλίππου τοῦ εὐαγγελιστοῦ ὄντος ἐκ τῶν ἑπτά).
Though they are not called “the seven” at the time of introduction, their num-
ber, like that of the twelve, is not random. There is murmuring among the disci-
ples8 because the Hellenists complain that their widows are overlooked in the
daily ministration. Then the twelve, mentioned as such, not by their individual
names or as “apostles,” propose to choose seven men to fulfil that necessity. So
the twelve have a leading role again, being responsible for the number of this
group, the criteria that these men must meet, and their profile description. The
seven men must be men of the brethren, well testified, and full of the Holy S pirit
and wisdom (Acts 6:3).9 They will serve at tables (διακονεῖν τραπέζαις).
At the same time, the task for the apostles, “the twelve,” is specified. Peter
stated in Acts 1:22 that they had to have witnessed the resurrection. Now the
twelve define their main occupation and responsibility as prayer and the minis-
try of the word (ἡ διακονία τοῦ λόγου; Acts 6:4). So the duties of the two groups,
the twelve and the seven, are distinguished. Not only their main tasks, but also
their relationship is stated. The calling of the apostles by Jesus and the way
Matthias was included in the group of apostles are simple and inconspicuous
events. Now, for the appointment of the seven men, a more solemn ritual is per-
formed. When the multitude has chosen the seven, the twelve, having prayed,
lay their hands upon them. That suggests a kind of hierarchical relationship in
the way that the leading functions of the twelve are shared with the seven. Note
5 Luke 6:13; 9:10; 17:5; 22:14; 24:10; Acts 1:2,26; 2:37,42,43; 4:33,35,36,37; 5:2,12,18,29,40;
6:6; 8:1,14,(18); 9:27; 11:1; 14:4,14; 15:2,4,6,22,23; 16:4.

6 Luke 8:1; 9:1; 9:12; 18:31; 22:3; Acts 6:2.
7 Seven is the number of the days of the creation of the world, the Sabbath included (Gen
2:2); the pairs of clean beasts and birds Noah takes with him into the ark (Gen 7:2–3); the years
Jacob works for Laban to earn Leah and another seven for Rachel; the years of abundance and
of famine in Egypt (Gen 41:53); the daughters of the priest of Midian (Exod 2:16); the days of
unleavened bread (Exod 12:15ff); the days of cleansing (Lev 14); the years of the Sabbath for
the land and for the jubilee after seven times seven years (Lev 25).
8 Here Luke utilises μαθητής for the first time in Acts.
9 “Wisdom” (σοφία) in LXX is often used as a translation of chochma. For example, wis-
dom like Solomon’s (1 Kgs 4:29); see Chachamim in the Jewish tradition.

that the laying on of hands is not combined with the gift of the Spirit: these
seven men were already filled with the Spirit (Acts 6:3).
What conclusions can we draw about “the seven” from Acts 6:1–6? We see
that the need for them arose from the Hellenistic Jewish people in Jerusalem.
The solution for the problems they identify is given by the twelve. This name,
“the twelve,” is used for the apostles only once in Acts, in this episode. So a
parallel can be noticed between the group of “the twelve” and the newly created
group of “the seven,” though they are not mentioned as such. The new ministers
are brethren, well testified, and full of the Holy Spirit and wisdom, according to
the profile specified by the twelve. Given their Greek names and the difficulties
in the community of Jerusalem, they are in all probability Hellenistic Jews. The
duties of the twelve and the seven are related, but distinguished. At first sight,
this distinction is determined by the twelve: the twelve will focus on the service
of the word and prayer and the seven on the service of the table.
2. Focus on Stephen and Philip
After this introduction of the seven men, more details are given about the activ-
ities of two of them, Stephen and Philip. None of the other five is mentioned
again after their election. In that respect they resemble the twelve. However,
although the names of most of the apostles are not mentioned again after the
choice of Matthias they still have, unlike the seven, a role as a collective.
As already noted, the number seven has symbolic value. Therefore, the names
of all seven are mentioned. Maybe Luke learned about them from tradition or
his own research, without knowing more details about each of them or about
their function.10 Whatever the case, it is irrelevant for our purpose of consider-
ing the narrative portrait of Philip that Luke sketches. Luke has no need to tell
about each of them, but he gives a comprehensive report about the first two of
“the seven,” Stephen and Philip. Given that the other five are ignored, it can be
determined that all Luke has to tell about “the seven” is included in the stories
of Stephen and Philip. They together are the prototype of the seven, or of “dea-
cons.” It is characteristic of Luke to make his point by telling two comparable
stories about more or less parallel characters, like the birth and beginnings of
Jesus and John, and Peter and Paul in Acts.11 He does the same with Stephen
10 See, among others, Fitzmyer, Acts of the Apostles, 344–45. Earl Richard, “Luke: Author
and Thinker,” in New Views on Luke and Acts (ed. Earl Richard; Collegeville: Liturgical,
1990), 22.
11 See Joop F.M. Smit, “The Function of the Two Quotations from Isaiah in Luke 3–4,” in
The Scriptures of Israel in Jewish and Christian Tradition (eds. Bart J. Koet et al.; F.S. Maarten
J. J. Menken; Leiden: Brill, 2013), 42–55; David P. Moessner, “The Christ Must Suffer. New
Light on the Jesus – Peter, Stephen, Paul Parallels in Luke-Acts,” in The Composition of
Luke’s Gospel: Selected Studies from Novum Testamentum (ed. David E. Orton; Leiden: Brill,

and Philip, and, as we will see later, with Philip and Simon who practices magic
(Acts 8:5–13).
After the narrative of the creation of this group of seven and their command
to serve at the tables, one would expect that the first thing they do is to start
waiting at tables (διακονεῖν τραπέζαις, Acts 6:1–3). In contrast, the pericope ends
with the same theme that started it: the growth of the community (Acts 6:1,7;
see Acts 2:47; 4:4; 5:14,16). Thereafter, it moves firstly to Stephen and his work
(Acts 6:8–8:2), and secondly to the activities of Philip (Acts 8:1–40; 21:8).
3. Stephen
Stephen is well-known as the first martyr among the disciples of Jesus. After his
introduction in Acts 6:5, as the first one of the seven, Stephen is described as a man
of grace and power who does great wonders and signs (τέρατα, σημεῖα) among the
people. That causes discussion (συζητέω)12 with the “synagogue of the Liber-
tines,” Cyrenians and Alexandrians, and people of Cilicia and of Asia. As Luke
tells, they are not able to withstand the wisdom of Stephen. That this discussion
concerns Scripture is clear: at the Sanhedrin they accuse Stephen of blasphemous
words against Moses, God, and the temple (Acts 6:15). Though “the seven” are
chosen due to complaints by the Hellenists, it is now the same Greek-speaking
people that bring up false witnesses for these accusations (Acts 6:13). It illustrates
that the harmonious congregation as presented by Luke in Acts 2:42–22 and 4:32–
37 is now divided, as was already announced by the problems with Ananias and
Sapphira (Acts 5). The focus in this section is on the difficulties between the
Greek-speaking groups and others in the Jewish community. The witnesses
brought up against Stephen are false (ψευδής) (not law-abiding), as were those
against Jesus in Mark 14:56–57. In that verse one finds, like in Acts 6:13, the alleged
quote of Jesus that He will destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days. By re-
working the material of Mark, Luke creates parallelism between Stephen and
1999), 117–53; Henry J. Cadbury, The Making of Luke-Acts (London: S.P.C.K., 21958, New
York: The Macmillan Company, 11927), 232. Peter and Paul both heal people, even if they are
not present themselves (Acts 5:12–16 // 19:11–12). Both healed a paralytic (Acts 3:1–10 // 14:8–
10). The resurrection of Tabitha by Peter (Acts 9:36–41) has a parallel in the resurrection of
Eutychus by Paul (Acts 20:9–10). Both Peter and Paul are given the opportunity to be freed
from prison (Acts 12:6–10 // 19:23–40). Both are called by a double name: “Simon, Simon”
(Luke 22:31), “Saul, Saul” (Acts 9:4); Eq. Marc Rastoin, “Simon-Pierre entre Jésus et Satan,”
Biblica 89 (2008): 163. The gift of the Spirit in Ephesus to twelve men after Paul had imposed
his hands (Acts 19:1–7) is reminiscent of Pentecost, where Peter is present (Acts 1:26 [twelve]
–2:4), and there is parallelism between Peter’s encounter with Simon from the world of “mag-
ic” (Acts 8:14–24) and Saul with the magician Bar-Jesus (Acts 13:6–12).
12 Bart J. Koet, Five Studies on Interpretation of Scripture in Luke-Acts (Leuven: Leuven
University Press, 1989), 58–60, notes that this discussion concerns the interpretation of Scrip-
ture.

J esus (see also the parallelism between the pouring out of the blood of Stephen and
Jesus, ἐκχύννομαι (Acts 22:20 // Luke 22:20).
In reaction to these accusations, Stephen gets the opportunity to recount and
explain to the Sanhedrin the whole Jewish history in the light of Jesus. It is a
well-outlined speech, with resemblance to other speeches such as Joshua 24 and
Ezekiel 20:5–44. It is no defence speech, as one would expect from the accused
Stephen. Stephen instead emerges as a preacher, a servant of the word, like the
apostles. The result is great anger and the lynching of Stephen, who in the end
witnesses the resurrection of Jesus as the Son of Man, standing in heaven. Saul
witnesses Stephen’s death and approves of it (Acts 7:58; 8:1).
The first time Stephen is mentioned in Acts, he is one of the men chosen for
the service at the table of the widows of the Hellenists. However, he is not por-
trayed as a waiter for the Greek widows: his biography shows a man who by
wonders, signs, and words presents Jesus as the Son of Man. Greek-speaking
Jews are the ones who bring him up before the Sanhedrin, and it is the Sanhe-
drin that will listen and stone him to death. The whole narrative about Stephen
is located in Jerusalem, barring his death. Like Jesus, he is put to death outside
the city of Jerusalem and prays for his killers (Acts 7:58–60 // Luke 23:34.46).
4. Philip
The death of Stephen forms the beginning of violence against the gathering
(ἐκκλησία) of Jerusalem, with Saul as persecutor (Acts 8:1,3). Except for the
apostles, the believers are scattered abroad in the regions of Judea and Samaria
and, having been scattered, they “bring the good news” (εὐαγγελίζομαι). One of
them is Philip, the second one of the seven, who comes to Samaria (Acts 8:5).
The long speech by Stephen with its dramatic consequences creates a gap be-
tween the introduction of Philip in Acts 6 and his presentation in Acts 8.
At several points there are similarities between Philip and Stephen. Not only
are they equally chosen for the service at the tables (Acts 6), they also both show
(great) signs, and neither Stephen nor Philip are described as a table servant.
There are also striking differences. One of these is a remarkable change in set-
ting: no longer is Jerusalem the location, but the wider environs, according to
Acts 1:8 “all Judea, and Samaria, and unto the end of the earth.” Philip’s mission
underlines this spreading out, as he is found in Samaria (Acts 8:5), the south
road from Jerusalem to Gaza, the desert (Acts 8:26), and Azotus and Caesarea
(Acts 8:40; 21:8).
The story of Philip in Acts has four episodes. After the introduction in Acts 6 ,
by far the longest two are in Acts 8. Philip then appears once more in Acts 21:8.
There he is described as an evangelist (εὐαγγελιστής) in Caesarea, with four
prophesying daughters (see Acts 2:17). Paul finds shelter in his house.

Philip, as one of the seven wise men, well known and filled with the Holy
Spirit, appears as a preacher of “good news” (εὐαγγελίζομαι). “Bringing good
news” is already identified with the people who fled from Jerusalem (Acts 8:4)
and is personalised by Philip in Samaria: he brings the good news of the King-
dom of God (Acts 8:12), preceded by the declaration that he is proclaiming the
Christ (Acts 8:5). Philip is the first one in Acts who is “proclaiming” (κηρύσσω,13
Acts 8:5) – proclaiming in the gospel of Luke is a mission for John the Baptist,
Jesus, and the apostles.14 He is also the first one, beside the apostles, to call Jesus
“the Christ” (ὁ Χριστός, Acts 8:5).15 In bringing “good news of the Kingdom of
God,” Philip shows more understanding than the apostles themselves, who no
longer spoke of this kingdom since they were taught by Jesus about the restora-
tion of Israel (Acts 1:6). The “good news” proclaimed by Philip is accompanied
by signs and healings and, unlike those performed by Stephen (Acts 6:8), there
are details about the kind of healings: unclean spirits came forth and paralytics
and the lame were healed (πνεῦμα ἀκάθαρτον, παραλελυμένος, χωλός, Acts 8:7).
Philip stands out most of all because he baptises. In Samaria, it is the result of
the faith of the people and told in a modest way; in the following story of Philip
with the Ethiopian eunuch it forms, together with the explanation and cat-
echesis by Philip, the plot of the story, emphasizing the act of baptizing itself
(Acts 8:38). Most of the time, Acts is not very explicit with regard to baptism.
However, from the start there is a difference between baptising (βαπτίζω) with
water and baptising with the Spirit. The baptism of the disciples with the Holy
Spirit, as Jesus announces (Acts 1:5), manifests itself in the Pentecostal story
with the sound of wind and tongues of fire and speaking in tongues (Acts 2:1–4).
Later, Peter calls for repentance and baptism: so the baptised will receive the
Holy Spirit (Acts 2:38–41). Until Acts 8 there is no more about baptism. In Sa-
maria it is almost casually mentioned (Acts 8:13–14). By omitting the details, as
is always the case prior to this episode, Philip is typified like the apostles, fol-
lowing their mode of baptism (Acts 2:38–41).
What follows gives an extra dimension: the apostles come from Jerusalem
because the Samaritans have been baptised, but have not received the Holy
Spirit (Acts 8:14–17). After prayer and the laying on of hands by the apostles, the
people of Samaria accept the Holy Spirit. Not “by” the hands of the apostles:
the apostles don’t give the Holy Spirit, but the Samaritans accept Him (λαμβάνω,
Acts 8:15,17). The laying on of hands is a ritual similar to the “ordination” of the
seven. The suggestion is that there are two different powers, baptising and lay-
ing on of hands, of which the latter is reserved for the apostles. So in this epi-
13 κηρύσσω and εὐαγγελίζομαι are related in meaning. See Luke 4:18–19,43–44; 8:1; 9:1–6;
Acts 10:34–43; and this episode about Philip in Acts 8:4–12.

14 Luke 3:3; 4:18,19,44; 8:1,39; 9:2; 12:3; 24:47.
15 Besides Acts 8:5, “proclaiming of the Christ,” see particularly Acts 9:20; 10:42; 19:13; as
well as Acts 10:37; 15:21; 20:25; 28:31.

sode, the twelve and the seven do not so much differ in their tasks, as was said
in Acts 6, but even more in their abilities.16 The additional ritual also raises
questions about the baptism by Philip. Is his baptism permissible, valid, suffi-
cient (see Acts 19:1–5)? However, the succeeding story of Philip nuances the
strict distinction between both groups as Philip’s journey is inspired and guided
by an angel and the Holy Spirit. Combined with the details of the initiation of
the eunuch – reading and interpreting Scripture, the confession of faith, and the
baptising in water – it acts as an authorisation of Philip from heaven (Acts 8:27–
39). This is underlined by the sudden disappearance of Philip after the baptism,
caused by the Spirit of the Lord. He is found at Azotus, and passes through,
proclaiming good news (εὐαγγελίζομαι) till his coming to Caesarea. That is
where, later, he hosts Paul, and is called “evangelist” and “one of the seven”
(Φιλίππου τοῦ εὐαγγελιστοῦ ὄντος ἐκ τῶν ἑπτά, Acts 21:8).
Like Stephen, Philip is not depicted as a waiter at the table for the widows of
the Hellenists. But whereas Stephen is portrayed as one looking like Jesus,
Philip more resembles the apostles: healing, baptising, and bringing good news.
He is the first one who goes out of Jerusalem and turns to the people, starting in
Samaria.
5. The Seven Profiled by Stephen and Philip
After this closer look at Stephen and Philip, the image of the seven as presented
in Acts becomes clearer. At their election, a profile was given: it was stated that
they should be men well testified of, full of the Holy Spirit and wisdom. They
are chosen out of and by the multitude and had hands laid on them by the apos-
tles. The twelve shared their ministry with them and gave them the task of serv-
ing at tables, as an answer to the need of the widows of Hellenists in Jerusalem.
Immediately following the selection of these seven men, how they in fact realise
their job is depicted. Stephen, in Jerusalem, proves to be a man of wonders and
signs and full of wisdom and the spirit in which he was speaking. He pays for
his testimony before the Sanhedrin with death and is sketched with features of
Jesus.
Philip leaves Jerusalem and travels to Samaria and via the desert and Azotus
to Caesarea, meanwhile doing signs and healings, preaching, and baptising. So,
according to the author of Acts, ministering at the tables (διακονεῖν τραπέζαις) is
not restricted to service as a waiter. Stephen and Philip, and their unmentioned
16 Also Saul/Paul is not baptised by an apostle, but by Ananias (see Acts 9:17–18; 10:44–
48; 13:12,48; 22:16. Acts 19:2–7 refers to the baptism by John (see Acts 1:5). This baptism is not
associated with the Holy Spirit and is renewed by Paul’s, including laying on hands and the
receipt of the Holy Spirit (see Acts 8). Paul also baptises Lydia (Acts 16:15) and a jailer
(Acts 16:33).

fellow deacons, also share in the ministry of the word, though the apostles for-
mulated that as their own main job (Acts 6:2). The concept of “deacon” (διάκονος)
in Acts therefore must be understood to be wider than that of waiting and table
service.
Collins, who argues that the original meaning of διακονέω and διάκονος can
be found in the semantic field of “mediation, intercession, agency and mission in
the name of a principal,” suggests that the seven, speaking Greek, had to preach
for the Greek-speaking widows.17 They are, so to speak, the interpreters of the
apostles. Koet refines this interpretation using the relationship with Luke
10:25–42 and states that the διακονία of the word and material care belong to-
gether, in the way that listening comes before doing.18 The stories about Ste-
phen and Philip together show the conjunction of these aspects in a narrative
way. Most obvious is the order of their performances: first the long speech of
Stephen, secondly more detail about the activities and doings of Philip. They
also connect Jerusalem (Stephen) and the Gentiles via the Greek widows in
Jerusalem and the people of Samaria (Philip) and bring in, by the emphasis on
Greek, strangers with new languages and habits and from new areas. Last but
not least: the narrative of these “deacons” adds to the transition from Peter to
Paul. That will be demonstrated by focussing on some characteristics of the
setting of their narratives and a previously “neglected” episode in the story of
Philip: the encounter of Philip and Simon, succeeded by the encounter with
Peter (Acts 8:9–13:18–24).
6. Philip, Simon, Peter, and Paul
When Philip arrives in Samaria he finds Simon, a man who practices magic and
who is very celebrated in the city.19 The signs of both Simon and Philip are
impressive. Still, Simon is starting to believe Philip and he was baptised, like all
of the Samaritans. So far this scene can be interpreted as a victory for Philip’s
message about Jesus Christ over the world of magic. The next episode, when the
apostles come from Jerusalem to Samaria to lay hands upon the new believers
reveals a different picture. Philip himself is not mentioned in these events. The
demand of Simon, and his offering money to be allowed to partake in the pow-
University Press, 1990), 230–32, 329. Anni Hentschel (Diakonia im Neuen Testament: Stu
dien zur Semantik under besonderer Berücksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen [Tübingen, Mohr
Siebeck, 2007]) confirms, for the most part, Collins‘ findings.
18 Bart J. Koet, “Luke 10,38–42 and Acts 6 ,1–7: a Lukan Diptych on διακονία,” in Studies
in the Greek Bible. (eds. Jeremy Corley and Vincent Skemp; FS Francis T Gignac: Washington
DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 2008), 163–85.
19 Joke H.A. Brinkhof, Zicht op de Volkeren: Een Portret van Simon in Handelingen
8,5–24 (Bergambacht: Uitgeverij 2VM, 2015).

er to impose hands, is rejected by Peter forcefully. He describes Simon as a

sorcerer, one who engages in the habits of the foreign nations, the Gentiles,
habits prohibited for Israel.
So the encounter of Philip and Simon ends up in a heavy confrontation be-
tween Peter and Simon, between an apostle and a, perhaps Gentile, stranger,
raising the question of whether Philip made a mistake. Why did he baptise
Simon? Why did he not see what Peter sees?
To understand this episode, the author provides some tools. One of these is
the parallelism between Simon and Philip.20 Both Philip and Simon are impres-
sive and get great support from the Samaritans (προσέχω, Acts 8:6,10,11) and
both cause amazement (ἐξίστημι, Acts 8:9,11,13). The relationship between Phil-
ip and Simon is also conveyed at word level: “say” (λέγω) used with regard to
both Philip and Simon (see Acts 8:6,9,10) and the subtle play with the words
“big” and “magic” (μέγας // μάγος, μαγεύω, Acts 8:7,9,10,11,13). The parallelism
between Philip and Simon is like the similarity between Stephen and Philip, but
in this case to show the ways in which they differ. The scene ends with the great-
ness of the word of Philip above the magic and great power of Simon (Acts 8:9,13)
and the remaining of Simon with Philip. Another tool is the absence of Philip
when Peter encounters Simon. Not Philip, but Simon is corrected, and therefore
the scene is not meant to degrade Philip. By winning Simon, whom all of Sama-
ria admired, Philip didn’t make a miscalculation. Instead, he was one of the first
disciples to fulfil the mission Jesus gave them: to preach repentance and remis-
sion of sins in Jesus’s name among all nations (Luke 24:47; see Acts 1:8).
Philip does not hesitate to meet the Gentiles and accepts them with all their
oddities and particularities.21 Maybe Peter, however, shies away from the con-
sequences of preaching outside Jerusalem to the nations. That may be one of the
reasons for his refusal to give Simon part or lot in the matter (λόγος) of the
apostles (Acts 8:21). To guide the reader in this direction, Luke provides another
tool: the name “Simon.” The only characters in the present scene are Simon and
Peter, who not accidently is also named Simon.22 That name hearkens back to
Luke 22:31–32, where Jesus calls Peter by name: “Simon, Simon” and asks him
to strengthen his brethren after he has “turned” (ἐπιστρέφω). In my thesis, I ar-
gued that this “turn” is not Peter’s remorse after betraying Jesus, but his turn to
20 This parallelism is often noticed, see, for example, Von Dobbeler, Philippus, 50–67;
Spencer, Philip, 88–127; Fabien, Philippe, 80–83; Patrick Fabien, “La Conversion de Simon le
Magicien (Ac 8,4–25),” Biblica 91 (2010): 210–40, 220; Hans-Josef Klauck, Magic and Pagan-
ism in Early Christianity: The World of the Acts of the Apostles (Edinburgh: T&T Clark,
2000), 17–19; Andy M. Reimer, Miracle and Magic: A Study in the Acts of the Apostles and the
Life of Apollonius of Tyana (London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 1.
21 Von Dobbeler, Philippus, 64–67.
22 Peter named “Simon” or “Simon Peter” in the works of Luke: Luke 4:38 (2x); 5:3,4,5,8,10
(2x); 6:14; 22:31 (2x); 24:34; Acts 10:5,18,32; 11:13.

the Gentiles.23 A serious step in this is made by the encounter of Peter and Si-
mon. It is the first time in Acts that Peter leaves Jerusalem and makes his first
turn to the Gentiles.24 Later on, during his second journey outside Jerusalem,
he again is named Simon, also called Peter, when he is with Simon the tanner
(Acts 9:43). The “turn to the Gentiles” is worked out in Acts 10 and, as Acts 15:7–
11 demonstrates, Peter convinces the brethren to welcome the Gentiles (see
Luke 22:32).
The last tool to mention is the encounter of Peter precisely with a man prac-
ticing “magic” (Acts 8:9). One other confrontation with a magician is reported
about Saul, the one in Acts who actually shows the “turn to the Gentiles.” Saul
is not mentioned, but he frames the narrative about Philip, and so this episode
with Simon. Paul, at that time still named Saul, was introduced as a witness of
Stephen’s death (Acts 7:58; 8:1). The next time he appears in Acts is just after the
narrative about Philip, when Saul is going to Damascus. On his way to that city,
he sees the light, is baptised by Ananias, and becomes a follower of Jesus, in-
stead of the persecutor he was. On one of his later trips he encounters Bar-Jesus,
a magician at the court of Sergius Paul (Acts 13:6–12). Remarkably, after this
meeting Saul’s name will be “Paul.” This confrontation with a magician and the
scene of Peter and Simon is one of the parallels in the description of Peter and
Paul in Acts.25 Two encounters with magic, one by Peter, one by Paul. The
challenge of Peter and Simon, embedded in the narrative about Philip, is also
like a prolepsis or preview concerning the turn to the Gentiles as well as the al-
teration of the main character from Peter to Paul. An extra indication to see this
episode as a preview lays in the fact that proclaiming the Kingdom of God,
started by Philip (Acts 8:12) is exclusively taken up by Paul.26
7. Philip, a Relating “Deacon” and Evangelist
As has been shown, the men chosen for the ministry at the tables (διακονεῖν
τραπέζαις) have in several respects a mediating task. Their attention should first
be turned to the widows of the Hellenists, though it is not entirely clear what
needs they meet or how they fulfill their services. The twelve give them a man-
date to share in their tasks, but make a distinction between ministry of the word
and ministry of the table. When the seven, being table ministers, actually appear
also to be ministers of the word and preach and demonstrate signs and wonders
23 Brinkhof, Zicht op de Volkeren, 217–18.

24 The Mount called Olivet in Acts 1:12 is near Jerusalem, a Sabbath’s day journey.
25 For example, healings: Acts 5:12–16 // 19:11–12; Acts 3:1–10 // 14:8–10); raising of Tabitha
and Eutychus: Acts 9:36–41 // 20:9–10); opportunity to escape from prison: Acts 12:6–10 //

19:23–40). See Moessner, “The Christ Must Suffer,” 117–53.
26 Acts 14:22; 19:8; 20:25; 28:23,31.

like the apostles, they fully share in that apostolic ministry and hold the two
ministries of word and table together. Both the apostles and the seven are filled
by the Holy Spirit, and both groups reveal Jesus by their preaching, signs, and
healings. Still there is a distinction between the twelve and the seven. The apos-
tles ground their ministry in their direct relationship to Jesus, as witnesses of
him and his resurrection (Luke 24:45–49; Acts 1:8,21–22), the seven, meanwhile,
form the next generation. There is no sharp boundary between these genera-
tions, as the apostles don’t give up their ministry and retire when the seven are
“ordained.” By laying on hands, they seem to wear and share their ministry. The
seven themselves are connected to the apostles as well by the laying upon of
hands, as they are witnesses of the word spoken in Jerusalem by these apostles.
They, in turn, witness and speak that word to the world. In their appearance like
Jesus and the apostles, they are the agents of the apostles to the world. So they
create a smooth transition to other leading people in the Christian movement.
After this episode we see several people act like the twelve, for instance Ananias
who baptises Saul, or Saul himself, proclaiming his message all over the earth.
The seven also open the closed world of Jerusalem and the Jews. The seven
were originally chosen in Jerusalem for the Hellenistic widows, and all have
Greek names. This emphasis on the Greek language forms a narrative link to the
“strangers” in Jerusalem and the surrounding areas. Stephen stays in Jerusalem,
and presumably speaks Hebrew at the Sanhedrin. Philip, however, leaves Jeru-
salem for Samaria and beyond and creates the transition to strangers and Gen-
tiles all over the world.
8. Conclusion: Luke Underlines the Relating Function of the Seven

in the Composition of the Narrative
The scenes about Stephen and Philip are embedded in a transitional episode of
Acts: from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth, from the apostles to others, from
Jews to the Gentiles, and from Peter to Paul. Though Stephen and Philip are
linked together, both with their own unique characteristics, it is evident that
Stephen takes care of Jerusalem and Philip provides the wider perspective. In
the story of the latter, all these bridges are constructed and therefore Philip,
sharing in the tasks of the apostles, rightly gets the title “evangelist, bringer of
good news.” In Acts 21:8–9, he receives Paul in his house in Caesarea where his
four prophesying daughters are also mentioned. Thus the title “evangelist” is
not a “slip of the pen” by Luke, the author of Acts, but represents his vision that,
like the apostles, “deacons” in words and deeds spread the good news of the
Kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ all over the world.

What did Phoebe’s Position and Ministry as Διάκονος
of the Church at Cenchrea Involve?
Margaret Mowczko
1. Introducing Phoebe
Phoebe of Cenchrea is one of at least ten women mentioned in chapter 16 of

Paul’s letter to the Romans.1 She had left her hometown of Cenchrea, a busy sea
port approximately ten kilometres east of Corinth, and had travelled to Rome
carrying Paul’s letter. It is likely that some members of the church at Rome, such
as Priscilla and Aquila, already knew her. (According to Acts 18:18–19, this
couple had ministered in Corinth for about eighteen months and then set sail for
Ephesus from Phoebe’s home town.) Whether she was known or not, Paul
follows the style of a letter of recommendation and introduces Phoebe to the
Romans.2 The New Revised Standard Version translates Paul’s introduction of
Phoebe as follows:
1 Paul commended Phoebe to a church he had not founded and not yet visited. Despite
not having first-hand knowledge of the church in Rome, Paul is already acquainted with some
of their members, such as Priscilla and Aquila. Other Roman Christians he may have known
by reputation. However, some scholars, for example Günther Bornkamm, believe that the last
chapter of Romans was not originally part of Paul’s letter to the Romans, but part of a letter
that Paul wrote to the Christians in Ephesus. See Günther Bornkamm, Paul (Minneapolis:
Fortress, 1995), 80. (Paul was well acquainted with the Christians in the Ephesian church.)
Susan Mathew provides a short but useful discussion on whether Romans 16 was a letter in-
tended for the Ephesians, but concludes it was an integral part of Romans. Susan Mathew,
Women in the Greetings of Romans 16.1–16: A Study of Mutuality and Women’s Ministry in
the Letter to the Romans (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2013), 4–5. In this chapter on
Phoebe, I assume that Romans 16 was originally part of Paul’s letter to the Romans.
2 The verb προσδέχομαι, used in Rom 16:2 and meaning “welcome/receive,” is “commonly
employed in diplomatic correspondence for receiving a messenger.” Lynn H. Cohick, Women

in the World of the Earliest Christians: Illuminating Ancient Ways of Life (Grand Rapids:
Baker Academic, 2009), 304. The same verb occurs in Phil 2:29 where Paul asks the church in
Philippi to “welcome/receive” Epaphroditus. Furthermore, Paul’s recommendation of Phoebe
to the church at Rome is not unlike his recommendation of Timothy to the church at Corinth
(1 Cor 16:10–11). Paul wanted the respective churches to welcome Phoebe and Timothy and
hold them in high regard. There is nothing in Rom 16:1–2 to indicate that Phoebe’s role in the

92 Margaret Mowczko
I commend to you our sister Phoebe, a deacon of the church at Cenchreae, so that you
may welcome her in the Lord as is fitting for the saints, and help her in whatever she may
require from you, for she has been a benefactor of many and of myself as well. (Rom 16:1–2)
In his commendation Paul describes Phoebe with three different phrases. He

refers to her as “our sister,” as “διάκονος of the church at Cenchrea,” and as “a
benefactor (προστάτις) of many.” In this chapter, I discuss each of these descrip-
tions and what they tell us about Phoebe’s position and ministry. I especially
look at her role as διάκονος and at what this role involved. Note that the word
“minister” is used throughout this chapter with a general sense of a person who
was regularly involved in, and devoted to, significant service to the church and
its mission. These ministers were not necessarily leaders. Nevertheless, I will
argue that Phoebe’s ministry did involve leadership.
2. “Our Sister”
Paul’s first description of Phoebe is “our sister.” “Sister” may simply be an ac-
knowledgement that Phoebe is a fellow member of the Christian community, as
the kinship of brothers (ἀδελφοί), or siblings, is one of the primary paradigms for
relationships among Jesus-followers in New Testament churches. However,
“sister” and “brother” were also used in specific contexts. For example, “sister/
brother” is one of Paul’s favourite words for a co-worker or a prominent Christian
(for example, Titus in 2 Cor 2:13; Tychicus in Eph 6:21 and Col 4:7; and Apphia3 in
Phlm 1:2).4 Furthermore, letter carriers who carried correspondence between
churches were often referred to as “sister/brother.”5 This designation made it clear
that the carrier, who may have travelled a long distance on a difficult journey,
should be welcomed and cared for by the community as a fellow member. The
contexts of prominent Christian and of letter carrier both apply to Phoebe.
church was any less significant or less official than those of Epaphroditus or Timothy, or of
any of Paul’s other coworkers.
3 Apphia in Colossae has been thought to be Philemon’s wife, but Paul does not mention
Apphia and Philemon together as he does with Priscilla and Aquila, or Andronicus and Junia,
who were couples. Philemon, Apphia, as well as Archippus, are each addressed individually in
the Greek of Phlm 1:1–2. It is possible that Apphia had a ministry and a position in the church
at Colossae much like Phoebe did in Cenchrea.
4 Edward Earle Ellis observes, “The designations most often given to Paul’s fellow workers
are in descending order of frequency as follows: coworker (synergos), brother (adelphos) [or
sister (adelphē), as in the cases of Phoebe and Apphia], minister (diakonos) [also used for Phoe-
be] and apostle (apostolos).” On the same page, Ellis also notes that “brother/sister” occurs in
close connection with the word diakonos in Paul’s letters. Edward Earle Ellis, “Paul and his
Coworkers,” in Dictionary of Paul and His Letters (eds. Gerald Hawthorne and Ralph Mar-
tin; Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 1993), 183.
5 Ben Witherington, Paul’s Letter to the Romans: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary

Phoebe’s Position and Ministry 93
The inclusion of the pronoun “our” (ἡμῶν) would have further helped to
facilitate a ready acceptance of Phoebe by the Roman Christians. 6 “Our sister”
denotes a solidarity between Paul and Phoebe.7 Paul is claiming her as his
sister and is implicitly encouraging the Romans to do likewise. Along with a
sense of solidarity, there is also a sense of obligation. Lynn Cohick states, “As a
sister in the household of God, Phoebe would be expected to use her resources
to better the lives of her brothers and sisters.”8 Phoebe appears to have been
fulfilling this obligation in her role as προστάτις.
3. “A Benefactor of Many”
The feminine noun προστάτις occurs once in the New Testament, in Romans
16:2, and its meaning here has been debated. (The masculine form of this word,
προστάτης, does not occur in the New Testament.) Kevin Giles writes, “In either
its masculine or feminine form it means literally ‘one who stands before.’ This
meaning is never lost whether it be translated leader, president, protector or
patron.”9
Paul Trebilco has observed a development in the meaning of προστάτης in
Greek texts written by Jewish authors:
In the LXX and in the three intertestamental texts in which the term occurs, προστάτης
means “leader” or “ruler” and never “patron.” In the writings of Josephus and Philo
[which are more contemporaneous with Paul’s writings than the LXX] both meanings of
the term [“leader” and “patron”] are equally prominent and occasionally the term also
means “champion.”10
Thus, in the first century C. E., the word had a broader range of meanings in
Jewish writings than previously. However Προστα(τ)- words were also used in
non-Jewish documents with these senses, including the sense of patronage. As
one example, the extensive inscriptions about the patronage of Junia Theodora, a
woman who lived in Corinth around the same time as Phoebe, show that
προστα(τ)- words were used in Greco-Roman society for patrons and patronage.11
(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 382. On the same page, Witherington provides the example
of P.Oxy. 56.3857.
6 Pronouns are not necessary in ancient Greek as their sense may be implied by the use of
a definite article. Paul’s inclusion of the pronoun makes the sense of “our” explicit.
7 Robert Jewett, Romans: A Commentary (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 945.
8 Cohick, Women in the World of the Earliest Christians, 304.
9 Kevin Giles, Patterns of Ministry Among the First Christians (Sydney: Collins Dove,
1989), 36.
10 Paul R. Trebilco, Jewish Communities in Asia Minor (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press, 1991), 109. In endnote 28 on page 230, Trebilco identifies the three intertestamental
texts as 1 Esd 2:12 (see 6:18), Sir 45:24, and 2 Macc 3:4.
11 Προστασία (”patronage”) occurs on the 77th line of the stele that commemorates the

94 Margaret Mowczko
While προστάτης occurs just once in the New Testament, and in the feminine
form, participles and infinitives of the cognate verb προΐστημι occur eight times.
Twice they are used in the context of church governance (1 Thess 5:12; 1 Tim 5:17;
see 1 Tim 3:4 and 12).12 Was Phoebe a leader or the president of the church at
Cenchrea? This may well have been the case, but it is implausible that she was a
leader of Paul. The translation of προστάτις as “patron” or “benefactor,” rather
than “leader,” fits with what Paul says about Phoebe, that “she has been a bene-
factor of many and of myself as well” (Rom 16:2 NRSV).
A few English translations of Romans 16:2 render προστάτις as “helper” (for
example, NASB), but this translation is inadequate.13 “Helper” does not convey
the senses of prominence and power that a προστάτις or προστάτης had in Gre-
co-Roman society. James Dunn notes the bias against recognising Phoebe as an
influential woman, and states, “The unwillingness of commentators to give
προστάτις its most natural and obvious sense of patron is most striking.”14 He
adds that, unlike many modern readers, Paul’s original audience “were unlikely
to think of Phoebe as other than a figure of significance whose wealth and influ-
ence had been put at the disposal of the church at Cenchrea.”15
Patronage was an important feature of first-century Greco-Roman society, at
every level. Seneca described it as “the chief bond of human society” (De Bene-
ficiis 1.4.2). Livia, the wife of Caesar Augustus, had “invented new ways of ex-
tending patronage”16 and, after her husband’s death in 14 C.E., she “developed
a more overt presence in a wide variety of public forums.”17 Other wealthy
women followed Livia’s example and funded public works, public events, and
public people, thereby increasing their own public profiles.18 Commenting on
the inscriptions that praise the patronage of Junia Theodora,19 R.A. Kearsley
patronage of Junia Theodora. See Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, St Paul’s Corinth: Texts and
Archaeology (Collegeville: Liturgical, 2002), 82–84.
12 Infinitives of προΐστημι occur in Titus 3:8 and 14 in the context of “good works” (see 1
Tim 3:1). It may be that in all eight occurrences of προΐστημι in the New Testament (in
Rom 12:8; 1 Thess 5:12; 1 Tim 3:4,5,12; 5:17; Titus 3:8,14) there is a sense of “caring” combined
with a sense of “leading,” especially as it was wealthier people, those who had the resources of
both time and money, who could take on the responsibilities of leading and “good works.”
13 In the ninth-century uncial manuscripts F and G, the word προστάτις is replaced by
παραστάτις, a word which can be translated as “helper” or “assistant.” The overwhelming

textual evidence, however, indicates that προστάτις is the original word in Rom 16:2.
14 James D.G. Dunn, Romans 9–16 (Word Biblical Commentary, Vol 38B; Dallas: Word,
1988), 888.
15 Dunn, Romans 9–16, 889.
16 Beth Severy, Augustus and the Family at the Birth of the Roman Empire (London: Rout
ledge, 2004), 234.

17 Severy, Augustus and the Family, 236.
18 Rosalinde A. Kearsley writes about Livia as a role model for wealthy women in “Women
and Public Life in Imperial Asia Minor: Hellenistic Tradition and Augustan Ideology,” An-
cient West and East 4/1 (2005): 98–121.
19 Like Phoebe, “There is no sign of father, or husband either, guiding or controlling

observes that this woman “not only appears to be acting independently, she is
living a very public life circulating freely within the high-ranking, predomi-
nately male world of government and commerce in Corinth.”20 Customs sur-
rounding patronage enabled women, as well as men, to exercise leadership in
society.21 These customs also enabled patrons to exercise leadership in churches.
We know that Christianity attracted wealthy women who were already
prominent in their communities (for example, Acts 17:4,12). As patrons within
their churches, these women would have had a high level of influence.22 This
was especially true if the patron was also the host of a church, as may often have
been the case.23 It is widely acknowledged that, for the first two hundred and
fifty years of the Christian movement, most church meetings were held in
homes, including homes where a woman was the primary householder.24 Since
[Junia Theodora’s] actions.” Rosalinde A. Kearsley, “Women in Public Life in the Roman
East: Iunia Theodora, Claudia Metrodora and Phoebe, Benefactress of Paul,” Tyndale Bulle-
tin 50/2 (1999): 189–211, 196.
20 Kearsley, “Women in Public Life in the Roman East,” 197.
21 The practice of patronage was informal and voluntary, but there were certain social
constraints and reciprocal obligations involving the client-patron relationship. These con-
straints and obligations were an extension of the honour-shame dynamic that pervaded
Greco-Roman society, and the typical client-patron relationship was one of unequal power. A
wealthy man or woman who made a generous donation to his or her city, community, guild,
or to an individual, etc., was able to exercise considerable influence and power. Patrons ex-
pected loyalty, public support, as well as public praise that reinforced or elevated the patron’s
level of honour. In Christian communities, some of these dynamics would have been temper
ed, but patrons still had clout. See Carolyn Osiek, “Diakonos and Prostatis: Women’s Patron-
age in Early Christianity,” HTS Theological Studies 61/1&2 (2005): 346–70; David deSilva,
Honor, Patronage, Kinship and Purity: Unlocking New Testament Culture (Downers Grove,
Ill.: InterVarsity, 2000); Bruce Winter, Seek the Welfare of the City: Christians as Benefactors
and Citizens (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994).
22 In the following centuries, wealthy women who acted as patrons in the church continu
ed to be influential, even as other ministerial functions and positions were increasingly denied
to them. In many churches, male clergy “welcomed women as patrons and even offered wo
men roles in which they could act as collaborators. By 200 AD, the role of women [as patrons
and collaborators] in Christian churches was quite unmistakeable.” Peter Brown, The Body
and Society: Men, Women, and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity (New York: Co-
lumbia University Press, 1988), 144–45. Like the apostle Paul, and even Jesus (Luke 8:1–3),
some of the “great” men of early Christianity, such as Origen, Jerome and Chrysostom, were
supported by wealthy female friends and patronesses.
23 “Hosting early Christian gatherings was one embodiment of patronage as it entailed
benefactions by a patron, the host, for a group of believers in the form of a gathering space.”
Kaisa-Maria Pihlava, “The Authority of Women Hosts of Early Christian Gatherings in the
First and Second Centuries C.E.” (Dissertation; Helsinki: University of Helsinki, 2016), 76.
24 The custom of meeting in homes is well attested in the New Testament. Wayne Meeks
observes, “In four places in the Pauline letters, specific congregations are designated by the
phrase hē kat’ oikon (+ possessive pronoun) ekklēsia, which we may tentatively translate ‘the
assembly at N’s household.’” Wayne Meeks, The First Urban Christians: The Social World of
the Apostle Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003), 75. Three prominent women are
named in the New Testament in connection with each of these four house churches (Priscilla
with her husband Aquila: Rom 16:3–5 and 1 Cor 16:19; Apphia: Phlm 1:1–2; and Nympha:

96 Margaret Mowczko
Phoebe was wealthy enough to be a “patron of many,” it is likely she owned one
of the larger houses in Cenchrea, large enough to host a house church. Hosting
and caring for a congregation was, most likely, one of Phoebe’s roles as patron.
Phoebe’s house would also have been large enough to accommodate travelling
ministers, and Paul probably stayed with her at some time.
Ben Witherington III notes the pattern of first-century Christian women
who hosted both congregations and travelling ministers, and he acknowledges
the importance of these women for the Christian message and mission.
Women converts of some means who offered occasional lodging and hospitality to fel-
low Christians became the equivalent of a “mother of the synagogue”25 as their home
[…] became regular meeting places of the converts in their areas. In a sense, the Church
owed its continuing existence to these prominent women who provided both a place of
meeting and the hospitality required by the community. […] [Hospitality was] not only
the physical support that kept the message going, but also the medium in which the mes-
sage took hold and was preserved. 26
Phoebe as patron “kept the message going,” but so did her ministry as διάκονος.
Moreover, her role as “patron of many” and her status as “our sister” are not
distinct from her ministry of διάκονος. There is an overlap between the three
descriptions Paul gave Phoebe as we will see as we explore her ministry as
“διάκονος of the church at Cenchrea.”
Col 4:15). Other women are identified in the New Testament as householders, seemingly in-
dependent of fathers or husbands, for example, Mary of Jerusalem (Acts 12:12), Lydia in
Philippi (Acts 16:14–15,40), Chloe of Corinth (1 Cor 1:11), and the Chosen Lady in Asia Minor
(2 John 1:1,5).
25 In a discussion about “mothers” in the Roman West, Pihlaver describes them as non-
elite patrons of various voluntary associations. She notes that, despite their non-elite back-
ground, the donations of “mothers” indicates considerable wealth. She further notes that in-
scriptions do not mention these women as having husbands or fathers, and that the title of
“mother” is unlikely to be merely honorary but indicates a position of functional leadership.
(Many first-century synagogues and churches may have functioned in similar ways as volun-
tary associations.) In a discussion about “mothers” in the Greek East, Pihlaver writes that
they were of a high socioeconomic standing, and that practically all were “‘mothers’ of the
people or the city. Accordingly, their donations were directed to large groups of people, which
was enabled by their wealth and family connections […]. As in the case of the Roman West,
the meaning of women’s titles [including ‘mother’] in the Greek East has also been debated
with the main alternatives being the honorary and functional nature of titles. Nowadays, the
titles are rarely seen as purely honorific. However, the kind of activities that commanded titles
continue to be discussed.” Pihlava, Authority of Women Hosts, 86–87, 90, 92.
26 Ben Witherington III, Women and the Genesis of Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1990), 212–13. Men, such as Stephanas (1 Cor 16:15ff), for example, also used
their homes as a base for their ministry to the community. “Phoebe’s mission in relation to the
community at Cenchreae may be the same as that of the house of Stephanas who committed
themselves to the διακονία of the saints […].” Mathew, Women in the Greetings of Romans
16.1–16, 73.

4. Paul’s Use of Διάκονος
John N. Collins has demonstrated that διακον- words are used in the Acts of the
Apostles in the context of a sacred commission.27 More precisely, he states that
διακον- words in Acts, particularly the abstract noun διακονία, are “code words
for the kind of ministry by which the Word of God is to spread from Jerusa-
lem.”28 Furthermore, Collins has convincingly shown that “agents” and “emis-
saries” often convey a truer sense of the word διάκονοι than “servants” or “min-
isters.”29 These findings are also relevant for Paul’s use of διακον- words.30
Paul was consistent in how he used the word διάκονος in his letters. He typi-
cally used the term for an agent with a sacred commission. Several διάκονοι in
the undisputed and disputed Pauline letters are described as a διάκονος of Christ
(1 Tim 4:6), or of God (for example, 2 Cor 6:4), or of a specific church (Rom 16:1),
a church being a sacred community. Paul also refers to a ruler, or government
official, as a διάκονος. This person is not a Christian minister; nevertheless, Paul
describes him twice in Romans 13:4 as being a “διάκονος of God.” Thus, he is
also an agent with a sacred commission. Paul never uses any διακον- word for
ordinary servants.
Apart from the διάκονος in Romans 13:4 – and apart from the διάκονοι in 2
Corinthians 11:14–15, who are agents of Satan with a diabolic commission 31 –
several other διάκονοι are mentioned in Pauline letters. These include Paul him-
self (Rom 15:25; 1 Cor 3:5; Eph 3:7; Col 1:23, etc.), Timothy (1 Tim 4:6), Epaphras
(Col 1:7), Tychicus (Eph 6:21–22; Col 4:7–9), Apollos (1 Cor 3:5), Jesus Christ
(Rom 15:8), and Phoebe (Rom 16:1). In regards to Phoebe, the present participle
in the phrase, οὖσαν καὶ διάκονον (“being also a deacon/minister”), suggests she
had an ongoing ministry as a διάκονος.
Grammatically speaking, the word διάκονος has common gender. That is, it
has the same forms, or declensions, in ancient Greek, whether masculine or
feminine, whether referring to a man or to a woman.32 The actual gender of the
διάκονος becomes apparent when a masculine or feminine article or participle,
27 See John N. Collins, Deacons and the Church: Making Connections between Old and
New (Harrisburg: Morehouse, 2002), 52–58.

28 John N. Collins, Diakonia Studies: Critical Issues in Ministry (New York: Oxford Uni-
versity Press, 2014), 156.

29 See John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Ox-
ford University Press, 1990).

30 I refer to the author(s) of the undisputed Pauline letters, the Deutero-Pauline letters,
and the Pastoral Epistles simply as “Paul.”

31 In 2 Cor 11:14–15, Paul mentions “agents (διάκονοι) of Satan” who masquerade as
“agents (διάκονοι) of righteousness.”
32 LSJ acknowledges that διάκονος is grammatically feminine in Romans 16:1: H. G. Liddell,
R. Scott, and H. S. Jones, A Greek-English Lexicon, s.v. “διάκονος” (Oxford: Oxford Univer-
sity Press, 91996), 398. The heading for the entry of διάκονος in BDAG is given with both a
masculine and a feminine article, indicating common gender: Walter Bauer, “διάκονος, ου, ὁ, ἡ,”

98 Margaret Mowczko
or a name (for example, Tychicus or Phoebe), is included in the text.33 In some

early Christian writings, the word γυνή is placed alongside the word διάκονος
(i. e. γυνὴ διάκονος) to specify a woman deacon.34 A separate word for a female
deacon, διακόνισσα, was first coined in the fourth century, so it is incorrect and
misleading to call Phoebe, a first-century woman, a “deaconess.” Translations
which render διάκονος as “deaconess” in Romans 16:1, can give “the inaccurate
impression that Paul is drawing a distinction of roles based on gender.”35
5. Women Ministers in the Gospels
Even though Paul gives no indication that Phoebe’s ministry was especially
feminine, some aspects of her service may be comparable to a ministry of wom-
en that is evident in the Gospels. In the Gospels, we read that many women
from Galilee travelled with Jesus. Some of these women, including Mary Mag-
dalene, Joanna the wife of Chuza, and Susanna, were ministering or providing
(διηκόνουν) for Jesus and his disciples out of their own means (Luke 8:2–3).
Many of these Galilean women were also at the cross where they ministered or
provided (διακονοῦσαι) for Jesus (Matt 27:55–56).
In chapter 16 of the third-century Didascalia Apostolorum, Mary Magdalene,
another Mary, and the unnamed mother of the sons of Zebedee, “and other
women besides,” are referred to as women deacons (see Matt 27:55–56). It is
anachronistic, however, to call them deacons (διάκονοι) before the church was in
existence. A recognised ministry or office of deacons came decades later.36 Still,
it seems that these female followers of Jesus were ministering in a way that his
male disciples were not.37
A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and other Early Christian Literature (rev. and
ed. by Frederick K. William Danker; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 32000), 230–31.
33 For example, an early Christian mosaic from Patrai in Achaia mentions ἡ θεοφιλοστάτη
διάκονος ᾿Αγριππιανή. This phrase, which identifies a female deacon named Agrippiane, con-
tains three first declension words and διάκονος, a second declension word, but they are all
grammatically feminine. G.H.R. Horsley mentions this mosaic in New Documents Illustrat-
ing Early Christianity, Vol. 1 (North Ryde, NSW: The Ancient History Documentary Re-
search Centre, Macquarie University, 1981), 121. In the Apostolic Constitutions, the word for
διάκονος (in both singular and plural forms) occurs with the feminine article (both singular
and plural) for female deacons. Aimé Georges Martimort, Deaconesses: An Historical Study
(trans. Kenneth D. Whitehead; San Francisco: Ignatius, 1986), 61–62.
34 As one example, Clement of Alexandria’s Strom. 3.6.53 has the genitive plural διακονῶν
γυναικῶν: “women deacons.”

35 Kristina LaCelle-Peterson, Liberating Tradition: Women’s Identity and Vocation in
Christian Perspective (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2008), 62.

36 The διάκονοι greeted in Paul’s letter to the Philippians (written about 60 C.E.) may be
the first reasonably clear reference to an office, or recognisable position, of deacons.

37 Martha is another New Testament woman who provided (διακονεῖν) for Jesus (Luke
10:40; see John 12:2). She may have been wealthy (see John 12:3) and may have acted as Jesus’

Like the women who supported Jesus and his mission, Phoebe provided ma-
terially for others and served those who needed assistance, including the apostle
Paul. She may also have been a financial sponsor of Paul’s mission.38 Supporting
others, and looking after their welfare, was one aspect of the ministry of some
deacons (διάκονοι), both male and female, in the apostolic and later church.39 But
Phoebe’s role as διάκονος involved still other ministries.
6. Phoebe and Paul’s Letter to the Romans
Tradition and scholarship agree in that Paul entrusted Phoebe with his Letter to
the Romans. Robert Jewett suggests Phoebe travelled to Rome especially to
make preparations for Paul’s planned mission to Spain (mentioned in Romans
15:23–24,28), by making contacts and organising financial support.40 Other
scholars suggest Phoebe was in Rome for her own business interests.41 It is not
clear whether Paul employed Phoebe because she happened to be going to Rome,
or if she was employed especially to deliver his letter.
There is plenty of evidence that some διάκονοι in the apostolic and post-apos-
tolic periods travelled as part of their ministry, often acting as representatives
and agents of their churches.42 These deacons maintained a vital network of
communication between churches by carrying verbal and written messages.
In both the undisputed and disputed Pauline letters, letter carriers are usually
described using two or more titles or descriptions, along with a clause designed
patron in much the same way as Mary Magdalene, Joanna the wife of Chuza, and Susanna.
Simon Peter’s mother-in-law also served (διηκόνει) Jesus (Matt 8:14–15; Mark 1:30–31).
38 See Robert Jewett, “Paul, Phoebe, and the Spanish Mission,” The Social World of Form-
ative Christianity and Judaism: Essays in Tribute to Howard Clark Kee (eds. Jacob Neusner
et al.; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988), 142–61.
39 For example, several churches sent deacons to accompany Ignatius to Rome and care for
him when he was under arrest in around 110 C.E. In his letters, Ignatius speaks with warmth
about these deacons, indicating his deep gratitude for the service they offered him (Ign. Eph.
2:1; Ign. Magn. 2:1, 6:1; Ign. Phld. 4:1; Ign. Smyrn. 12:2). Deacons visited and cared for Perpet-
ua when she was in prison. In chapter three of the Martyrdom of Perpetua (circa 205) she
writes, “Then Tertius and Pomponius, those blessed deacons who tried to take care of us,
bribed the soldiers to allow us to go to a better part of the prison to refresh ourselves for a few
hours.” “The Martyrdom of Saints Perpetua and Felicitas,” The Acts of the Christian Martyrs
(trans. Herbert Musurillo; Oxford: Clarendon, 1972), 110.
40 Jewett, “Paul, Phoebe, and the Spanish Mission,” 149.
41 For example, Meeks, The First Urban Christians, 60. Stephen Llewelyn notes that indi-
viduals in the Roman world frequently relied “on the chance journey of another to carry his
or her letter,” and that these letters were usually “carried by persons known to either the
writer or addressee (e.g., by servants, friends or acquaintances).” Stephen Llewelyn, New
Documents Illustrating Early Christianity, Vol. 7 (North Ryde, NSW: Macquarie University
Ancient History Documentary Research Centre, 1994), 51 and 29.
42 As one example, in his letter to the Philadelphians, Ignatius asks that they send a deacon
to the church in Syria as an ambassador (Ign. Phld. 10:1–2; see Ign. Smyrn. 11:2–3).

100 Margaret Mowczko
to commend the carriers to the recipients of his letters.43 Tychicus was a letter
carrier and is referred to as both a “beloved brother” and a “trustworthy
διάκονος” in Eph 6:21 (see 2 Tim 4:12; Titus 3:12). (Note the similar terminology
for Tychicus and for Phoebe: “brother/sister” and “διάκονος.”) In Colossians 4:7,
Tychicus is described as “a beloved brother,” “a trustworthy διάκονος,” and “a
fellow servant (σύνδουλος) in the Lord.” Along with this list of credentials, the
church in Colossae is given this message about him:
[He] will tell you all the news about me […] I have sent him to you for this very purpose,
so that you may know how we are and that he may encourage your hearts; he is coming
with Onesimus, the faithful and beloved brother who is one of you. They will tell you
about everything here (Col 4:7–9 NRSV).
These verses about Tychicus give an indication of both the role and the qualities
of Paul’s letter carriers. The custom of letter carriers in the first-century Gre-
co-Roman world meant that Phoebe, like Tychicus, would have passed on news
and personal messages from Paul. Furthermore, she would have provided expla-
nations and commentary about his letter.
Patrick Gray explains:
Paul’s coworkers who delivered his letters did not drop them in the mailbox and then go
on their way but, rather, would likely have read them aloud to the recipients and been
available to explain the significance of the references they contained.44
Peter Head, who has examined forty Oxyrhynchus papyri where the letter-car-
rier is named, observes that, on occasion, letter carriers functioned
in some way or other to “represent” the sender, to expand on details within the letter, and
even to expound and reinforce the primary message of the letter in oral communication.
… [But Head] did not find any evidence that any particular letter-carrier was also ex-
pected to read the letter aloud to the recipient …45
Phoebe was Paul’s envoy, and while she may or may not have been the first per-
son to read Paul’s letter aloud to the Romans, she was, most likely, the first
commentator on his letter. Paul had a great trust in Phoebe as the deliverer of his
letter, regarded by many as his magnum opus.46 Delivering Paul’s letter and act-
43 As well as Phoebe, we know that Timothy (1 Cor 4:17; 16:10–11), Titus (2 Cor 8:16–24),
Epaphroditus (Phil 2:25–30), Onesimus (Phlm 1:12–13; Col 4:8–9), and Tychicus carried let-
ters from, and sometimes to, Paul. In the Acts of Paul (written in the mid-second century) the
emissaries Threptus and Eutyches are said to have taken a letter from the Corinthian elders
and delivered it to Paul in Philippi, and they are called deacons (Acts Paul 1:7; 3 Cor. 3:1).
44 Patrick Gray, Opening Paul’s Letters: A Reader’s Guide to Genre and Interpretation
(Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2012), 136.

45 Peter M. Head, “Named Letter Carriers among the Oxyrhynchus Papyri,” JSNT 31/3
(2009): 279–300, 297.

46 The author of First Clement highlights the issue of the trustworthiness of letter carriers
in his description of those who delivered his letter to Corinth: “trustworthy and prudent men
who from youth to old age have lived blameless lives among us, who will be trustworthy wit-

ing as his representative may well have been one of Phoebe’s roles as “διάκονος
of the church Cenchrea.” But was she regarded as an official deacon?
7. Was Phoebe an Official Deacon?
While several Post-Nicene writers unequivocally regarded Phoebe as an ordain

ed deaconess, they appear to have been projecting the customs of a later female
diaconate back onto the New Testament church. We must take care not to make
a similar mistake by projecting modern customs and roles of deacons onto the
first-century church. The roles of deacons in various denominations today of-
ten have little in common with the roles of deacons in the apostolic church.
We must also not make the mistake of thinking that διάκονος simply means
“servant” in Romans 16:1, which is how the KJV, NKJV, NASB, ESV, HCSB,
CEB, among others, have translated the word here. Phoebe simply cannot have
been both a servant, in the usual sense of the word, as well as being a “benefactor
of many,” as patrons would typically have had their own servants, rather than
being servants themselves. We must not presume that Phoebe was involved in
menial service in her church. Rather, as Susan Mathew observes, “when Paul uses
διακονέω and διάκονος in relation to a congregation [as in the case of Phoebe], it
implies some role in leading the congregation.”47 Robert Jewett, writing about
Phoebe, asserts that διάκονος “is an official title of leadership.”48
Phoebe had a recognised position and ministry in Cenchrea, and Paul proba-
bly used the word διάκονος in Romans 16:1 as he did in Philippians 1:1, for
ministers with a recognised leadership role. Newer editions of the NIV, NLT,
and NRSV, translate διάκονος as “deacon” in Romans 16:1, which is in line with
how διάκονοι is typically translated in Philippians 1:1, and there is a growing
consensus among scholars that Phoebe was a deacon. Leon Morris, for example,
states emphatically, “Phoebe is certainly called a deacon.”49 A deacon in the mid-
first century was different to a deacon in the third century, however, when an
all-male, hierarchical governmental structure had become the norm in quite a
few churches, with deacons being under the supervision of a bishop (ἐπίσκοπος).50
nesses between you and me” (1 Clem. 63:3). “First Clement,” Apostolic Fathers: Greek Texts
and English Translations (ed. and trans. Michael W. Holmes; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic,
3
2007), 131.
47 Mathew, Women in the Greetings of Romans 16.1–16,75.
48 Jewett, Romans, 944.
49 Leon Morris, The Epistle to the Romans (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), 529.
50 Ignatius, in the early second century, assumes the churches he writes to have a bishop
(ἐπίσκοπος) as leader or supervisor, supported by presbyters and deacons. In fact, he believed

that without a bishop, a council of presbyters, and at least one deacon, “no group can be called
a church” (Ign. Trall. 3:1). However, some churches do not seem to have used the term
ἐπίσκοπος for their leaders. Polycarp, the leader of the church at Smyrna, counted himself

102 Margaret Mowczko
Nevertheless, whatever an official διάκονος or deacon was in the mid-first cen-

tury, Phoebe was one of them.51
8. Conclusion
We have seen that Phoebe’s ministry included caring for the welfare of many
people, including Paul, through patronage and hospitality, and that she was,
most likely, the host of a house church in Cenchrea. In Rome, where she acted
as Paul’s envoy and letter carrier, Phoebe would have relayed news about the
apostle and provided commentary on his letter. Like other διάκονοι, her minis-
try involved both leadership and some travel. Her sacred commission as διάκονος
encompassed these elements plus, undoubtedly, more elements that have been
long forgotten by the church and hidden by time. Phoebe, like many ministers
in the mid-first century, adapted her service to meet various needs and situa-
tions as they arose. But we can safely say that Phoebe, as sister, patron, and
διάκονος, was a leading figure in her church at Cenchrea, perhaps the leading
figure.
among the presbyters; he does not call himself ἐπίσκοπος in his letter to the Philippians. (See
the opening greeting of his letter to the Philippians.) Polycarp only refers to the church offices
of presbyters, deacons, and virgins. Similarly, in the apocryphal Corinthian Correspondence,
the leader of the Corinthian church, Stephanas, is simply counted among the presbyters.
There was no universally accepted paradigm of church leadership and ministry terminology
in the first and second centuries C.E.
51 Paul’s theology of ministry, as given in Rom 12:4–8, is that grace, gifts, and faith are
necessary for ministry. Furthermore, the eight ministries listed in Rom 12:6–8, including the
ministry of διακονία, do not exclude women (see 1 Cor 12:4–31). Paul’s theology of ministry
did not exclude Phoebe or the other nine, or so, women mentioned in Romans 16.

Paul’s Apostleship and the Concept of Διακονία
in 2 Corinthians1
Anni Hentschel
In 2 Corinthians Paul uses the Greek terms ἀπόστολος and διάκονος in the range
of meanings customary within contemporary Greek. Against the background
of traditional discourse about envoys, Paul applies both terms to his own role as
a messenger mandated to preach the gospel in the name of Christ or God. In the
light of the semantics of the Greek term διακονία and its cognates, any interpre-
tation of the διακονία of Paul as a self-abasing and self-sacrificing service for his
communities is no longer possible.
The 20 instances of the διακον- words in 2 Corinthians are more than half of
all instances of the words in Paul. His total usage adds up to 35. In this presenta-
tion we will not discuss the six instances relating to the Collection for Jerusalem
in 2 Cor 8 –9. That leaves ten instances to be considered in 2 Cor 3 –6 and four
others in 2 Cor 11. All of these 14 instances in 2 Corinthians are in reference to
how Paul authenticates his status as an apostle.
At once we see that the διακον- words must be of special significance in regard
to how Paul upholds the authority and authenticity of his status as an apostle. A
common understanding has been that the διακον- words originally designated
service at table as a lowly task for women and slaves as well as service in a more
general sense.2 This accounts for the longstanding scholarly consensus that in
2 Corinthians, Paul does not understand his apostleship as an office associated
with authority and hierarchical features but simply as a lowly service.3 In try-
ing to explain the connection between the διακον- words in 2 Corinthians and
1 This article was first published in Diakonia, Diaconiae Diaconato: Semantica e storia
nei Padri della Chiesa. XXXVIII Incontro di studiosi dell’ antichità cristiana. Roma, 7–9
maggio, 2009 (eds. Vittorio Grossi, Bart J. Koet and Paul van Geest; Roma: Augustinianum,
2010). I am grateful to the editors who permitted its reprinting.
2 As expressed basically by Hermann W. Beyer, “διακονέω κτλ,” in TWNT 2 (1935), 81–93.
For more detailed information to this subject see John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting
the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 3–45; Anni Hentschel,
D iakonia im Neuen Testament: Studien zur Semantik unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der
Rolle von Frauen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 11–24.
3 Jürgen Roloff, Apostolat – Verkündigung – Kirche: Ursprung, Inhalt und Funktion des

104 Anni Hentschel
Paul’s evaluation of his apostleship, we will find any suggestion of lowly and
subordinate service totally inadequate. Accordingly, the present paper will have
to address the question of how we are to determine the relationship between
apostleship and διακονία in 2 Corinthians. For this, it is essential that we first
consider how writers used the two terms ἀπόστολος and διάκονος in early Chris-
tian literature.
There is a danger here. Because the early centuries saw developments in eccle-
siastical offices associated with the terms ἀπόστολος and διάκονος, we need to
avoid reading later meanings back into the New Testament. Whereas the office
of apostle becomes – in the strictest sense – the fundamental office in the church
(already evident in Eph 2:20), the diaconate develops as an inferior office within
the later hierarchical structure. It was later on perceived as an office of lowly
service, a common reading of Acts 6:1–7 contributing here.4 In this connection
we need to note that, outside of the gospels, this is the only passage where the
διακον- words explicitly designate activities in reference to a meal. Neither in
Acts nor in the Letters is there any further instance of διακον- in the sense of
waiting at table – not even in reference to the Last Supper – or in the sense of
charitable social work. We hardly need to mention that early church documents,
which reflect a more developed sense of church order, need to be read with care.
For example, Ignatius repeatedly urges that the bishop be seen as representing
God, the presbyters as the college of apostles, but the διάκονοι as Jesus Christ
himself (see, for example, Ign. Magn. 6:1f., Ign. Trall. 3:1).5 This reveals to us
that offices were not yet fully developed in the manner of a hierarchy of bishop,
presbyters, and deacons. The διάκονοι are likened to Jesus Christ while the
presbyters are typified “merely” as apostles. At Ign. Magn. 6:2, presbyters and
διάκονοι are part of the community leadership along with the bishop. And in
Ign. Trall. 2:3, Ignatius explicitly states that the διάκονοι are not there for dis-
tributing food and drink but for dispensing “the mysteries of Jesus Christ”.
Thus we must come face to face with the question of what the terms ἀπόστολος
and διάκονος meant in the New Testament. This will take us up to the final
question of how in 2 Corinthians Paul is able to define his role as an apostle by
use of the διακον- words.
kirchlichen Apostelamtes nach Paulus, Lukas und den Pastoralbriefen (Gütersloh: Gütersloher
Verlagshaus, 1965).
4 See, for example, the observations of K. Latvus concerning the interpretation of
Acts 6:1–6 during the time of Reformation; Kari Latvus, “The Paradigm Challenged. A New
Analysis of the Origin of Diakonia,” Studia Theologica–Nordic Journal of Theology 62/2
(2008): 142–57, 151f.
5 Hentschel, Diakonia, 418–28.

Paul’s Apostleship and the Concept of Διακονία in 2 Corinthians 105
1. Usage of the Terms Ἀπόστολος and Διάκονος
Normally the διακον- words designate tasks of quite varied kinds, 6 and the na-
ture of the task is to be determined from a consideration of the social and liter-
ary context. With διακονία we often discern the function of an intermediary, as
when a διάκονος delivers a message or some object in the name of the person
commissioning the διάκονος. There are several fields of meaning in which the
terms appear more often: the carrying out of tasks of the most varied kinds,
doing errands, delivering messages, performing tasks in a household, especially
waiting at table. We see the same variety of uses in the New Testament. For the
duration of the task, the διάκονος is accountable to the person who commis-
sioned the task. In fact, depending on the nature of the task, a διάκονος can
present her/himself to an audience with claims to absolute authority. The
διάκονος retains the authority, however, only in so far as she or he performs in
accordance with the original commission. The term διάκονος in such a context
is different from the designation “slave” in that διάκονος gives no indication of
the social status of the commissioned person. A particular characteristic of the
usage is that the term διάκονος can apply equally to kings, priests, ordinary
people or slaves – and independently of gender – without any implication for
their social status. The Greek common noun διάκονος, in spite of its masculine
form, applies also to women.7 That is to say, against the widely accepted view,
that what is designated διακονία is not necessarily a lowly activity nor an activ-
ity reserved for females. Rather, the respective tasks are allocated to men and
women in comparable ways. The evaluation of a good διάκονος is based on how
the διάκονος distinguishes himself by carrying out responsibilities smartly and
conscientiously. The word group is basically not capable of expressing a willing-
ness to help or benevolence. Nor do the διακον- words belong to ordinary
everyday speech. They belong rather to more formal usage. So occurrences of
the words are often attributable to a particular author’s preference.
Similarly, the Greek term ἀπόστολος has an extensive range of meanings, be-
ing a designation for – among other uses – a covering letter, a delivery note, a
naval expedition, the commander of an expedition, the despatch of a fleet.8
Only rarely does the term designate an envoy or legate (for example, Herodotus
I.21; V.38). In the New Testament, by contrast, the term applies exclusively to
6 Hentschel, Diakonia, 21–23, 85–89; Collins, Diakonia, 335–37.

7 Its usage doesn’t show any signs of being connected with a specific gender. See
Hentschel, Diakonia, 85–89.
8 For further details regard Karl Heinrich Rengstorf, “ἀποστέλλω κτλ,” in TWNT 2 (1933),
397–448; Jörg Frey, “Apostelbegriff, Apostelamt und Apostolizität: Neutestamentliche Pers-

pektiven zur Frage nach der ‚Apostolizität’ der Kirche,” in Theodor Schneider and Gunther
Wenz, Das kirchliche Amt in apostolischer Nachfolge I: Grundlagen und Grundfragen (Frei-
burg: Herder, 2004), 91–188; Jürgen Roloff, “Apostel/Apostolat/Apostolizität. I. Neues Tes-
tament,” in TRE 3 (1993), 430–45.

106 Anni Hentschel
people. Even so, we see a variety of applications. The New Testament does not
present a uniform understanding of the ἀπόστολος. For example, in John 13:16
the word simply means a messenger. Phil 2:25 and 2 Cor 8:23 establish that
ἀπόστολος can designate messengers who, under a commission of particular
communities, carry out their tasks within a particular timeframe and for a par-
ticular purpose.
In the case of both ἀπόστολος and διάκονος we are dealing with terms whose
meaning in individual passages is determined primarily within the individual
literary and social context. In addition, both terms can designate a messenger
who is to deliver either an object or a message. When the terms appear in NT in
connection with various representative missions, these instances are to be un-
derstood in the light of social and diplomatic conventions of the Greco-Roman
world of the first century. In this connection we need to bear in mind some ba-
sic, widely accepted principles: “The first principle that can be isolated about
envoys in first-century antiquity is that proper reception of the envoy necessar-
ily entails proper reception of the one who sent him.”9 “The cultural assump-
tion . . . is that the one who is sent should be treated according to the status of
the one by whom he was sent, not the status he individually holds. . . . Thus an
envoy must act in a manner worthy of the one by whom he was sent, and be
treated accordingly.”10 “A second principle about envoys is that they have the
significant power and authority to speak for those who sent them in accordance
with their instructions […].”11 The identification of speech between envoy and
sender even becomes a rhetorical topos.12 We see these principles at work here
and there in the New Testament when it is a matter of the Christian mission and
the preaching of the Good News under a commission from God, Christ or of
the communities. In 2 Corinthians in particular we see that, because of the
broad range of meaning of the terms ἀπόστολος and διάκονος – along with their
cognates, different aspects of representative missions are especially prominent.
Today’s readers and exegetes can experience some difficulty in entering a
world in which both these terms were used without clearly specified and fixed
meanings and designated – among other things – a messenger, envoy or interme-
diary, generally in relation to duties of a temporary nature. The Second Letter
to the Corinthians is a fascinating text to investigate, as much because of the
semantic similarities as of the specific differences in the ways Paul uses the
terms ἀπόστολος and διάκονος.
9 Margaret M. Mitchell, “New Testament Envoys in the Context of Greco-Roman diplo-
matic and epistolary Conventions: The Example of Timothy and Titus,” JBL 111 (1992): 641–
62, 645.
10 Mitchell, “Envoys,” 647.
11 Mitchell, “Envoys,” 649.
12 Mitchell, “Envoys,” 648. Compare 2 Cor 5:20–21.

2. Paul as Apostle
At the very beginning of his career Paul was sent out, together with Barnabas,
by the Antioch community as an apostle for the mission to the Gentiles (see
Acts 13:1–3). Thereby he became active as an apostle of the church, an envoy
commissioned for the community’s mission.13 At first Paul began using the title
of apostle in a broader sense in reference to himself and his colleagues, both men
and women. Later he refined the idea of apostleship in reference to his own
work as a commission from the risen Lord to preach the gospel. This was prob-
ably a necessary development in connection with the controversies surrounding
the legitimacy of his claims to the title.14 We have evidence of these especially
in Galatians and 2 Corinthians. Here he understands the experience of his en-
counter with Christ as his call and commissioning for mission in the name of
the risen Lord. For himself, he no longer wanted to be recognised as an apostle
“commissioned by human authorities” (see Gal 1:1) but as an apostle with a
commission from the risen One (Gal 1:1,15–16). The essential content of what he
preached had been imparted to him not by human agencies but by the One who
had commissioned him, the risen Lord himself (Gal 1:1,11–12,16–17). In this he
set himself apart from any perception of his apostleship as simply an emissary
of the community. At the same time, he was emphasising the equality of his
claim with that of others, especially the Jerusalem apostles, who also appealed
to a direct commission from the risen Christ (see also 1 Cor 15:5–8).15
3. Conflict over Paul’s Preaching in Corinth
In Galatians, Paul has to address the question of the source of his commission
as a means of establishing the legitimacy of his mission. In Corinth, the issue
raising doubts about his apostolic authority is much more the manner in which
he exercised his apostleship. It is clear that Paul had to compete in the eyes of the
community with preachers who were equipped with letters of recommendation
(2 Cor 3:1; 10:12) and were thus presumably apostles under a commission from
13 Ferdinand Hahn, Das Verständnis der Mission im Neuen Testament (WMANT 13;
Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1963), 117. Against this background, perhaps Luke used
the terminus ἀπόστολος for Paul and Barnabas in Acts 14:4,14. For a further elucidation of this
subject see Frey, “Apostelbegriff,” 118–20. Note the survey of different explications by
Charles K. Barrett. The Acts of the Apostles I (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994), 671–72.
14 Frey, “Apostelbegriff,” 130.
15 Hahn points out that, even when Paul differentiates between his apostleship and that of
the Jerusalem apostles, it becomes apparent that he borrows their idea of being commissioned
by the Lord himself. Ferdinand Hahn, “Der Apostolat im Urchristentum,” KuD 20 (1974):
54–77, 59. For further details concerning the different concepts of apostleship compare Frey,
“Apostelbegriff,” 115–38.

108 Anni Hentschel
another community. These apostles emphasised their Jewish Christian origins

(2 Cor 11:22) and made extravagant claims about their rhetorical and pneumatic
capacities (2 Cor 10:10; 11:6; 12:1,12).16 It seems there was no way Paul could
deny their claim to be apostles, and he sees himself obliged to establish on
grounds of sound criteria that he came to his apostolic commissioning through
an authentic call and in accord with the gospel. His rivals, by contrast, in Paul’s
opinion preach a false gospel (2 Cor 11:4) and cause harm to the community
through behaviour not in accord with the gospel (2 Cor 11:20).
Against such a background it is no accident that in 2 Corinthians Paul repeat-
edly invokes the use of the διακον- words for the purpose of describing his role
as an apostle and of defending it before the community. Whereas the title of
“apostle” points mainly at the commissioning and the authenticity of the dele-
gate, the term διάκονος, by reason of its range of meanings, focuses on the pro-
cess involved in carrying out the commission and the nature of the activity as-
sociated with that. Precisely here, in the way he carries out his commission to
preach, Paul sees himself as having the edge over his rivals. In what follows we
will examine occurrences of the διακον- words in the sections 2 Cor 2:14–6:13
and 2 Cor 11 for the purpose of showing how Paul uses them to describe in de-
tail the nature of his apostleship.17 Whatever judgment one is to arrive at re-
garding the conflicts underlying 2 Corinthians, it is at least clear that we are
dealing with a collapse of trust between the community and Paul.
Unlike his opponents Paul cannot produce any letters of recommendation.
Nonetheless, in 2 Cor 3:1–3 Paul manages to turn this to his own advantage. He
makes the point that he has no need for such documents because the communi-
ty itself is his letter of recommendation, one that everybody can read. The
phrase ἐπιστολὴ Χριστοῦ διακονηθεῖσα ὑφ’ ἡμῶν supposes that Christ himself
has composed the letter and that Paul and his collaborators have delivered it. It
can now be read by all.18 The aorist tense of the participle indicates further that
in the metaphorical invocation of the language of delivering messages, we are to
see a reference back to the past founding of the community by Paul and his col-
laborators. By this metaphor of the community being the commendatory letter
delivered by Paul, he can support his authority in two ways. On the one hand,
16 For a lively discussion of the opponents, compare the survey of Reimund Bieringer,
“Die Gegner des Paulus im 2. Korintherbrief,” in Studies on 2 Corinthians (eds. Reimund

Bieringer & Jan Lambrecht; BEThL 112: Leuven: Peeters, 1994), 181–221, and Jerry L.
Sumney, “Servants of Satan,” ”False Brothers” and Other Opponents of Paul (JSNT SS 188;
Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1999).
17 Concerning the question of the literary integrity of 2 Corinthians, see Margaret E.
Thrall, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians I (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994), 3–77;
Paul Barnett, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
1997), 15–25; Erich Gräßer, Der zweite Brief an die Korinther (ÖTK 8/1; Gütersloh/
Würzburg: Gütersloher/Echter, 2002), 29–35.
18 Hentschel, Diakonia, 100–104.

Paul acts and speaks in the name of Christ as the messenger of Christ the letter
writer; on the other, the sheer existence of the community in Corinth establish-
es the effectiveness and authenticity of the message preached by Paul. As deliv-
erer of the letter, Paul performs as an intermediary between Christ, who com-
missioned him, and all the people to whom he has brought the letter of com-
mendation. As a result, not only the Corinthian community but the public in
general can be convinced that Paul has reliably and successfully delivered a mes-
sage according to instructions of Christ himself.
After drawing on this motif of commendatory letters, Paul proceeds to other
aspects of his role. To begin with, he emphasises that it is God who has equipped
him to carry out the commission that he is about to discuss (2 Cor 3:5f).19 In
saying as much, he declines to enter into a comparison of his own competencies
with the gifts of the other missionaries in Corinth. Normally a talented διάκονος
is selected for her/his suitability to fulfil a commission reliably and quickly.
However, Paul is able to link his commission under God to the competencies
with which God has endowed him. This link appears also in the lists of charis-
mata (1 Cor 12:4–11; Rom 12:7), where διακονία and charisma – commission and
endowment – are similarly brought together. Paul characterises himself and his
collaborators as διάκονοι of the new covenant who are commissioned to deliver,
not mere letters that kill, but the life-giving Spirit (2 Cor 3:6).20 Thus Paul’s task
is one of mediation, here within the framework of a new covenant between God
and human beings.
In the next section (2 Cor 3:7–18), Paul gives further detail of this role of
διάκονοι in the new covenant, arguing with the authority of the person of Mo-
ses, who, as deliverer of the Torah, is held in great repute within Judaism. Ac-
cording to Exod 34:32–35, Moses was the bearer of revelation who, under God’s
mandate, delivered God’s offer of covenant to Israel. By means of typology Paul
seeks to establish the superiority or splendour of his own διακονία – an act of
mediation.21 What matters for Paul is that he and the other missionaries are
seen as recipients of a revelation of God’s new offer of salvation in Jesus Christ.
This is an offer to all people (2 Cor 5:17–21), and must be delivered to them. Paul
has already understood that his experience of conversion and encounter with
the risen Christ was his own commissioning for this mission. Through his
preaching Paul makes it possible for people to come to know God’s offer of
19 “That Paul has in mind his fundamental apostolic mission, for which he has been em-
powered from the beginning of his life as a Christian, is suggested by the aorist tense of
ἱκάνωσεν, which refers, in all probability, to the moment of his conversion and calling. He was
called and empowered at that moment, as agent of a new covenant.” Thrall, Second Epistle,
230f.
20 For further discussion of the opposing pair “letter–spirit,” see Thrall, Second Epistle,
234–36.
21 Helmut Merklein, “Der (neue) Bund als Thema der paulinischen Theologie,” ThQ 176
(1996): 296.

110 Anni Hentschel
salvation, to embrace it, and so enter into an intimate bonding with God in
faith. Through his mediatorial activity as διάκονος he is responsible for making
possible the sealing of a covenant between God and people. For this reason, and
on the basis of his own deepest beliefs, in 2 Cor 3:7–11 Paul draws a comparison
between the old and the new covenant: while the old covenant has revealed itself
to be a διακονία of death and judgment, in the new situation it is the Spirit and
righteousness that is dispensed through Paul. In this function of being the man-
dated intermediary delivering God’s offer of salvation, Paul can be compared
with Moses. The new offer of covenant or salvation, however, exceeds the saving
power of the Law delivered by Moses and in fact, by reason of its glory (doxa),
leaves the first covenant in the shade.
The common noun διάκονος and its cognates were generally used in Greek to
express notions connected with the tasks of an intermediary under a mandate
from a third party. Such usage is especially in evidence in religious contexts to
do with delivering messages from the gods to human beings. This Greek usage
was not a specifically Christian innovation within the early church. Nonetheless
it was available for the particular need to designate the roles of Moses and Paul
as being of an intermediary character in delivering a message between God and
human beings. Paul had no problem, accordingly, in adopting the usage – with-
out need for further comment – to depict the roles of both himself and Moses.
After presenting his perception of what the task of the διάκονοι of the new
covenant entailed (3:4–18), Paul turns to the question of how he and his col-
leagues performed this διακονία (4:1). There was no room at all for a casual
approach. What their task demanded was uprightness and dependability. The
range of meaning of the διακον- words includes the idea that a διάκονος can go
about his/her duties in the name of the mandating authority; in short, represent-
ing a person with authority. Certainly, the authority extends only to matters
coming under the mandate. Paul lays claim to such authority and for this reason
rejects any suggestion of self-interest in his preaching of the gospel (4:2).
The light metaphor Paul employed at the end of the preceding section was
designed to emphasise the mediatorial nature of his preaching.22 The “light of
the gospel of the glory of Christ” (4:4) emanates directly from God (4:6) and is
mediated to people through Paul under God’s mandate. For himself, Paul shows
that he was a particularly effective bearer of revelation for the very reason that
he delivers nothing but what he has been commissioned to deliver, leaving noth-
ing out, adding nothing. Paul is not the one who, out of his own resources, en-
lightens people; it is God’s light that streams through him to beyond, becoming
visible to the Corinthians once they look with spiritual eyes (4:18).
22 Martin Hengel and Anna M. Schwemer, Paulus zwischen Damaskus und Antiochien:
Die unbekannten Jahre des Apostels (Tübingen: Mohr, 1998), 70f. Note the relationship to 2
Cor 2:14–16 pointed out by John N. Collins, “The Mediatorial Aspect of Paul’s Role as Di-
akonos,” AusBr 40 (1992): 34–44, 43–44.

On this basis, Paul is in a position to defend himself against charges that his
entry on the scene as God’s διάκονος is not marked with any sign of grandeur of
a kind that one might expect of a messenger of God. Instead, he gives the ap-
pearance of weakness. This personal weakness serves to show that strength
comes from God alone (4:7). Thus, the power of God’s grandeur is not masked
by outward signs of power in the preacher.23 In addition, the preacher’s manner
and way of life reflects what he preaches, namely, the crucified Christ (4:11). In
this way, Paul witnesses to the gospel not only in what he has to say but also in
his lifestyle, displaying thereby a particular credibility.
In the fifth chapter of 2 Corinthians (2 Cor 5:11–21), Paul applies himself, fi-
nally, to the central element of his preaching and employs the noun διακονία in
a striking way. Here Paul locates his διακονία in a relationship with God’s re
conciling activity. Through Jesus Christ, God has reconciled himself with the
world (5:18), but this saving event must now be declared before human beings so
that they, for their part, might commit themselves to reconciliation with God
and so enter into a bonding by faith with God. The salvation effected by God
becomes accessible to human beings through the “word of reconciliation” (5:19).
The task necessary to make this message known, the διακονία τῆς καταλλαγῆς
(5:18), God has imposed on Paul. Accordingly we can recognise this διακονία of
Paul – his commission to pass on the reconciling word of God – as a constitutive
part of God’s saving action.24
The following verses show how Paul carries out his responsibility. Using the
imperative in direct speech, Paul encourages the Corinthians in God’s name,
“Be reconciled to God” (5:20). Of interest is the verb πρεσβεύω, used only here
by Paul and lending a diplomatic tone to the statement. The word belongs to the
terminology of ancient diplomacy, and in classical Greek referred generally to
official embassies and imperial legates. These envoys speak and act as plenipo-
tentiary representatives of their mandating authority and have every legal right
to be heard. So emphatically does Paul identify his role in this critical passage as
God’s commissioned messenger that he does not hesitate to name God as the
subject of his own admonitory phrase. Christ himself speaks through him. He
is God’s mouthpiece voicing God’s own call to reconciliation accurately and
reliably. Against the background of these underlying ideas of diplomatic rep-
resentation, we immediately recognise in Paul’s language here that of his com-
missioning authority. In any case, it is essential for a claim like this on the part
of a messenger that the envoy’s behaviour is of a kind worthy of the mandating
23 Werner Kleine, Zwischen Furcht und Hoffnung: Eine textlinguistische Untersuchung
des Briefes 2 Kor 1–9 zur wechselseitigen Bedeutsamkeit der Beziehung von Apostel und Ge-
meinde (BBB 141; Berlin: Philo, 2002), 235.
24 Jens Schröter, Der versöhnte Versöhner: Paulus als unentbehrlicher Mittler im Heilsvor-
gang zwischen Gott und Gemeinde nach 2 Kor 2,14–7,4 (TANZ 10; Tübingen: Francke, 1993),
305.

112 Anni Hentschel
authority and of the mandate itself. For this reason, in concluding this section
Paul again emphasises the reliable and conscientious way he has carried out his
commission to preach (2 Cor 6:1–10).
With the help of a double negative – which in Greek particularly catches the
attention – Paul insists that he never provides any opportunity for fault to be
found with his διακονία (6:3). In all previous instances of this term it has been
complemented by a descriptive genitive; here it is very noticeable that the noun
is used absolutely. We can see this as referring back to how in 2 Cor 3:2–5:21
Paul has gone to such lengths to identify διακονία for his audience as a mandate
from God to preach the message of reconciliation within the new covenant;
now he wants it understood, with all those implications, as his very own
διακονία. At the same time, Paul has no intention of finishing on a negative note.
Rather, he commends himself now to the Corinthians without hesitation as
θεοῦ διάκονος (6:4a),25 and is able to adduce as characteristic traits not just his
strengths – spiritual – but also his weaknesses (6:4b–10). The paradox of his
status and effectiveness as God’s διάκονος corresponds with the core of the
message he preached, the message of the cross and resurrection of Christ; his
behaviour and lifestyle underline his credibility as a διάκονος and leave open no
opportunity at all for doubting that.26
Finally, in 2 Cor 10–13, Paul directly confronts the rival missionaries, and
attempts to defend his role with arguments of apologetical and plainly polemi-
cal kinds. As a special mark of his missionary style Paul at once invokes his re-
nunciation of any monetary reward for the preaching he delivers in Corinth, his
διακονία (11:7f). Against the background of a claim that an apostle is worthy of
his hire (for example, 1 Cor 9:14), Paul’s approach here could appear provocative
and inappropriate for a messenger. In general, a messenger’s inadequate behavi
our raises doubts as to the message he is delivering. In response to that, Paul is
again compelled to draw on his convictions as he enters the conflict with the
rival missionaries. It so happens that here too Paul does not draw into the debate
the title of apostle or the commission received from the Risen Christ to support
his authenticity. Instead, once again lifestyle and preaching activity itself be-
come the measure of authenticity. Whereas in the earlier section of 2 Corinthi-
ans, Paul regularly used the terms διάκονος and διακονία to establish the under-
standing of his role as preacher and founder of a community, at this juncture
both titles appear. Paul’s focus, however, appears to remain even here on διάκονος
as a title (2 Cor 11:23).
In 2 Cor 11:12–15, Paul comes firmly to grips with opponents whom he names
false apostles, deceitful workers, and διάκονοι of Satan who promote themselves
25 Collins understands 2 Cor 6:4 as “technical expression of the claim made earlier that
Paul speaks ‘as from God in the sight of God’ (2:17).” Collins, Diakonia, 198.
26 See, for example, Gräßer, Zweite Briefe, 250–51.; Hentschel, Diakonia, 122–27.

and have only the appearance of διάκονοι who might deliver righteousness. Paul
thus puts in question the legitimacy of the opponents in respect of four aspects
considered central to the authority of a messenger: the mandating authority is
not God but Satan; the way they carry out their commission is not marked by
sincerity but by deliberate deception; thus they are unable to deliver the saving
power desired by the Corinthians, righteousness; and their deeds contradict
their preaching and establish their lack of credibility.27
This section shows that the terms ἀπόστολος and διάκονος are obviously used
in similar ways in discussing messengers. Both terms are able to designate re-
sponsibilities in regard to proclaiming the gospel. However, whereas the term
ἀπόστολος focuses more on the sending and on the legitimisation of the envoy by
the sender, in the case of the designation διάκονος what is foremost in the concept
is the process involved in carrying out the commission.28 Paul counters his op-
ponents’ claim to be apostles of Christ by discrediting the mandating authority
with the accusation that they have been sent by Satan (11:13f). Their claim to be
διάκονοι of Christ he seeks to refute by raising doubts about the type of salvation
they deliver and about how they conduct themselves (11:14–15). The difference
that we see here between the two terms is also the basic reason why in 2 Corin-
thians Paul time and again falls back on the διακον- words for the purpose of
identifying and defending the kind and style of his involvement in the task of
preaching. Because Paul can neither produce letters of commendation nor be
counted among the first witnesses of the resurrection (1 Cor 15:5–8), Paul is
obliged to ground the legitimacy as a preacher of the gospel of Christ less on his
commission than on the manner in which he has carried out his commission.
Even so, Paul is aware that he has an edge over the other missionaries in
Corinth, as we see at 11:23. Although he sees himself on the same level as they
are in the matter of being Hebrew, Israelite, or descendants of Abraham (11:22),
as διάκονος of Christ, he is far superior to them.29 The burden of proof elicits
another catalogue in which Paul presents his undertakings as evidencing a ca-
pacity to endure hardship, his trustworthiness, and his readiness to expose
himself to risks (11:23b–29). Obviously, the rival missionaries were of the mind
– in sympathy with broad Hellenistic perceptions – that weakness is no part of
the make-up of a deity’s messenger; what is needed is trustworthiness, assiduity,
and extreme commitment to completing the commission. Paul attempts to
counter the accusations of weakness, which possibly pointed to his physical
weakness or disability in speaking, by demonstrating that precisely his prepar-
edness to endure suffering shows he would spare no effort to fulfil his διακονία
conscientiously. In addition, to his way of thinking, his words and deeds are in
27 The argumentation of Paul can be understood against the background of social and
diplomatic conventions about envoys in first-century antiquity. Mitchell, “Envoys,” 645–46.

28 For more detailed information to this subject see Hentschel, Diakonia, 132–38.
29 Paul is using the comparative here only in relation to the term διάκονος.

114 Anni Hentschel
accord with Christ, who gave him his commission and who constitutes the sub-
ject of his preaching. Precisely in this connection, Paul suggests that his own
weakness is Christlike (2 Cor 12:7–10). As a result, weakness is not incompatible
with his commission but rather is in accord with it. For the very reason that it is
not himself, his abilities and miracles, that he presents to the public, he can be a
deliverer of God’s message – better of course than his opponents. In the end, it
is the task of the διάκονος to pass on – unadulterated – God’s message to those
who will listen. For their part, his opponents – in Paul’s estimation – are in dan-
ger of overturning his claim so long as they place themselves in the centre of the
stage with their miracles and their demands for sustenance. In such ways they
restrict or distort for the community the preaching of the gospel of the crucified
and risen Christ.
4. Conclusion
Examination of the usage in 2 Corinthians of the terms ἀπόστολος and διάκονος

and their cognates shows that Paul employs the terms in the range of meanings
customary within contemporary Greek. Obviously, in this he was not alone in
the early Christian movement. Many other men and women could have been
designating themselves similarly and thereby staking a claim to a legitimate role
in preaching in the name of God or of Christ.30 In this matter, however, there
were profound differences among individual attitudes in the early Christian
period towards what proclamation is, how it is done, and what in fact should be
proclaimed. As a result, conflicts arose as to who might legitimately and de-
pendably fill this role laden with titles. Paul himself saw the outstanding feature
of the preacher in the conformation of his life to Christ and in proclamation of
the message of the cross. And for him this conception of a commissioned preach-
er of Christ was wrapped up in the Greek noun διάκονος. However, the conflict
has been such as to suggest that his conviction in this matter was not obvious to
others.
Rather, we have something more to learn from the Greek text in regard to
both ἀπόστολος and διάκονος. In the early Christian communities neither term
enjoyed a uniform usage. Against the background of traditional discourse about
envoys, it would be possible to show how the terms were able to be used for the
Christian mission. Paul was able to apply them to his own circumstances on the
grounds of his specific Christology. The weaknesses that his opponents clearly
malign him for, Paul can interpret as being wholly in accord with his Christian
status. For him they certainly provide no reason to surrender his authority as
God’s fully accredited preacher. On the contrary, Paul himself has introduced
30 For example, Rom 16:1f, 7; see Hentschel, Diakonia, 180–84, 433–44.

them to support his argument for his authoritative position. Here he finds him-
self in total agreement with the basic perception that an envoy represents the
one who issues the mandate. Further, if he is to be capable of meeting his man-
date in what he says and what he does, he is obliged to conduct himself in the
manner it demands. This representation, however, Paul takes quite literally: “In
seeing Paul, one sees Jesus who sent him. The παρουσία of the envoy becomes
indeed the παρουσία of the one who sent him.”31 Any interpretation of the
διακονία of Paul as self-abasing and as self-sacrificing service for the community
– an interpretation drawing on weakness as specific evidence of a humble and
lowly role for Paul as the servant of Christ – is no longer possible and blocks out
essential aspects of Paul’s understanding of his role.
Occurrences of ἀπόστολος and διάκονος in 2 Cor 11 shows that Paul employs
them as freely as the foreign missionaries. They have used the noun διάκονος in
a similar manner and with an appeal to a level of implied authority that is com-
parable with their understanding of the term ἀπόστολος. This is in keeping with
the semantic overlap of the terms in contexts of mission and delivery of message.
Paul, too, is able to use both terms in close proximity in order to identify his role
as a messenger mandated to preach the gospel in the name of Christ. Certainly
in 2 Corinthians the emphasis is upon his role as διάκονος.32 The term “apostle”
had a tightly knit connection with the idea of a mission from the Risen Christ,
so that in the course of development it was applied exclusively to the first Chris-
tian missionaries (see 1 Cor 15:5–8; Eph 2:20; 1 Tim 1:1, etc.), but it was no longer
in use for contemporary preachers. On the other hand, the term διάκονος was in
use later, too. Other men and women, alongside the first missionaries, engaged
in preaching and leadership of the community and were designated διάκονοι (see
Eph 4:11–12; Col 1:24–29; 1 Tim 3:8–13; 4:6).
31
Mitchell, “Envoys,” 651.
32 Collinssums up: “It was much more important for Paul to be known as a diakonos of
God than as an apostle.” Collins, “Mediatorial aspect,” 44.

Divine Headhunting?
The Function of the Qualifications of Deacons in 1 Tim 3:8–13
Lauri Thurén
The list of requirements for deacons in 1 Tim 3:8–13 is one of the most scruti-
nised sources when asking what deacons did in the first century.1 Unfortu-
nately, due to this great historical interest, a basic source-critical question is
seldom sufficiently discussed. The list of qualifications was never written in
order to inform later generations about the deacons and their duties, and should
not injudiciously be used as such.
It is occasionally recognised that combining the word διάκονος in 1 Tim 3:8
with the deacons of later centuries runs the risk of anachronism.2 Opinions
about the development of the ministry in the early church in general tend to
affect the way 1 Tim 3 is interpreted, although this should be the other way
around.3 But even the seemingly historical signals in the text itself are easily
misread. Attempts to view the list of qualifications in its original context yield
little reliable general information about the deacons, since such a reconstruc-
1 For some 50 relevant studies of the passage and the question of διακονία reflected in it, see
William D. Mounce, Pastoral Epistles (WBC 46; Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2000), 193–94.
According to him, this chapter in particular “has been interpreted as a church manual written
apart from a specific historical situation.” A recent study is offered by Anni Hentschel, Ge-
meinde, Ämter, Dienste – Perspektiven zur neutestamentlichen Ekklesiologie (Neukirchen-
Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2013), 157–66.
2 Thus Raymond F. Collins, 1 & 2 Timothy and Titus (Louisville: Westminster John
Knox, 2002), 86, preferring the word “server.” Luke Timothy Johnson uses the word “helper”
for the same reason (The First and Second Letters to Timothy [AB 35a; New York: Doubleday,
2001], 226). Unfortunately, these translations too have problematic connotations, since they
already imply information about the duties of the διάκονοι. Therefore, despite the risks, I use
the convenient and conventional translation “deacon,” as it comes close to the Greek original.
The other difficult word ἐπίσκοπος will be transliterated as episkopos instead of “bishop,”
since the latter has too specific historical connotations.
3 For the discussion starting from Rudoph Sohm, see Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 153–55.
John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford Univer-
sity Press, 1990), 237, correctly emphasises that 1 Tim 3:8–13 must be studied in its own right.

118 Lauri Thurén
tions are to a great degree based on a highly problematic technique called

“mirror-reading.”4
Not until we have mapped the rhetorical and contextual functions of
1 Tim 3:8–13, and the impact of the persuasive devices utilised in it, can we hope
to discern some information about the earliest deacons. This is the goal of my
paper.
1. The Historical Setting
Before attempting to learn anything about first-century deacons based on

1 Tim 3:8–13, its context must be assessed. Martin Dibelius and Hans Conzel-
mann represent the old school: as a pseudo-Pauline document, 1 Timothy is
later than the historical Paul and Timothy, and thereby the situation displayed
in the context is fictional. Accordingly, the aim of the document is not to give
personal instruction to Timothy and his community in Ephesus, but to present
guidelines for later bishops and deacons in the emerging church.5 This assess-
ment would be convenient for studying the roots and development of early
Christian diakonia. Unfortunately, it is based on a superficial reading of the text.
Most modern commentators take seriously the situation referred to in the
Pastoral Epistles. Although hardly of direct Pauline origin,6 these documents
reflect a specific context, which should not be overlooked. This applies to
1 Tim 3:8–13, too.
In the exordium of 1 Timothy, the author warns of “certain individuals”
(τινες), who are “teaching false doctrine and occupying themselves with myths
and endless genealogies” (1 Tim 1:3–7). In the peroratio, which as a rhetorical
convention ought to be more outspoken, their false teaching is identified as
gnosis (1 Tim 6:20). Indeed, the “myths and genealogies” (1:4) and gnosis belong
together: some fundamental ideas of the emerging Gnosticism7 were based on
a specific view of creation. There are numerous early Jewish and gnostic exten-
4 For criticism of this method, see below.
5 Martin Dibelius and Hans Conzelmann, The Pastoral Epistles (Hermeneia; Philadel-
phia: Fortress, 1972), 50–51.
6 For discussion of the author of the Pastoral Epistles, see for example Mounce, Pastoral
Epistles, cxviii–cxxix. While the postulated developed church structure may be based on mis-
reading, and the differences in style and vocabulary do not prove a non-Pauline origin – the
material is too scarce for a reliable statistical comparison – there is a compelling piece of
evidence. Since 2 Timothy claims that Paul is imprisoned and “chained like a criminal”
(2 Tim 2:9), he cannot have written that text. Yet, stylistic reasons indicate that all these epis-
tles are written by the same person. Therefore, even the sibling documents are written by
somebody else than Paul. This, however, does not necessarily refer to a post-Pauline time –
Tychicus is a good candidate for the amanuensis (for this and corresponding hypotheses, see
Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, cxxvii–cxxviii).
7 Support for the traditional hypothesis about a developed, second-century Gnosticism
behind 1 Timothy cannot be found in the text (see Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, lxx–lxxi).

Divine Headhunting? 119
sions to the Old Testament’s creation myths, telling about Adam, Eve, Enoch,
fallen angels, giants, and so on. 8 One of the best known of these narratives is
the widespread Apocryphon Ioannis, somewhat later than the Pastoral Epistles.
It retells the Biblical creation myth with a twist: the material world is created by
a bad creator, who also unfortunately invented marriage and child birth. Luck-
ily enough, Eve can teach humanity to detach itself from these demonic inven-
tions.9 Interestingly, a similar doctrine is opposed in 1 Tim 2:8–15, immediate-
ly before instructing the episkopoi10 and the deacons in 1 Tim 3:1–13.11 The next
chapter discusses again people “abandon[ing] the faith by following deceitful
spirits, the teachings of demons” (1 Tim 4:1–3).
Since the qualifications of the episkopoi and deacons are enveloped by sec-
tions opposing rival teachers, it is likely that even the qualifications are related
to the attacks in some way. An abrupt digressio, merely prescribing some church
offices, before returning to batter the antagonists, appears unnatural. If, how
ever, the qualifications of deacons are connected to the general purpose of the
epistle, they hardly share unbiased information about their duties.
Some additional observations regarding the function of 1 Tim 3:8–13 weaken
its quality as a source for understanding the duties of the first deacons. First, as
William Mounce points out, the section does not actually tell what the deacons
should do.12 Instead, the author concentrates on their personal qualities, viz.
their ethos: they must not be duplicitous, drinkers, or greedy, but impeccable in
all respects. This, however, does not yield much information. For example,
Mounce argues that the deacons were responsible for the church’s purse, since
the deacons should not be greedy for money (v. 8),13 but a similar requirement
is set for the πρεσβύτεροι in 1 Pet 5:2. Moreover, the requirement not to be du-
plicitous does not as such indicate that the deacons were more in contact with
people than the episkopoi.14
It is also worth noticing that the lists of qualifications in 1 Tim 3 are neither
original nor especially Christian.15 They resemble several Hellenistic lists of
8 See Giovanni Filoramo, A History of Gnosticism (trans. Anthony Alcock; Cambridge:
Blackwell, 1990).
9 Frederik Wisse, “Apocryphon of John,” in The Nag Hammadi Library in English (ed.
James M. Robinson; San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988), 104–23; Stevan Davies, The Secret
Book of John – Annotated & Explained (Woodstock: SkyLight, 2005). See also http://www.
earlychristianwritings.com/text/apocryphonjohn.html.
10 For the translation, see footnote 2 above.
11 For the connection between these texts, see Jukka Thurén, “Eva som laeremester i Gno-
sis,” in Israel, Kristus, Kirken (ed. Ivar Asheim; FS Sverre Aalen: Oslo: Universitetsforlaget,
1979), 109–18.
12 Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 195.
14 Against Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 196.
15 See John K. Goodrich, “Overseers as Stewards and the Qualifications for Leadership in
the Pastoral Epistles,” ZNW 104 (2013): 77–78.

120 Lauri Thurén
virtues, albeit with some modifications. Even if not directly reflecting specific
sources, such as the cura morum for Roman senators,16 they might be based on
a metaphorical depiction of a domestic steward.17
Yet, the question of purpose remains: If the main goal of the epistle(s) is to
combat teachers with some deviant doctrinal opinions, why insert such rather
unspecific and unoriginal lists of moral virtues in the middle of such an attack?
To be sure, one can argue that the original function of the qualifications in
1 Timothy, whatever it is, does not prevent drawing other, historical conclu-
sions based on them. Even if the text is not aimed at sharing information about
the duties of the deacons, such knowledge can be read between the lines. How-
ever, there are several caveats against such “mirror-reading,” so typical of New
Testament exegesis. The text’s rhetorical aim may bias it to the degree that its
value as a historical source is highly compromised.18
2. The Antagonists as Bad Deacons
Interestingly enough, the requirements for the deacons and the episkopoi resem-
ble closely the image of the antagonists vilified in the epistle. Regarding the
episkopoi, John Goodrich notices that they ought to be exactly what the anta
gonists are not19 – this applies to the deacons as well. Thus, in order to under-
stand the function of the virtues of the deacons in 1 Tim 3:8–13, a comparison
with the denigrating claims about the antagonists in 1 Timothy and some other
occasions in the New Testament or other early Christian literature is illuminat-
ing.20
16 An interesting, but unwarranted, comparison is made by Boris A. Paschke, “The cura
morum of the Roman Censors as Historical Background for the Bishop and Deacon Lists of
the Pastoral Epistles,” ZNW 98 (2007): 105–19.
17 Goodrich, “Overseers,” especially 81–85.
18 For criticism of mirror-reading, see, for example, George Lyons, Pauline Autobiogra-
phy: Toward a New Understanding (Atlanta: Scholars, 1985); John Barclay, “Mirror-reading
a Polemical Letter: Galatians as a Test Case,” JSNT 31 (1987): 76; Johannes Vorster, “The
context of the letter to the Romans: a critique on the present state of research,” Neot 28 (1994):
137–38, and Lauri Thurén, “Paul Had No Antagonists,” in Lux Humana, Lux Aeterna – Es-
says on Biblical and Related Themes in Honour of Lars Aejmelaeus (ed. Antti Mustakallio;
Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 2005), 269–73;
Lauri Thurén, “The Antagonists – Rhetorically Marginalized Identities in the New Testa-
ment,” in Identity Formation in the New Testament (eds. Bengt Holmberg and Mikael Win-
ninge; Tübingen: Mohr, 2008), 79–95. Reading a description of a third party is not like listen-
ing to somebody else’s telephone call (pace Nina Nikki, Opponents and Identity in the Letter
to the Philippians [Helsinki: University of Helsinki, 2015], 25), since not even the author hears
the other side’s comments.
19 Goodrich, “Overseers,” 79.
20 The NT examples are partly based on André du Toit, “Vilification as a Pragmatic Device
in Early Christian Epistolography,” Biblica 75 (1994): 401–10; other references are Johnson,

2122232425
Deacons Antagonists Other Pejorative Examples

Reverent (3:8) Belittling demonstrative pronoun Rom 3:8; 1 Cor 4:18; 2 Cor 3:1;
τινες (1:6,19; 5:15,24) 10:2; Gal 1:7; 2:12 etc.
Reach a good level Visible sins (5:24) Titus 1:16
(3:13)
Not duplicitous21 Hypocritical, liars (1:9; 4:2) Gal 2:13; 1 Clem. 15.1;
(3:8) 2 Cor 11:13 etc.
Not addicted Stop eating foods created by God Gluttony: Rom 16:18; Phil 3:19;
to wine22 (3:8) (4:3) 2 Pet 2:13; Jude 2
[Timothy: Not
too little wine
(5:23)]
Not greedy23 (3:8) See godliness as a way to make Barn. 20.2; Titus 1:11;
profit, want to get rich (6:5,9) 2 Pet 2:3,15
Know mystery Abandon faith, follow spirits (4:1) Gal 5:9,12; 2 Tim 2:18; 4:4;
of faith (3:9) and Satan (1:20; 4:1; 5:15) Rom 16:17–20; 2 Cor 10:13–15;
Reverent, know Blasphemous (1 Tim 1:20; 6:4) 1 Tim 1; Rom 3:8; 1 Cor 10:30;
secret of faith 2 Tim 3:2; Jas 2:7; 1 Pet 4:4 etc.
Keep clear Abandoned good conscience Titus 1:15; 2 Tim 3:8
conscience (3:9) (1:19; 4:2)
No slander (3:11) Morbid craving for controversy Titus 1:10; 1 Clem. 30.11;
and for disputes about words. Ign. Pol. 2.2
From these come envy, dissension,
slander, base suspicions (6:4)
Proven blameless No sense of law (1:7) Several examples of moral
(3:10) depravity
Take care of Stop people from marrying (4:3) Disobedient to parents, seduce
family24 (3:12) women: 2 Tim 3:2,6; Titus 1:10
Husband of Sexually immoral, homosexuals 2 Pet 2:10,14,18; Jude 7–8;
one wife25 (3:12) (1:10) Rev 2:14,20–22
[Episkopoi: Deviated, turned (1:6), and made Infiltrated from outside:
Not recently shipwreck concerning their faith Gal 2:4; 2 Pet 2:1; Jude 4
converted (3:6)] (1:19)
Good reputation Visible sins (5:24) Titus 1:11–14
outward (3:13, see
episkopoi in 3:7)
Timothy, 227–34; Goodrich, “Overseers,” 88–95. The classical presentation of these lists is
Siegfrid Wibbing, Die Tugend- und Lasterkataloge im Neuen Testament und ihre Traditions-
geschichte unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Qumran-Texte (BSNW 25; Berlin: Töpel-
mann, 1959). See the table by Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 156–58.
21 See Johnson, Timothy, 227.
22 For non-Jewish examples, see Goodrich, “Overseers,” 91–92.
23 See further Goodrich, “Overseers,” 90–91.
24 Goodrich, “Overseers,” 93–94.
25 Ibid.

122 Lauri Thurén
Goodrich acknowledges that “the descriptions of opponents may rely on a

standard polemical schema,” but he hastens to add that certain real vices can be
detected, such as “greed, asceticism, and unorthodox doctrine.” Thus, the oppo-
nents were actually lacking the virtues described.26 But how do we know? The
antagonists in many New Testament epistles are depicted in a surprisingly sim-
ilar way. What if the authors are simply blaming them? Would they agree, if
they got a fair hearing? At least charging the opponents with greed was hardly
a rare thing in antiquity.
In fact, labeling the antagonists bluntly with little proof or particular charges
was a standard rhetorical procedure.27 In 1973, Robert J. Karris had already
noticed that most of the polemic in the Pastoral Epistles neatly reflects stereo-
typical labels of the time. They were not used in order to historically describe
the antagonists but to denigrate them.28 According to him, this convention
aimed at emphasizing the superiority of one’s own thinking, and dissociating it
from that of the antagonists.29 Later on, this rhetorical device called vitupera-
tio, and its negative impact on the ability of scholars to gather reliable informa-
tion about the antagonists in the New Testament, has been studied by Luke
Timothy Johnson, André du Toit, and myself.30
Most of the slander against the antagonists is created “by the book” – examples
can be found in other New Testament documents and other ancient texts as well.
Accordingly, their historical value is next to nothing. The aim of this device was
only to vilify them, in order to dissociate the addressees from them. This, in turn,
makes gathering historical data based on such labels in 1 Timothy problematic,
both regarding the opponents and their counterparts, the deacons.31
Karris, du Toit, and Johnson have demonstrated that corresponding labels
were widely used by both Jewish and Gentile authors. They needed no details
or proofs, since nobody expected that these claims were historically true. In
1 Timothy, the aim of such labels was not so much to provide the audience ob-
jective information about Hymenaeus, Alexander (1:20), and their party – whom
they knew already – but to dissociate them from these teachers by designating
26 Goodrich, “Overseers,” 79, n. 11.

27 Lloyd Pietersen correctly sees this as a persuasive device, but approaches it from a mod-
ern sociological perspective (“Despicable Deviants: Labelling Theory and the Polemic of the
Pastorals,” Sociology of Religion 58 [1997]: 343–52). See also Lloyd Pietersen, The Polemic of
the Pastorals – A Sociological Examination of the Development of Pauline Christianity (Lon-
don: T&T Clark International, 2004).
28 Robert J. Karris, “Background and Significance of the Polemic of the Pastoral Epistles,”
JBL 92 (1973): 549–64, especially 556.

29 Karris, “Background,” 563.
30 See Luke Timothy Johnson, “The New Testament’s Anti-Jewish Slander and Conven-
tions of Ancient Rhetoric.” JBL 108 (1989): 419–41, regarding 1 Timothy: Johnson, Timothy,
73; du Toit, “Vilification,” 403–12; Thurén, “No Antagonists” and “Antagonists.”
31 Unfortunately, even Karris uses mirror-reading when identifying the antagonists as
Jewish-Christians teaching Jewish myths (“Background,” 562–63).

them as villains. The audience hardly thought that the author was misleading
them, since it was widely known.
An example of modern misinterpretation of vituperatio in 1 Timothy is to
argue, that since the author repeatedly discusses the relationship to money of
both the antagonists and the leaders (1:7; 3:3,8; 6:5–10), this was a specific threat
“in the troubled Ephesian church.”32 However, the importance of the theme
only indicates that revealing the antagonists’ greedy motives was a popular and
effective topos.
Johnson, too, reconstructs a crisis in the leadership in Ephesus: leaders op-
posing Paul’s doctrines were morally questionable, and he wants to promote
other leaders, who are tested to be better.33 Mirabile dictu, such a mirror-read-
ing of the text, which closely resembles standard vituperatio, goes directly
against Johnson’s own earlier study.34 More plausibly, the antagonists are la-
belled as immoral for rhetorical reasons – specific charges are not even present-
ed. Thus, it is safer to suggest only in general terms that, at least according to the
author, there was a crisis among the leadership in the congregation – perhaps a
theological one. He then makes moral charges against the antagonists to meet
this exigency.
To sum up, references to the antagonists, the counter-image of the deacons in
1 Timothy, provide us little historical information about them. Instead, they
offer an example of a standard rhetorical tool used to dissociate the audience
from certain people. This, in turn, greatly effects the image of the deacons in the
same text.
3. The Function of the Qualifications
The section 1 Tim 3:8–13 discusses the deacons’ ethos more than their duties,
telling only what they should be like. But even to say this can be too much, since
the qualifications offer a mirror-image of the charges against the antagonists. In
other words, the deacons should be the opposite of the rival teachers. Since these
are morally denigrated for dissociative purposes, the corresponding highly eth-
ical features of the deacons and the episkopoi may serve the same function. Both
descriptions are rhetorical devices, used in order to dissuade the addressees
from certain individuals within the congregation. As far as the purpose of the
epistle can be grasped, this may be its main goal.
32 Thus Philip H. Towner, The Letters to Timothy and Titus (NICNT; Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 2006), 263, although he is aware of the stereotypical character of charges regarding
money.
33 Johnson, Timothy, 236–37.
34 See Johnson, “Slander.”

124 Lauri Thurén
Thus, it is unlikely that the author wants to shape the deacons’ behavior or
personality. Due to the specific rhetorical function of the qualifications, one
cannot conclude that they would be especially urgent in Ephesus, or essential
for the deacons’ work in general.
Based on the reasoning above, we know little else than that there was a strug-
gle for power regarding the congregation in Ephesus – at least according to the
author. Alternatively, he aims at creating such a crisis by his letter.35 In any
case, the ethical dimension of the tension is highly questionable. There may
have been theological issues, since the author labels his antagonists as teachers
(1 Tim 1:7). Their thinking seems to be connected to creation myths and asceti-
cism, which bring to mind later forms of Gnostic Christianity. But the author
has no willingness, perhaps not even the ability, to meet their theological chal-
lenge – unlike in the epistles to the Romans, Galatians, or even the Corinthians.
Instead, he resorts to a low-level rhetorical tactic.36
To be sure, one must ask a critical question: If the virtues presented in 1 Tim 3
are aimed at creating or widening the gap between the audience and the antago-
nists, why not simply assign these virtues to all recipients? Whence the empha-
sis on certain “official” groups within the congregation: the episkopoi and the
deacons?
Since the antagonists are presented as (willing to be) leaders, they have to be
met by counter-leaders.37 Hence the need of emphasizing the episkopoi and dea-
cons. This means that not only the episkopoi but also the deacons had an author-
itative and powerful position in the congregation. The deacons, whose virtues
are emphasised just as much as those of the episkopoi, were not less important in
the battle of power against the antagonists. Moreover, both titles and their tasks
must have been already familiar to the audience – according to the author – since
he does not introduce them in any way. Unfortunately, we do not share that
knowledge, unless information from later centuries is applied to them.
4. Particular Issues
Above I have argued that the qualifications of the deacons in 1 Tim 3:8–13 are
dominated by stereotypical rhetoric and the particular exigency within the con-
gregation. Thus, traditional “mirror-reading” leads us astray. Since the text,
35 I have suggested that this is Paul’s aim with his letter to the Galatians (Thurén, “No
Antagonists”).
36 For discussion of Paul’s doctrinal and personal attacks, see Mounce, Pastoral Epistles,
xcvii–xcviii.
37 One could further suggest that the author’s party did not have enough leaders, since
they have to be recruited and tested (1 Tim 3:1,10). Is the author organising an uprising within
the congregation? Alternatively, if his party still has the power, emphasizing titles like episko-
poi, deacons, and elders helps him to reject teachers without such an “official” status.

however, is one of the first documents discussing early Christian deacons, it is

important to see if it offers any reliable pieces of historical information about
them. Some particular issues are often discussed. Awareness of the rhetorical
device used, vituperatio, actually helps to gain information about the historical
situation of 1 Timothy and its deacons, as it enables us to focus on features
which deviate from the standard labeling process.38
Wine, Women, and Reputation

Since too much drinking is forbidden in 1 Tim 3:8, one would expect that the
antagonists are labelled as drunkards.39 However, these people are described as
ascetic, since they want to abstain from certain food (1 Tim 4:3). As the oppo-
site, the recipients should not completely abstain from wine (5:23).
Another typical label is sexual immorality. This card is, in fact, used in the
general list of vices in chapter 1, but when in chapter 4 the antagonists are de-
picted more closely, they are again too ascetic: they do not allow sexual expres-
sion at all (4:3).40 Following the pattern regarding wine – modesty instead of
going to extremes – the deacons should marry, but be faithful and take care of
their family (3:12).
Both aspects of the antagonists differ from standard vilification. Simultane-
ously they fit well the image of the teaching reflected in chapters 1, 3, and 6, and
the later Ioannis Apocryphon: in order to combat the bad demiurge, one should
abstain from different types of the desires of the flesh. The deacons, however,
know the mystery of faith, and should act otherwise.
A third particularity regarding the standard list of vices is the author’s em-
phasis on the good reputation of the episkopoi among outsiders (3:8), which may
resemble the deacons’ “good level” (3:13). This exhortation does not have a di-
rect counterpart among the charges against the antagonists, as they are not
charged for having bad press in society. Spoiling their reputation is thus the task
of the author and his epistle, and he is eager to fulfill this duty.
Episkopoi and Deacons

The differences between the requirements of the episkopoi (1 Tim 3:1–7) and the
deacons are minimal.41 Only indirectly, by comparing the qualifications, one
could suggest that the deacons should for example not teach, and only the rela-
38 Karris rightly argues that elements differing from standard charges are historically
most interesting (“Background,” 557).

39 Heavy drinking is forbidden also in Eph 5:18 and Titus 2:3. According to Paschke (“cura
morum,” 105–19) the same applied to Roman senators. For other non-Jewish examples, see
Goodrich, “Overseers,” 91–92. Gluttony is a more common topic in New Testament paraene
sis.
40 Karris (“Background,” 563) also assesses this description to be historically reliable.
41 For a detailed comparison, see Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 156–58.

126 Lauri Thurén
tionship of the episkopoi to the outsiders and their hospitality are explicitly dis-
cussed, whereas “women” are referred to only when speaking of the deacons.42
However, e silentio conclusions based on small variations in the lists are not
compelling. Some of them are probably more due to stylistic reasons, as the
author wants to avoid repetition. Since neither set of guidelines is restricted to
certain individuals, but together they display an alternative to the antagonists’
alleged bad behavior, it is only natural that they are not identical. Moreover, as
stated above, there are expressions which may refer to the deacons’ reputation
among the outsiders, and their teaching as well. To be sure, the episkopoi are
mentioned first, but even if the groups had equal power, either one must come
after the other.
Thus, the section provides little information about the hierarchy between
these duties.43 We do not know if the deacons were subordinate to the episko-
poi, or members of an ordained ministry.44 Assessing the diaconate as a prelim-
inary step to the episkopos’ office would make 1 Tim 3:6 pointless, as it states
that the episkopos should not be a newcomer.45 A good deacon will “reach a
good level” (βαθμὸν ἑαυτοῖς καλὸν περιποιοῦνται, 1 Tim 3:13), but since the
meaning of βαθμός hardly refers to a rank system, and καλός is not comparative,
the expression hardly refers to a higher position in their career.46 Thus, the
deacons are not promised to become episkopoi or adopt any other new title.47
The word διάκονος was used as a metaphor; it was not yet assigned to a certain
task. When Paul’s mission is described as διακονία (1 Tim 1:12) or Timothy is
called διάκονος Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ (1 Tim 4:6), this resembles Paul’s title δοῦλος
Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ (Rom 1:1). Neither refers to a specific social status or position in
the congregation.
The popular assessment, according to which episkopoi in 1 Timothy had a
higher position compared to the deacons, may be due to external evidence, such
as the etymology of the titles – which in general should not be used to under-
stand a word’s particular pragmatic function. Moreover, in order to understand
the titles “deacon” and “episkopos” in 1 Timothy, one should not to mix them
with later deacons and bishops in the Church, not to speak of the modern usage
of the words in different denominations. Occurrences of the word “deacon” in
42 For their identity, see below.

43 Mounce rightly states: “There is no suggestion in the text that the deacon is subordinate
to the overseer.” Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 195. See also Collins, Diakonia, 237–38, and
Hentschel, Gemeinde, 157, 161–62.
44 Anthony T. Hanson, The Pastoral Epistles (NCB; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983), 78.
45 Thus correctly Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 196.
46 βαθμός, “standing” or “step” is hapax in the New Testament (see 1 Kgs 5:4 LXX). It
could refer to ranks of the army, but there is no evidence of a corresponding system among the
Christian communities in the first century. See Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 206, and Collins,
Timothy, 92.
47 See Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 205.

other New Testament documents should not be automatically referred to, un-
less one postulates that all these documents reflect a rigid structure within the
Church in the first century. Instead, the unclear references to episkopoi and
elders in 1 Timothy, comparable to the double use of these terms in 1 Peter,
indicate that this is not the case.
Interestingly, 1 Tim 5:17–25 discusses the duties of a third title within the
congregation, the “elder” (πρεσβύτερος), which is usually seen as identical with
the episkopos (Titus 1:5,7; Acts 20:17; 1 Clem. 44).48 Their duties are unclear: at
least some of the elders preach, teach, and lead the congregation (5:17).49
If references to much later developments are not counted, a possible explana-
tion for the existence of the two rather identical titles in the New Testament
might be historical. The synagogues had “elders,” and so did the congregations,
based on the synagogues in Galatia and Ephesus (Acts 14:20; 20:17). In Philippi,
there was no synagogue, and thus the congregation had no elders, but only
episkopoi. First Peter, which is sent to different congregations in Asia Minor,
refers to both (1 Pet 5:1–4), but as typical for this letter, the metaphor is not
“dead” but well alive: the elder are contrasted to the younger, who should wait
for their turn (1 Pet 5:5–6). Apparently, the emerging groups of Christ-believers
borrowed different titles from the surrounding Jewish and non-Jewish commu-
nities.50
In any case, both the “episkopos” and the “elder” refer to certain duties with-
in the congregation. Unfortunately, since 1 Timothy is not written in order to
define them and their differences, we get an obscure image. It cannot be used in
order to date 1 Timothy. The mere occurrence of these titles does not prove a late
stage of the organising process, which in any movement starts from day one.51
Deaconesses or Wives?
It has been suggested that γυνή in 1 Tim 3:11 refers to female deacons or helpers,
who are similarly (ὡσαύτως) required to meet high ethical standards as are their
male counterparts.52 Lots of good arguments have been presented in order to
support the hypothesis, but they all overlook the most essential criterion, the
audience’s perspective.53
48 Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 307–8.
49 The academic discussion about the relationship between these titles in 1 Timothy is
typically based on evidence in later documents (see Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 186–92). Such
development does not, however, necessarily yield historical information about the situation in
1 Timothy.
50 For the usage of the titles in the New Testament epistles, see also Hentschel, Gemeinde,
159–60. She too argues that the texts yield little reliable information.
51 See Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, lxxxvii–lxxviii.
52 For example, Johnson, Timothy, 228–29; Collins, Timothy, 90–91.
53 For discussion, see Mounce, Pastoral Epistles, 202–5. Some of the central arguments
include: 1) ὡσαύτως, “likewise,” must introduce a new category, just as in 3:8. But more likely,

128 Lauri Thurén
From the implied readers’ point of view, an abrupt change of meaning is im-
plausible: In the next verse, the author speaks again of γυνή as he refers to the
deacon’s family. The author could hardly imply that his audience understood
the word differently in two connected sentences, changing the meaning without
a warning. From the perspective of communication, the most natural explana-
tion is that he first refers to the wives of the male deacons in v. 11, and then
continues the same topic in v. 12.
Female deacons are not per se excluded from the target group of 1 Tim 3:8–13.
The term διάκονος could refer to women as well, since the feminine equivalent
διακόνισσα was not yet in use; at least Phoebe is called “deacon” in Rom 16:1.54
In classical Greek, masculine forms often refer to both sexes.55 Linguistically,
the reference to the deacon’s γυνή and his family in 1 Tim 3:11–12 could denote
the female deacon’s spouse and her family as well. Unfortunately, this balanced
reading is weakened by the context, where the roles of men and women are
explicitly differentiated, and the author discourages women to teach in public
(1 Tim 2:8–15).56
The deacon’s wife ought not to be a “slanderer” (διάβολος, 3:11), just as the
man should not be “duplicitous” (δίλογος; 3:8). It has been argued that slander-
ing was a specific problem of the Ephesian women.57 However, the term origi-
nates from the list used in vituperatio, and no mirror-reading should be based
on it.
Humble Preachers?
The catchword παρρησία is applied to a good deacon in 1 Tim 3:13, where he is
promised to gain “great boldness” (πολλὴν παρρησίαν) in the faith in Christ
Jesus. This has been often interpreted as referring to the deacon’s duty to preach
or proclaim the message.58 Etymologically, the word παρρησία refers to “speak-
ing out everything,” while historically it is a political term, referring to freedom
of speech. However, etymology or history seldom help to grasp any word’s ac-
it compares the deacons and their wives. 2) If γυνή refers to a wife, why is there no reference
to the wives of the episkopoi? But, as argued above, the lists should not be identical; therefore,
any e silentio argument is weak. 3) If referring to wives, household duties ought to be men-
tioned. But no other duties are mentioned either, just the ethos. 4) Since there were deaconess-
es in the early church, so also in Ephesus. However, later development proves little about a
historical situation.
54 See Hentschel, Gemeinde, 164.
55 See for example Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and
other Early Christian Literature (rev. and ed. by Frederick K. William Danker; Chicago: Uni-
versity of Chicago Press, 32000), s.v. ἀδελφός, referring to both brothers and sisters.
56 Hentschel’s reasoning (Gemeinde, 164), according to which this attitude only proves
that the author in 3:11 refers to female deacons is difficult to follow.

58 Jerusalem Bible (Garden City: Doubleday, 1966); Kirkkoraamattu (Finnish Church Bible;
Porvoo: WSOY, 1992).

tual semantic meaning and pragmatic reference; resorting to such old linguistic
methods and thereby arguing that the deacons were preachers is simply mis-
leading.59 To be sure, there are some New Testament occurrences which refer to
public boldness (see 2 Cor 3:12; Eph 6:19; Phil 1:20; Phlm 8; Acts 4:13), but sel-
dom explicitly to speaking. Typically, the word means “confidence” or “bold-
ness.” In 1 Tim 3:13, no preaching is mentioned – but it is not excluded either. 60
Boldness is an interesting term when connected to the deacons, who are tra-
ditionally assessed as humble. 61 However, the promise that a good deacon will
gain confidence or boldness can be interpreted in both ways and thus does re-
veal the state of mind of the deacons in Ephesus – either a deacon was typically
too humble and only needed some encouragement, or the ideal deacon was bold
indeed.
Were the deacons responsible for theology? The epistle contains little doctri-
nal discussion beside the brief notices of asceticism (1 Tim 4:4). To be sure, the
antagonists have allegedly “abandoned the faith and blaspheme” (1:19), but this
charge is not specified. Thus, even such alleged behavior may be due to money
(6:10), not only the useless myths (1:3–6). Accordingly, there are only a few
doctrinal requirements for the deacons. They must hold firmly to the secret of
faith (3:9), which consists of a Christological thesis, emphasizing the combina-
tion of flesh and spirit: he was revealed in flesh, called righteous in spirit, and
taken up in glory. Without specifying the sources for the antagonists’ “doc-
trine,” the author’s positive statements about flesh, sexuality, and food can be
assumed to be aimed against some type of Platonistic or “gnostic” thinking,
which were critical towards these issues.
5. Conclusion: “How Little, Really, We Learn”62
To conclude, despite its highly interesting status as one of the first documents
explicitly discussing the early Christian deacons, 1 Timothy does not describe
their duties. Hypothetical data should not be derived from the text aimed at
other purposes; there is a great probability of over- and misinterpretation.
The author only presents stereotypical ethical virtues, serving the same rhe-
torical purpose as the listing of corresponding vices of the antagonists: to sepa-
rate the audience from these rival teachers and thereby minimalise their un-
59 See Collins, Timothy, 92–93. Hentschel, Gemeinde, 162–63 represents a typical over-
interpretation of the word.

60 Towner argues that due to the reference to “the mystery of the faith” in 1 Tim 3:9, they
participated in preaching “almost certainly” (Timothy, 262). The argument is hardly compel-
ling. Hentschel, Gemeinde, 16–17, rightly criticises the division between the preaching
episkopos and the serving diakonos, commonly found in 1 Timothy.
61 For example, Towner, Timothy, 261.
62 Johnson, Timothy, 234. A similar result is reached by Collins, Diakonia, 237–38.

130 Lauri Thurén
wanted influence on the congregation. Such standard rhetoric of dissociation

yields little historical information.
The deacons’ relationship to the episkopoi remains obscure as well. Based on
this document only, one can hardly speak of any clear hierarchy between these
groups. Not only the episkopoi, but also the deacons had a known and powerful
position in the congregation, since they were likewise needed in the author’s
battle against the antagonists.
Beside this, not much is known. Despite the text’s interest in women, it does
not allow us to determine whether or not there were female deacons in the con-
gregation. Despite referring to παρρησία, the author does not reveal whether or
not the deacons used to preach or if they were especially bold or humble.
After recognizing the general exigency of the epistle, the dissociative func-
tion of the qualifications of the deacons regarding it, and the obscurity of cer-
tain particular expressions, we do not actually know what the deacons did ac-
cording to 1 Tim 3:8–13.
Much more important is what the deacons were. The diakonoi and the episko-
poi were introduced in order to combat heresies. The official titles separated
these individuals from other leaders or teachers. The deacons represented the
true doctrine and the true church because they were deacons. Even in today’s
discussion, it is interesting to know that regarding the first deacons, the title was
plausibly even more important than their actual duties.

The Earliest Christian
(Extra-Biblical) Sources

Pliny’s Tortured Ministrae
Female Deacons in the Ancient Church?
John Granger Cook
Pliny’s ruthless persecution of the Christians in Bithynia Pontus during Tra-

jan’s imperium included the torture of two slaves whom he notes the Christians
called ministrae. In this article, I will explore what can be known about the two
women and what probably cannot be known. My primary contention is that the
little which can be said about their role in the Christian community is limited to
what Pliny himself might have understood by the term ministrae. The investiga-
tion contributes to the ongoing debate about female deacons in ancient Christi-
anity.
The trials of the Christians in Bithynia Pontus during the governorship of
Pliny took place in Amasis or Amastris between 13 September 110 and 3 Janu-
ary 112.1 The literature on the persecution is enormous.2 T. D. Barnes argues
that the fundamental “legal question on which” Pliny asks for clarification from
Trajan is, “are those still in prison to be punished or set free?” Christians, how-
ever, are “eo ipso criminals.”3 Trajan did not question the justice of any of Pliny’s
executions or tortures of Christians. Pliny’s decision to torture the two minis-
trae indicates his belief that they had good information about the Christians
and their meetings.
1 See John Granger Cook, Roman Attitudes Toward the Christians (Tübingen: Mohr
S iebeck, 2010), 146–47; Timothy D. Barnes, Early Christian Hagiography and Modern Histo-
ry (Tria Corda 5; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 9.
All special inscriptional abbreviations used in this article may be found in the EDCS data-
base (see “Abbreviations” below).
2 See Cook, Roman Attitudes, 138–251 for one analysis. For a Roman legal historian’s
review of the trials, see Detlef Liebs, “Plinius mildert die Verfolgungen,” in idem, Das Recht
der Römer und die Christen: Gesammelte Aufsätze in überarbeiteter Fassung (Tübingen:
Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 32–46 with bibliography on 32. See Barnes, Hagiography, 9–12.
3 Barnes, Hagiography, 9, 11.

134 John Granger Cook
1. Pliny’s Text: His Understanding of Ministrae
His remarks to Trajan about the ministrae are terse. He summarises the Chris-
tians’ description of their ritual activities and practices along with the mandates
forbidding associations:
7. They maintained moreover that this was the whole of their guilt or error; that they
were accustomed on a certain day to come together before light to sing [or chant] a hymn
to Christ as to a god with each other in turn and to bind themselves by oath – not for any
wicked deed – but not to commit thefts or robberies or adulteries, or to break a promise
or to deny a deposit when called upon for it. When these things were completed, it was
their custom to depart and again to come together to take food, common, however, and
harmless. But they had ceased to do it after my edict, because following your mandates
I had forbidden associations. 8. On account of this I thought it more necessary to seek
through torture what was true from two female slaves, who were said to be ministrae.
I found nothing else than a corrupt and immoderate superstition.
7. Adfirmabant autem hanc fuisse summam uel culpae suae uel erroris, quod essent
soliti stato die ante lucem conuenire, carmenque Christo quasi deo dicere secum inuicem
seque sacramento non in scelus aliquod obstringere, sed ne furta ne latrocinia ne adulte-
ria committerent, ne fidem fallerent, ne depositum adpellati abnegarent. Quibus peractis
morem sibi discedendi fuisse rursusque coeundi ad capiendum cibum, promiscuum
tamen et innoxium; quod ipsum facere desisse post edictum meum, quo secundum man-
data tua hetaerias esse uetueram. 8. Quo magis necessarium credidi ex duabus ancillis,
quae ministrae dicebantur, quid esset ueri, et per tormenta quaerere. Nihil aliud inueni
quam superstitionem prauam et immodicam.4
A. N. Sherwin-White comments that ministrae is Pliny’s translation of a Chris-

tian term, which is likely correct in my view.5 He argues that “women as ‘dea-
cons’ appear first in Romans xvi. 1. Pliny adds nothing of value, except their
continued existence.”6 Jo-Ann Shelton suggests that the original Greek term
was διακόνισσα, but it is probable that the term was διάκονος.7 The reason for
this is that διακόνισσα only begins appearing in Christian texts in the fourth
century and later.8 Διάκονος could in any case be feminine in grammatical gen-
4 Pliny, Ep. Tra. 10.96.7–8, trans. of Cook, Roman Attitudes, 150.

5 Ambrosiaster, Comm in Rom. 16.1 (recensio gamma, CSEL 81/1, 477 Vogels) uses min-
istra to refer to Phoebe’s role: ministra ecclesiae apud Cencris; see Rufinus, Orig. Rom. 16.1
(ed. Caroline P. Hammond Bammel, Der Römerbriefkommentar des Origenes. Kritische
Ausgabe der Übersetzung Rufins. Buch 1–3; Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1990), 40: minis-
tram eclesiae quae est Cenchris; VL 78 (Codex Augiensis = Cambridge Trinity College B.17.1)
30r, a Vulgate MS with some readings from the Vetus Latina, has (c)ommendo vobis Phoeben
sororem ministram quae est in ministerio ecclesiae quae est Cenchris. See also Sedulius, Ep. ad
Macedonium (CSEL 10, 9 Huemer): Syncletices, sacrae uirginis ac ministrae (of Syncletices, a
holy virgin and ministra).
6 Adrian Nicholas Sherwin-White, The Letters of Pliny: A Historical and Social Commen
tary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1966), 708.

7 Jo-Ann Shelton, The Women of Pliny’s Letters (London: Routledge, 2013), 324.
8 Susanna Elm, “Virgins of God”: The Making of Asceticism in Late Antiquity (Oxford:

Pliny’s Tortured Ministrae 135
der.9 Albert Harrill mentions the use of minister and ministerium in two of
Pliny’s letters where the words refer to “the duties of slaves working for the
Roman government.”10 Harrill examines ministri (not ministrae) who worked as
assistants or servants in the cult of the Lares Augusti and concludes that Pliny’s
slaves were “servants working at menial positions in the church.”11 His conclu-
sion that Pliny thought the ancillae were the “best informants on illegal ritual
practices” is eminently sensible, although I think Harrill confines his investiga-
tion of the inscriptions to a field that is too narrow.
One of the few questions about the two ministrae that seems open to histori-
cal investigation is the significance which Pliny himself might have attributed to
the term. It is clear that he knew they were slaves (ancillae). One option that can
probably be dismissed out of hand is that Pliny understood ministra to simply
be the Christian word for “servant.” In one of the Minor Declamations (proba-
bly II C.E.)12 attributed to Quintilian, the rhetor refers to a husband with this
remark: “it was permitted to you to love a maidservant (ancilla), to desperately
love one of the attendants (ministrae) (tibi liceret amare aliquam ancillam, dep-
erire aliquam ministrarum).13 Ps. Quintilian (II C.E.?) constructs a query to an
individual about the torture of slaves: “Did you examine the maidservants and
did no accomplice to the crime [or ‘servant of the crime’] emerge?” (exquisisti
ancillas, non apparuit ministra flagitii?).14 This usage plays on two of the basic
meanings of the word: “a female servant or attendant, handmaid” and “one who
assists (in an action).”15 Tibullus (I B.C.E.) uses the word to refer to a servant at
table: “She will prepare the banquet and be the serving maid” (Cui paret atque
epulas ipsa ministra gerat).16
Oxford University Press, 1994), 176 has a fine list of inscriptions mentioning διακόνισσαι from
the fifth and sixth centuries C.E.
9 Aristophanes, Eccl. 1116 ἡ διάκονος, Xenophon, Oec. 8.10 τὴν διάκονον.
10 Pliny, Ep. Tra. 10.31.2, 10.32.1. J. Albert Harrill, “Servile Functionaries or Priestly
Leaders? Roman Domestic Religion, Narrative Intertextuality, and Pliny’s Reference to Slave
Christian Ministrae (Ep. 10,96,8),” ZNW 97 (2006): 111–30, esp. 114.
11 Shelton, The Women, 324–25 (her expression); Harrill, “Servile Functionaries,” 114
(“servile cultic functionaries”), 115–23 (ministri as cultic functionaries in the worship of the
Lares Augustales), 129 (“servile functions”), 130 (conclusion).
12 I take most dates below from the OLD. “II C.E.” means, for example, “the second cen-
tury of the Common Era.”

13 Quint, Decl. min. 301.21.
14 Ps. Quint., Decl. 18.12, trans. of Lewis A. Sussman, The Major Declamations Ascribed
to Quintilian (Bern: Peter Lang, 1987), 224.

15 Oxford Latin Dictionary (ed. Peter G. W. Glare; Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1997), s.v. ministra § 1 and § 2.

16 Tibullus, El. 1.5.31, trans. of Rodney G. Dennis and Michael C. J. Putnam, Complete
Poems of Tibullus (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012), 53. See Cicero, Rep. 1.66:
malisque usus ille ministris (and the people using evil cupbearers). Ovid, Metam. 9.89–90 also
calls a nymph with her hair let down a ministra who served the autumn harvest and fruit
(nymphe […] / una ministrarum).

2. Lexicographical Research on Ministra
The definitions of the word found in the Oxford Latin Dictionary (OLD) and
the Thesaurus linguae latinae (ThLL) are a good starting point, although some
of them need revision. The OLD’s lemma for minister in sacred usage is: “a
priest’s attendant, acolyte, or sim. b (spec.) a minor functionary in an associa-
tion devoted to the service of a particular deity […].”17 Its corresponding lemma
for ministra is: “a woman dedicated to the service of a deity, attendant in
a temple or sim.; (in Christian use) a deaconess.”18 Johannes Rubenbauer in a
discussion of the approach of the ThLL, writes:
First of all, indeed, the words minister, ministrator, ministro19 have been employed in
sacred usage for the servants of certain minor orders in the cult of the gods (ministrae in
the cult of the goddesses such as, for example, the Great Mother).
Primo quidem voces ‹‹minister, minstrator, ministro›› adhibitae sunt in usu sacro de
servitiis ordinum certorum minorum in cultu deorum (ministrae in cultu dearum velut
Magnae Matris). 20
He continues by noting that sometimes words such as minister are opposed to

the magister of collegia that are devoted to sacred cults and that such a usage
corresponds to the etymology of the word – minister being derived from minus
(small) and magister from magis (great), with the morpheme ter that is used in
the formulation of contraries (for example, dex-ter and sinis-ter [right and
left]).21 ministra, however, has a different usage not properly summarised in
Rubenbauer’s article. Vinzenz Bulhart, in the ThLL, is more accurate:22
A Ordinary usage: 1 in sacred matters: properly of certain inferior orders of sacred ser-
vitude as well as certain superior orders of the priesthood
A usu solemni: 1 in rebus sacris: proprie tam de certis ordinibus sacri famulatus infe-
rioribus quam sacerdoti superioribus
The term primarily describes function rather than rank.23 Franz Bömer argues
that in the Roman state cult, the “servants” (ministri or ministrae) were not serv-
ants of a divinity but of a “sacred collegium.” The ministri were primarily not a
“sacral” but a “collegial” ”institution” (Einrichtung).24 This claim is not, in my
17 OLD s.v. minister § 2. The lemma continues with “app. always a slave, opp. magister who
was usu. a freedman” (this is untrue in the case of ministrae; see the material on Bona Dea
below).
18 OLD s.v. ministra § 1b.
19 ministrator (OLD s.v.) is “one who waits on a person (esp. at table), an attendant,” and
ministro can mean “act as a servant” (see OLD s.v. § 1).

20 Johannes Rubenbauer, “De historia vocis ‘ministri’ (secundum descriptionem Thesauri lin-
guae latinae et imagines, quibus notiones varia illustrantur),” Latinitas 5 (1957): 112–15, esp. 112.
21 Rubenbauer, “De historia,” 112.
22 V. Bulhart, ministra, ThLL VIII/7.1004.51–1005.40, esp. 1004.55–56.
23 I owe this formulation to Professor Arthur Robinson.
24 Franz Bömer, Untersuchungen über die Religion der Sklaven in Griechenland und

view, justified by the inscriptional evidence. The ministrae were certainly active
in collegia, but there is not enough data to prove that they were not also a “sacral
institution.” Bulhart’s approach will be borne out below, and the usage of min-
istra will demonstrate that it is often not easy to distinguish between individuals
who exercised “menial” cult duties and those who had priestly functions.
3. The Literary Evidence
The literary evidence for the usage of ministra in the cults of various deities for
the most part supports Bulhart’s conclusions. The Vestal virgins were called
ministrae, for example, and were priestesses.25 Festus (II C.E.) writes:
Six Vestals are appointed priestesses, so that the people might have its own ministra of
sacred rites in each region; because the city of Rome is divided into six regions; in the
first and second rank were the Titienses, the Ramnes, and the Luceres.
Sex Vestae sacerdotes constitutae sunt, ut populus pro sua quaque parte haberet min-
istram sacrorum; quia civitas Romana in sex est distributa partis: in primos secundosque
Titienses, Ramnes, Luceres. 26
The six regions are a reference to the Roman patrician tribes.27 Propertius
(I B.C.E.) refers to a Vestal virgin who was also a ministra of Cybele: “Claudia
excellent priestess of the turreted goddess” (Claudia, turritae rara ministra
deae).28 Ovid (I B.C.E.–I C.E.) describes an event after the birth of Romulus
and Remus whose mother Silvia was a Vestal impregnated by Mars: “the altar of
the goddess” [Vesta] certainly trembled as her ministra gave birth” (ara deae
certe tremuit pariente ministra).29 Statius (I C.E.) likewise uses the term for the
Vestals: “Vesta now praises her approved ministrae” (exploratas iam laudet
Rom: Erster Teil: Die wichtigsten Kulte und Religionen in Rom und im lateinischen Westen
(Wiesbaden: Steiner, 21981), 11, 15. Bömer does not include any Bona Dea inscriptions.
25 See, for example, Molly Lindner, Portraits of the Vestal Virgins: Priestesses of Ancient
Rome (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2015) (a monograph which examines ar-
chaeological portraits of the women).
26 Festus, Epitoma (BiTeu 468 Lindsay).
27 See Robert E. A. Palmer, The Archaic Community of the Romans (Cambridge: Cam-
bridge University Press, 1970), 6–7.

28 Propertius, Elegiae 4.11.49, trans. of Vincent Katz, The Complete Elegies of Sextus
Propertius (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014), 143. Catullus Carmina 63.68 de-
scribes the castrated Attis as a ministra of the gods: ego nunc deum ministra et Cybeles famula
ferar (I am now accounted ministra of the gods and a slave of Cybele). On Cybele’s mural
crown, see Ovid, Fast. 4.219, 6.321, and Lucretius De rerum natura 2.606–609 (murali […]
corona).
29 Ovid, Fast. 3.47. In Fast. 6.289–290 he similarly refers to the Vestals: quid mirum, virgo
si virgine laeta ministra / admittit castas ad sua sacra manus? (What is the wonder, if a virgin
rejoicing in a virgin minister admits chaste hands to her sacred rites?); see 6.437: attonitae
flebant demisso crine ministra (her astonished ministers wept, hair let loose).

Vesta ministras).30 These uses could be translated with “priestess,” “minister,” or

“ministrant,” but “servant” is inappropriate given their elite status.
Venus herself is a ministra according to Propertius: “Venus as minister insti-
tutes the sacred rites of night” (noctis et instituet sacra ministra Venus) – a refer-
ence to the poet and his Cynthia’s nocturnal celebration of love.31 Servius
(IV–V C.E.), in an explanation of a text from the Aeneid, writes: “It is indeed
false that Iris is called the ministra of so many goddesses, even though she is sent
by Jove and many [gods] (falsum est autem quod dicitur ministra esse tantum
dearum, cum et a Iove plerumque mittatur).32 Servius also calls Opis, guard of
the goddess Trivia (Diana), a ministra: “‘Indeed Opis, guard of Trivia, long sits
high in the mountains’ – that is, a ‘ministra’” (Triviae custos iamdudum in mon-
tibus Opis / alta sedet, id est ministra).33 Vergil (I B.C.E.) calls Opis “Camilla” in
another passage on which Servius comments:
For Camilla is spoken of as a ministra (as noted above), for ministers and ministrae be-
fore the age of puberty are called boy and girl attendants (camillae) in sacred rites; con-
sequently, Mercury in the Etruscan language is called Camillus, as a minister of the gods.
nam “Camilla” quasi ministra dicta est, [quod superius expositum est:] ministros enim
et ministras inpuberes camillos et camillas in sacris vocabant, unde et Mercurius Etrusca
lingua Camillus dicitur, quasi minister deorum.34
Servius’ remarks do not strictly define the role of the ministers in sacred rites.
Macrobius (IV C.E.) refers to the tradition in a discussion of the term custos.
Virgil himself uses the term in this way elsewhere [Aen. 11.836]: “But long since did
Opis, guard of Trivia, in the mountains […],” that is, Diana’s minister–unless perchance
he used the term “guard” to mean that she restrained herself and kept apart from the
rites, as he says elsewhere [Georg. 4.110–11], “And to guard against thieves and birds
with his willow scythe, / the protective power of Hellespontine Priapus, keeps watch.”
Here plainly he means by “guard” one who keeps birds and thieves away.
ut ipse Vergilius alibi: at Triviae custos iam dudum in montibus Opis, id est ministra:
nisi forte custodem dixit eam quae se prohibuerit et continuerit a sacris, ut ipse alibi: et
custos furum atque avium cum falce saligna Hellespontiaci servet tutela Priapi. hic
utique custodem prohibitorem avium furumque significat.35
Macrobius’ text clearly does not justify the translation “priestess” for the minis-
tra Opis, but it also does not refer to a menial functionary. The first option he
mentions assumes that Opis was a ministra of rites.
30 Statius, Silvae 1.1.36, trans. of Statius, Silvae, LCL (ed. and trans. David Roy Shackle-
ton Bailey; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2003), 33 (who translates ministrae
as “servants”).
31 Propertius, Elegiae 3.10.29.
32 Servius, In Vergil. Aen. 5.606 (with ref. to Vergil, Aen. 9.803).
33 Servius, In Vergil. Aen. 8.269 (with ref. to 11.836–837).
34 Servius, In Vergil. Aen. 11.558.
35 Macrobius, Saturnalia 3.6.15, trans. of Macrobius, Saturnalia, LCL, 3 vols. (ed. and
trans. Robert A. Kaster; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2011), 2:51.

Some literary texts illustrate various roles that young (male) ministri exer-
cised. Suetonius (I–II C.E.) refers to two ministri whose duties included carry-
ing incense boxes. Tiberius, “attracted by the incense bearer’s beauty” (captus
facie ministri acerram praeferentis), raped him.36 The hapless minister’s role was
similar to that of one whom Suetonius describes in his account of Galba’s life:
And it fell out that as he was offering sacrifice in a public temple after his arrival in the
province [Hispania Tarraconensis], the hair of a young attendant who was carrying an
incense-box suddenly turned white all over his head […], acciditque, ut cum prouinciam
ingressus sacrificaret, intra aedem publicam puero e ministris acerram tenenti capillus
repente toto capite canesceret […].37
Other ministri offer sacrifice. Ovid seems to ascribe priestly duties to these in-
dividuals: “Just as the kite, swiftest of birds when it has seen entrails, wheels
round in a circle while it is afraid and the priests stand crowding the sacrifice”
(ut volucris visis rapidissima miluus extis, / dum timet et densi circumstant sacra
ministri / flectitur in gyrum […]).38 If one were to adopt the OLD’s definition of
minister in this case (“a priest’s attendant or acolyte”), then “priest” may not be
the best translation, but rather something such as “minister” or “ministrant.”39
Ovid apparently does not make such a distinction, however. In another text, he
uses minister for the individual that offers sacrifice who is being led captive in
an envisioned triumph of Tiberius over Germany: “That one following him
they say was the priest who sacrificed captives to a god who refused them” (illo,
qui sequitur, dicunt mactata ministro / saepe recusanti corpora capta deo).40
“Priest” seems thoroughly justified in this text as a translation. Ovid, in the
Fasti, delineates the role of the minister in the sacrifice: “remove your knives
36 Suetonius, Tib. 44.2. See one of the Acts of the Arval Brethren (CIL 6, 2060 = CFA 49):
pueris ingenuis senatorum fili(i)s patrimis matrimis minis/trantibus ture et vino referentibus
ad aram in pate ris (freeborn youth ministering with incense and wine, the sons of senators
with living fathers and mothers, returning to the altar with libation dishes [paterae]). Other
acts of the Arvals include similar expressions (for example, CFA 55, 65, 98 et al.). Naevius
describes ministers who had a sacrificial role (Belli Punici, 4, frag. 33): simul atrocia proicerent
exta ministratores (then at the same time the ministrants should fling raw entrails). Nonius,
De compendiosa doctrina lib. 2 s.v. atrox (BiTeu 106 Lindsay) glosses atrox as crudum. See
Cloanthus’s vow in Vergil, Aen. 5.237–238: […] extaque salsos / proiciam in fluctus (I will
throw entrails [of a bull] into the salt waves).
37 Suetonius, Galb. 8.2, trans. of Suetonius, LCL, 2 vols. (ed. and trans. John C. Rolfe;
Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1997), 2.193.

38 Ovid, Metam. 2.716–718, trans. of Caroline H. M. Kroon, “Discourse Modes and the
use of Tenses in Ovid’s Metamorphoses,” in The Language of Literature. Linguistic Approach-

es to Classical Text (eds. Rutger J. Allen and Michel Buijs; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 65–92, esp. 83.
39 OLD s.v. minister § 2 , quoted above.
40 Ovid, Trist. 4.2.35–36, trans. of Ovid, Tristia. Ex Ponto (LCL; ed. and trans. Arthur
Leslie Wheeler; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1988), 169. On the text, see
Mary Beard, “Writing Ritual: The Triumph of Ovid,” in Rituals in Ink: A Conference on
Religion and Literary Production in Ancient Rome (eds. Alessandro Barchiesi et al.; Wies-
baden: Franz Steiner, 2004), 115–26, esp. 118–25.

from the oxen, cassocked priests. The ox should plow, sacrifice idle sows”
(a bove succincti cultros removete ministri: bos aret; ignavam sacrificate suem).41
Vergil similarly describes a sacrifice in a description of the effects of a plague:
Often in the midst of divine rites, the victim, standing by the altar […] fell in death’s
throes amid the tardy ministrants. Or if, before that, the priest had slain a victim with
the knife […]
hostia saepe in honore deum medio stans hostia ad aram
[…]
inter cunctantis cecidit moribunda ministros
aut siquam ferro mactaverat ante sacerdos42
In this case, Vergil seems to include the sacerdos (priest) among the class of min-
istri. Eugene de Saint-Denis translates ministros as “sacrificers.”43 The diversity
of usage of ministri and ministrae in literary texts, in my view, does not justify
restricting the reference of the terms to individuals who performed activities
such as “carrying boxes with incense, keys, baskets, objects for sacrifices, gar-
lands and twigs, torches and various other ritual materials,” acting as heralds,
and leading prayers.44 There are iconographic representations of people in Rome
and elsewhere carrying out such actions, but the literary material and the in-
scriptions to be reviewed below do not indicate that ministrae, for example, only
refer to individuals with such responsibilities. In the case of the Vestals the
women were certainly priestesses, and they were called ministrae.
One might wonder with good cause if Pliny viewed the Christians’ ministrae
as “priestesses” of their cult. “Priestess,” can probably be dismissed as the most
likely translation of ministra – from the perspective of Pliny at least. sacerdos is
the term that would normally be appropriate for a priestess in Roman inscrip-
tions, and it is used by Pliny.45 Being a slave did not necessarily prevent an indi-
vidual from being a priestess, and an Olympias, clearly a slave, is identified as a
41 Ovid, Fast. 4.413–414, trans. of Roger D. Woodard, Indo-European Sacred Space: Vedic
and Roman Cult (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2006), 120.
42 Vergil, Georg. 3.486, 48–9, trans. of Vergil (LCL, 2 vols.; ed. and trans. Henry Rushton
Fairclough and George Patric Goold; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1999),
1:211.
43 Virgile, Géorgiques (CUFr; ed. and trans. Eugène De Saint-Denis; Paris: Les Belles Let-
tres, 1926), 30 (sacrificateurs).

44 Veerle Maria Gaspar, Sacerdotes piae: Priestesses and Other Female Cult Officials in the
Western Roman Empire from the First Century B.C. until the Third Century A.D. (PhD Diss.
University of Amsterdam, 2012), 146 with reference to Friederike Fless, Opferdiener und
Kultmusiker auf stadtrömischen historischen Reliefs: Untersuchungen zur Ikonographie,
Funktion und Benennung (Mainz: Philipp von Zabern, 1995), 15–17, 19, 20, 22, 26, 31. See
Fless, ibid., 15–44 in general on the portrayal of individuals for whom she uses the general
category ministri. There seem to be no depictions (or discussions) of ministrae in her mono-
graph. Rubenbauer, “De historia,” 113 refers to various images in which youths carry incense
and wine, sacrificial gifts, and a wine jug. He argues they illustrate the duties of ministri.
45 On this title, see Gaspar, Sacerdotes, passim. See Pliny, Ep. Tra. 2.1.8, 4.8.3, 4.8.5, 6.6.3.

sacerdos of Cybele.46 There is enough literary evidence, however, to ascribe

priestly duties to individuals who were identified as ministri and ministrae even
if normally one does not translate either word as “priest” or “priestess” respec-
tively.
4. The Inscriptional Evidence: The Cult of Bona Dea
The cult of Bona Dea47 can be taken as an example of the rich inscriptional pres-
ence of ministra. Celia E. Schultz argues with regard to the three primary terms
for women active in the cult: “The precise distinctions among the different cat-
egories of sacerdos, magistra, and ministra cannot be recovered.”48 H. H. J.
Brouwer believes that women, who were called magistrae and ministrae in the
cult of Bona Dea, comprised the majority of those who “practised” “the cult of
the goddess.”49 They were apparently not identical with those called s acerdotes,
although sacerdos in the cult of Bona Dea is limited to Rome. Brouwer believes
that sacerdos “is the definition of priestesses attached to the temple in Rome.”50
On a tomb in Rome an Aelia Nice is called a priestess of Bona Dea (Aelia
Nice / sacerdos Bon(a)e Deae).51 The distinction between m agistrae and minis-
trae does not seem to have been based on social class: “Interchangeably we meet
magistrae and ministrae belonging to the freeborn class and to the group of
freedwomen without the most important title being reserved for the more im-
46 CIL 6, 496 (Rome, Augustan era): Onesimus Olympias / Livia Briseis Aug(ustae) lib(er-
ta) sac(erdotes) / M(atri) d(eum) M(agnae) I(daeae) (Onesimus, Olympias, Livia Briseis, freed-
woman of the empress, priests of the Phrygian Great Mother of the gods). Emily Ann Hemel-
rijk, Hidden Lives, Public Personae: Women and Civic Life in the Roman West (Oxford: Ox-
ford University Press, 2015), 47 identifies Olympias as a slave of the empress.
47 See Georg Wissowa, Religion und Kultus der Römer (HAW 5.4; München: Beck, 21912,
repr. 1971), 217–18 for some important remarks and the thesis that Bona Dea was a goddess of
healing (with ref. to CIL 6, 72 [Bona Dea Hygia], etc.). See CIL 6, 68 = BonaDea 44 for an
individual who attributed his healing to Bona Dea (sanatus per / eam), discussed below.
“BonaDea” is the conventional epigraphic abbreviation for the inscriptions included in Hen-
drik H. J. Brouwer, Bona Dea. The Sources and a Description of the Cult (EPRO 110; Leiden:
Brill, 1989).
48 Celia E. Schultz, Women’s Religious Activity in the Roman Republic (Chapel Hill,
N.C.: University of North Carolina Press, 2006), 72.

49 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 281.
50 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 371. Amy Richlin, “Carrying Water in a Sieve: Class and Body in
Roman Women’s Religion,” in Women and Goddess Traditions in Antiquity and Today (ed.
Karen L. King; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997), 330–74, esp. 337, 371 classifies ministra as one
type of “priestess” – which may be the correct solution.
51 CIL 6, 2237 = BonaDea 25 (III–IV C.E.?) and see the comments in Brouwer, Bona Dea,
371. Another sacerdos is Terentia to whom a sepulchre was dedicated (CIL 6, 2237 = BonaDea
26: Terentiae Amp[liatae] / sacerdoti Bon[ae Deae]). The title seems to be associated with the
Aventine temple in Rome (Brouwer, ibid., 372).

portant class.”52 There were also some women who were private slaves who
served as magistrae and one who was a ministra.53 On the Appian Way one in-
scription, found in a tomb of Livia’s freedmen, reads: “Philematio, freedwoman
of the Empress, priestess of Bona Dea, mother of Maenalus” (Philematio
Aug(ustae) l(iberta) / sacerd(os) a Bona / Dea mater Maenali).54 An inscription
(possibly from Aquileia) reads: “Decidia Paulina, daughter of Lucius, and Pup-
pia Peregrina, freedwoman of Lucius, ministrae, have built a temple of Bona Dea
at their expense” (Decidia L(uci) f(ilia) Paulla / et Pupia L(uci) l(iberta) Peregri-
na / ministrae / B(onae) D(eae) / aedem fecerunt / p(ecunia) s(ua)).55 The inscription
indicates that there were two sanctuaries of Bona Dea in Aquileia and “a cult
organization as well.”56 In Arles, an altar bears the inscription Bonae Deae /
Caiena Priscae lib(erta) Attice / ministra (To Bona Dea. The ministra Caiena
Attice, freedwoman of Prisca).57 The ministrae were distinguished from the
magistrae in the cult. A Quieta apparently served as a temporary magistra:
“Quieta, slave of Atia Pieris, ministra of Bona Dea and acting magistra (?), has
erected this and given as a present (to the goddess)” (Quieta Aties / Pieridis /
ministra Bon(a)e D  i  (a)e / proma(gistra?) pos(u)it d(onum) d(edit)).58 Brouwer
notes that in the small “rectangular base of marble” on which the inscription
was carved, there was a hollowed out space in which “a female figure dressed in
a richly draped chiton” stood.59 A ministra erected “a big sacrificial table” to
Bona Dea in Glanum: Attia Musa Dom(i)nae ministra posuit (The ministra At-
tia Musa has erected this in honor of the Mistress).60 Another inscription on an
altar in Glanum (I–II C.E.) depicts two ears in a wreath on its front side. On the
cornice of the altar is the word: Auribus (to the ears). 61 Above the wreath are the
words: Loreia Pia / ministra (the ministra Loreia Pia). 62

53 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 291. The slave and ministra: CIL 11, 4635 below (Quieta). A slave
magistra: CIL 6, 2238 (possibly from Rome, see Brouwer, Bona Dea, 101) = BonaDea 27
([Tyc]he) and possibly NSA 1929, 262,9 = BonaDea 52 Aquillia m(agistra?) found in Rome in
a place where other inscriptions to Bona Dea mentioning magistrae were also found. See
Brouwer, Bona Dea, 61 and NSA 1919, 262, 10 = BonaDea 53 a slave? and magistra s(erva?) /
[…] / mag(istra), NSA 1929, 263,11 = BonaDea 54 (a magistra who was a freedwoman).
54 CIL 6, 2240 = BonaDea 36 (Augustan-Claudian), trans. of Brouwer, Bona Dea., 47.
55 CIL 5, 762b = BonaDea 113b (Imperial era), trans. of Brouwer, Bona Dea, 116.
56 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 312 (the other sanctuary was built by several magistrae, mentioned
in CIL 5, 762a = BonaDea 113a).

57 CIL 12, 654 = BonaDea 130 (second quarter of I C.E., trans. Brouwer, 132).
58 CIL 11, 4635 = BonaDea 93 (Augustan era; Tuder-Ilici), trans. of Brouwer, Bona Dea, 97.
60 AE 1946, 154 = BonaDea 134 (I–II C.E.; trans. of Brouwer, Bona Dea, 136).
61 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 249 notes the this refers to the ears “of the goddess” and that the
dedication presumably was “intended to express the favourable disposition Bona Dea is be-
lieved to show by her worshippers”; see ibid., 396 “a benevolent goddess who answers prayers.”
62 BonaDea 133 (trans. of Brouwer, Bona Dea, 135).

One inscription from Rome offers a clue about the function of the ministrae:63
Felix Asianus, public slave of the pontifices [priests], fulfilled his vow to Bona Dea Agres-
tis Felicula willingly and with good cause, (sacrificing) a white heifer on account of his
eyesight having been restored. Abandoned by doctors, he recovered after ten months by
taking medicines, by the aid of the Mistress. Through her, all things were restored dur-
ing Cannia Fortunata’s tenure as ministra.
Felix publicus / Asinianus pontific(um) / Bonae Deae Agresti Felicu(lae?) / votum
solvit iunicem alba(m) / libens animo ob luminibus / restitutis derelictus a medicis
post / menses decem beneficio dominaes(!) medicinis sanatus per / eam restituta omnia
ministerio Canniae Fortunatae 64
DiLuzio contends that Cannia Fortunata “may have been an antistes (priestess)
herself, or she may have served as an assistant (ministra) to the antistes who su-
pervised the temple pharmacy.”65 None of the other Bona Dea inscriptions from
Rome name women ministrae. Veerle M. Gaspar argues: “Unfortunately, it is
not explicitly mentioned what Cannia Fortunata did, but it is likely that she
assisted Felix Asianus with his sacrifice and possibly also with taking his medi
cines […] In any case, it seems that ministrae could have been involved in the
practical assistance of the visitors of a sanctuary.”66 Brouwer notes that “with
this we enter into the associational worship by the collegia.”67 He also notes that
a “dispensary was attached” to the temple of Bona Dea in Rome.68 Macrobius
wrote in this regard: quidam Medeam putant, quod in aedem eius omne genus
herbarum sit, ex quibus antistites dant plerumque medicinas […] (Some think
she is Medea, because all kinds of herbs are found in her temple, from which the
priestesses mostly make medicines which they distribute […]).69 The titles pre-
dominantly show that the cult of Bona Dea was a function of collegia.70 The
titles and other evidence indicate these “cult associations” for the goddess.71
There are a number of other uses of ministra in inscriptions.
63 The inscription may date from I B.C.E. to II C.E. See Schultz, Women’s Religious Ac-
tivity, 175.
64 CIL 6, 68 = BonaDea 44 (I C.E.?, Rome), trans. of Schultz, Women’s Religious Activity,
73. Brouwer, Bona Dea, 383, 222–25 (Macrobius 1.12.20–9) notes that a “dispensary was at-
tached” to the temple of Bona Dea in Rome.
65 Meghan J. DiLuzio, A Place at the Altar: Priestesses in Republican Rome (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 2016), 98. The title occurs in Macrobius (quoted below), but not
in the Bona Dea inscriptions. Brouwer, Bona Dea, 371 notes, “It is not one of the official Ro-
man sacerdotal titles. And the word is not used elsewhere in a Bona Dea connection.”
66 Gaspar, Sacerdotes, 145.
68 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 383, 222–25 (Macrobius 1.12.20–9).
69 Macrobius, Saturnalia 1.12.26, trans. of Brouwer, Bona Dea, 224.
70 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 372–85.
71 Brouwer, Bona Dea, 295. See CIL 6, 76 = BonaDea 24 (Imperial era) Bonae Deaea […]
Invicta spira et Haedimania (“to Bona Dea […] the sodality named Invicta and Haedimania”;
trans. of Brouwer, ibid., 35) and CIL 10, 4849 = BonaDea 75 (Imperial era; Venafrum) Colle-
gium / cultorum / Bonae Deae / Caelestis (college of worshippers of Heavenly Bona Dea).

5. Inscriptional Evidence: Other Cults and Associations
A woman who had a function in the cult of an Augustan deity72 (i. e., the imperial
cult) could also be termed a ministra. An inscription on the base of an altar, dated
toward the end of the first century C.E. and found in Ossigi in Spain, reads:
For the emperor, for the divinity of Perpetual Peace and Augustan Concord, Quintus
Vibius Felicio sevir,73 and Vibia Felicula ministra of Augusta Tutela (the Augustan Tute-
lary deity), gave and dedicated (the altar) from their own possessions.
Augusto / Paci perpetuae et Concordiae / Augustae / Q(uintus) Vibius Felicio sevir
et / Vibia Felicula ministra Tutelae / Augustae / d(e) s(ua) p(ecunia) d(ederunt) d(edicaver-
unt).74
Both were apparently freed persons.75 Vibia Felicula may have had priestly du-
ties and is certainly associated with the altar.
In Brigetio76 an inscription (151–230 C.E.) on an altar mentions a ministra
who seems to have had a role in the banking function of a temple for the Great
Mother:
For Earth Mother and the ministra Priscilla, because of an entrusted and restored de
posit, Aelius Stratonicus freely and gladly fulfilled his vow, as he should, in Brigetio.
Terr(ae) matr(i) / et m(inistrae) Priscill(a)e / ob commen/datam et / restitu/tam fidem /
Ael(ius) Strato/nicus v(otum) l(ibens) l(aetus) m(erito) / Brigeti(one)77
Paul Veyne comments that “the association of the priestess (prêtresse) with the
dedication is explained in the following way. To entrust money to a god, was to
actually confide it to the god’s minister (desservant).”78
72 Manfred Clauss, Kaiser und Gott: Herrscherkult im römischen Reich (München: K. G.
Saur, 2001), 284 calls these deities, “divine abstractions of the emperor.”
73 A sevir was one of six imperial priests responsible for the cult of the Augusti.
74 CIL 2 2/7, 3. Translation done with reference to that of Clauss, Kaiser, 284. Clauss, ibid.,
285 reads d(onum) d(ederunt) “gave as a gift” (the altar).

75 See Liborio Hernández Guerra, Los libertos de la Hispania Romana: Situación jurídi-
ca, promoción social y modos de vida (Salamanca: Ediciones Universidad Salamanca, 2013),
153. María Dolores Mirón Pérez, Mujeres, religión y poder: El culto imperial en el occidente
mediterráneo (Granada: Universidad de Granada, 1996), 142 argues that ministra refers to a
“helper or auxiliary in the cult,” and not a priestess.
76 In ancient Pannonia.
77 CIL 3, 11009 = AE 1964, 190.
78 See Paul Veyne, “Epigraphica. 1. La bonne foi de la Terre-Mère (Pétrone, 117.3),” Lato-
mus 23 (1964): 30–32, esp. 31 (see Diogenes Laertius, Vitae 2.51 where Xenophon confided half
of his gold to a priestess of Ephesian Artemis and a similar passage in Plautus, Bacch. 306–07,
312–33 [a deposit with a priestess of Ephesian Diana]) and Henk S. Versnel, “Prayers for Jus-
tice, East and West: Recent Finds and Publications,” in Magical Practice in the Latin West:
Papers from the International Conference Held at the University of Zaragoza, 30 Sept.–Oct.
2005 (RGRW 168; eds. Richard L. Gordon and Francisco Marco Simón; Leiden: Brill, 2010),
275–356, esp. 295 (Versnel also translates ministra as “priestess”). Eumolpus in Petronius
(117.3) mentions the coins that the Mother Goddess will restore from “her deposit” for our
present use (nam nummos in praesentem usum deum matrem pro fide sua reddituram).

In Rome a Lollia Urbana was in charge of a temple of an unknown god: Lollia

Urbana aeditua / ministra / vix(it) ann(os) XXX / Felicio f(ilio) fecit (Lollia Ur-
bana, temple custodian, ministra who lived thirty years, made this79 for her son
Felicius).80 Meghan J. Diluzio notes that she was a freedwoman.81 Ulrike Ege-
lhaaf-Gaiser surmises that she might have exercised a predominantly cultic
function in a collegium or a private house.82
There was a ministra of Juno Populona in Teanum according to an inscription
dated from I B.C.E. to the end of II C.E.83 The stone may be the base of a stat-
ue for Vitellia Virgilia Felsia “set up by her mother.”84
For Vitellia Virgilia Felsia, ministra of the public rites of the tutelary deity, Juno Populo-
na, Virgilia [?] mother, the land given by the decree of the decurions
Vitelliae / Virgiliae / Felsiae / [m]inistriae sa/crorum pu[bl(icorum)] / [p]raesidis Iu[n]o/
nis Populo[n(ae)] / Virgilia FI[?]A / [m]a[te]r l(ocus) d(atus) d(ecreto) [d(ecurionum)] 85
Whatever Vitellia’s function was, it should perhaps be distinguished from that

of two priestesses of Juno Populona whose names are also recorded at Teanum
(a Flavia Coelia Annia Argiva, sacerdos of Juno Populona and a Nonia Prisca,
sacerdos of the same goddess).86 Theodor Mommsen, however, describes Vitellia
as the superior of the priesthood (Vorsteherin der Priesterschaft). 87 Her role was
quite prominent, as the modifying phrase referring to public sacred rites (sac-
rorum publicorum) indicates.
On the side of an altar dedicated to the Great Mother and Attis found in
Corfinium (I–II C.E.), there is an inscription honoring a ministra of the Magna
Mater:
Acca Prima, daughter of Lucius, ministra of Magna Mater, restored and gilded the hair
of Attis and restored the statue of Bellona.
Acca L(uci) f(ilia) Prima / ministra Matris / Magnae Matrem / refecit magnam / et inau-
ravit et Atti/ni comam inau/ravit et / Bellonam refecit88
79 The inscription was on a columbarium.

80 CIL 6, 2213 (Imperial era). On Lollia, and her office as aeditua, see Jörg Rüpke and Anne
Glock, Fasti Sacerdotum: A Prosopography of Pagan, Jewish, and Christian Religious Officials
in the City of Rome, 300 BC to AD 499 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 152, 774.
81 DiLuzio, A Place at the Altar, 116–17 (“temple custodian” is her translation). See CIL 6,
21497 and PIR1 2, 242 (Lollia Paulina) for Lollia Urbana, freedwoman of Lollia Paulina.
82 Ulrike Egelhaaf-Gaiser, Kulträume im römischen Alltag: Das Isisbuch des Apuleius und
der Ort von Religion im kaiserzeitlichen Rom (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2000), 412.
83 José L. Garcia Ramón, “Religious Onomastics in Ancient Greece and Italy: Lexique,
Phraseology and Indo-european Poetic Language,” in Poetic Language and Religion in

Greece and Rome (ed. J. Virgilio García and Angel Ruiz; Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge
Scholars Publishing, 2013), 60–107, esp. 99.
84 Hemelrijk, Hidden Lives, 63.
85 CIL 10, 4791 (a cippus).
86 Respectively: CIL 10, 4789 (a statue base), 4790 (a cippus, presumably a statue base).
87 Theodor Mommsen, Der unteritalischen Dialekte (Leipzig: Georg Wiegand, 1850), 143.
88 CIL 9, 3146 (the region of Samnium).

Presumably in the sanctuary there were statues of Magna Mater, Attis, and Bel-
lona. Another inscription from the Samnium region (Amiternum) is found on a
coffin honoring a Plaetoria Secunda: “Sacred to the spirit of the dead89 for Plae-
toria Secunda, a ministra of Salus (Safety) for thirteen years who lived for thirty
years” (Dis Man(ibus) / sacrum / Plaetoriae / Secundae / ministrae Salutis / ann(os)
XIII vixit XXX).90
A votive inscription dedicated to Apollo found in Perusia mentions a Croto-
nia Chrotis who exercised the office of a ministra: “Sacred to Apollo. Critonia
Chrotis, freedwoman of Cnaeus, gave this gift during her ministerium in honor
of Isis Augusta” (Ob honorem / Isidis Aug(ustae) / Apollini sacrum / Critonia
Cn(aei) l(iberta) Chrotis / ministe rio suo / donum dedit).91 The reference of
“Apollo” is to Harpocrates, according to Sharon Heyob.92
An inscription on a funerary altar, which dates to 384 to 387 C.E., was dedi-
cated to Vettius Agorius Praetextatus and his wife Aconia Fabia Paulina. Pauli-
na’s epigram to her husband describes some of her offices:
With you as my witness, I am introduced to all the mysteries; you, my pious consort,
honor me as priestess of Dindymene (Cybele) and Attis with the rites of the tauroboli-
um; you instruct me in the threefold secret as minister (ministra) of Hecate and you make
me worthy of the rites of Greek Ceres.
te teste cunctis imbuor mysteriis / tu Dindymenes Atteosque antistitem / teletis hon-
oras taureis consors pius / Hecates ministram trina secreta edoces / Cererisque Graiae tu
sacris dignam paras93
89 On the Di Manes, see Richmond Alexander Lattimore, Themes in Greek and Latin
Epitaphs (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1962), 90–95. Gaspar, Sacerdotes, 154 trans-
lates the phrase as “dedicated to the spirits of the deceased.” Lattimore, ibid., 90 notes that the
phrase can refer to the “particular spirit of one dead person.”
90 CIL 9, 4460.
91 CIL 11, 1916 (Imperial era), trans. mod. of Anna Clark, “Magistri and ministri in Roman
Italy; Associations with Gods,” in Priests and State in the Roman World (eds. James H. Rich-
ardson and Federico Santangelo; Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 2011), 347–72, esp. 354 (Clark has:
“on account of her office of Isis Augusta”). This is probably incorrect due to the identification
of Apollo with Isis’ son.
92 Sharon Kelly Heyob, The Cult of Isis Among Women in the Graeco-Roman World
(EPRO 51; Leiden: Brill, 1975), 76. She refers to IG 14, 719 = I.Napoli 1, 6 (I C.E.), an inscrip-
tion in honor of Isis that is on a base for a statue of Apollo Horus Harpocrates (Ἴσιδι / Ἀπόλλωνα
Ὧρον / Ἁρποκράτην). On the identity, see further R. Merkelbach, Isis Regina – Zeus Sarapis:
Die griechisch-ägyptische Religion nach den Quellen dargestellt (Leipzig: K. G. Saur, 22001),
91 (other similar inscriptions). Ladislav Vidman only commits himself to the statement that
Apollo is “perhaps Harpocrates” (Sylloge Inscriptionum Religionis Isiacae et Sarapiacae
[ Berlin: de Gruyter, 1969], § 577, 263).
93 CIL 6, 1779, trans. of Feyo Schuddeboom, Greek Religious Terminology: Telete & Orgia.
A Revised and Expanded English Edition of the Studies by Zijderveld and Van der Burg
(RGRW 169; Leiden: Brill, 2009), 222.

Feyo Schuddeboom notes that “on the front of the monument, Paulina is called
initiate (sacrata) of Ceres and the Eleusinian mysteries, initiate of Hecate at
Aegina, tauroboliata and hierophantria.”94
Another list of “holy women” does not comprise slaves’ names, in an inscrip-
tion from Tridentum (now lost, date uncertain): Mag(istrae) / Cassia Marcel-
la / Iu(v)entia Maxsuma / Firmidia Modesta / Numonia Secunda / min(istrae) /
Iu(v)entia Secunda / Manneia Pupa / Loreia Prima / Vettia Secunda.95 Amy
Richlin comments that “what cult these women served is unspecified here; more
than anything, they present a marked display of Roman naming in a part of It-
aly where a lot of the inscriptions are bilingual in Latin and the local Celtic
language.”96 She does, however, consider the women to be an example of a
“priestess group.” Livio Zervini believes that the women worshipped a feminine
divinity and were part of a collegium.97
6. Conclusion
Although Pliny may not have perceived the ministrae to be “priestesses” of the
Christian group, there is ample evidence in the literary and inscriptional mate-
rial surveyed above to believe that Pliny would have associated various cultic
and priestly duties with the term ministra. The thesis that a ministra was clearly
an individual with “a menial position in the church” (or one who exercised “me-
nial cultic functions”) cannot be sustained. With regard to Bulhart’s analysis of
the “sacred usage” of ministra, the distinction between “inferior orders of sa-
cred servitude” and “superior orders of the priesthood” is heuristically useful,
but most of the inscriptional evidence does not easily fit into such precise cate-
gories. This is the case because, for example, in the cult of Bona Dea it is difficult
to determine whether the ministrae were in an “inferior” or “superior” order.
I suspect that the distinction between the different “orders” often breaks down
and that the cult of Bona Dea is an example of such a gray area. Frequently in
literary and inscriptional usage, various ministrae are mentioned in conjunction
with priestly duties, altars, sacrificial tables, restoration of statues, erection of
temples, sacred rites (sacri), and various other activities such as banking and
94 Schuddeboom, Greek Religious Terminology, 222 (sacrata Cereri et Eleusiniis / sacrata
apud [A]eginam Hecatae / tauroboliata hierophantria).

95 CIL 5, 5026.
96 Amy Richlin, Arguments with Silence: Writing the History of Roman Women (Ann
Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2014), 212.

97 Livio Zerbini, “Demografia, popolamento e società del municipium di Trento in età
romana,” Annali des Museo civico di Rovereto 13 (1997): 25–90, esp. 41 (with bibliography,
possibly Bona Dea), 47. See Alfredo Buonopane, “Regio X. Venetia et Histria Tridentum,”
Supplementa Italica n.s. 6 (Roma, 1990), 111–82, esp. 133.

even healing.98 With regard to such evidence, it seems more profitable to for-
mulate hypotheses about the various functions of the ministrae than to assign
them to specific ranks (for example, inferior or superior orders). The rich usage
of ministra indicates that in Pliny’s perspective the women could have done
everything from carrying incense boxes (if such were used in the liturgies of the
community) to assisting the Christian priests in their liturgical duties – or even
performing priestly functions. There is of course a logical and historical gap
between what Pliny would have understood ministra to mean and the actual
function of the ministrae in the Christian communities of Bithynia Pontus. This
is where the historian is unfortunately left with little more than speculation.
98 CIL 3, 11009 (banking), CIL 6, 68 = BonaDea 44 (healing).

The Bishop and His Deacons
Ignatius of Antioch’s View on Ministry: Two-fold or Three-fold?1
Bart J. Koet
Ignatius of Antioch is presented over and over again as the first author who
gives some more insight into the place of the bishop in the early Church. He
explicitly compares the bishop with God the Father, and he seems to promote
the bishop as the single leader of the disciples of Jesus. Often Ignatius is also put
forward as the first witness to the three-fold ministry: bishop, presbyters, and
deacons. However, the two-fold leadership, consisting of an ἐπίσκοπος and
διάκονοι, seems to belong to the oldest layers of ministry in the early Church.2
An important question which arises in the context of early Christian ministry
deals with the relation between the two-fold ministry depicted in early Chris-
tian literature and the three-fold ministry as it appears in later literature and
which eventually became the dominant model for churches in the apostolic tra-
dition.
In the past most studies about ministry in Ignatius focused on the bishop.3
In this article we take a broader focus and try to look at the relation and inter-
action between the bishop and the deacons. The thesis of this article is that such
an investigation will give a more differentiated picture of ministry in the
Ignatian letters and possibly also of the way ministry developed in the early
Church.4 In Ignatius’ presentation of the three-fold ministry, the two-fold min-
1 I am indebted to Drs John N. Collins (Australia), Loveday Alexander (England) and
Margaret Daly Denton (Ireland) for correcting my English text.

2 Irenaeus seems to be the first person who sees the Seven of the Acts of the Apostles as
deacons, but this reference was made casually and speaks only of Stephen Haer. Adversus
Haereses 3.12.10.
3 See, for example, Alistair C. Stewart, The Original Bishops: Office and Order in the
First Christian Communities (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2014), 237–95. See my review
in: International Journal of Philosophy and Theology (76) 2015: 369–72.
4 Our earlier research showed that by looking more explicitly at the role and place of the
deacon in the ministry of the early Church, it is possible to get a fuller picture of ministry in
general; see, for example, my book: The Go-Between: Augustine on Deacons (Leiden: Brill,
2019).

150 Bart J. Koet
istry model is also still in evidence, and thus the transition seems more fluid
than is often sketched.5
1. Ignatius of Antioch as the First Witness to the Threefold Ministry?
Ignatius of Antioch (probably around 35–50 till around 98–117 C.E.) is one of
the five Apostolic Fathers. 6 According to tradition, Ignatius wrote a number
of letters during his voyage to Rome.7 Eusebius mentions seven letters.8
These letters relate that Ignatius went there from Syria.9 As mentioned above,
it is almost unanimously assumed that one can find the first attestation of this
three-fold order in the Ignatian literature. In the past, as Éric Junod rightly
observes, this was exactly the reason for theological and historical disputes
about the authenticity of these letters.10
An example of such a questioning of these letters is Josep Rius-Camps, a
Catalan Catholic priest, who argues that the passages that advocate a church
5 See also the comments on the three-fold order in Ignatius made by R. Alastair Camp-
bell, The Elders (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1994), 217.

6 The Apostolic Fathers is a collection of second-century writings. Later scholars consid-
ered the authors of these works relatively close to the apostles in time. See Clayton N. Jefford,
The Apostolic Fathers and the New Testament (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2006).
7 See Ign. Rom. 5.1, where Ignatius refers to his travelling from Syria to Rome; see also
Ign. Pol. 8.1.

8 Hist. Eccl. 3.36.12.
9 There is ample discussion about the authenticity of the letters because there are three
different sets of the letters. The shortest one consists of only three of the seven letters men-
tioned by Eusebius. The longer recension contains expanded versions of the seven letters of
the middle recensions and six additional letters. For a discussion about the various recensions,
see, for example, William R. Schoedel, Ignatius of Antioch: A Commentary on the Letters of
Ignatius of Antioch (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1985), 1–7. See Allen Brent, Ignatius
of Antioch: A Martyr Bishop and the Origin of Episcopacy (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 1–13.
Following the work of Theodor Zahn (Ignatius von Antiochien [Gotha: Perthes, 1873]) and
Joseph B. Lightfoot (The Apostolic Fathers, Part II, I, II/1, II,2 [London: Macmillan, 1885])
most scholars consider the seven letters of the middle recension as the most authentic, and
here we will follow this judgment.
10 Éric Junod, “Les diacres d’Ignace,” in Histoire et herméneutique: Mélanges offerts à
G. Hammann (ed. Martin Rose; Genève: Labor et fides, 2002), 198. See Schoedel, Ignatius, 22:
“Ignatius’ high view of the authority of the bishop is probably still the single most important
reason for doubting the authenticity of the middle recension.” For the most relevant texts
about early Christian ministry, see Francis A. Sullivan, From Apostles to Bishops: The Devel-
opment of the Episcopacy in the Early Church (New York: Newman, 2001); for Ignatius, see
104–23. See Charles Munier, “Les ministères de direction d’après les Lettres d’Ignace d’Anti-
oche,” in Studia in honorem eminentissimi cardinalis Alphonsi M. Stickler (ed. Rosalius Iose-
phus Castillius Lara; Studia et textus historiae iuris canonici, 7; Roma, 1992). Although the
title of Michael J. Wilkins’ article (“The Interplay of Ministry, Martyrdom, and Discipleship
in Ignatius of Antioch,” in Worship, Theology and Ministry in the Early Church [eds. Michael
J. Wilkins and Terence Paige; FS Ralph P. Martin: Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992]) promises to
deal with ministry, it mainly discusses discipleship in the Ignatian letters.

The Bishop and His Deacons 151
with a church order centered on a single bishop with a presbyterate and deacons
are the result of a later interpolator.11 He argues that the “real” Ignatius sees the
ἐπίσκοπος as a founder of new communities and educator and supervisor of
these, while the interpolator, carried away by the triad of his time, bishop-pres-
byters-deacons, understands the bishop as presiding over the local church and
sees him as the centre of all activities, to whom priests, deacons, and the laity
have to be submitted.12 His thesis is that the interpolator systematically intro-
duces the three-fold ministry and thus distorts the more archaic (and more egal-
itarian) Ignatian ecclesiology. This interpolator changes the more horizontal
theology of the real Ignatius to a more vertical one: the bishop becomes God’s
sole representative.13 In my opinion Rius-Camps’ conclusions are too conven-
ient to be true. Instead of the common picture that Ignatius is the first witness
to the three-fold ministry, Rius-Camps presents him as the champion of a time
when ecclesiastical titles were less appreciated than fidelity to the Gospel sealed
with martyrdom.14
However, before plunging into speculations about interpolations because of
Ignatius’ assumed “high view of authority,” it would be wise to look at the ques-
tion whether or not Ignatius really varies so much from other sources of his
time.15
2. Two-fold Ministry before Ignatius of Antioch
In the oldest Apostolic literature there is much thinking about the management
and leadership of the earliest forms of an ecclesia, but it is difficult to discern the
precise roles of the men and women who are involved in leading the communi-
ties. In Paul’s epistles, the oldest apostolic writings, apostles have tasks of
leadership, but this form of leadership is still diffuse. While as sender Paul pre-
sents himself in the prescript of his epistles nearly always as ἀπόστολος (see
Rom 11; 1 Cor 1:1; 2 Cor 1:1 etc.), in 1 Cor 3 –4 he depicts himself and Apollos
11 The Four Authentic Letters of Ignatius the Martyr (Rome: Pontificium Institutum Ori-
entalium Studiorum, 1980). See Robert Joly, Le dossier d’ Ignace d’ Antioch (Université libre
de Bruxelles, Faculté de Philosophie et Lettres 69: Bruxelles, 1979). See the discussion about
them in Brent, Ignatius, 100–109.
12 Rius-Camps, Four Authentic Letters, 221–26.
13 Rius-Camps, Four Authentic Letters, 298–99. He depicts the attitude of the interpola-
tor as “vertical obsession” (163, see also 259 and 337).

14 Rius-Camps, Four Authentic Letters, 131. In his critical review of the book of Rius-
Camps, Pieter Smulders (“De echte Ignatius?” Bijdragen 42 [1981], 300–308) refers to the fact
that Rius-Camps’ supposition that there was such a horizontal theology in the letters of Igna-
tius leads him to argue that all more “vertical” elements are non-Ignatian.
15 For the possibility of engaging in a circular argument about the relationship between
statements about church order and the episcopate and arguments about dating Ignatius, see
Stewart, Original Bishops, 239.

152 Bart J. Koet
for example as διάκονος16 (3:5), as οἰκονόμος (4:1),17 as συνεργός θεοῦ (3:9), and as
ἀπόστολος (4:9).18 The fact that Paul uses metaphorical language when describ-
ing leading roles (for example the agricultural and architectural in 1 Cor 3:4–17)
does not make it easier to determine the exact roles and titles of the ministers in
an ecclesia to which Paul writes. In the somewhat later sources like the synoptics
and especially in the Acts of the Apostles, the apostleship seems to be restricted
to the twelve who were witnesses of Jesus’ mission.19 In Acts other functions
occur as well, such as teachers and prophets in Antioch (13:1) and πρεσβύτεροι in
Paul’s farewell address (Acts 20:17–38; see also πρεσβύτεροι as a general refer-
ence to leadership in Acts 14:23; see also 15:2,4,6,22,23, where the πρεσβύτεροι
seem to assist the apostles).20
In this address one of the most important instances of ἐπίσκοπος of the New
Testament occurs. Paul asks the πρεσβύτεροι of the ecclesia to come and visit him
(20:17). Paul delivers a speech. In that speech he refers to the leaders as ἐπίσκοποι
(20:28). In exegetical literature there is ample discussion about the relationship
between the terms ἐπίσκοπος and πρεσβύτερος. Quite often it is assumed that
they are synonymous.21
While in Acts 20 it remains unclear what the relationship might be between
ἐπίσκοπος and πρεσβύτερος and thus what kind of leadership is involved, in
Acts 6 one element of leadership that will become important in the community
of Jesus’ disciples is already discernible. In that passage leadership is two-fold,
16 For διάκονος in Paul, see Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament: Studien der
Semantik unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck,
2007), 90–184.
17 For Paul as οἰκονόμος, see John Goodrich, Paul as an Administrator of God in 1 Corin-
thians (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012).

18 The fact that Paul really is a cooperative person can be derived from the fact that he is
one of the few writers in classical times who often mentions another sender in the prescript,
see, for example, 1 Cor 1:1.
19 See, for example, Acts 1:15–26, especially 1:20; note that in 1:20 their task is qualified as
ἐπισκοπή, by an explicit quotation from Ps 109[108LXX]:8, while in 1:17 the apostleship is

typified as a διακονία.
20 Could it be that the combination of “prophets and teachers” also reflects a kind of two-
fold ministry? That could be indicated by the fact that in Did. 15:1–2 they are paralleled with
ἐπίσκοποι and διάκονοι: “so, appoint (here χειροτονέω!) for yourselves ἐπίσκοποι and διάκονοι,
worthy of the Lord, men who are gentle [=not arrogant; see the designation of Moses in Num
12:3 LXX], not money-lending, truthful, and tested; because they fulfil for you the office of
the prophets and the teachers. Do not despise them therefore: for they are your men of honour
together with the prophets and teachers” (my translation).
21 Stewart (Original Bishops, 11–54), argues against these terms being synonymous and
thinks that πρεσβύτεροι is a kind of overlapping term. There is much in this study relevant for
the history of offices and order. However, although he argues several times (for example, 178)
that the original ministers of the early Church were never presbyters but rather episkopoi
(bishops) and diakonoi (deacons), he is more focused on solving the problem of the rise of the
monepiscopacy. Thus, he does not assess the relationship between bishop and deacons in his
discussion about Ignatius (237–95) and he neglects the two-fold structure of leadership as a
possible key to understanding leadership in the early Church.

and it is exactly that two-fold order that we find also elsewhere in early Chris-
tian literature.22
A clear-cut example from the NT is 1 Tim 3:1–13. In this passage two minis-
tries are presented: the ἐπίσκοπος is the one who is the leader, and the διάκονοι,
who to a certain extent resemble their superior, are his assistants. Also in the
writings of the Apostolic Fathers like 1 Clem. 42.1–5, Did. 15.1–2, and Herm.
Vis. III, 5.1, we mainly recognise a two-fold ministry: the ἐπίσκοπος and
διάκονοι.23
1 Clem. 42.5 states:
For the Scripture says somewhere: ‘I will raise their ἐπίσκοποι in righteousness and their
διάκονοι in faith/trust.’24
As I have argued elsewhere, this allusion to Isa 60:17 (LXX) was meant to show
that ἐπίσκοποι and διάκονοι are not new phenomena.25 The word ἐπίσκοποι may
be the first reason for this allusion because that word is the link between the
source text and the “receiving” one. The fact that in Isaiah a two-fold leadership
is mentioned could be the second reason. In 1 Clement we find a difference of
level between the leaders within the two-fold model. Now the ἐπίσκοποι are
mentioned in the first place, while their assistants get the second place. It is in-
22 Possibly motivated by a certain reluctance to recognise what is often called “Früh-
katholizismus,” some scholarship has argued that the Seven in Acts 6 are not deacons. A clas-
sic argument is that the word “deacon” is not yet used to qualify the Seven and that thus there
is no connection between them and the deacons of the early church. See, for example, Josef
Gewieß, “Die Neutestamentlichen Grundlagen der kirchlichen Hierarchie,” in Historisches
Jahrbuch 72 (1953): 1–24; reprinted in a collection of articles about ministry in the New Tes-
tament: Das Kirchliche Amt im Neuen Testament (ed. Karl Kertelge; Darmstadt: Wissen-
schaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1977), 144–72, here 153. Related to this argument is the idea that
here we cannot find a real ministry. See, for example, Jacob Jervell, Die Apostelgeschichte
(Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 199817). However, although it is true that the Seven are
not designated as deacons, one has to note that the ministry of the apostles and that of the
Seven as their delegates is designated as διακονία and that thus quite clearly a form of leader-
ship is at stake. Edwin Hatch (The Organization of the Early Christian Church [London:
Rivingtons, 1881], 49–51), already concluded that this indicates that the Seven do have a min-
istry. Likewise, the ritual involved here suggests that the Seven were installed more or less
officially. Although the Seven do not get the title of deacon, they do have a relation to the
διακον- root, they do have an official task and they do get an installation, and thus it would not
be impossible to typify them as proto-deacons.
23 For this see my “Isaiah 60:17 as a Key for Understanding the Two-fold Ministry of
ἐπισκοποι and διἀκονοι according to 1 Clement (1 Clem. 42:5),” in The Scriptures of Israel in

Jewish and Christian Tradition (eds. Bart J. Koet et al.; FS Maarten J. J. Menken: Leiden: Brill,
2013), 345–62. The point that Clement suggests that there is a continuity between the offices
of the Old Testament and those of Christianity is neglected by Stewart, Original Bishops. He
also dismisses too quickly other Jewish or Old Testament backgrounds to the ministry of the
early Church.
24 Γάρ που λέγει ἡ γραφή·Καταστήσω τοὺς ἐπισκόπους αὐτῶν ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ καὶ τοὺς διακόνους
αὐτῶν ἐν πίστει.
25 For this see my “Isaiah 60:17,” 359–61.

154 Bart J. Koet
teresting to note that the overseers seem to be qualified to do righteousness,

while the διάκονοι are related to πίστις.26
The fact that we can find in Clement the two-fold ministry episkopoi–diako-
noi concurs with the (scarce) use of this combination in comparable early
Church literature. Huub van de Sandt and David Flusser, for example, argue
that the mention of the offices of bishops and deacons in Did. 15:1–2 belongs to
the same literary type as those which are – to a greater extent – found in
1 Tim 3:1–13.27 The mention of bishops (plural!) and deacons in the Didache
according to them also reflects a rather archaic situation which might be analo-
gous to the occurrence of the dual leadership in Phil 1:1.28
3. The Special Relation between Ἐπίσκοπος and Διάκονοι

in the Ignatian Literature
Ever since Edwin Hatch’s book, scholars have often argued that in the early
Church there was a two-fold model (episcopal–diaconal).29 Another model
would be that the basis for ministry was fundamentally presbyteral.30 There is
ample discussion about the way these models related to each other, but most
scholars follow Hans Lietzmann who suggested that two systems were brought
together in a three-fold order (ἐπίσκοπος-πρεσβύτερος-διάκονος).31 Although in
the early Church of the first centuries we find several texts where a two-fold
ministry seems to be the case, Ignatius of Antioch, as we saw above, is adduced
as the first witness to the three-fold structure.32
26 Being πιστός is the hallmark of any διάκονος. For the importance of fidelity and perse-
verance in one’s diakonia, see Tychicus (Eph 6:21; Col 4:7), Epaphras (Col 1:7), and Archippus
(Col 4:17). For Paul himself as depicted as faithful in his ministry, see 1 Tim 1:12. For a relation
between διάκονοι and πίστις, see also 1 Tim 3:9.
27 The Didache: Its Jewish Sources and its Place in Early Judaism and Christianity
(CRINT; Section III, Jewish Traditions in Early Christian Literature; Assen: Van Gorcum,
2002), 339.
28 Didache, 338.
29 Hatch, Organization.
30 For a sketch of this problem, see, for example, Alistair Stewart-Sykes, “Deacons in the
Syrian Church Order Tradition: A Search for Origins,” in Diakonia, Diaconiae Diaconato:
Semantica e storia nei Padri della Chiesa. XXXVIII Incontro di studiosi dell’ antichità cristi-
ana. Roma, 7–9 maggio, 2009 (eds. Vittorio Grossi, Bart J. Koet and Paul van Geest; Roma:
Augustinianum, 2010), 111–19. Unfortunately, Stewart-Sykes gives little specific attention to
deacons or to the diaconate in that article.
31 Hans Lietzmann, “Zur altchristlichen Verfassungsgeschichte,” Zeitschrift für wissen-
schaftliche Theologie 55 (1914); reprinted in: Kertelge, Das Kirchliche Amt, 93–143. See Georg
Schöllgen, Die Anfänge der Professionalisierung des Klerus und das Kirchliche Amt in der
syrischen Didaskalie (Münster, 1998), 124.
32 For the origin of hierarchy, see John St. H. Gibaut, The Cursus Honorum: A Study and
Evolution of Sequential Ordination (New York: Peter Lang, 2000), 3; see my article “Diakon:
Adjutant des Bischofs oder Sprungbrett zur Priestschaft. Randbemerkungen zur jüngsten

However, it would be worthwhile to focus on the structure of ministry with-

in the assumed three-fold ministry. There are several arguments which show
that within the ministries mentioned in the Ignatian letters there is still a special
relationship between the bishop and the deacons, which to a certain extent
reflects the earlier two-fold ministry as the administrative unity of Christian
communities.33
4. What Do Bishops and Deacons Do and How Is

Their Relationship Typified?
There can be no doubt that Ignatius’ letters reflect a situation in which the
ἐπίσκοπος is on his way to becoming the centre of the community. That is clear
from the statistics: ἐπίσκοπος 57 (or 58) times, πρεσβύτερος 12,34 and διάκονος
17.35 There is discussion about the extent to which Ignatius describes a situation
in which the supremacy of the bishop in his environment was already estab-
lished or one in which he needs to assert his authority, maybe vis à vis the coun-
cil of presbyters.36
When Ignatius refers to bishops, quite often he talks about specific tasks or
persons (like Onesimus in Ign. Eph. 1.3 and 6.2, Damas in Ign. Magn. 2, and
Polycarp in Ign. Magn. 15.1). He declares several times that the community has
Studie über Cursus Honorum,” Diaconia Christi 41 (2006): 41–46. See Alexandre Faivre,
Naissance d’une hiérarchie, Les premières étapes du cursus clérical (Paris: Cerf, 1977).
33 In literature about ministry, the position of deacons is often only mentioned in passing
and not examined in its own right and not even as part of the three-fold ministry. One exam-
ple suffices. In his survey of the historical development of the ministry of leadership in the
early church, Sullivan also discusses Ignatius’ epistles, but although in the end he summarises
what is said about the presbyters and the bishops, he does not reflect on the status and charac-
ter of the role of deacons: see his From Apostles to Bishops, 104–23. Also Robert Zollitsch
(Amt und Funktion des Priesters: Eine Untersuchung zum Ursprung und zur Gestalt des Pres-
byterats in den ersten zwei Jahrhunderten [Freiburg: Herder, 1974]) seems to neglect that
somewhat. In older literature there is sometimes a better assessment of the role of deacons, see,
for example, Paul August Leder, Die Diakonen der Bischöfe und Presbyter und ihre Urchrist
lichen Vorläufer: Untersuchungen über die Vorgeschichte und die Anfänge des Archidiakonats
(Kirchliche Abhandlungen 23–24; Stuttgart: Ferdinand Enke, 1905), 144–51 and Johann Nepo
muk Seidl, Der Diakonat in der katholischen Kirche, dessen hieratische Würde und geschicht-
liche Entwicklung: eine Kirchenrechts-geschichtliche Abhandlung (Regensburg, 1884).
34 However note that the priesthood as a collective is also mentioned thirteen times.
35 I used Henricus Kraft, Clavis Patrum Apostolicorum (Darmstadt: Wissenschafltiche
Buchgesellschaft, 1963). Of course, it is possible that one can find slightly different numbers
sometimes because of text critical differences, for example, in Ign. Trall. 7.1.2. Note: Ignatius
does not use the verb διακονέω.
36 See Frances Young, “On ΕΠΙΣΚΟΠΟΣ and ΠΡΕΣΒΥΤΕΡΟΣ,” JTS, NS 45 (1994): 146;
reprinted in id., Exegesis and Theology in Early Christianity (Farnham: Ashgate, 2012) as
chapter 9; Campbell, The Elders, 217. Ignatius himself suggests that bishops are appointed in
every quarter (Ign. Eph. 3.1).

156 Bart J. Koet
to follow the path of the bishop (Ign. Eph. 4.1; see also Ign. Magn. 4.1). The
bishop is the one who is responsible for the Eucharist. Only that Eucharist is
valid which is held under the bishop or whomever he entrusts it to (Ign. Smyrn.
8.1). Similarly, it is not permissible to baptise or to assemble for the special
gathering for a meal, an ἀγάπη, apart from the bishop. The bishop is also in-
volved in proprieties attaching to marriage (Ign. Pol. 5).
While bishops are clearly men of flesh and blood, individual presbyters on the
other hand are hidden within a collective. Although in this article we focus on
the relationship between bishop and deacons, here we have to note that in the
epistles of Ignatius the relationship between a bishop and priests is between a
bishop and the priests as a group: πρεσβυτέριον (Ign. Eph. 2.2; 4.1; 20.2; Ign.
Magn. 2; 13.1; Ign. Trall. 2.1–2; 7.1–2; 13.2; Ign. Phld. 4.1; (5:1), 7.1; Ign. Smyrn.
8.1 and 12.2; see also Ign. Magn. 6.1; 7.1; Ign. Trall. 3.1 and Ign. Phld. intro; there
we do not find the word πρεσβυτέριον, but only the plural πρεσβύτεροι). It is
only in Ignatius to the Magnesians 2 that we find something explicit about two
priests not in the context of their collective. There Ignatius tells that he had been
visited by bishop Damas, by the πρεσβύτεροι Bassus and Apollonius, and by the
deacon Zotion.
Although Ignatius mentions deacons seventeen times in his letters, there are
not many explicit indications of their tasks or duties.37 He refers to some dea-
cons by name and he brings up some of their tasks in passing.38 In line with
what John Collins said about διάκονοι, we can see that deacons can act as dele-
gates.39
In his letter to the Philadelphians (11.1) as well as in the one to the Smyrnians
(10.1), Ignatius speaks about the deacons Philo and Rheus Agathopous, who
accompany him and probably were the messengers of the report in 11.1. It is
quite remarkable that Ignatius reports about Philo that he is his helper in the
word of God. Schoedel remarks in a footnote that Philo serving Ignatius “in the
37 See Alexandre Faivre, “Les enjeux de l’inferiorisation des Diakonoi dans une triade
ministerielle,” in Grossi, Koet and Van Geest, Diakonia, Diaconiae, Diaconato, 135–49.
Faivre sees two forms of information regarding deacons in the epistles of Ignatius: concrete
information about the deacons known to Ignatius, and more general theological ideas. For an
extensive discussion of the different deacons in the epistles of Ignatius, see Junod, “Les diacres
d’Ignace.” For another assessment of deacons in the churches Ignatius knew, see John N.
Collins, Deacons and the Church: Making Connections between Old and New (Hereford-
shire-Harrisburg: Gracewing-Morehouse, 2002), 104–9. For the relationship between the
bishop and deacons in the longer recension, see Felix Albrecht, “Diaconus Christ: Heron von
Antiochien und die Diakonatskonzeption der (Ps.-)Ignatianen,” in Grossi, Koet and Van Geest,
Diakonia, Diaconiae, Diaconato, 235–44.
38 Ignatius mentions Bourros (Ign. Eph. 2.1), Zotion (Ign. Magn. 2.2) and Philo, the dea-
con of Cilicia (Ign. Phld. 11.1).

39 Ign. Phld. 10.1 and 11.1; see John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient
Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 22009, see also his “A Monocultural Usage:
διακον-words in Classical, Hellenistic, and Patristic Sources,” VC 66 (2012): 287–309.

word of God” does not appear to define the clerical function of the messenger,
because such a reference to the word of God could be quite undifferentiated.40
However, the relationship between deacons and the word of God is not unex-
pected, given the stories in Acts about the Seven (see also 1 Tim 3:9).
The mention of a deacon being a helper in the word of God seems to be in line
with Ignatius’ letter to the Trallians (2.3):
They, however, who are διάκονοι of the mysteries of Jesus Christ must be pleasing to all
men in every way. For they are not διάκονοι of food and drink, but they are ὑπηρέται of
the ecclesia of God; they must therefore guard against blame as against fire.41
Thus, Junod is probably right when he suggests that here we get a glimpse of
deacons as servants of the mysteries of Jesus Christ.42
There is one thing, however, that is quite clear about deacons in the letters of
Ignatius: deacons have a special relationship with their bishop. The first passage
where one can find three ministries mentioned is in Ignatius, To the Magnesians,
6.1:
Be zealous to do all things in harmony43 with God, with the bishop presiding in the place
of God and the presbyters in the place of the Council of the Apostles and the deacons
who are most dear to me, entrusted with the service (διακονία) of Jesus Christ, who was
from eternity with the Father and was made manifest at the end of time.44
According to Schoedel it is not so clear what lies behind this comparison.45 It is

remarkable that the priests are compared to the Apostles. However, one thing
seems to me quite sure. While like the apostles the priests represent a collective,
the bishop is assigned the place of God and the deacons are assigned the minis-
try of Jesus Christ.46 Jesus Christ belongs to God as a son belongs to the father,
40 Schoedel, Ignatius, 214.

41 Translation and the following Greek text by Kirsopp Lake, The Apostolic Fathers (Lon-
don: Heinemann-Putnam’s sons, 1919): Ign. Trall. 2:3: δεῖ δὲ καὶ τοὺς διακόνους ὄντας
μυστηρίων Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ κατὰ πάντα τρόπον πᾶσιν ἀρέσκειν. οὐ γὰρ βρωμάτων καὶ ποτῶν εἰσιν
διάκονοι, ἀλλ’ ἐκκλησίας θεοῦ ὑπηρέται· δέον οὖν αὐτοὺς φυλάσσεσθαι τὰ ἐγκλήματα ὡς πῦρ.
42 Junod, “Les diacres d’Ignace,” 205–6.
43 For unity as an important element in ancient rhetoric, see Odd M. Bakke, “Concord and
Peace”: A Rhetorical Analysis of the First Letter of Clement with an Emphasis on the Lan-
guage of Unity and Sedition (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 63–203.
44 Translation and Greek text by Kirsopp Lake, The Apostolic Fathers, Ign. Magn. 6.1: ἐν
ὁμονοίᾳ θεοῦ σπουδάζετε πάντα πράσσειν, προκαθημένου τοῦ ἐπισκόπου εἰς τόπον θεοῦ καὶ τῶν
πρεσβυτέρων εἰς τόπον συνεδρίου τῶν ἀποστόλων, καὶ τῶν διακόνων τῶν ἐμοὶ γλυκυτάτων
πεπιστευμένων διακονίαν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, ὃς πρὸ αἰώνων παρὰ πατρὶ ἦν καὶ ἐν τέλει ἐφάνη.
45 Schoedel, Ignatius, 112–13.
46 One can also find the image of the bishop as father in other places in the letters; see, for
example, Ign. Magn. 3.1 (note: we find here also the image of God as bishop), and Ign. Smyrn.
8.1. Hatch (Organization, 41) remarks on the comparison between God and the bishop: “a
metaphor, which almost startles us by its boldness.” Ign. Magn. 6.1 is a possible background
to the Syrian Didascalia 9, where the same metaphors are used; for a discussion of this rela-
tion, see Schöllgen, Anfänge der Professionalisierung des Klerus, 119.

158 Bart J. Koet
and thus the bishop and the deacons belong to each other as a father to his
sons.47
At the end of this letter (13.1–2), Ignatius refers again to the three-fold minis-
try:
with your most right worthy ἐπίσκοπος and with the worthily woven spiritual crown,
your presbytery and with the deacons of God48
Although less explicit, he again compares the bishop with the Father (13.2), and
again the priests are conceived as forming a council. They are no longer referred
to as individuals but are depicted as a neatly woven unity, a crown.
Ignatius, To the Trallians, 3.1 strongly resembles Ignatius, To the Magnesians,
6.1. After his praising of the community in To the Trallians 1, he turns in chap-
ter 2 to the unity of this community under the guidance of their bishop. Ignatius
describes how the bishop is the centre of the community and how this audience,
the ecclesia in Tralles (Asia), is structured under the bishop, as under Jesus
Christ (2.1). He admonishes them to do nothing without the bishop and to be
subject to the presbytery (2.2). Speaking about the deacons, he changes his tone.
The deacons of the mysteries of Christ have to please all (see above; for pleasing
all see 1 Cor 10:33).49 Deacons are not the deacons of eating and drinking, but
they are helpers (ὑπηρέται) of the ecclesia of God (2.3).50 While in 2.1 the bishop
is compared with Jesus Christ, in the following verse Ignatius also compares the
deacons with him:
Likewise, let all respect the deacons as Jesus Christ, even as the bishop is also a type
(τύπος) of the Father, and the presbyters as the council of God and the college of Apostles’.
Without these the name of ‘Church’ is not given.51
47 Sullivan (From Apostles to Bishops, 106) interprets this relationship as a kind of special
sentiment of Ignatius (“Ignatius seems to have felt an especially close bond with deacons”),
but fails to see that this bond is also due to the institutional relationship. Because deacons were
often younger, the relation with their bishop is probably comparable with the special teacher–
disciple relationship. In the meantime, older bishops really can receive enormous help from
the company of a deacon as a younger assistant, especially when travelling. See Collins, Dea-
cons and the Church, 105: “The hints of an inherent bond between bishop and deacon, which
other early documents provide, find full and considered expression in Ignatius.”
48 Own Translation; Greek text by Lake, The Apostolic Fathers, Ign. Magn. 13.1: μετὰ τοῦ
ἀξιοπρεπεστάτου ἐπισκόπου ὑμῶν καὶ ἀξιοπλόκου πνευματικοῦ στεφάνου τοῦ πρεσβυτερίου

ὑμῶν καὶ τῶν κατὰ θεὸν διακόνων.
49 Not only here, but also elsewhere the vocabulary of Ignatius reminds us of that of Paul.
Within the limits of this article it is not possible to reflect on this phenomenon, but see Carl B.
Smith, “Ministry, Martyrdom and other Mysteries: Pauline Influence on Ignatius of Anti-
och,” in Michael F. Bird and Joseph R. Dodson, Paul and the Second Century (London: T&T
Clark, 2011).
50 Collins, Diakonia, 240–41, considers ὑπηρέται in its sense of “[minor] officials,” “of-
ficers”; the term is a standard one for civil servants, middle and lower ranks of bureaucrats.
For the relation between this verse and Pauline literature, see Faivre, “Les enjeux de l’inferio-
risation des Diakonoi,” 142–46.
51 Ign. Trall. 3.1; translation and text by Lake: Ὁμοίως πάντες ἐντρεπέσθωσαν τοὺς διακόνους

More succinctly than in To the Magnesians, 6.1, the relationship between the
bishop and his deacons is again stated as like that between father and sons.
However, in this letter he compares both the bishop (2.1) and the deacons (3.1)
with Jesus Christ and thus stresses their common mission. As elsewhere, the
priests in Ignatius, To the Trallians, 2.2 and 3.1 are presented as a collective.
Schoedel argues, as mentioned above, that when Ignatius talks about the dea-
cons, he fails to explain the basis of the comparison.52 He sees this as an indica-
tion that Ignatius stresses the bond between bishops and presbyters and sets the
deacons apart from them.
In my opinion there is indeed a difference between the relationship between
bishops and presbyters, and the one between a bishop and deacons. While the
relationship between a bishop and the priests is nearly always between a single
person and a collective, the relationship between a bishop and a deacon is quite
often more personal and even more intimate.53
However, Ignatius also creates other links between the bishop and deacons.
Lightfoot already noted that the function which deacons had in common with
the bishop is administration.54 In the New Testament, the term διακονία is used
for the mission of the apostles, but also for that of the Seven. In line with its use
in the New Testament, Ignatius uses it once for the ministry of the bishop and
three times for the ministry of deacons. It is not used for the ministry of the
πρεσβύτεροι.55 Deacons, who are most dear to Ignatius, have, like the bishop,
the διακονία of Jesus Christ.56
Thus, the bishops and deacons seem to be in charge of the daily management
of the community. This is in line with what Georg Schöllgen finds in the Syrian
Didascalia.57 At quite an early stage bishops and deacons are depicted as pro-
ὡς Ἰησοῦν Χριστόν, ὡς καὶ τὸν ἐπίσκοπον ὄντα τύπον τοῦ πατρός, τοὺς δὲ πρεσβυτέρους ὡς
συνέδριον θεοῦ καὶ ὡς σύνδεσμον ἀποστόλων. χωρὶς τούτων ἐκκλησία οὐ καλεῖται.
52 Schoedel, Ignatius, 113.
53 Within the limits of this article it is not possible to investigate any further the back-
ground and context of such a collective. I am inclined to follow Hatch (Organization, 18,55–
65), that the Jewish council of elders is an important background to the phenomenon.
54 Lightfoot, Apostolic Fathers, 133–34.
55 Faivre, “Les enjeux de l’inferiorisation des Diakonoi,” 137–38.
56 It seems to me that the instruction in Ign. Smyrn. 8.1 that the people are to “respect the
deacons as the commandment of God” is related to their being assistants of the bishop, who
is the first interpreter of the Word of God. Here I cannot pursue this argument. See also Ign.
Trall. 3.1.
57 Schöllgen, Die Anfänge der Professionalisierung des Klerus, 55–57, especially 56. Ac-
cording to several traditions in the early Church, during persecutions bishops were quite of-
ten martyred together with their deacons. Famous examples are Lawrence with his bishop
Xystus (or Sistus); Vincent of Sarragossa was imprisoned together with his bishop Valerius.
Vincent was martyred and Valerius was sent into exile. There are also less famous examples
like Hermagoras, the alleged first bishop of the once very important diocese Aquileia and his
deacon Fortunatus, who according to tradition were martyred together. In 177 the first bish-
op of Grenoble, Pothin, is said to be martyred together with the deacon Sanctus and a slave

160 Bart J. Koet
fessionals. This seems to be confirmed by the fact that while the deacons have to
be present at each gathering, the πρεσβύτεροι are not yet obliged to be there.58
5. The Deacon as the Σύνδουλος of the Bishop
What does Ignatius mean when he calls a deacon his σύνδουλος? In the begin-
ning of his epistles, which according to tradition Ignatius sent from Smyrna, he
refers to delegations from those cities that sent delegates to visit him. In To the
Ephesians, 2.1, Ignatius refers to bishop Onesimus and to deacon Burrhus, who
is his σύνδουλος but is also a deacon of Ephesus and as such serves that commu-
nity and, of course, their bishop.59 Ignatius asks that this deacon may stay in his
company. In To the Magnesians, 2, Ignatius tells the community of Magnesia
about a visit he received from the representatives of their three clerical orders,
from their bishop, from two priests, and from deacon Zotion. This deacon is
submitted to his bishop and to the presbyterium as a group, but he is also typi-
fied as “my [thus Ignatius’] σύνδουλος.”
In To the Philadelphians, 11.2 and To the Smyrnians, 12.1, Ignatius refers
again to the deacon Burrhus. It seems that here Burrhus serves the communica-
tions between Bishop Ignatius and these communities. Also an anonymous dea-
con is mentioned as a messenger in To the Philadelphians, 10. As later, for exam-
ple in the letters of Augustine and Jerome, here we encounter the deacon as
messenger, as somebody who is strong enough to travel, and faithful enough to
transmit personal letters and who can assist a bishop in one way or another, even
one who is not his own bishop. 60 In To the Smyrnians, 12.2, Ignatius refers to the
deacons of Smyrna as his fellow-servants (σύνδουλοι; see also Ign. Phld. 4.1).
Why does Ignatius call deacons his σύνδουλοι? Rius-Camps, in his plea for an
Ignatius with a “low” ecclesiology, argues that in the present text the role played
by Ignatius in the community is not treated uniformly. 61 Only in Ign. Rom. 2.2
he does present himself as τὸν ἐπίσκοπον Συρίας, the bishop of the Roman prov-
ince Syria. In the other letters Ignatius never associates himself with the catego-
Blandina. Another example is the combination of Irenaeus, bishop of Sirmium, and his dea-
con Demetrius. To persecute the bishop and his deacon was maybe the most effective way of
destroying the management of the church.
58 Traditio Apostolica 34. Stewart (Original Bishops) argues that presbuteroi is a kind of
overlapping term inclusive of the more specific titles as episkopos and diakonos. However,
I doubt whether this idea fits the letters of Ignatius. In his writings, it is more probable that the
presbuteroi form a kind of group, distinctive from the episkopos and his diakonoi.
59 See Junod, “Les diacres d’Ignace,” 204: “on observe cependant que deux communautés
peuvent s’associer pour confier une tâche à un diacre issu de l’une d’elles.”
60 Junod (“Diacres d’Ignace,” 205) rightly stresses the connection between letter-bearer
and deacon.
61 For this and what follows, see Rius-Camps, Four Authentic Letters, 34–38.

ry of bishop. According to Rius-Camps, instead of making common cause with

the bishop he shows his solidarity with the deacons, calling them his fel-
low-servants (Ignatius is the only Apostolic Father who uses this word, and he
uses it only in the four instances above).
It seems to me that Rius-Camps overlooks here the importance of the prefix
συν. The person addressed as σύνδουλος is not necessarily on the same social
level as the person delivering the address. Already Paul stresses the fact that
functionaries in the church have to be co-operators. He is for example one of the
few authors of epistles in antiquity who in the introduction of his letters men-
tions co-authors. The suggestion that Paul avoids presenting his evangelisation
as a solitary endeavour is confirmed by passages such as 1 Cor 3, where he de-
picts the relation between himself and Apollos as a collaboration (see the Paul-
ine terminology as συνεργός). 62 Some centuries later, Bishop Augustine will
again and again assert that he is co-bishop with the other bishops, he is co-priest
with the other priests, and he is co-deacon with the other deacons. For Augus-
tine it is important to stress what he shares with other clerics. 63
Using the term σύνδουλος as a designation of a deacon, Ignatius is in line with
Pauline terminology.64 Paul, who presents himself as an apostle in his epistles,
refers in Col 1:7 to Epaphras and in 4:7 to Tychicus.65 He identifies them as his
assistants and as διάκονοι of Christ:
As you also learned of Epaphras our dear fellow-servant (τοῦ ἀγαπητοῦ συνδούλου ἡμῶν),
who is for you a faithful minister (διάκονος) of Christ (see 1:7 KJV).
All my state shall Tychicus declare unto you, who is a beloved brother, and a faithful
minister (διάκονος) and fellow-servant (σύνδουλος) in the Lord (4:7 KJV).
These passages in Colossians combine the terms διάκονος and σύνδουλος. 66

Commentaries on this epistle often hasten to mention that these deacons are of
course not clerical deacons. However, their typification seems to be totally in
line with the typifications of later deacons, like Burrhus in the Ignatian letters
62 Ignatius elsewhere also uses words to show that he and his audience share a position or
an attitude. Wilkins (“Ministry, Martyrdom and Discipleship,” 311) refers to Ign. Eph. 3.1.
Συνδιδασκαλίτης is a hapax legomenon, possibly invented by Ignatius to show that as a bishop
he is still a fellow-student to his audience. He has also some other words with συν/συμ; see
συμμύσται in Ign. Eph. 12.2, where Ignatius argues that his audience are fellow-initiates with
Paul.
63 See my The Go-Between: Augustine on deacons (Leiden: Brill, forthcoming).
64 For points of contact between the epistles of Paul and those of Ignatius, see Smith,
“Ministry, Martyrdom and other Mysteries.”

65 The authenticity of Paul’s epistle to the Colossians is disputed. For our purposes that is
not important. We just want to show that Ignatius’ use of σύνδουλος does not necessarily re-
flect an equal relationship between Ignatius and Burrhus, but it does establish that they share
a common attitude.
66 Although these two terms also serve two distinct purposes, as discussed by Collins,
Diakonia, 222–23: the term διάκονος stresses the fact that these men are emissaries, while
σύνδουλος typifies them more as common servants of the Lord.

162 Bart J. Koet
and even like a deacon such as Deogratias in Augustine’s De catechizandis rudi-

bus. Thus we could typify them also as a kind of proto-deacon. 67
We suggest that in the epistles of Ignatius the word σύνδουλος stresses the
link between a bishop and his helpers.68 In a certain sense he follows Paul to the
extent that in the community of disciples of Jesus, all ministry is one or another
form of shared ministry. 69
6. Ignatius’ Qualifications for Deacons
Finally, it is important to note that one gets another glimpse into the relation-
ship between a bishop and his deacon by the way Ignatius describes them.70 In
To the Magnesians, 6.1, Ignatius declares that the deacons are “most dear to me”
(τῶν ἐμοὶ γλυκυτάτων).71 Elsewhere he states that deacon Burrhus is blessed
(Περὶ δὲ τοῦ συνδούλου μου Βούρρου, τοῦ κατὰ θεὸν διακόνου ὑμῶν ἐν πᾶσιν
εὐλογημένου; Ign. Eph. 2.1). It is in line with the requirements for ministry (see,
for example, 1 Tim 3:7) that a deacon has to have a good reputation: Περὶ δὲ
Φίλωνος τοῦ διακόνου ἀπὸ Κιλικίας, ἀνδρὸς μεμαρτυρημένου (Ign. Phld. 11.1).
An interesting point is made in To the Magnesians, 2.1. In line with Paul’s
word-play with the name Onesimus in Philemon 10–11, Ignatius argues that he
will benefit from the deacon Zotion (τοῦ συνδούλου μου διακόνον Ζωτίωνος, οὗ
ἐγὼ ὀναίμην,).72 It seems to me that Ignatius shows that the deacon is at his ser-
vice, and that is what we can expect from a younger man, assisting a bishop. 73
7. Conclusion
Although it is true that Ignatius mentions in his texts three different ministries,
the special bond between bishop and deacon as a kind of two-fold leadership is
still quite identifiable. Ignatius qualifies the relationship between bishop and
67 Augustine uses the word conservus in Catech. 1,2 to typify his relation to other clerics.
68 Gibaut (Cursus Honorum, 27) also notes that Ignatius follows the earlier tradition by
coupling the bishop and the deacons. Ignatius refers to them as “fellow-servants.”
69 This concurs with the fact that Jesus sends his disciples out two by two on their mission
of evangelising.
70 Ignatius gives a metaphorical description of the priests. We have also to note that this
description precisely stresses the fact that their individuality is subordinate to the collective:
“For your presbytery is attuned to the bishop as strings to a lyre” (Ign. Eph. 4.1).
71 In his translation into Dutch, A. Freek J. Klijn notes that Ignatius shows his special
affection for deacons several times. See A. Freek J. Klijn (introduction and translation), Igna-
tius en Polycarpus (Kampen: Kok, 1966), 53.
72 The verb is ὀνίνημι > ὀνίvαμαι.
73 Within the limits of this article, I cannot deal with the interesting passage about the
young man, who became bishop (Ign. Magn. 3.1).

deacons as close and even quite intimate; they belong together like father and
sons. It should be noted that Ignatius nearly always speaks about the πρεσβύτεροι
in plural form or refers to them as a group. He apparently compares the
πρεσβύτεροι with the Apostles because of their forming a college.74 While the
bishop is in charge and deacons do help him, the priests seems to be more of a
senate of older and wise men.75 While the priests mostly remain anonymous,
Ignatius gives several names of deacons and sheds some insight as to how these
deacons were assisting their “father.” Like Paul beforehand and Augustine
afterwards, Ignatius sees the deacons as sharing in his own ministry. He is a
δοῦλος with a διακονία for his flock, and they are his σύνδουλοι.76 The deacons
are his messengers and “postmen.” They are not only responsible for the food
and drink, but they have to please all people (Ign. Trall. 2.3). It is even possible
that a deacon is a helper for the word of God. Thus there are enough indications
in the epistles that although Ignatius mentions ἐπίσκοποι, διάκονοι, and the pres-
byterate, his writings reflect at the same time that active ministry is still a form
of two-fold ministry.77 This conclusion is relevant for the dating of the materi-
al. It makes the supposed transition from a two-fold ministry to a three-fold one
less sudden and more fluent.
As such, the relationship between the three ministries in the churches of
Ignatius may be compared to the relationships in a company of today. The
bishop resembles the CEO, the deacons are a mix of his personal assistants and
his managers, and the presbyterium reflects the position of the board.
74 Sullivan, From Apostles to Bishops, 110; See, for example, Ign. Phld. 7.1; Ign. Smyrn. 8.1
and 12.2; Ign. Eph. 2.2; 20.2.

75 This probably leads Gibaut (Cursus Honorum, 27) to the conclusion that they are much
less significant.
76 Stewart (Original Bishops, 110–11) sees one of the reasons for the close relationship be-
tween the ἐπίσκοπος and διάκονοι is that both ministries are economic. I can only partly agree
with him. In my opinion he stresses the economic mission too much at the expense of the more
educational character of the ministry.
77 Gibaut (Cursus Honorum, 27) also notes that Ignatius follows earlier tradition by coupl
ing the bishop and the deacons. Ignatius refers to them as “fellow-servants.”

Διακον- and Deacons in Clement of Alexandria1
John N. Collins
The initial purpose of this investigation was to provide a profile of the diaconate
on the basis of information derived from usage of διακον- terms in the writings
of Clement of Alexandria. Since research quickly revealed, however, that the
information was inadequate for that task, the focus shifted to an examination of
the semantic range itself. Although Clement provides very little direct informa-
tion about deacons, we discover, in addition to his esteem for their place in the
church, that the usage of διακον- terms by this deeply Christian and broadly
learned Hellenistic writer in Alexandria at the end of the second cent ury is of
the same character evident throughout the Greek classical era and discernible
also in preceding Christian sources.2
Clement’s writings include (approximate word counts added) Protrepticus
(23,000 words), Paedagogus (56,500), Stromata (162,000), Quis dives salvetur
(9,000), and Excerpta ex Theodoto (7,500). These figures add up to about 260,000
words, and among them διακον- terms occur only seventy times. Of these
seventy instances, five are in reference to deacons.3
If five appears a minimal statistic, seventy instances of διακον- words in an
ancient writer is not minimal. In Demosthenes we find only twelve instances; in
Plato thirty-two; in Herodotus four. In fact, the διακον- words were compara-
tively rare in classical and Hellenistic Greek.4 Moreover, when one of these
terms does appear, it is often because the ancient author was seeking to achieve
a special effect. As we proceed, we will notice some special effects in Clement.
But if we add to his five references to deacons the fact that he mentions bishops
1 Paper presented at the conference “Διάκονος: What did deacons do?” Joensuu, Univer-
sity of Eastern Finland, School of Theology, September 12–14, 2017. Edited slightly for publi-
cation.
2 For a summary of the character of the usage, see John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-inter-
preting the Ancient Sources (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 194 and Appendix I;
“A Monocultural Usage: διακον-words in Classical, Hellenistic, and Patristic Sources,” VC 66
(2012): 287–309.
3 Paed. 3.12.97; Strom. 3.6.53; 3.12.88; 6.13.107; 7.1.3. References to Clement are to online
TLG (Thesaurus Linguae Graecae).

4 Collins, Diakonia, 336 n. 3.2.

166 John N. Collins
only twelve times, we can probably conclude that Clement’s focus was not on
matters relating to the institution or organisation of the Christian church.
1. The Christian Culture
Reading him, we soon realise what his focus was. Clement was largely writing
about the culture within the church. He was writing about the way of life expect-
ed of those who believed in Jesus, the Spirit, and the Father God. Clement pro-
vides indications that by 180 C.E. a Christian person was in a position to realise
that she or he belonged to a group that possessed a distinctive culture within the
broad, age-old, deep, dominant mythic culture of the Hellenistic world.5
The new culture Clement writes about is what we can call an ecclesial culture.
In calling it “ecclesial,” we have in mind a group of people sensing a high new
call to share with each other in a high new promise. The name Clement gives to
the ideal ecclesial person living within the ecclesial culture is γνωστικός. Given
the place of “gnostic” in today’s discourse on religion in the ancient Mediterra-
nean world, the term is not helpful in relation to Clement at this point. Gnosti-
cism speaks mainly of a deviant, unorthodox, or alternative Christianity among
a so-called plurality of Christian groups. For Clement, however, the γνωστικός
was the Christian fully equipped with the new understanding of the beginnings
and endings of the cosmos and of living within it that has been revealed in the
coming and the going of the Christ. This creates a very large context indeed for
Clement’s reflections.
2. Clement’s Gnostic
In his Stromata (in English often called Miscellanies) Clement insists that what
is under review for the Gnostic is “really philosophy,” that is, “strictly system-
atic Wisdom,” this being “certain knowledge of things divine and human, com-
prehending the present, past, and future.”6 Precisely such a philosophic capac-
ity is what the Greeks had sought and what God gave to them. And it was given
“as a covenant to them – being, as it is, a stepping-stone to the philosophy which
is according to Christ.”7 As thus being, however, of a preparatory character,
“Paul deems it unworthy of the man who has attained to the elevation of the
Gnostic to go back to the Hellenic philosophy.”8
5 Illustrating Clement’s close engagement with the Greek literary tradition is his treat-
ment of plagiarism in Strom. 6.2.

6 Strom. 6.7.54.
7 Strom. 6.8.67.
8 Strom. 6.8.62.

Διακον- and Deacons in Clement of Alexandria 167
This being the case, it is important that we come to some understanding of

how far Clement expects the Christian γνωστικός to be transformed by his
Christian experience. Clement begins by making a challenging statement about
life in the afterworld:
Those who have lived perfectly and gnostically according to the Gospel may be enrolled
in the chosen body of the apostles.9
The apostles, of course, no longer exist within the earthly church. They are with
the Lord in eternal life. The γνωστικός, however, is as true to the gospel of the
Lord as the apostle was, and the γνωστικός will reach the same level of glory as
the apostle.
3. The Gnostic as “Διάκονος”
Of interest to us is how Clement explains why the γνωστικός reaches such a level.
In order to explain this, Clement draws on the term διάκονος. In doing so Clem-
ent provides us with an example of how he is using the term to “special effect”:
If the γνωστικός does and teaches what is the Lord’s (τὰ τοῦ κυρίου), such a person is in
reality a presbyter of the Church […]. 10
Clement can say this because the γνωστικός is living the gospel “perfectly” in the
way that is expected also of the presbyter. Because the γνωστικός is living “ac-
cording to the Gospel” in this way, Clement is able to say further that that
person is
a true minister (διάκονος) of the will of God.11
The will of God is, of course, that all Christians live according to “what is the
Lord’s”: all Christians are to do and to teach what the Lord does and teaches.
The person living in this manner is a διάκονος or “agent” of God’s will in the
same way that the statesman, according to Plato, is the διάκονος or “agent” of
the state. Two chapters in Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources dis-
cuss and illustrate this basic usage.12
Clement proceeds to deepen this line of thinking:
According to my opinion, the grades here in the Church, of bishops, presbyters, dea-
cons, are imitations of the angelic glory, and of that economy which, the Scriptures say,
awaits those who have lived in perfection of righteousness according to the Gospel.13
9 Strom. 6.13.106.
10 Strom. 6.13.106.
11 Strom. 6.13.106: διάκονος ἀληθὴς τῆς τοῦ θεοῦ βουλήσεως.
12 Collins, Diakonia, 77–95, 133–49.
13 Strom. 6.13.107.

168 John N. Collins
The Gnostic, then, is impressed with the closest likeness, that is, with the mind of the
Master.14
What we see here is a comprehensive commendation of philosophy. This com-

mendation embraces both traditional Greek philosophy – the “Hellenic philos-
ophy” in the citation above – and the new economy of Christianity. Clement is
very generous to the ancient Greeks, presenting their culture as a divine cove-
nant with God. But without Christ, Greek culture is not as nourishing as we
need. Clement compares it to a nut: full of flavour but not all of it is edible.15
The “Hellenic philosophy” will never outshine the glories of Christianity
because on earth the Christian economy is itself an expression of the divine
economy. The Christian person who attains the rank of γνωστικός is “im-
pressed” with the mind of the Master. The imprinted Christian character is the
gold standard.
For our purposes we do not need to explore or to justify the extraordinary
claim made here by Clement, but we are interested to encounter, at the heart of
his ecclesiology, Clement’s reliance on a διακον- word. This is in his phrase de-
scribing an authentic Christian γνόστικος: as noted above, such a Christian is “a
true διάκονος of the will of God.”16
4. Modelling the Heavenly Ranks
In this passage, Clement goes on to speak of what he calls the three earthly
“grades” or “ranks” (προκοπαί) of bishops, presbyters, and deacons. He names
these earthly grades “imitations of angelic glory,” namely, earthly reflections of
the ranked heavenly hosts. These timeless heavenly ranks would provide the
later historic church with its own rigid institutional framework. The church’s
leading thinkers and bishops would take much encouragement from this hierar-
chical arrangement and, let us be honest, they would develop a damagingly high
sense of their own self-worth.
In the sixth century, in his The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy, Pseudo-Dionysius
would give the classic expression to this conceptualization of the church as a
hierarchical ranking of earthly churchmen linked into the heavenly ranking of
angelic spirits. The bottom earthly rank is that of διάκονος, but that title carries
a sense of honor and dignity. As in the language of Plato, Josephus, Paul, and
many, in Clement the διακον- words have an affinity with the heavenly sphere
and with processes of both transmission and transition between the heavenly
14 Strom. 6.15.115.

15 Strom. 1.1.7.
16 Strom. 6.13.106; compare Paed. 1.2.4.

spheres and the earthly sphere. From this perspective, Clement envisages the
downward journey of “the Lord’s voice”:
the Word, formless, the power of the Word, the enlightening word of the Lord, the truth
from heaven, from above, arrives within the assembly of the Church and functions
through an intimate luminous interchange/διακονία.17
To give expression on earth of the “formless,” “enlightening” Word from above

is the responsibility of the ranked hierarchy, bishops, presbyters, deacons. To
live fully by that Word is what the gnostic/γνωστικός does. In doing so, the
γνωστικός becomes, in Clement’s phrase, “a true minister of the will of God,” in
Clement’s Greek: διάκονος ἀληθἠς τῆς τοῦ θεοῦ βουλήσεως.18
διάκονος here is not designating the deacon in the church of Clement’s day.
The διάκονος here is the perfect product of the church’s ministry, any person
who has lived, as Clement says, “gnostically.” Clement introduces the διάκον-
term into his religious commentary for two reasons. Firstly, because διάκον-
words always express activity under a mandate, here according to “the will of
God”; and secondly because διάκον- words had an established place in discus-
sion of matters to do with earth and heaven.
5. The Deacon Title
The official ecclesial deacon is designated by a term that already had a place in
classical Greek religious terminology, although never before as a functionary
within a stable social institution. As a term designating a standard functionary
within a Christian community or ἐκκλησία, the term διάκονος was in circulation
within the later period of the New Testament at 1 Timothy 3:8. Only in 1 Timothy
and at Phil 1:2 does the Latin Vulgate translate the Greek term διάκονος as diaco-
nus. In the other 98 instances of the Greek διακον- terms in the New Testament,
the Vulgate translates by words of the Latin minister group. Thus the Latin trans-
literation diaconus evidences the uniform institutional character of deacon termi-
nology within both early Latin-speaking and Greek-speaking churches.
This distinctive recognition of the deacon within second century Greek and
Latin communities would be repeated in later centuries as the new European
vernacular languages developed. The grounds for understanding this ecclesias-
tical title in the sense of an agent under an ecclesial authority have been explored
in Diakonia and Deacons and the Church.19 And it is this aspect of usage that is
the most prominent in Clement’s writings.
17 Strom. 6.3.34.

18 Strom. 6.13.106.
19 Collins, Diakonia, 235–52; John N. Collins, Deacons and the Church: Making Connec-
tions between Old and New (Leominster, UK: Gracewing, 2002), 86–117.

170 John N. Collins
6. A Heavenly Connection
Clement’s epithet ἀληθής/“true” is associated with the aspects of agent and mes-
senger. Ἀληθής/“true” parallels the classic designation of the ancient διάκονος as
πιστός/faithful. We see this exemplified in Paul’s defence of his own claim to the
title of διάκονος (2 Cor 11:23). In this, Paul’s usage is standard Hellenistic/Clas-
sic Greek usage. Josephus, in recording his prediction that Vespasian would be-
come emperor, makes a passionate claim for his own entitlement to be recog-
nised as the “διάκονος of the voice of God.”20
Long before, Plato had already illustrated the currency of the διακον- terms
in the context of the relationship between heaven and earth. In Plato’s overview
of the functioning of human society, priests and prophets operate through a
“skill” that is diakonic/διάκονος: the Greek noun-form here functioning as an
adjective to designate the skill as “mediatorial.” Again, Plato’s context identifies
the mediatorial activity as happening in communications between heaven and
earth.21
Clement himself adopts this usage in recalling Moses’ reluctance to accept his
call from God: “Who am I to transmit the voice of God in human speech?”22
(“to transmit”: διακονῆσαι).23 Indeed, Clement notes elsewhere, all the prophets
“previous to the incarnation of the Word” and “sent and inspired by the Lord”
were διάκονοι.24 Just as prophets are God’s διάκονοι, so false prophets are
διάκονοι of apostates,25 this bringing to mind Paul’s accusation that his oppo-
nents were διάκονοι of Satan (2 Cor 11:23).
7. A Hellenistic Cluster of Agent Diakonoi
The religious character of the usage was thus already part of Greek language
prior to the introduction of διάκονος to designate the particular functionary we
know as deacon in early Christian communities. Clement’s call upon the διακον-
terms outside of an ecclesial context is part of his own cultural immersion in
things Greek and does not derive from any so-called specifically Christian use
of the words in earlier Christian documents and oral traditions. He shows no
20 See further the discussion of Josephus’ claim to the title (B.J. 3.354 and 401–2) in Col-
lins, Diakonia, 111–15.

21 Resp.
290c. See the analysis in Diakonia, ch. 4. See also “The Mediatorial Aspect of
Paul’s Role as Diakonos,” AusBr 40 (1992): 34–44, also in Diakonia Studies: Critical Issues in
Ministry (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 101–12.
22 Strom. 4.17.106.
23 See a parallel in Abraham’s deathbed prayer, Testament of Abraham (A) 9;24; Collins,
Diakonia, 98–99.
24 Strom. 1.17.81; see also 2.8.36; Paed. 1.9.79.
25 Strom. 1.17.85.

interest at all in attempting to identify specifically Christian values deriving

from occurrences of the words in the New Testament. This statement is thus in
criticism of commentators and ecclesiologists of the second half of the twentieth
century who suppose some such process to have been widely at work across
early Christian Greek.26
Clement’s appeal to the New Testament in the material surveyed in this paper
was in fact infrequent.27 In Clement’s period, the “deacon” of the Christian
church was so named after the manner of the New Testament (Phil 1:1; 1 Tim 3:8)
simply because the Greek term διάκονος continued to be recognised as a suitable
designation for a functionary acting at a subordinate level within a religious
establishment. At the same time, the origins of such a functionary is not to be
sought through association with the functionaries named διάκονοι who operat-
ed at traditional religious festivals. While performing a religious function, these
διάκονοι were named after the table attendants at formal dinners and among the
affluent.
This ecclesial διάκονος of the early Christians is also to be distinguished from
what we might call the “apostolic” διάκονος engaged in what Clement names
“the διακονία to the Gentiles.”28 This missional character of the usage remains
fundamental for Clement in reference to pastoral endeavours. The evangelising
mission is initiated under “the inspiration of God,” through the collaboration of
no less than “divine ministers” (θείων λειτουργῶν), who commit themselves to
“such sacred undertakings (διακονίας).”29
On his own mission, and in his dispute with the Corinthians concerning that,
Paul had chosen διάκονος as his own preferred self-designation. He elaborated
richly on what this designation implied for his status and function as an “apos-
tle.” But whether in relation to an “apostolic” function or to a “diaconal” func-
tion, the designation διάκονος implies and requires of the individual so designat-
ed that she or he remains πιστός/faithful, ἀληθής/true. This aspect is reflected in
commendations of ecclesial emissaries at Col 1:7; 4:7 and in Paul’s own apologia
in 2 Cor 11.30
26 Instancing only church “office” as diakonia in E. Schweizer, Church Order in the New
Testament (Engl. trans., London: SCM, 1961), Section 21.

27 Matt 11:25: Strom. 7.7.41; Mark 10:45: Paed. 1.9.85; Acts 6:2: Paed. 2.7.56; Acts 14:14:
Strom. 5.10.63; 1 Cor 3:8: Strom. 3.12.80; 1 Cor 3:6–8: Strom. 1.1.7; 3.12.79; 3.12.80; 1 Cor 3:9:
Strom. 1.1.7; 1 Cor 9:5: Strom. 3.6.53; 2 Cor 3:7: Exc. 3.58.1; 2 Cor 6:4: Strom. 1.1.4; Eph 4:11:
Strom. 1.1.13; 4.21.132; Eph 6:10–12: Quis div. 29.4.5; 1 Thess 4:17: Strom. 6.13.107; 1 Tim 3:4:
Strom. 3.12.79; 1 Tim 3:11: Strom. 3.6.53; Heb 1:1: Strom. 5.6.35.
28 Strom. 5.10.63; similarly, Strom. 3.12.80; 6.17.157; the same element of mission in the
often misunderstood idiom εἰς διακονίαν at Exc. 1.24.1.

29 Strom. 6.17.157.

172 John N. Collins
8. Disciple Agents in the Model of the Teacher
Clement’s most explicit expression of agency is in his phrase διάκονος […] τῆς
τοῦ θεοῦ βουλήσεως:31 the individual is διάκονος only in so far as she or he acts
in conformity with the mandate of the higher authority, in this case, the will of
the deity itself. In this instance, as explained, Clement is not writing of deacons
in the church of his day but is asserting that any Christian persons conducting
their lives “according to God’s will” are recognised in the heavenly court as
living according to the diakonic ideal set for deacons within the church on earth.
This ideal had been embodied for Christians in Christ himself; Clement
writes:
my children, our Instructor [Jesus] is like His Father God, whose son he is […] God in
the form of man, stainless, the minister of His Father’s will (πατρικῷ θελήματι διάκονος).32
Whether as “Instructor” – the “paedagogus” in the title of the book just cited –
or as “Saviour,” the Christ functions for Clement as “God’s διάκονος.”33 Indeed,
this διάκονος would not have descended from on high if people had not been
living in ignorance.34 Clement notes as well that “the followers of Basilides”
similarly thought of the dove descending at the baptism of Jesus as the Father’s
διάκονος.35
In addition, Clement uses the terminology in treating of the conduct of life
according to the teachings of the Master. The Christian is assured of protection
from extraterrestial forces – from “principalities and powers” (see Eph 6:10–12)
– because Christ reduced these to the status of διάκονοι for his disciples.36 Life
decisions regarding marriage or celibacy are to be decided in the light of which
lifestyle is the mandate (διακονία) from the Lord.37 Moreover, in conjunction
with God’s inspiration, the church’s ministers will work towards directing
well-disposed individuals to carry out their sacred duties (διακονίας).
So rich are the gifts of “divine χάρις/benevolence” that Christians are sum-
moned to spread this among their neighbours. They are to be διάκονοι of good-
ness.38 In naming Christians here as διάκονοι χάριτος, we are not to think in
terms of the dominant contemporary understanding of Diakonie as “a service
of love/χάριτος.” Clement is very clear about what Christian “διάκονοι of good-
31 Strom. 6.13.106.

32 Paed. 1.2.4.
33 Paed. 1.2.4; similarly 3.1.2.
34 Strom. 2.8.38; in this passage also “minister [of religion]” (generic) involved in baptism
and preaching.
35 Exc. 1.16.1.
36 Quis div. 29.4.5.
37 Strom. 3.12.79; the same usage follows twice at section 80.
38 Strom. 2.18.96.

ness” are to do; he is not urging the Christian to do acts of service but to per-
form with a strong ethic:
we, becoming ministers of the divine grace (διακόνους γενομένους τῆς θείας χάριτος),
ought to sow the benefits of God […] the temperate man may make others steadfast, he
that is manly may make them courageous, he that is wise may make them prudent, and
the just may make them just.39
In identifying the helping of the poor as the Christian’s highest diakonia, Cle
ment uses the term διακονία within the same semantic area of “task,” “duty.”40
9. Standard Greek Idiom
As in ancient Greek generally, Clement also draws on the διακον- terms to ex-
press various other facets of agency. Thus the human father is agent (διάκονος)
of procreation,41 and body parts exist for this purpose (εἰς διακονίαν);42 our
intellectual powers are agents (διάκονοι) of our will power: they function ac-
cording to the commands of the will;43 a study curriculum does not itself pro-
vide instruction but functions (διακονῆσαι) for the purpose it is designed for.
Not every task/διακονία is easy, however,44 because desire can be transformed
(διακονουμένη) into indulgence.45 Our deeds are good, nonetheless, when done
at God’s behest,46 and good Christians should follow Jesus (Matt 11:25) in
thanking God for having accepted and carried out their duty/διακονία.47
The lamp “delivering” its light48 attracts the same verb διακονεῖν that Clement
uses of Paul “delivering” information,49 the same also that Paul himself uses for
“delivering” a letter to the heart of the Corinthians (2 Cor 3:3) as well as the
money that he was to “deliver” to Jerusalem (2 Cor 8:19,20). Similarly milk for
an infant “provides” or “supplies” the two types of food that sustain adult life
(viz., drink and meat).50 Clement reports insults also being delivered as by a
διάκονος, at the command of drunkenness;51 on the other hand, self-motivation
39 Strom. 2.18.96. New Advent translation online (italicised adjectives altered); similarly
Quis div. 35.2.2.

40 Paed. 3.10.49.
41 Strom. 3.12.87; 6.16.147.
42 Paed. 2.10.87.
43 Strom. 2.17.77.
44 Strom. 1.1.14.
45 Strom. 3.5.41.
46 Quis div. 35.2.4.
47 Strom. 7.7.41.
48 Paed. 2.3.37.
49 Strom. 4.15.97.
50 Paed. 1.6.45.
51 Paed. 2.7.53.

174 John N. Collins
is the agent/διάκονος of temperance.52 Many διάκονοι function in the business of

prostitution;53 its clients are διάκονοι of adultery.54
Service at tables is also represented occasionally, one point of interest being
Martha’s distress at not hearing the Lord’s words because she was working
alone waiting upon the guest, this activity being expressed adverbially,
διακονικῶς (but see Luke 10:40), a modifier that in this sentence can have refer-
ence only to the activity of waiting at table, thus excluding reference to involve-
ment in pastoral responsibilities.55 Of particular interest is Clement’s explana-
tion of why Mark employs this verb when recording that angels “were minister-
ing” (διηκόνουν) to Jesus after his fast (1:13): knowing the customary use of this
verb in accounts of formal dining, Clement commented that the angels minis-
tered to Jesus “as if he were already a real king.”56 The terms occur also in inci-
dental reference to service at elaborate banquets.57
10. Conclusion: A Legacy from Clement?
If we move on from considering cultural and semantic factors in Clement’s use

of διακον- words, we can draw attention to information Clement imparts about
what we previously called ecclesial διάκονοι, namely, those of our contemporary
churches. Or are our contemporary deacons modelled on a different precedent?
Has Clement ever stood out as an authoritative commentator on the nature and
function of deacons for today’s churches?58
As suggested earlier, Clement sought to cultivate an appreciation of the
Christian experience as a sublime and timely enrichment of an ages-old and al-
ready fully-functional Greek culture. In the late second century C.E., propa-
ganda in support of ethical lifestyles was a competitive preoccupation among
Stoics, Pythagoreans, Epicureans, Neo-Platonists, all of them within the mix of
a god-consumer clientele, some of whose favourites were magic men and medi-
cal quacks with occasional troupers who entertained the non-committed with
their exposés of the duds, their mocking of unlikely claims, and with their
52 Paed. 3.6.35; similarly 1.10.46.

53 Paed. 3.4.28.
54 Paed. 3.4.29; cf 3.4.26 (eunuchs).
55 Quis div. 10.6.2. An understanding of a pastoral reference here is often invoked as evi-
dencing women’s participation in the early Christian ministry/διακονία of the word, follow-
ing Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction
of Christian Origins (Engl. trans.; London: SCM, 1983), 164–65.
56 Exc. 4.85.2.
57 Paed. 2.1.11; 2.3.35.
58 Clement receives scant attention, for example, in Herbert Krimm, Quellen zur Geschich
te der Diakonie: Vol. 1 (Stuttgart: Evangelisches Verlagswerk, 1960).

laughter and easy scepticism. Lucian of Samosata has left us a lively sense of the
fragility of cultural prospects among those who flocked to his readings.
Clement was not one to be easily undermined by philosophers or distracted
by the likes of a Lucian. He was less drawn to argumentation about the values
he held than to opening those values to all: particularly to “the one unity of
faith” with the Jews,59 but very much more of course to those who had come to
faith through baptism. These would appeciate what he had to offer from his
own profound experience of faith. Faith was Platonic in its dimensions and cap-
tivating in its intensity and clarity. Someone’s “luminous intimate ministry/
διακονία” had given human words to “the Lord’s voice, the Word, from above.”60
And this voice had reached what he called “the synagogue of the church: ἐπὶ τὴν
συναγωγὴν τῆς ὲκκλησίας.”61
Where did such “luminous ministry” operate within the church? For Clem-
ent, this was within the prime responsibility of the local presbyters/πρεσβύτεροι.
He identifies their task as “the betterment/βελτιωτική” of the congregation.62
Interestingly, at this point we have one sole indication from Clement of where
deacons might fit pastorally. The “betterment” Clement has in mind is primarily
the outcome of ministering towards an opening into faith, and this is the task of
presbyters. But here Clement identifies something within the deacon’s role. He
calls this ὑπερετική ὼφέλεια, and I think we might understand the phrase as
meaning “assistance in an official capacity.” 63 I express Clement’s meaning in
this way because υπερετ- terms are standard terms for the activities of mid-
dle-ranking civil servants. 64 What this might bring to mind within a pastoral
perspective during Clement’s era, I hesitate to suggest. It was certainly not going
to be re-arranging deck chairs. In my own earlier reflections on the modern dea-
con, I suggested pastoral engagement within the wide field of faith and love. 65
Some of us should take note of Clement’s brief comment on the value of the
women deacons. In the first place, Clement had no difficulty in acknowledging
their existence in churches of his day. He called them simply διάκονοι
γυναῖκες / “deacon women.” Like some other Greek words, διἀκονος has no fem-
inine form, and to make his meaning clear he simply added γυναῖκες, “women.”66
When Paul includes women among his own “co-workers/συνεργοί” (Phil 4:2–3),
Clement does not hesitate to name them Paul’s συνδιάκονοι. 67 This is not, how-
ever, in the ecclesial sense of “co-deacon” but in the sense of the “co-apostolic
59 Strom. 6.13.107.

60 Strom. 6.3.34.
61 Strom. 6.3.34.
62 Strom. 7.1.3.
63 Strom. 7.1.3.
64 See references to discussion of this usage in the index of Collins, Diakonia, 362.
65 Collins, Deacons and the Church, 137–38.
66 Strom. 3.6.53.
67 Strom. 3.6.53.

176 John N. Collins
διάκονος,” like Tychicus at Eph 6:21 and Col 4:7. 68 Nonetheless, Clement does

enlarge a little on the nature of the women’s pastoral engagement. In his words,
by force of the “deacon women,” “the Lord’s teaching (διδασκαλία) penetrated
into the women’s quarters.”69
Deacons, whether women or men, in the churches of Clement’s day stood at
the peak of the church’s engagement with God’s Word. In his opinion – and he
calls it simply his “opinion” – “the grades […] of bishops, presbyters, deacons are
imitations of the angelic glory.”70 This may not appeal to us much today, and we
may have little to learn from Clement’s further speculation that the deceased
“apostle,” upon reception into glory, will rise through the heavenly ranks to a
rightful place through first fulfilling the deacon’s role.71 Surely this illustrates an
early ecclesiological interest in what later emerged as a cursus honorum.
No doubt we now realise that Clement provides an incomplete report on dea-
cons of his day. The quality of what he expects of them, however, remains a
challenge in our day. He expected nothing less than a life lived according to the
Gospel:
Those […] who have exercised themselves in the Lord’s commandments, and lived per-
fectly and gnostically according to the Gospel, may be enrolled in the chosen body of the
apostles. Such an one is in reality a presbyter of the Church, and a true minister (διάκονος)
of the will of God.72
In other words, today’s deacon needs to be a good “gnostic.” What pastoral role
deacons fill is, I believe, for the church to determine, but the “church” needs to
be both the congregation and its leaders. Earlier I mentioned faith and love as
their field of ministry, and recently was pleased to read in Luther’s seventh In-
vocavit sermon of 1522:
I have preached to you for so long and, in almost all my books, have preached nothing
but faith and love […].73
A final comment of a more general kind seems appropriate. Clement wrote as a

man of his time profoundly imbued with its rich culture. Perhaps our churches
would benefit if, in addition to searching for precedent in the pastoral ministry
of deacons, we looked within to our own multiple cultural resources. By the
light of the faith we bring to this task – a faith shining perhaps with the bright-
ness Clement stood in awe of – we might discern how to fit our churches with
effective working parts for diaconal ministry in our time.
68 See the variant at 1 Thess 3:2: διάκονος or συνεργός discussed in Collins, Diakonia, 104, 223.
69 Strom. 3.6.53, with translation from New Advent online.
70 Strom. 6.13.107.
71 Strom. 6.13.107.
72 Strom. 6.13.106.
73 Cited in Gert Haendler, Luther on Ministerial Office and Congregational Function
(Engl. trans.; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981), 52.

Isaiah 60:17 as a Key for Understanding
the Two-fold Ministry of Ἐπισκόποι and Διάκονοι
according to First Clement (1 Clem. 42:5)
Bart J. Koet
One of the most interesting aspects of 1 Clement, a letter from the ἐκκλησία of
Rome to that of Corinth, is its use of Jewish traditions as examples for its audi-
ence. In 1 Clem. 42:5, Clement refers to Scripture: “For the Scripture says some-
where: I will raise their ἐπίσκοποι in righteousness and their διάκονοι in ‘faith/
trust.’”1 Scholars often identify this as a quotation from Isa 60:17. However,
there are quite a few differences between Isa 60:17 and the text quoted here. The
1 1 Clem. 42:5: καὶ τοῦτο οὐ καινῶς ἐκ γὰρ δὴ πολλῶν χρόνων ἐγέγραπτο περὶ ἐπισκόπων καὶ
διακόνων οὕτως γάρ που λέγει ἡ γραφή Καταστήσω τοὺς ἐπισκόπους αὐτῶν ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ καὶ
τοὺς διακόνους αὐτῶν ἐν πίστει. In what follows we shall leave both words (episkopoi and di-
akonoi) for the most part untranslated and use transcribed forms. Translating ἐπισκόποι with
bishops seems to be anachronistic, although translating “overseer” would lose the connection,
which does exist, with the later concept of bishops. In this article we cannot deal with this
element. In recent decades the word διακονία has often been seen as synonymous with lowly
service either within the church or expressed more broadly towards the needy in society.
However, important philological research has been undertaken on the word διάκονια and re-
lated expressions in classical Greek and the Greek of the New Testament (=NT) to falsify this
assumption: see John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1990) and Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament: Studien
zur Semantik unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen (Tübingen: Mohr Sie-
beck, 2007). See also my “Luke 10,38–42 and Acts 6 ,1–7: a Lucan Diptych on Diakonia,” in
Studies on the Greek Bible (eds. Jeremy Corley and Vincent Skemp; FS Francis T Gignac:
Washington DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 2008), 163–85 and my “Like a
Royal Wedding: On the Significance of diakonos in John 2,1–11,” in Diakonia, Diaconiae
Diaconato: Semantica e storia nei Padri della Chiesa. XXXVIII Incontro di studiosi dell’
antichità cristiana. Roma, 7–9 maggio, 2009 (eds. Vittorio Grossi, Bart J. Koet and Paul van
Geest; Roma: Augustinianum, 2010), 39–52. Both articles are reprinted in this volume. The
most important author in this debate is Collins. Through meticulous research into the mean-
ing of the diakon-clusters in ancient literature, he showed the extent to which the “Christian”
Greek of the NT differs from common early usage. Collins concludes that the diakon-terms
were not used specifically to express a notion of loving and caring service and that the Greek
diakon-terms were “floaters.” Often diakon-words designate the carrying out of orders and
the performance of deeds. Central notions expressed by διάκονια might cluster around no-
tions of “mediation, intercession, agency, and mission in the name of a principal.” Thus the
notion of “mandate” can be prominent. I will also not translate presbuteroi and ekklesia.

178 Bart J. Koet
question arises as to this reference: is it really a quotation? Another question is

why Clement introduces in this allusion – in quite an unexpected way – a refer-
ence to diakonoi.2
The aim of this article is to investigate the manner in which 1 Clem. 40–44
uses OT material, especially Isa 60:17, as a model for episkopoi and diakonoi and,
in addition, as a basis for understanding the relationship between the two func-
tionaries.3 In order to deal with these questions we will start with situating the
reference in the context of the whole letter as well as in the immediate context.
1. First Clement as a Letter
Van Unnik has described how the famous Church historian Adolf von Harnack
said farewell to university teaching in July 1929 in Berlin. There were two
speeches: one by a senior student and one by the professor himself. The senior
student happened to become one of the most famous Christians of the twentieth
century: Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the theologian and martyr. Von Harnack dedi-
cated the last session of his seminar to First Clement, because he argued that
this book was the most important document for insights into the history of the
Church.4
First Clement is the name of a quite extensive epistle, written in the name of the
ecclesia of Rome to the one in Corinth. Eusebius in Hist. Eccl. (iii. 16) summarises
the reason for the epistle as follows: “There is one acknowledged epistle of this
Clement great and admirable, which he wrote in the name of the church of Rome
to the church at Corinth, sedition having then arisen in the latter church.”
2 The relationship between the ministries as depicted in our text and the later forms of
ministries in the early church is beyond the reach of this chapter, which focuses on the text of
1 Clement itself. For a study of the development of the ministries and especially of sequential
ordination, see John St. H. Gibaut, The Cursus Honorum: A Study and Evolution of Sequen-
tial Ordination (New York: Peter Lang, 2000). See now also the collected articles of Alexan-
dre Faivre, Chrétiens et Églises des identities en construction: Acteurs, structures, frontiéres du
champ religieux chrétien (Paris: Cerf, 2011).
3 How is it possible that episkopoi already in the community of Corinth became the more
important (liturgical) leaders? In this context I cannot investigate any further the sociological
connotations of episkopoi in Greco-Roman context, but for the reasons of this instutionalisa-
tion, see Harry O. Maier, The Social Setting of the Ministry as Reflected in the Writings of
Hermas, Clement and Ignatius (Waterloo, Ontario, 1991).
4 Wilhelm C. van Unnik, Studies over de zogenaamde eerste brief van Clemens I: Het
litteraire genre (Amsterdam: Noord-Hollandsche Uitgevers Maatschappij, 1970), 151. Now

published as “Studies on the So-called First Epistle of Clement: The Literary Genre,” in En-
counters with Hellenism: Studies on the First Letter of Clement (eds. Cilliers Breytenbach and
Laurence L. Welborn; Leiden: Brill, 2004), 115–81, here 115. See in the same volume: Adolf
von Harnack, “Einführung in die Alte Kirchengeschichte: Das Schreiben der römischen Ge-
meinde an die korinthische aus der Zeit Domitians (I. Clemensbrief),” 1–103 = id (Leipzig,
1929). Here I quote from the edition of 2004.

Isaiah 60:17 as a Key for Understanding the Two-fold Ministry 179
This sedition focuses on certain problems in Corinth. In 1:1, the situation is

typified as a stasis, a rising. In language sometimes reminiscent of Pauline
themes, Clement describes in the beginning of this letter (1:2–3:1) how the com-
munity of Corinth walked in the laws of God (1:3) and thus how it flourished.5
According to Clement, in contrast with this recent past, the present time is
characterised instead by a whole series of vices like jealousy, envy, and strife
(3:3). Although in the beginning of his epistle Clement6 is vague about how
these vices expressed themselves concretely, we soon read indications through
phrases about “the worthless” rising against “those in honour,” “those of no
reputation” against “the renowned,” “the foolish” against “the prudent” and
“the young” against “the old” (presbuteroi). But the specific problem is not dis-
closed until 44:6: “some presbuteroi who have fulfilled their leitourgia 7 blame-
lessly have been removed” (see also 44:3 and 47:6).
Elsewhere there are hints of a kind of power struggle in Corinth. In 45:1,
Clement refers to the quarrels in Corinth as mentioned in 1 Cor 1–4, while in
54:2 there is a reference to some tensions between the presbuteroi and the peo-
ple. He exhorts possible instigators of the sedition, strife, or schism to go into
(self-) exile (the famous “Auswanderungsrat”).8
Like Paul did in his letters to the Corinthians, the author of 1 Clement deals
with this problematic situation by writing a letter. What was the aim of this
letter and what was the strategy followed by its author? It is Van Unnik who
shows that one can detect a rhetorical strategy in this letter.9 As in quite a few
of his articles, he first focuses on key words. Clement uses ὁμόνοια and εἰρήνη as
a usual formula indicating welfare and happiness of a state or of a community.10
Especially on the basis of this formula and on the use of the word συμβουλή in
58:2, Van Unnik argues that the literary genre of First Clement can be under-
stood as being of the genos sumbouleutikon, in Latin the genus deliberativum.11
It indicates that the aim of the letter was to give advice.
5 Compare the introduction of 1 Corinthians (1 Cor 1:1–3) with the introduction of 1
Clement. In both texts the community is addressed as “called saints.” For the relation between
1 and 2 Corinthians and 1 Clement, see D.G. Horrell, The Social Ethos of the Corinthian
Correspondence: Interests and Ideology from 1 Corinthians to 1 Clement (Edinburgh: T&T
Clark, 1996).
6 Although the prescript states that the letter is written by the ekklesia of Rome, Diony-
sius of Corinth (see Eusebius, Hist. Eccl. IV 23:10) refers to Clement as the author. For con-
venience’s sake, we will follow this tradition.
7 Leitourgia: “public service,” ”public service of the Gods,” from λήϊτος “public” + ἔργον
“work.”
8 Paul Mikat, “Der ‘Auswanderungsrat‘ (1 Clem. 5 4:2) als Schlüssel zum Gemeindever-
ständnis im I Clemensbrief,” in Bonner Festgabe Johannes Straub zum 65. Geburtstag (eds.
Adolf Lippold and Nikolaus P. Himmelman; Bonn, 1977), 213–23.
9 Van Unnik, “Epistle of Clement,” 151–63.
10 Van Unnik, “Epistle of Clement,” 146–51.
11 Aristotle was one of the first scholars to develop a rhetorical approach to genre. He di-
vided the art of rhetoric into three genres: deliberative, forensic, and epideictic.

180 Bart J. Koet
O. M. Bakke supported Van Unnik’s assessment of 1 Clement. One can find
most of the main characteristics of the genus deliberativum in 1 Clement.12
Deliberative rhetoric is hortatory or dissuasive and in 1 Clement this is reflect-
ed, for example, in the abundant use of hortatory subjunctives (see, for example,
7:2; 9:1; 13:1; 28:2). In deliberative rhetorical texts, the future is the main time
reference, and in 1 Clement this is manifested by the comparative frequency of
imperatives. According to Bakke, in a deliberative rhetorical context there is a
certain standard set of appeals, among which appeals to advantage or warnings
of danger were fundamental. One can find in 1 Clement warnings like those
against incurring great danger (14:2, see 41:4 and 51:9).13
As a last point Bakke signals that in a deliberative context proof by example
is characteristic.14 Van Unnik also mentioned this. Again and again Clement
adduces examples, quite a number taken from the OT. In his discussion about
ζῆλος, for example, he refers to Cain and Abel, to Jacob and Esau, to Joseph and
his brothers, to Moses and his fellow countryman, to Aaron and Miriam, to
Dathan and Abiram, and to David and Saul (1 Clem. 4). He refers not only to the
OT, but also to recent examples like Peter and Paul (1 Clem. 5; see Gal 2:9). The
lengthy first part of 1 Clement ends with an extended quote from Job (mostly
from 4:16–5:5; see 1 Clem. 39:2–9).
By using these examples of the past and references to ancient texts, Clement
shares with his audience moral examples from the past and prepares them for
the arguments he is going to use, when dealing with the reason of the turmoil in
Corinth.
2. The Structure of First Clement and the Place of 1 Clem. 40–44

within It
In 40:1, Clement makes the transition to the specific problem of disharmony in

Corinth’s ekklesia.15 The beginning of this part of the letter is often discussed
in scholarly literature especially because of its content: a deliberation about the
structure of the church.16 However, what exactly is the size of the relevant pas-
sage and its place in the letter?
12 Odd M. Bakke, “Concord and Peace.” A Rhetorical Analysis of the First Letter of Clem-
ent with an Emphasis on the Language of Unity and Sedition (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001),
33–62, for a summary, see 320–21. For the examples of hortatory subjunctives, see 35–36. For
1 Clement as belonging to the genus deliberativum, see Barbara E. Bowe, A Church in Crisis:
Ecclesiology and Paraenesis in Clement of Rome (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1988), especially
33–74.
13 Bakke, Concord and Peace, 38–54.
15 Bakke, Concord and Peace, 184.
16 Horacia E. Lona, Der erste Korintherbrief (Kommentar zu den Apostolischen Vätern

Scholars often argue that 1 Clement consists of two parts, which are connect-
ed, but at the same time are recognisable as independent units. In his commen-
tary, Lona sees Chapters 1–39 (including the prescript) as the first part and 40–
65 (including the postscript in 65:1–2) as the second one.17 He argues that the
first part is quite an extended argumentation, describing the causes of the divi-
sion and adducing a number of comparable examples from the past.
In his compositional analysis of 1 Clement, Bakke sees 4:1–39:9 as the thesis/
quaestio infinita or quaestio generalis.18 According to him, in this section
Clement exhorts his audience to certain virtues and behaviour, which secures
concord, and warns against vices and behaviour that leads to sedition. This in-
volves an abstract, theoretical, general approach to the question of concord.19
The second part, 40:1–61:3, is described as the upothesis, the quaestio finita, or
quaestio particularis, which gives a concrete, non-theoretical, practical treat-
ment of a problem.20 Thus, Bakke sees the connection between the first part of
1 Clement and the second as between a theoretical discourse and its practical
application.21 This concurs to a certain extent with Lona’s observations. He
argues that while the first part of 1 Clement is a large-scale demonstration, it is
in 40:1 that Clement starts to deal with the concrete problem.22
Although in 40:1 there is a new beginning, we have to look whether there is a
smaller unity within this second part of the letter. Lona sees 40:1–44 as the uni-
ty, dealing with the concrete controversy in Corinth, but argues at the same
time that Chapter 45 belongs to it, because the whole section is closed in 45:7–8
with a doxology.23
Bakke sees 40:1–43:6 as a unity, followed by the unity 44:1–47:7.24 According
to him, in 40:1–43:6 the theme is “order among the people of God according to
the will of God.” In the first half of this section (40:1–41:4), the cult of the Tem-
ple is introduced as an example, while in the second half Clement focuses upon
the order in the apostolic times and post-apostolic times (42:1–43:6). Bakke ar-
gues that after demonstrating that an order presupposing an appointed leader-
ship according to God’s will, Clement turns more explicitly to the situation in
Corinth in 44:1–47:7. Bakke summarises this passage in the phrase: “Clement
II; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), 426: “Es handelt um den Abschritt des Brief-
es, der wegen seiner Aussagen zur kirchlichen Verfassung am meisten die Aufmerksamkeit
der Forschung auf zich gezogen hat.”
17 Lona, Erste Korintherbrief, 24–30.
18 See Bakke, Concord and Peace, for example, 155 and 232.
19 See Bakke, Concord and Peace, 232.
20 See Bakke, Concord and Peace, 155 and 232.
22 Lona, Erste Korintherbrief, 426.
23 Lona, Erste Korintherbrief, 426–27.
24 Bakke, Concord and Peace, 259–61; and see the table of the composition of the letter on
275–77.

182 Bart J. Koet
blames the Corinthians for the present state of affairs.”25 According to Bakke, it
is in Chapter 44 that Clement comes to the point: the apostles knew (through
the Lord Jesus Christ) that there would be strife (ἒρις) over “the name of bishop”
(44:1).26 Thus, the apostles appointed bishops and deacons and arranged that
after their death other approved men should succeed to their λειτουργία (44:2).
According to Clement, the apostolic origin and succession is legitimating the
position of those successors and, consequently, no one is free to remove from
their service those who were installed by the apostles or their successors and
with has ekklesia (44:3). But such a development is exactly what the approval of
the whole happened in Corinth. This becomes clear from 44:3.6, where the most
concrete description of the issue at stake can be found: the Corinthians have
removed some men in office in spite of their good service. Bakke sees 45:1 as a
transition to a new sub-text.
Although Lona is correct in recognizing a formal ending at 45:8 and a new
beginning at 46:1, in this article we are reading 1 Clem. 40–44 as a relatively
independent part of the letter and as the context of the reference to Isaiah. While
the address ἀδελφοί at 45:1 indicates a new beginning, our main contention is
that the prevailing subject matter throughout 1 Clem. 40–44 is the different
forms of ministry in the OT as well as in Christianity and that this serves to
introduce the first explicit statement of the concrete problem at Corinth in 44:3–6.
3. Isa 60:17 in 1 Clem. 42:5
Thus, in 1 Clem. 40:1 there is a new beginning. Because Clement and his audi-
ence have looked into the depths of the divine knowledge (as translated by Kir-
sopp Lake), he opens the discussion with a statement: “We ought to do in order
all things which the Master commanded us to perform at appointed times.” In
the following Clement discusses the order of Israel’s society as a model for the
Christians in Corinth.
In Chapters 40–41 the commandments of “the Master” regarding sacrifices
and services are discussed for Israel (40) and for the Christian community (41).
Firstly, he describes the order of Israel: the appointed times for sacrifices (40:2)
and the places and the persons involved (40:3). The focus is on the order of the
persons and in 40:5 he mentions four ranks: High Priest, the priests, the Levites,
and the layman (here λαϊκός). He stresses that it is the Master (ὁ δεσπότης !) who
imposed this order (40:1.2.3.4; 41:3).27 The word “order” may be the catchword
of this section: “Let each one of us, brothers, be well pleasing to God in his own
25 Bakke, Concord and Peace, 261–64, for the quote 261.
26 Bakke, Concord and Peace, 261.
27 When referring to God, in his own text Clement uses normally δεσπότης. See Annie
Jaubert, Clément de Rome. Ėpître aux Corinthiens (Paris: Cerf, 1971), here 66–67 n. 4. This

τάγμα (“order,” “rank”; 41:1).28 In Chapter 41, Clement starts to apply these
regulations to the community of Corinth and uses the sacrifices in the Temple
of Jerusalem (41:2–4) as examples. This application is joined with quite a severe
warning.
In Chapter 42, Clement continues the discussion about the subject of “order”
by turning to the divine order of the Christian community rooted in the divine
origin of Jesus Christ and in the mission of the apostles as given to them by Je-
sus the Christ (42:1–2) and by sketching the origin of the ministries of episkopoi
and diakonoi in their appointment by the apostles (42:4). The relation between
Christ and the Apostles is the argument for the divine origin of the episkopoi
and the diakonoi. In 42:5 he uses Isa 60:17 as a model for bishops and deacons.
In Chapter 43, he uses the narrative of the divine choice of the tribe of Aaron
for Israel’s priesthood (Num 17) as the mirror image of the problems in Corinth.
In Chapter 44 he applies this story to the quarrels about the name of the episco-
pate and finally tells his audience about the removal of presbuteroi in Corinth.29
It is in this context that Clement stresses that – although the apostles when they
preach from city to city appoint their first converts as episkopoi and diakonoi,
these ministries are not a new phenomenon (42:5). He can say this, he claims,
because this pair has been recorded in writings for many years. With a formal
introductory phrase (“for the Scripture says thus somewhere”) Clement alludes
to a passage which seems to have its origin in Isa 60 as the biblical root of these
two ministries.
Before dealing with the question of whether this is a citation or not, we will
turn to the text of Isaiah. Isa 60 is part of the third section of Isaiah, Isa 56–66,
a section nowadays often called Trito-Isaiah. Isa 60–62 is often seen as the ker-
nel of the whole section.30 The theme of these chapters is an announcement of
salvation directed to Jerusalem. According to Beuken, Isa 60 itself consists of
three sections:
60:1–9 (YHWH in Zion);
60:10–16 (the reversal of the fate of Zion);
60:17–20 (Zion as a new creation).
concurs with the Jewish usage to avoid the name of God. In the later books of the LXX like
Wisdom, Sirach and Daniel, one can find δεσπότης as referring to God.
28 According to Jaubert (“Themès Lévitiques dans la Prima Clementis,” VC 18 [1964]:
193–203) the stress on “order” concurs with the principles of post-biblical levitical or sacerdo-
tal circles. She refers, for example, to 1 Esd 1:15 (LXX), Aristeas 92–95, and to some texts from
Qumran.
29 For this passage, see W. Moriarty, “1 Clement’s View of Ministerial Appointments in
the Early Church,” VC 66 (2012): 115–38.

30 Willem A.M. Beuken, Jesaja (Nijkerk: Callenbach, 1989), 157–8: see id., “The Main
Theme of Trito-Isaiah: The Servants of YHWH,” JSOT 47 (1990): 67–87.

184 Bart J. Koet
According to Isaiah, Jerusalem will be a light, attracting the (other) nations and
(their) kings. While in the past the kings of other nations have devastated Jeru-
salem, now they will rebuild the gates, which at the same time are no longer
necessary and will be left open (60:11). In the last section the prophet describes
how the Lord transforms the city into a better place: instead of bronze, God
will bring gold to Zion; instead of iron, silver.31
In the Hebrew text it is in this context that the Lord promises a new time of
justice in the future: “I shall make Peace your overseer and Righteousness your
governors” (60:17b; my translation).32 As argued by Beuken, the abstract con-
cepts of “Peace” and “Righteousness” are personified and they express the idea
that there will be a new constellation.33 He suggests that when Peace and Right-
eousness rule, there will be no need for authorities. This seems to be Utopia: no
rulers and no quarrels.
The text of this passage in the LXX is less utopian. This translation introduc-
es leading figures instead of abstract concepts: καὶ δώσω τοὺς ἄρχοντάς σου ἐν
εἰρήνῃ καὶ τοὺς ἐπισκόπους σου ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ. “And I will appoint your rulers in
peace and your overseers in righteousness” (NETS). The Greek word ἄρχων is
not uncommon in the LXX. It is “upper class.” Again and again archontes are
mentioned right after the king (see, for example, Neh 9:32; Est 1:16; Zeph 1:8; Jer
24:1; Jer 41:21; Bar 1:9; 2 Chr 29:20) or in connection with the chief-general or
they are the leaders of a city. The Greek word ἐπίσκοπος used for the second
group is infrequent in the LXX (14x). Those so designated do have an important
function, but this is comparable to that of police or inspectors (see 1 Macc 1:51;
see Num 4:16).34 In the LXX, the vision of total peace and righteousness in a
future Zion is transformed into the vision of a peaceful reign of the rulers and of
righteous overseers. A certain hierarchy is perhaps discernible here: the first
group seems to be the more important one and thus those functionaries are
guaranteeing the overall peace, while the second group seems to be responsible
for overseeing the process of righteousness.
In the literature, it is a commonplace to refer to Isa 60:17 as the source of the
reference to Scripture in 1 Clem. 42:5. However, regarding the form and the con-
tent of this reference, it is hardly possible to identify it as a formal quotation. As
noted by most of the commentators the allusion is far from literal. For a formal
quotation one needs an introductory formula or a verbatim quotation and pref-
31 Rev 21:22–27 refers extensively to the vision of peace as depicted by Isaiah 60.
32 It is clear from the different translations that 60:17b is not so easy to translate: ‫ אגנ‬can
refer to driving a flock (Num 15:2) but also to oppressing Israel (Isa 3:5) or a person (the serv-
ant of the Lord: Isa 53:7) or even one’s soul (Isa 58:3).
33 Beuken, Jesaja, IIIA, 181.
34 Ἐπίσκοπος in Josephus, two times: Ant. 10,53, 187: episkopoi together with kritai as the
task to care for the interests of everyone; In 12, 254 episkopoi are a kind of “policeman” who
have to oversee that the orders of king Antiochus (for example, the defense to circumcise) were
followed by the Jews.

erably both. Authors of the NT and in the early church used these formal criteria
to mark scriptural citations as a matter of course.35 Here, the introductory for-
mula is somewhat ambigious. Clement says, “the Scripture says somewhere
(που).” While he appears to quote and thus to be – to a certain extent – precise, he
leaves the source of his biblical argument open.36 The ambiguity of the introduc-
tory formula concurs with the fact that the reference is not verbatim.37 Evans lists
five differences between the LXX and the phrase in 1 Clement: 1) καταστήσω
instead of δώσω; 2) the two clauses are reversed; 3) διακονοι instead of ἂρχοντες;
4) “in faith” instead of “in peace”; and 5) Clement uses the third person plural,
while the LXX uses the second person singular for the functions.38
At the same time, the similarities are such as to allow us to assume that Isa
60:17 is the source of 1 Clement.39 The most important is that they have in
common the phrase τοὺς ἐπισκόπους αὐτῶν ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ. However, how is it
possible that the author adduces such a reference in his letter? And why should
he do it? A possible answer to the first question is that Clement, in writing about
Christian ministry, will understandably have made an immediate association
with the Isaiah-text: the word episkopoi is the link between the source text and
the “receiving” one.40
Another reason for making the connection with Isaiah could be that the Isa-
ianic text mentions a two-fold leadership. Moreover, the leadership structure is
the same in each case: leaders and their assistants. In the LXX, the episkopoi are
the assistants of the archontes, while in 1 Clement the diakonoi are the assistants
of the episkopoi. Hagner typifies the reference as a quotation but notes that a
number of words have been altered and the lines transposed. He tries to explain
35 Maarten J.J. Menken, Matthew’s Bible: The Old Testament Text of the Evangelist (Leuven:
Peeters, 2004), 1, distinguishes two types of quotations from the OT: Marked quotations
which are more or less verbatim, and thus recognizable borrowings and which are introduced
(or concluded) by a formula, that makes it clear that these words in question come from Scrip-
ture. Unmarked quotations: more or less verbatim borrowings without a citation formula.
For a discussion about the differences between quotations, allusions, and echoes, see Steve
Moyise, The Old Testament in the New: An Introduction (London: Continuum, 2001), 5–6.
36 Also elsewhere in 1 Clement the author uses an introductory formula with που to intro-
duce a non-verbatim reference to or a paraphrase of Scripture: 15:2 and 21:2. In 28:2 it intro-
duces a reference to Ps 138:7–10, which is closer to the Hebrew than to the LXX, while in 26:2
it refers to an unknown source. See Heb 2:6–8 and 4:4, where the author uses που to introduce
a more verbatim quotation.
37 Ireneaus, Haer. IV, 26:5, also uses Isa 60:17. His quote is closer to the Isaiah text and he
uses it to depict the presbuteroi of the ekklesia and thus sees presbuteroi and episkopoi as syn-
onyms. There is no trace of a reference to diakonoi.
38 Craig A. Evans, “The Citation of Isaiah 60:17 in 1 Clement,” VC 36 (1982): 105–7, here 105.
39 See Isa 60:17 (LXX): καὶ ἀντὶ χαλκοῦ οἴσω σοι χρυσίον ἀντὶ δὲ σιδήρου οἴσω σοι ἀργύριον
ἀντὶ δὲ ξύλων οἴσω σοι χαλκόν ἀντὶ δὲ λίθων σίδηρον καὶ δώσω τοὺς ἄρχοντάς σου ἐν εἰρήνῃ καὶ
τοὺς ἐπισκόπους σου ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ.
40 It is not impossible that for Clement the combination between episkopoi and δικαιοσύνῃ
was attractive. The last concept was dear to him: he uses this word thirteen times.

186 Bart J. Koet
the differences between the reference in 1 Clem. 42:5 and the text of Isa 60:17
(LXX). He suggests that the variant διάκονος is probably introduced by Clem-
ent, because it is important for his argument. According to Hagner it is also
possible that he simply quoted from memory and mistakenly remembered τους
διακονους for τους ἀρχοντας.41
However, it could be that there is more strategy involved than Hagner thinks.
In Isa 60:17 LXX, there is two-fold leadership involved, with a difference in
level between the different categories of leaders. The archontes are clearly high-
er, while the overseers (here episkopoi) are in charge in the name of these archon-
tes. Also in I Clement we find a two-fold leadership with a difference in level
between these different leaders. Now the episkopoi are mentioned in the first
place, while their assistants are ranked in the second place. It is interesting to
note that the overseers seem to be qualified to do righteousness, while the di-
akonoi are related to πίστις.42
This two-fold structure fits Clement’s concept of the two-fold leadership in
the church as will be clear from other places where he mentions leadership mod-
els in his work. In his excursus about ministry, apostolic succession, and church
law, Lona refers to three passages where Clement deals with the structure of
ministry in 1 Clem. 42–44: one hears about episkopoi and diakonoi in 42:4–5,
about the episcopate in 44:4, and about presbuteroi in 44:5.43 Although Lona on
the one hand argues that we cannot find in 1 Clement a difference between the
episkopoi and the presbuteroi, on the other hand he claims that the problem is
about the removing of presbuteroi and not about removing episkopoi.44 This
last remark seems to refer to 44:5–6. Is this last passage an indication that he
does seem to reckon with a difference between these categories? J. Gibaut sees
44:4–5 as a strong indication that in 1 Clement the titles episkopoi and presb-
uteroi are interchangeable.45 He argues that in this passage the activity of the
episcopate is associated with that of the presbuteroi. The parallel between 44:4
41 Donald Alfred Hagner, The Use of the Old and New Testaments in Clement of Rome
(Leiden: Brill, 1973), 67.

42 Collins identifies fidelity as the hallmark of a diakonos; see Are All Christians Ministers?
(Collegeville: Liturgical, 1992), 48; also Collins, Diakonia, 202. For the relation between
diakonoi and pistis, see 1 Tim 3:9.
43 Lona, Erste Korintherbrief, 471–81. Lona stresses the fact that the theme of “ministry”
is crucial for 1 Clement, but he argues (472) that questions around the ministry are inextrica-
bly linked with the theme of the unity of the community.
44 Lona, Erste Korintherbrief, 474: “Ein Unterschied zwischen Episkopen und Presbytern
ist hier nicht vorhanden und von der Argumentationsart her auch nicht zu erwarten. […]
Anderseits geht es in der korinthischen Gemeinde nicht um die Absetzung von Episkopen,
sondern von Presbytern.”
45 Gibaut, Cursus Honorum, 23–24. See Reinhard M. Hübner, “Die Anfänge von Di-
akonat, Presbyterat und Episkopat in der frühen Kirche,” in Das Priestertum in der Einen
Kirche: Diakonat, Presbyterat und Episkopat (eds. Albert Rauch and Paul Imhof; Aschaffen-
burg: Kaffke, 1987), 45–89, here 69, and A. Lemaire, Les ministères aux origins de l’ église:
Naissance de la triple hiérarchie: évêques, presbyters, diacres (Paris: Cerf, 1971), 149.

and 44:6 strongly suggests that here there is no real difference between the epis-
copate and being a presbuteros:
To eject from the episcopate those who have blamelessly and holily offered its sacrifices
(44:4).
To remove some from the leitourgia (referring to the presbuteroi of 44:5), which they
have fulfilled blamelessly (44:6).46
In this context Clement does not mention diakonoi, which is in fact not a sur-
prise, because the problem is about removing the presbuteroi/episkopoi.
In his discussion of the structure of the ministry according to Clement, Lona
does not refer to 1 Clem. 40:5. It seems to me that this passage in Clement’s ex-
position of the ministries in Israel is the first step. At first sight he seems to refer
to a four-fold hierarchy. Indeed, the scheme consists here of four layers, in a
pyramidal model: at the top the High Priest, who has his own λειτουργία, then
he mentions the place of the priests (here Clement uses a cultic term: ἱερεύς), the
next place is for the Levites with their ministries (here he uses for ministry the
Greek word διακονία). And then there is the λαϊκός (the man of the λαός), who is
bound to the ordinances of the λαϊκός.
Clement uses this four-fold model, derived from the Jewish cult as we find it
in the OT, as an example for the Christian community of Corinth. Although it
is a four-layer model, the ministry discussed here is a two-fold pattern and con-
sists of the priests and the Levites. The High Priest of the OT is the prototype
of Jesus as High Priest (see 1 Clem. 61:3 and 64) and as such he is hors con-
cours.47 Also in 1 Clem. 32:2, Clement supposes a two-fold model of cultic lead-
ership (here also the cultic term ἱερεύς and Levites).48
In his article on the significance of the OT for the understanding of ministry
in early Christianity, Dassmann argues that it is only a comparison.49 Here the
word “only” is suggestive, because with the comparison there are important le-
gitimising arguments involved. Although there are clearly differences between
the ministry of Israel and that of Christianity – it seems to me that it is not by
accident that Clement uses the word ἱερεύς only for ministers in Israel and
Egypt – Clement takes from the example of Israel two arguments, which he
applies to Christian ministry: both are a two-fold ministry and both are of
46 The theme of blamelessness of the ministers involved in the removal is already intro-
duced in 43:3.
47 It is possible that Clement knew of the use of Jesus as High Priest in, for example, Heb
2:17; 3:1; 4:14,15; 5:5,10; 6:20; 9:1. It is well known that he knew Hebrews and used this trac-
tate: see, for example, Hagner, Clement of Rome, 179–95, here 179.
48 I disagree with Lemaire (Ministères, 150) who argues that Clement knows only one
ministry.
49 Ernst Dassmann, “Die Bedeutung des Alten Testamentes für das Verständnis des Kirch-
lichen Amtes in der Frühpatristischen Theologie,” in Bibel und Leben 11 (1970): 198–214, re-
printed in id., Ämter und Dienste in den frühchristlichen Gemeinden (Bonn: Borengässer,
1994), 96–113, here 99. Hübner, “Anfänge,” 71, sees the connection even as a typology.

188 Bart J. Koet
divine origin.50 This last observation is in fact the third reason for adducing the
reference to Isaiah and at the same time it is an answer to the question of why
Clement introduces the reference. Clement himself stresses that this is not a new
phenomenon: because for many years before episkopoi and diakonoi had been
written of (42:5). It is here that he introduces his reference, showing that the
ministries of episkopoi and diakonoi are already long established. The author
refers to an idea which was common in his time: only what is ancient could be
of importance.51 Here, Clement prepares his audience for his defense of the
removed episkopoi/presbuteroi. Referring to the fact that the two ministries al-
ready existed in Scripture legitimise, according to the author, their position in
the church of Corinth.
Concurring with this is Annie Jaubert’s remark about how much the author
of 1 Clement values the Jewish prescriptions regarding the cult, and although he
seems to know Hebrews (see 1 Clem. 36:2), he does not follow its opinion that
the Jewish cult and sacrifices are out-dated.52 Clement stresses that the regula-
tions of the Jewish cult constitute the regulations in the community of the fol-
lowers of Jesus and Paul.53 There is a not a contrast between them, but, on the
contrary, Clement uses the regulations to be found in Jewish traditions as illus-
trations for the model of followers of the Apostles. As in Israel, there has to be
an order in the ecclesia. The Apostles received the Gospel from the Lord Jesus
Christ, while Jesus Christ was sent from God. The apostles preached the reign
of God and they appointed their “firstlings” as overseers (episkopoi) and diako-
noi.54 The Jewish two-fold structure of the cultic ministry is used as a matrix, a
mould or maybe a mirror for the community in Corinth. More important is
Clement’s legitimisation of the order in Corinth: like the Jewish ministry, the
ministry in the ekklesia is rooted in divine order and this order has the same
structure.55
50 Collins, Diakonia, 238–39, rigthly stresses that the Christian ministers, like their OT
examples are depicted as liturgical ministers. The diakonoi are according to him: “non-pres-
byteral liturgical assistants of presbyters in the presbyters’ capacity of bishop.” He adds: “Be-
cause the liturgy included a sacred meal, the deacons presumably acted as ritual waiters, but
they would have done this not on a title of being waiters for the assembly but in their capacity
as attendants to those responsible for the conduct of the service.”
51 For this principle, see P. Pilhofer, Presbyteron Kreitton: Der Altersbeweis der jüdischen
und christlichen Apologeten und seine Vorgeschichte (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1990).
52 Jaubert, “Themès Lévitiques,” 198.
53 For quite a few scholars, this is a reason to assume that the function of the ministers is
in the first place cultic. Lona (Erste Korintherbrief, 472–74) uses 44:3 to show that those
episkopoi/presbuteroi were not only cultic leaders. In fact, they are even depicted as shepherds,
and thus as pastors. For the leaders as pastors, see also 16:1 and 54:2.
54 “Firstlings” is possibly also related to a form of ministry: see, for example, 1 Cor 16:15.
Here we cannot deal with this aspect. However, H. von Camphausen already refers to this
possibility: see Kirchliches Amt und geistliche Vollmacht in den ersten drei Jahrhunderten
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 21963), 72.
55 See Lona, Erste Korintherbrief, 477: “Der Kontinuität in der Weitergabe des Amtes ist

Regarding the stress in the context on the couple of episkopoi and diakonoi in
42:4–5, it is possible that it is Clement himself who introduced this couple in the
Isaiah paraphrase. He could do this because it seems that this combination was
already something like a stock phrase in the early church. The fact that we can
find in Clement the twofold ministry episkopoi–diakonoi concurs with the
(scarce) use of this combination in comparable literature from the early church.
In this context we mention them briefly in the next section.
4. Traces of Two-fold Ministry in Early Christian Literature
In his note on the citation of Isa 60:17 in 1 Clement, Evans argues that Hagner
can offer no explanation for the new form of the reference except to say that
Clement mistakenly attributed it to Scriptures.56 Evans suggests that Acts 6:1–6,
a text not considered by Hagner, could be helpful in understanding Clement’s
form and the function of the quotation in its context.57 Evans gives a list of sim-
ilar vocabulary in these two passages. Although he does not suggest that Clem-
ent’s quotation should be understood as a conscious paraphrase of any portion of
Acts 6:1–6, he argues that the quotation of Isaiah 60 has been heavily influenced
(although perhaps unconsciously) by ecclesiastical tradition concerning church
offices. Because 1 Clem. 42:5 is a quotation from memory, it has been influenced
by its immediate context (the discussion of the apostolic legitimacy of bishops
and deacons), and the broader Christian context concerning ecclesiastical lead-
ership. Evans does not explicitly refer to one element of Acts 6: the two-fold
model of that ministry.58 The apostles install the seven as their representatives. It
is this two-fold structure, which reappears on the few occasions when early
Christian literature mentions the combination episkopoi and diakonoi.
The first time we encounter the combination of episkopoi and diakonoi is in the
introduction of Paul’s Letter to the Philippians (1:1).59 The mere mention of this
combination without any context has led to ample discussion about this phrase.
Although there are some scholars who argue that this phrase refers to only one
office, it seems to us that it refers to at least two aspects of one office and more
probably to two offices and that the first function is logically the more important
and that the second one refers to bearers of an office subordinate to the other. 60
von dem Interesse geleitet, das Amt sacral zu legitimitieren und die Amtsträger als unabsetz-
bar auszuweisen, um die Stellungnahme der römischen Gemeinde zu begründen.”
56 Evans, “The Citation of Isaiah,” 105–6.
57 Ibid., 106.
58 Note that in Acts 6 there is no mentioning of diakonoi and that the apostles as well as
the seven do have a diakonia.

59 For a discussion, see among others Gibaut, Cursus Honorum, 16.
60 For this, see Collins, Diakonia, 235–36 and, especially, Deacons and the Church: Mak-
ing Connections between Old and New (Leominster, UK: Gracewing, 2002), 47–58.

190 Bart J. Koet
It is the First Letter to Timothy that reflects the first description of the min-
istry of episkopos and diakonoi. One can find the term presbuteros in 1 Timothy
5:17, but there it seems again to be synonymous with episkopos. What is the re-
lationship between this structure and the picture found in Acts? What are the
role and the function of the episkopos, the diakonos, and the widow in 1 Timo-
thy? These questions are difficult to answer. However, it is clear that 1 Timothy
promotes a kind of two-fold ministry. The episkopos (here for the first time in
Christian literature in the singular) has more responsibilities than the diakonoi.
The episkopos and the diakonoi are closely linked and from the structure we
learn that the first is in charge and that the latter are his assistants, assistants
who are geared not merely to lowly service.
There is another important witness: Did. 15:1–2: “Appoint for yourselves
episkopoi and diakonoi, worthy of the Lord, men who are gentle, not money
lending, truthful, and tested; for you likewise gratuitously serve the unpaid […]
of the prophet and teachers. Do not, then, look down upon them. For they
themselves are your honoured ones in company with the prophet and teach-
ers.”61 Discussing this passage in his commentary and in seven excurses, Mila
vec observes that this advice is presented without any fanfare or injunction of
the Lord: “Hence, one can presume that the communities had already been
functioning according to this rule.”62 He notes that there is a certain defensive
tone in this context: “When members were told ‘Do not look upon them [the
bishops]’ (Did. 15), one can be sure that many had indeed done just this” (em-
phasis of A.M). 63 Milavec sketches the meaning of the four qualifications re-
quired of the episkopoi and diakonoi. He refers to the possible links between the
synagogue model of organisation and that of the early church. The most re-
markable difference between 1 Clem. 42 and the Didache is the fact that the
manual for living the Way of the Life (suddenly) speaks of appointing episkopoi
and diakonoi worthy of the Lord. One does not find here any hint that, as in
1 Clement somehow apostles stand behind the appointments of these ministers
or that these ministries are rooted in Scriptures.64
There is one element which 1 Clement and Didache share: the seemingly ob-
vious connection between episkopoi and diakonoi. Milavec points out that this
combination is curious. One of the reasons for this judgment is that he considers
61 Aaron Milavec, The Didache: Faith, Hope and Life of the Earliest Communities, 50–70
CE (New York: Newman, 2003), argues for quite an early date, earlier than 1 Clement. For the
more accepted, later dating see, for example, André Tullier, “Les charismatiques itinérants
dans la Didachè et dans l’Évangile de Matthieu,” in Matthew and the Didache: Two Docu-
ments from the Same Jewish-Christian Milieu? (ed. Huub van de Sandt; Assen: Van Gorkum,
2005), 157–69; see the English summary, 171–72.
62 Milavec, Didache, 581–617, here 583.
63 Milavec, Didache, 586.
64 Still, there is some continuity suggested in the Didache: between prophets and teachers
at the one hand and episkopoi and diakonoi on the other.

diakonoi to be table servants.65 In his discussion of the charismatic wanderers

in the Didache, Tullier argues that there is a parallel between the prophets and
the episkopoi on the one hand and the teachers and the diakonoi on the other. 66
For us it suffices to conclude here that, although it is difficult to place Didache
exactly in a timeline, the Didache is a witness, probably a little older than
1 Clement, of a two-fold ministry in an early Christian community. It is inter-
esting to note that Tullier suggests that the Didache presents assimilation be-
tween the teachers and the deacons.67 As in 1 Clement, in the Didache the rela-
tionship between the episkopoi and the diakonoi is like a leader and his assis-
tants and thus this relationship is not as curious as Milavec suggests.
5. Conclusion
1. Clement uses Isa 60:17 as a key to understanding the ministry in Corinth as
a two-fold ministry. The relation between episkopoi and diakonoi is like the
relationship between leaders and their assistants.
2. This reference shows that for Clement the ministry of Israel, as reflected in
the Scriptures, constitutes a model for the ministry of the ekklesia. Clement
does not adduce a verbatim quotation, but while paraphrasing Isa 60:17 he pre-
sents the readers with a suggestive reference to a more or less biblical model.
Introducing to the reference the combination episkopoi and diakonoi as a stock
phrase from the nascent Christian community he anchors the two-fold minis-
try in Biblical tradition.68
3. This use of a model derived from the memory of an Isaianic text matches
the use of OT models elsewhere in 1 Clem. 40–44. Although Clement uses two
different registers in referring to the ministries of Judaism and those within the
community in Corinth, he nonetheless sees a continuity between the two. Both
are of divine origin. In this way, Clement establishes an additional way to envis-
age the continuity between Israel and the Church.
65 Milavec, Didache, 590.

66 See Tullier, “Les charismatiques itinérants,” 159 n. 8. Milavec, Didache, 590, refers to
the possibility that the Greek text wants us to see not two distinct offices, but only one: bish-
ops who are deacons. We think that the parallel between episkopoi and diakonoi on the one
hand and teachers on the other shows that two offices are at stake. For prophets and teachers
as two distinct offices, see also Acts 13:1. See also Herm. Vis. III, 5,1, where we hear about
foursquare (τετράγωνος) stones: “Hear now with regard to the stones which are in the build-
ing. Those foursquare white stones which fitted exactly into each other, are apostles, bishops,
teachers, and deacons.” Elsewhere in Hermas the apostles and teachers are a pair (see, for ex-
ample, Herm. Sim. 915,4).
67 Tullier, “Les charismatiques itinérants,” 163. This concurs with our observation that
the diakon-stem is not at the first place related to low service, see note 1 above.
68 For this see also Collins, Diakonia, 330 n. 2.

192 Bart J. Koet
4. Clement introduces the reference to Isa 60:17 because he wants to stress
that these ministries are not a new phenomenon. They are an ancient instutition,
even of divine origin. Clement prepares his audience for his defence of the re-
moved episkopoi/presbuteroi. (44:4). Referring to the fact that the two ministries
already existed in Scripture legitimise, according to the author, their position in
the church of Corinth and thus it is a sin to eject them from their ministry. 69
69 I should like to thank Dr John N. Collins (Australia) for his corrections of my English.

What Do “Deacons” Do in the Shepherd of Hermas?
Mark Grundeken
1. Introduction
For clarifying what early Christian deacons did, Hermas is not really illuminat-
ing.1 The present article aims to show this by discussing whether Hermas testi
fies to the presence of “deacons” (διάκονοι) in the Christian communities in
Rome2 and whether the text offers information on the function(s) of the διάκονοι.
The problem can be illustrated, by way of introduction, on the basis of the first
occurence of διάκονος κτλ. in Hermas: Vis. 3.5.1, which mentions οἱ ἀπόστολοι καὶ
ἐπίσκοποι καὶ διδάσκαλοι καὶ διάκονοι, of whom “some have fallen asleep, but
others are still there” (οἱ μὲν κεκοιμημένοι, οἱ δὲ ἔτι ὄντες).3 Hermas refers here to
figures of the early years of the church, of whom some have passed away, but
others are still alive.4 One of the difficulties in interpreting this passage is that it is
unclear which of those mentioned belong to the deceased and which to the living.
1 In this article, “Hermas” (“Herm.”) is used for referring to the author; “Hermas”
(“Herm.”) for the writing. The article is about διάκονος κτλ.; other issues, for example, what
Hermas means by “apostles,” will not be treated. For the analysis I have taken the text of
Herm. as a whole; for the composition of the work, see Mark Grundeken, Community Build-
ing in the Shepherd of Hermas: A Critical Study of Some Key Aspects (Leiden: Brill, 2015),
11–16. Citations of the text of Herm. follow Martin Leutzsch, ed., “Hirt des Hermas,” in
Papiasfragmente, Hirt des Hermas (eds. Ulrich H. J. Körtner and Martin Leutzsch; Darmstadt:
Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2006), 105–497. Passages are cited after the traditional
manner, which structures the work in three parts (Visions [Herm. Vis.] 1–5; Mandates [Herm.
Mand.] 1–12, and Similitudes [Herm. Sim.] 1–10). The translations are mine.
2 For Rome as the place of composition of Herm., see Grundeken, Community, 9–11.
3 Concerning these “titles,” Carolyn Osiek, Shepherd of Hermas: A Commentary (Minnea
polis: Fortress, 1999), 22 remarks: “These titles that at some point allude to church office refer
to past situations, biblical allusions, and hypothetical roles. All terms are found in the Pauline
letters.”
4 According to Norbert Brox, Der Hirt des Hermas (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht,
1991), this is about “die kirchlichen Autoritäten der ersten Stunde oder Generation” (130), “die
christlich-kirchlichen Autoritäten der Ursprungszeit” (429) and οἱ δὲ ἔτι ὄντες means that “die
Anfänge des Christentums […] mit einigen Überlebenden noch in die Gegenwart reichen” (131)
as well as that “H (i. e., Hermas) vorbildliche alte Kirchenmänner der vorigen Generation noch
kennt” (131 n. 47). For the use of “church” and “community” in the present article, see n. 11 below.

194 Mark Grundeken
Hermas probably does not mean that some of the apostles are still alive. In
Vis. 3.5.1 the apostles are set apart from the others: only their group designation
goes with an article (οἱ) and lacks an accompanying participle (see ἐπίσκοποι […]
ἐπισκοπήσαντες, διδάσκαλοι […] διδάξαντες, and διάκονοι […] διακονήσαντες).
The other references to ἀπόστολοι in Hermas seem to imply that the apostles
belong to the past. The “apostles and teachers who proclaimed the Son of God”
mentioned in Sim. 9.15.4 (ἀπόστολοι καὶ διδάσκαλοι τοῦ κηρύγματος τοῦ υἱοῦ τοῦ
θεοῦ, see Sim. 8.3.2) “have passed away” (κοιμηθέντες, Sim. 9.16.5). The other
two references to apostles use the past tense: according to Sim. 9.17.1, the Son of
God “was proclaimed” to all the twelve tribes or peoples of the world (v. 2) “by
the apostles” (ἐκηρύχθη […] διὰ τῶν ἀποστόλων) and 9.25.2 speaks of “apostles
and teachers (ἀπόστολοι καὶ διδάσκαλοι) who proclaimed (κηρύξαντες) to the
whole world and who taught (διδάξαντες) […] the word of the Lord.” There is no
indication that for Hermas the apostles are contemporary people.5
The phrase οἱ δὲ ἔτι ὄντες thus probably relates to the ἐπίσκοποι, διδάσκαλοι,
and/or διάκονοι. 6 Ἐπίσκοποι are mentioned once more, in Sim. 9.27, where the
clause “their place is already with the angels, if they continue to serve (ἐὰν
ἐπιμείνωσιν […] λειτουργοῦντες) the Lord until the end” (v. 3) indicates that for
Hermas the ἐπίσκοποι belong to the present.
The διδάσκαλοι in Sim. 9.15.4, 9.16.5, and 9.25.2 are figures of bygone times,7
yet in other passages present teachers are meant: Mand. 4.3.1, for instance, men-
tions “some teachers” (τινων διδασκάλων) who are contemporaries of the figure
Hermas and Sim. 9.19.2 “teachers of evil” (διδάσκαλοι πονηρίας)8 who still
have a chance to change and be saved.9
5 This weakens an argument that is sometimes used for an early dating of Herm. Pace
Harry O. Maier, The Social Setting of the Ministry as Reflected in the Writings of Hermas,
Clement and Ignatius (Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1991), 55: “Vis. 3:5.1, with
its reference to apostles, bishops, teachers and deacons, some of whom ‘have fallen asleep,’ but
some of whom are still alive, suggests an earlier date than the mid-second century” and Geof-
frey M. Hahneman, The Muratorian Fragment and the Development of the Canon (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 37–38, who concludes on the basis of Herm. Vis. 3.5.1
(“some of the apostles were still living”) and Herm. Sim. 9.15.4 and 9.16.5 (“the apostles ap-
pear to have all died”): “the Shepherd may have been written during the transition to the
post-apostolic age, about the end of the first century.”
6 Pace Martin Dibelius, Der Hirt des Hermas (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1923), 466: “Die
Worte οἱ δὲ ἔτι ὄντες beziehen sich wohl darauf, daß die Aemter der ἐπίσκοποι und διάκονοι
noch vorhanden sind.” Compare Brox, Hirt, 130: “Bischöfe, Lehrer und Diakone gibt es […]
noch jetzt (Man IV 3,1; Sim IX 19,2; 26,2; 27,2).”
7 See also Ulrich Neymeyr, Die christlichen Lehrer im zweiten Jahrhundert: Ihre
Lehrtätigkeit, ihr Selbstverständnis und ihre Geschichte (Leiden: Brill, 1989), 14–15. Accord-
ing to Brox, Hirt, 433, 538, in Herm. Sim. 9.15.4, 9.16.5–6, and 9.25.2 no distinction can be
made between the “apostles” and “teachers.”
8 According to Brox, Hirt, 445, “heretics” are meant.
9 Compare Neymeyr, Lehrer, 15: “Der Hirt des Hermas bezeugt also das Wirken
christlicher Lehrer in der Mitte des zweiten Jahrhunderts in Rom sowie die wachsende Aus-

What Do “Deacons” Do in the Shepherd of Hermas? 195
Διάκονοι are mentioned again in Sim. 9.15.4 and 9.26.2. The first instance
is about pre-Christian (9.16) “servants of God” (διάκονοι αὐτοῦ, i. e., θεοῦ),
the second one about “servants who served badly” (διάκονοί εἰσι κακῶς
διακονήσαντες). That the latter are thought of as being contemporary people is
shown by the clause, “but if they turn and complete their service in a pure way,
they will be able to live” (ἐὰν δὲ ἐπιστρέψωσι καὶ ἁγνῶς τελειώσωσι τὴν διακονίαν
αὐτῶν, δυνήσονται ζῆσαι).10
The question of whether Vis. 3.5.1 means that some of the ἐπίσκοποι, some of
the διδάσκαλοι, and some of the διάκονοι “are still there,” or that some of those
mentioned “are still there,” must remain open. Therefore, it cannot be ascer-
tained that Hermas refers here to contemporary διάκονοι. In what follows, we
will have a closer look at the references to διάκονοι in Hermas.
2. Does Hermas Testify to the Presence of “Deacons”

in the Christian Communities in Rome?
The διάκονοι are, in Hermas’ visions, “stones” of the ”tower” (Vis. 3.5.1; Sim. 9.15.4;
9.26.2). The tower that is built is the church; the stones are its members. In both
Vis. 3 and Sim. 9 the size of the building project indicates that the tower is an
image of the church throughout the world:11 there are myriads of builders
(Vis. 3.2.5) and the twelve mountains from which the stones for the building are
taken are the twelve tribes or peoples of the whole world (Sim. 9.17.2). In
Hermas’ view, there are διάκονοι in the church at large.12 The question is, what
this means.
einandersetzung mit Irrlehrern, unter der das Ansehen der zeitgenössischen Lehrer zu leiden
hatte.”
10 It cannot be determined whether “deacons” are meant here. See also Maier, Social Set-
ting, 82 n. 39: “Perhaps deacons […] although it is difficult to be certain” and Osiek, Shepherd,
249: “The reference (i. e., διάκονοι) may be a general one here, to all kinds of ministers in the
church.”
11 Hermas envisions four Christian “circles”: Hermas’ house church (see, for example,
Herm. Vis. 1.1.9), the church in Rome, i. e., the communities in the city (Herm. Vis. 2.4.3),
communities in other places (ibid.), and the church as a whole (Herm. Sim. 9.18.2). See
Grundeken, Community, 1.
12 Pace Martin Leutzsch, Die Wahrnehmung sozialer Wirklichkeit im “Hirten des Hermas”
(Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1989), 67–68: “Hermas bezeugt die Existenz von Pres-
bytern, von Episkopen und von Diakonen in der römischen Gemeinde.” The distinction made
by Joachim Rohde, Urchristliche und frühkatholische Ämter: Eine Untersuchung zur früh-
christlichen Amtsentwicklung im Neuen Testament und bei den apostolischen Vätern (Berlin:
Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1976), 148 between the “gesamtkirchlichen Ämter[n] der Apostel,
Propheten und Lehrer” and the “Gemeindeämter[n] der Episkopen, Presbyter und Diakone”
(see also Adolf von Harnack, Entstehung und Entwickelung der Kirchenverfassung und des
Kirchenrechts in den zwei ersten Jahrhunderten nebst einer Kritik der Abhandlung R. Sohm’s:
“Wesen und Ursprung des Katholizismus” und Untersuchungen über “Evangelium,” “Wort

196 Mark Grundeken
The three groups of stones that represent διάκονοι are not homogeneous. In
Vis. 3.5.1 white, squared stones that are part of the tower (see 3.2.4) represent,
among others, διάκονοι who ”served (διακονήσαντες) God’s chosen ones in a
pure and holy way.” These διάκονοι are (existing or imaginary?) “exemplary”
figures of the early years of the church.
In Sim. 9.15.4, thirty-five out of one hundred ten (10+25+35+40) stones from
the depth (see 9.4.3; 9.5.3–4) represent pre-Christian “prophets of God and his
διάκονοι” who “fell asleep in righteousness and great purity” (9.16.7) and who
were after a post-mortem baptism by deceased Christian apostles and teachers
incorporated into the tower (9.16).13 These διάκονοι are “exemplary” pre-Chris-
tian “servants of God.”14
In Sim. 9.26.2, stained stones of the ninth mountain (desolate and full of death-
ly snakes, see 9.1.9) represent διάκονοι who kept money or other means for them-
selves rather than distributing it to the needy. Hermas here gives, in the context
of his call to repentance (see ἐὰν δὲ ἐπιστρέψωσι, v. 2), an example of believers
(πιστεύσαντες, v. 1) who must change if they want to be saved. These διάκονοι
belong to the present. It is uncertain whether they are meant to be “deacons,” or
“servants” (for the latter, see Sim. 9.15.4).15 As they are depicted as “deplorable”
examples of believers within the context of Hermas’ call to μετάνοια, it is difficult
to decide whether they are existing or imaginary figures.16
Since the three groups of διάκονοι are (1) so different, (2) portrayed as “exem-
plary” or “deplorable” believers, and (3) simply “stones” of the “tower,” that is,
members of the church at large, it cannot be said on the basis of Hermas that
διάκονοι is used in a uniform sense, that it means “deacons,” or that there were
διάκονοι in the Christian communities in Rome.
There is a clear contrast to the depiction of the presiding presbyters
(πρεσβύτεροι/προηγούμενοι/ προϊστάμενοι)17 who are mentioned in direct rela-
tion to the ἐκκλησία in Rome. In Vis. 2.2.6–7, Hermas quotes from the booklet
Gottes” und das trinitarische Bekenntnis [Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1910], 55–57) does not follow
from Herm.
13 For the notion of baptism in Herm., see Grundeken, Community, 128–40.
14 Compare Brox, Hirt, 430: “Die ‘Diener’ Gottes […] werden nicht identifiziert” and 539:
“Patriarchen?” Pace John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 215: “Hermas’s phrase ‘prophets of God and his
διάκονοι’ (Sim. 9.15.4) refers to pre-Christian prophets; we notice that the ministers are not the
prophets’ ministers but God’s, and we are to understand them as being authentic bearers of
God’s message who were not honoured with the traditional designation of ‘prophet.’”
15 It cannot be assumed that Hermas’ recipients must have thought of “deacons”: in Herm.
Sim. 9.15.4 διάκονοι does not seem to be used in that sense.

16 Since Hermas lists in the light of his call to μετάνοια more or less every sin and virtue
one could think of, his examples of sinful and virtuous believers do not necessarily refer to
existing people. For μετάνοια in Herm., see Grundeken, Community, 128–40.
17 In the context of this article on διάκονος κτλ., the question how to translate πρεσβύτεροι
is left open. The rendering “presbyters” has been chosen, because it stays closer to the Greek
term than “elders.”

of the woman church that he copied (see 2.1.3–4): “Say then (i. e., you, Hermas)
to those who preside over the church (τοῖς προηγουμένοις τῆς ἐκκλησίας) that
they make straight their paths in righteousness […]. Continue (to do so) then
(ἐμμείνατε οὖν), you who work righteousness.” The woman church thus directly
addresses the church leaders and asks Hermas to pass on her message to them.
The church leaders are mentioned again in Vis. 2.4.2–3, where Hermas de-
scribes the following vision: “The elderly woman (i. e., the woman church) came
and asked me if I had already given the book to the presbyters (τοῖς πρεσβυτέροις,
v. 2).” Since “book” refers back to the “booklet,” it is likely that the terms
προηγούμενοι and πρεσβύτεροι refer to the same persons. This becomes all the
more obvious when the woman church says to Hermas: “But you should read
(it) (i. e., the booklet) in this city (i. e., in Rome, Vis. 1.1.1) among the presbyters
who preside over the church (μετὰ τῶν πρεσβυτέρων τῶν προϊσταμένων τῆς
ἐκκλησίας)” (v. 3).
In Vis. 3.9.7, the church leaders are again directly addressed by the woman
church: “Now then I say to you who preside over the church (τοῖς προηγουμένοις
τῆς ἐκκλησίας).” This clearly refers back to Vis. 2.2.6, where the same terminol-
ogy is used. In Hermas’ portrayal, presbyters preside over the church in Rome.18
Attempts to identify the presiding presbyters with the διάκονοι (or ἐπίσκοποι)
fail.19 What is relevant here is that in Hermas the presiding presbyters, unlike
18 See also Osiek, Shepherd, 59, who thinks that the presbyters preside over “the totality
of the Christians in the city […] (the) Christian assembly in the city” (rather than being in
charge of a local house church). For the idea that in Herm. Vis. 2.2.6, 2.4.3, and 3.9.7 the same
group is meant, see ibid., 22–23. According to James S. Jeffers, Conflict at Rome: Social Order
and Hierarchy in Early Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991), 156, it is uncertain wheth-
er in Herm. Vis. 3.1.8, “presbyters” is meant in the sense of “church officeholders.” Brox, Hirt,
534 believes that in Herm. Sim. 9.31.5–6 the “shepherds of the flock” (οἱ ποιμένες […] τοῦ
ποιμνίου) could be the presiding presbyters. Compare Maier, Social Setting, 64: “probably a
synonym for ἐπίσκοποι,” see, for example, Acts 20, where the “presbyters of the community”
(τοὺς πρεσβυτέρους τῆς ἐκκλησίας, v. 17) are identified with the “overseers” of the “flock” (τῷ
ποιμνίῳ […] ἐπισκόπους ποιμαίνειν τὴν ἐκκλησίαν τοῦ θεοῦ, v. 28).
19 See also Harnack, Entstehung, 56–57. Pace Leutzsch, Wahrnehmung, 68 (see also idem,
Hirt, 138): “die Episkopen und die Diakone [gehörten] zu den Presbytern.” Compare Dibe
lius, Hirt, 635: “die Hypothese wird man […] denn doch wagen dürfen, daß in Rom zu jener
Zeit die Bischöfe (und Diakonen?) dem Kollegium der Presbyter angehören, aber daß dieses
mit den Amtsträgern nicht identisch ist, da die Bischöfe und Diakonen Sonderfunktionen
haben.” For the idea that the presbyters mentioned in Herm. Vis. 3.5.1 are overseers, see, for
example, Hans von Campenhausen, Kirchliches Amt und geistliche Vollmacht in den ersten
drei Jahrhunderten (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 21963), 91; Robert Joly, Hermas: Le Pasteur
(Paris: Cerf, 21968), 41, 110 n. 2; Rohde, Ämter, 153; Reinhard M. Hübner, “Die Anfänge von
Diakonat, Presbyterat und Episkopat in der frühen Kirche,” in Das Priestertum in der Einen
Kirche: Diakonat, Presbyterat und Episkopat (eds. Albert Rauch and Paul Imhof; Aschaffen-
burg: Kaffke, 1987), 45–89, 74; Peter Lampe, Die stadtrömischen Christen in den ersten beid-
en Jahrhunderten: Untersuchungen zur Sozialgeschichte (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987), 337;
Maier, Social Setting, 63–64; Brox, Hirt, 131, 536; Joseph Ysebaert, Die Amtsterminologie im
Neuen Testament und in der Alten Kirche: Eine lexikographische Untersuchung (Breda: Eu-
reia, 1994), 93–94, and Osiek, Shepherd, 23, 249.

198 Mark Grundeken
the διάκονοι, form a homogeneous group, are directly addressed (and seem to be
people known to the figure Hermas), and are explicitly associated with the local
church in Rome. On the basis of Hermas it cannot be established that there were
“deacons” in the Christian communities in Rome.20
3. What Do the Διάκονοι in Hermas Do?
Hermas gives hardly any information about the activities of the διάκονοι. In
Vis. 3.5.1, the threefold paronomasia does not reveal very much, if anything,
about the specific tasks of those mentioned: It is said that the ἐπίσκοποι “super-
vised,” or “took care (of others)” (ἐπίσκοποι […] ἐπισκοπήσαντες), that the
διδάσκαλοι “taught” (διδάσκαλοι […] διδάξαντες), and that the διάκονοι “served”
(διάκονοι […] διακονήσαντες).21 Objects of the supervision/care, the teaching,
and the service are “God’s elect” (οἱ ἐκλεκτοί τοῦ θεοῦ).22
In Sim. 9.27, the ἐπίσκοποι are mentioned (again) as “exemplary” believers
(πιστεύσαντες, v. 1): “Overseers (ἐπίσκοποι) and hospitable people (φιλόξενοι)
who always willingly received (ὑπεδέξαντο) God’s servants (τοὺς δούλους τοῦ
θεοῦ) into their houses […] And the overseers (ἐπίσκοποι) always protected
(ἐσκέπασαν) the needy and widows constantly in their service (τῇ διακονίᾳ
ἑαυτῶν).”23 The service of the ἐπίσκοποι thus consists of being hospitable to
(individual) believers24 and of protecting the needy and widows (see the image
20 Pace Joly, Hermas, 41: presbyters, overseers, and deacons form “la hiérarchie romaine”;
Ysebaert, Amtsterminologie, 134: Hermas uses διάκονος in Herm. Vis. 3.5.1 “als technischen
Terminus für die Diakone der römischen Gemeinde,” and Osiek, Shepherd, 71: Herm. Vis. 3.5.1
would refer to “those in leadership positions in the Christian community […] in the Roman
church.”
21 The two parallel, quadrinominal clauses in Herm. Vis. 3.5.1 indicate that οἱ πορευθέντες
κατὰ τὴν σεμνότητα τοῦ θεοῦ belongs to the apostles. See Brox, Hirt, 130.
22 It goes too far to say that Herm. Vis. 3.5.1 describes specific “offices.” Pace Dibelius,
Hirt, 466: “Bischöfe, Lehrer und Diakonen, die […] ihr Amt als Bischöfe, Lehrer und Diako-
nen […] verwaltet haben,” with the note (ibid.): “Von den Würdenträgern werden hier sowohl
Charismatiker, nämlich Apostel und Lehrer, als ‘technische’ Beamte, Episkopen und Diako-
nen, genannt”; Joly, Hermas, 111–12: “les évêques, les docteurs, les diacres […] qui ont exercé
leur ministère d’évêque, de docteur, de diacre”; Brox, Hirt, 122: “Bischöfe, Lehrer und
Diakone, die […] ihre Aufgaben als Bischöfe, Lehrer und Diakone […] erfüllt haben,” and
Leutzsch, “Hirt,” 169: “Bischöfe und Lehrer und Diakone, die […] als Bischöfe und Lehrer
und Diakone […] gewirkt haben.” Compare Osiek, Shepherd, 66: “overseers and teachers and
deacons […] who have governed and taught and served.”
23 Jean Colson, ”Diakon und Bischof in den ersten drei Jahrhunderten der Kirche,” in
Diaconia in Christo: Über die Erneuerung des Diakonates (eds. Karl Rahner and Herbert
Vorgrimler; Freiburg: Herder, 1962), 23–30, 24 translates διακονία here with “Diakonie” and
comments: “Die Diakonie ist im ‘Hirten des Hermas’ deutlich den Bischöfen zugeordnet […]
Aber diese den Bischöfen zugeordnete Diakonie haben sie, dem Anschein nach, durch Ver-
mittlung der Diakone ausgeübt, die eigens mit der Diakonie in der Kirche beauftragt waren.”
24 According to Brox, Hirt, 453, this is not about “die Einladung ganzer Hausgemeinden

of “trees” that shelter “sheep” in v. 1). It should be noted that the welcoming of
believers is not the special task of the ἐπίσκοποι (see καὶ φιλόξενοι).25 Helping the
needy or widows is not their special task either. The διάκονοι also render service
to widows (and orphans, see Sim. 9.26.2). Moreover, all believers are expected to
help the needy and widows.26 With the mention of the ἐπίσκοποι, Hermas is
above all giving an example of “exemplary” believers.
Concerning the διδάσκαλοι it is said that the teachers of the past (who are al-
ways mentioned together with the apostles) have proclaimed the Son of God
(9.15.4), both on earth and in the underworld (9.16.5; 9.25.2), and have taught the
word of the Lord (9.25.2). Present teaching activity (διδάσκω κτλ.) is attributed
to the Lord (Vis. 4.1.8), “some teachers” (Mand. 4.3.1), the “angel of evil” (Mand.
6.2.7), the Shepherd (Sim. 5.1.3), those who teach “other teachings” (Sim. 8.6.5),
“teachers of evil” (Sim. 9.19.2), and “wannabe teachers” (Sim. 9.22.2). These
people form a rather diffuse group of “teachers.”27
The διάκονοι are mentioned in Sim. 9.26.2 as an example of believers
(πιστεύσαντες, v. 1) who are guilty of “shameful” practices: “Servants (διάκονοι)
[…] who served badly (κακῶς διακονήσαντες) and deprived widows and orphans
of the livelihood and kept for themselves from the service,28 which they re-
(zu Versammlung und Eucharistie),” but about ”den Dienst der Beherbergung an (fremden,
reisenden) Mitchristen.”
25 The phrase ἐπίσκοποι καὶ φιλόξενοι indicates that Hermas is not describing an “office.”
Besides, the fact that the same combination of words (i. e., ἐπίσκοπον and φιλόξενον) is found
in 1 Tim 3:2 raises the question whether Hermas thinks of any existing people, or uses a liter-
ary example (which does not necessarily imply that Hermas knew 1 Tim).
26 See esp. Herm. Mand. 8.10: all (πάντες, v. 12) should “help widows and look after or-
phans and needy people […] be hospitable” (χήραις ὑπηρετεῖν καὶ ὀρφάνους καὶ ὑστερουμένους
ἐπισκέπτεσθαι […] φιλόξενον εἶναι; compare Herm. Sim. 9.27.2: ἐπίσκοποι […] φιλόξενοι […]
ὑστερημένους […] χήρας […] ἐσκέπασαν).
27 According to Brox, Hirt, 433, Herm. Vis. 3.5.1 and Herm. Mand. 4.3.1 are about “den
Stand des zeitgenössischen kirchlichen Lehrers.” The information in Herm. does, however,
not say very much, if anything, about “the office of teacher.”
28 Here “service” seems to be the best rendering (see the paronomasia). Compare Herm.
Mand. 2.6 (”duty”); 12.3.3 (“task”); Herm. Sim. 1.9 (similar to Herm. Mand. 2.6; see here the
plural ταύτας τὰς διακονίας, compare τὰ ἔργα in v. 7 and τὸ δὲ σὸν ἔργον in v. 11); 2.7,10 (similar
to Herm. Mand. 2.6; compare τὸ ἔργον in Herm. Sim. 2.7); 8.4.1–2 (“assistance”); 10.2.4 and
10.4.1 (similar to Herm. Mand. 12.3.3, but here the Latin rendering ministerium is used).
Compare Rohde, Ämter, 151: “Zwar wird auch (i. e., as in the NT) bei den apostolischen
Vätern das Amt noch mit dem gleichen Begriff (i. e., διακονία) bezeichnet, aber der Ton ist
doch deutlich vom Dienstbegriff auf das Amtliche hin verschoben […] deutlich auch Herm.
Mand. II, 6; XII, 3, 3, während in Sim. IX, 26, 2; 27, 2 der Dienstcharakter der Aufgaben der
Episkopen und Diakone noch stark betont wird.” It goes too far to say that the διάκονοι in
Hermas are “office-bearers.” Pace Brox, Hirt, 439: “Diakone, die ihr Diakonamt schlecht aus-
geübt und Witwen und Waisen den Lebensunterhalt geraubt und sich mit Hilfe des Diakon-
amtes bereichert haben, das sie doch zum Dienen übernommen hatten” and Osiek, Shepherd,
242: “ministers who minister badly and despoil the living of widows and orphans, and make
profit for themselves off the ministry entrusted to them to do.” Compare Collins, Diakonia,
229 (on Herm. Sim. 9.26.2): “the ‘ministry’ is a service to the Lord and an office to be ‘ful-

200 Mark Grundeken
ceived/took 29 to serve (ἐκ τῆς διακονίας ἧς ἔλαβον διακονῆσαι).” It is implied that

the διάκονοι kept for themselves what they were supposed to distribute to the
needy (mentioned are widows and orphans). From this it does not follow that
administering the community’s help to the needy (by collecting and distribut-
ing money or other means) was the specific task of “deacons.”30 First, it is ques-
tionable whether διάκονοι means “deacons” here; the word choice seems to be
based on paronomasia with an emphasis on “serving” (διάκονοι […] διακονήσαντες
[…] διακονίας […] διακονῆσαι). Second, it is doubtful whether the described ser-
vice (διακονία) is meant to be the specific task of the διάκονοι, for διακονία in the
sense of help to the needy is, according to Mand. 2.6, Sim. 1.9, and 2.10, the duty
of all (well-to-do) believers. 31 Finally, since those mentioned serve within the
filled’ which has been received in the church but held ultimately under the authority of the
Lord.” Note that the phrase ἔλαβεν […] τὴν διακονίαν in Herm. Mand. 2.6 (compare ἐκ τῆς
διακονίας ἧς ἔλαβον in Herm. Sim. 9.26.2) does not imply any “office” (compare also τὴν
διακονίαν […] ἐτέλεσεν […] ἡ διακονία […] τελεσθεῖσα in Herm. Mand. 2.6 with τελειώσωσι τὴν
διακονίαν in Herm. Sim. 9.26.2). Jeffers, Conflict, 178 writes: “Hermas’s writings do not make
a significant distinction between officeholders and other members” and 186: “Hermas rejects
the notion of a clergy set apart.” According to Craig S. Wansink, “‘You Will Be Restored
Again to Your Office.’ Autobiographical Insights in The Shepherd of Hermas,” in Historische
Wahrheit und theologische Wissenschaft (ed. Alf Özen; Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1996),
71–85, τόπος in Herm. Sim. 7.6 means „office” (compare Acts 1:25: τὸν τόπον τῆς διακονίας
ταύτης καὶ ἀποστολῆς). Even if Wansink’s interpretation is right, it still stands that τόπος is in
Herm. not used in relation to the διάκονοι.
29 The verb ἔλαβον can mean “they received” (see Dibelius, Hirt, 633: “empfangen”), or
“they took” (see Brox, Hirt, 439: “übernommen”), so an instruction is not necessarily meant.
Pace John N. Collins, “A Monocultural Usage: διακον-words in Classical, Hellenistic, and
Patristic Sources,” VC 66 (2012): 287–309, 296: διακονία “necessarily implies the carrying out
of a commission from a person or institution – with whatever level of authority or power this
requires.”
30 Pace Lampe, Christen, 72: “An Bedürftige, besonders an Witwen und Waisen […] zahlt
die christliche Gemeinschaft durch Diakone Lebensunterhalt; nur bereichern einige Diakone
sich dabei schändlicherweise, anstatt getreulich zu verteilen”; Leutzsch, Wahrnehmung, 136:
“Zu den institutionalisierten Voraussetzungen ist […] wohl auch schon für die Zeit des Her-
mas eine Gemeindekasse zu rechnen”; idem, Hirt, 138: “der Diakonat, der mit Geldspenden,
vermutlich aus der Gottesdienstkollekte, arbeitet […] die institutionalisierte Witwen- und
Waisenfürsorge”; Maier, Social Setting, 62–63: ”in Sim. 9:26.2 Hermas describes the misuse of
alms given to leaders for distribution […] the squandering of public funds by leaders,” and
Valeriy A. Alikin, The Earliest History of the Christian Gathering: Origin, Development and
Content of the Christian Gathering in the First to Third Centuries (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 271:
“According to the Pastor Hermae, the task of administering the congregation’s help to the
destitute was assigned to deacons.” Compare Daniel Batovici, “Contrasting Ecclesial Func-
tions in the Second Century: ‘DIAKONIA,’ ‘DIAKONOI,’ ‘EPISKOPOI’ and ‘PRESBY-
TEROI’ in the Shepherd of Hermas and Ignatius of Antioch’s Letters,” Aug 51 (2011): 303–14,
306: “The only instance (i. e., in Herm.) where something is said about their (i. e., of the diako-
noi) activity – in Sim. 9,26,2(103) – shows […] the neglected yet experienced care for orphans
and widows.”
31 This forms an argument against the idea that from the description of the “deacons” in
Herm. Sim. 9.26 it would follow that the Grapte mentioned in Herm. Vis. 2.4.3 was a dea
coness. Pace Hans Lietzmann, “Zur altchristlichen Verfassungsgeschichte,” in Studien zur

context of Hermas’ call to μετάνοια as an example of “deplorable” believers, it is

uncertain whether Hermas describes an actual situation. It does not follow from
Sim. 9.26.2 that within the Christian community deacons (if this is meant by
διάκονοι) were the ones who were responsible for collecting and distributing
money or other means to the needy.
4. Are the Διάκονοι in Hermas “Helpers” of the Ἐπίσκοποι?
Hermas does not say anything about the relationship between the διάκονοι and
ἐπίσκοποι.32 The phrase ἐπίσκοποι καὶ διάκονοι does not occur in the text.33 The
service of the διάκονοι is mentioned only in relation to God’s chosen ones
(Vis. 3.5.1), God (Sim. 9.15.4), and the widows and orphans (9.26.2). The paral-
lelism between the διάκονοι and ἐπίσκοποι is limited; their services overlap only
to some extent. Finally, it does not follow from Hermas that the διάκονοι are
subordinate to the ἐπίσκοποι.34 On the basis of Hermas it cannot be said that the
διάκονοι are the assistants of the ἐπίσκοποι.35
spätantiken Religionsgeschichte (vol. 1 of Hans Lietzmann: Kleine Schriften; ed. Kurt Aland;
Berlin: Akademie, 1958), 141–85, 173: ”Dort (i. e., Herm. Sim. 9.26–27) erfahren wir, daß die
διάκονοι für Witwen und Waisen zu sorgen haben, und schließen daraus, daß die Vis. II, 4, 3
genannte Grapte, welche die Witwen und Waisen vermahnt, wohl eine weibliche Diakonos
gewesen ist” (see also Campenhausen, Kirchliches Amt, 103; Hübner, “Anfänge,” 74; Ysebaert,
Amtsterminologie, 134; Leutzsch, “Hirt,” 402 n. 220; Osiek, Shepherd, 59, and Ordained
Women in the Early Church: A Documentary History [eds. Kevin Madigan and Carolyn Osi-
ek; Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2005], 25–26). Hermas does not use any title
for Grapte. Moreover, “to admonish” (νουθετήσει, Vis. 2.4.3) is not the same as “to take care
of” (Herm. Sim. 9.26.2). The only agreement between the two passages is that “widows and
orphans” are mentioned. Brox, Hirt, 108 rightly remarks on that: “Die Erwähnung der Wit-
wen und Waisen in zwei so verschiedenen Zusammenhängen berechtigt bei H (i. e., Hermas)
nicht zu solchen systematisierenden Schlußfolgerungen.” See further Grundeken, Communi-
ty, 108–10. Lietzmann’s (ibid.) assumption that Clement (Herm. Vis. 2.4.3) was “entweder
Episkopos oder […] wahrscheinlicher […] Diakonos” is speculative.
32 See also Harnack, Entstehung, 56–57.
33 Compare, for example, Phil 1:1 (ἐπισκόποις καὶ διακόνοις); Did. 15.1 (ἐπισκόπους καὶ
διακόνους), and 1 Clem. 42.4–5 (ἐπισκόπους καὶ διακόνους […] ἐπισκόπων καὶ διακόνων […]
ἐπισκόπους […] καὶ διακόνους).
34 The fact that in Herm. Vis. 3.5.1, the ἐπίσκοποι are mentioned before the διδάσκαλοι and
διάκονοι does not necessarily mean that they are more important than the others (pace Har-
nack, Entstehung, 55: “um sie [i. e., the overseers] zu ehren” and Leutzsch, “Hirt,” 416 n. 324:
“Rangfolge”; compare Dibelius, Hirt, 466, 634: “durch Alliteration bedingte […] Reihen
folge” and Brox, Hirt, 131: die Reihenfolge “läßt sich nicht sachlich erklären”). In Herm.
Sim. 9.15.4, which deals with the “foundation” of the church and with the figures of the early
years of the Christian community, διάκονοι are mentioned, ἐπίσκοποι are not.
35 Pace Dibelius, Hirt, 632–34; Lampe, Christen, 337; Brox, Hirt, 451, 537, and Osiek,
Shepherd, 249. Compare Leutzsch, Wahrnehmung, 68: “Offen bleibt […] ob das Verhältnis
von Episkopen und Diakonen ein egalitäres oder ein hierarchisches war.”

202 Mark Grundeken
5. Conclusion
Summing up, we may conclude that the question of what “deacons” do accord-
ing to the Shepherd of Hermas is difficult to answer. The first problem is that it
cannot be ascertained that in Hermas διάκονοι means “deacons.” The author
uses the term to refer to different characters: to “commendable” figures of the
early years of the church (whereby it is unclear whether some of them are meant
to be still alive, Vis. 3.5.1), to “exemplary” pre-Christian (which?) “servants of
God” (Sim. 9.15.4), and to contemporary “deplorable” servants who have kept
for themselves money or other means that they were expected to distribute to
widows and orphans (Sim. 9.26.2). Since the διάκονοι serve in the light of Her-
mas’ call to μετάνοια as positive and negative examples, it is debatable whether
existing or imaginary figures are thought of. In view of the fact that the διάκονοι
are not referred to in relation to the local ἐκκλησία, it cannot be established that
they were functionaries of the church in Rome.
A further problem is that it is unclear what the function of the διάκονοι was.
From the only instance in Hermas where something specific is said about the
activity of the διάκονοι (Sim. 9.26.2), it does not follow that administering the
community’s help to the needy (by collecting and distributing money or other
means) was the specific task of the διάκονοι. Furthermore, Hermas does not say
that the διάκονοι are the helpers of the ἐπίσκοποι. The διάκονοι are said to be
“servants” of God’s chosen ones (Vis. 3.5.1), of God (Sim. 9.15.4), and of widows
and orphans (Sim. 9.26.2). Nothing is said about the relationship between the
διάκονοι and others, like the ἐπίσκοποι of the church throughout the world
(Vis. 3.5.1; Sim. 9.27) and the presiding presbyters of the church in Rome
(Vis. 2.2.6–7; 2.4.2–3; 3.9.7). For answering the question what deacons did in the
early church, Hermas is not much help.

Understanding the Concept of Deacon in the Didache
Clayton N. Jefford
The text of the Didache employs the term “deacon” (διάκονος) only one time
during the course of its sixteen brief chapters, specifically at 15.1–2:
So appoint bishops and deacons for yourselves who are worthy of the Lord, humble, fi-
nancially content, and true men who have been tested, for they serve you as those who
fulfill the ministry of the prophets and teachers. Do not disrespect them, for they rep-
resent your integrity in the same way as do the prophets and teachers.1
On the surface this single reference seems unexpected, appearing abruptly to-
ward the end of a tractate otherwise focused on “two ways” teaching (chs. 1–6),
liturgical instruction (chs. 7–10), ecclesiastical direction (chs. 11–15), and short
apocalypse (ch. 16). Yet certain questions arise: 1) Is this comment original to
the Vorlage? 2) Does the reference indicate some larger concern for ecclesiastical
authority relative to the remainder of the work? 3) What can be learned about
the concept of deacon here when one considers use of the term from broader
literary context?
1. Original or Supplemental?
Two aspects of this teaching beg explanation. The passage itself insists that dea-
cons (together with bishops) reflect the spirit of prophets and teachers, presum-
ably to suggest the latter have already passed from the scene. This recommends
a date subsequent to the earliest years of the early Christian experience after
which communities recognised the need to establish structured leadership for
the direction of daily activities. Yet with respect to context, the presence of this
material between directives on “the Lord’s day” (14.1–2) and community rela-
tionships (15.3–4) seems awkward and without immediate relevance. In some
1 All translations of the Didache in this essay are adapted from Clayton N. Jefford,
idache: The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles, Early Christian Apocrypha 5 (Salem, Oreg.:
D
Polebridge, 2013).

204 Clayton N. Jefford
sense the material exists as its own “subtext” within a larger structure, perhaps
to advocate that its presence here is not original to the work’s Vorlage.2
Manuscript evidence offers limited help. The eleventh-century text of Codex
Hierosolymitanus 54 (the editio princeps, in Greek) has only two known paral-
lels here: a non-extant Georgian tradition and the late fourth-century Apos.
Con. 7.31 (using the Didache as its source).3 The Georgian parallel reflects the
majority of the Greek; however, variation occurs in the opening wording, which
reads “by laying on of hands you gave orders to bishops, who are managers of
the spiritual, and to deacons, ministers for service, men humble and modest
[…].”4 This rendering undoubtedly reflects a late mind set anxious for strict
definition of holy orders and distinctions of office between bishops and dea-
cons. Such divisions were not typical of the ancient Christian experience and
thus were not likely present within the tradition originally.5
With reference to Constitutions, even further emendation appears. Signifi-
cant variation away from Hierosolymitanus produces the following:
and appoint bishops worthy of the Lord and presbyters and deacons, men who are
pious, righteous, without avarice, lovers of truth, who have been examined, holy, with-
out prejudice, able to teach the pious word, correct interpreters of the Lord’s doctrines.
And honor them as your fathers, lords, patrons – the reason for success.
Once more one observes tendencies of the later church, indicated for example by
the inclusion of “presbyters” (πρεσβύτερος) to reflect an innovative standardiza-
tion of the three-fold hierarchy of offices within the post-Constantinian church,
the introduction of moral qualities borrowed from 2 Tim 2:15, and the omission
of “prophets and teachers” as offices likely to have been viewed as archaic with-
in the post-Constantinian church.
From both the Georgian witness and Constitutions one might argue that, if
15.1–2 was indeed added secondarily to the Vorlage of the Didache, the passage
was nonetheless inserted prior to the fourth century, since the varied data from
these parallels suggests ecclesiastical reflections beyond those of the original
2 So Nancy Pardee, The Genre and Development of the Didache (Tübingen: Mohr Sie-
beck, 2012), 92–93, 140; see previously, Klaus Wengst, Didache (Apostellehre); Barnabasbrief;
Zweiter Klemensbrief; Schrift an Diognet, Schriften des Urchristentums (Munich: Kosel,
1984), 88–89; Willy Rordorf and André Tuilier, La Doctrine des Douze Apôtres (Didaché)
(Paris: Cerf, 21998), 49, 64, 72–73.
3 No other parallels to the Didache contain any of this material, including texts such as the
Apostolic Church Order and Apostolic Tradition (in their various renderings), Coptic frag-
ment, Didascalia, Doctrina apostolorum, Syntagma doctrina, Fides Nicaena, or POxy 1782.
4 For this, see Gregor Peradse, “Die ‘Lehre der zwölf Apostel’ in der georgischen Über-
lieferung,” ZNW 31 (1932): 111–16 (here 116).

5 For example, the Apostle Paul seems to think of himself under a variety of designations
(if one includes deutero-Pauline materials), including “apostle” (ἀπόστολος; Gal 1:1; 2 Cor 1:1;
etc.), “co-worker” (συνεργός; 1 Cor 3:9; Phil 2:25; etc.), “steward” (οἰκονόμος; 1 Cor 4:1), “prea
cher” (κῆρυξ; 1 Tim 2:7), “deacon” (διάκονος; 1 Cor 3:5), and “teacher” (διδάσκαλος; 1 Tim 2:7).

Understanding the Concept of Deacon in the Didache 205
Greek text. 6 Beyond these parallels, no manuscript testimony provides a more

precise date for any conceivable emendation of the tradition.
At the same time, and in contrast to the Georgian text and Constitutions, el-
ements of the passage suggest probable antiquity to the extent that the wording
may be original to the “Didachist” (original author or compiler). Thus, as with
Paul’s address to the Philippians (Phil 1:1), there is mention here of only two
offices of leadership without that of presbyter.7 This seems unlikely for an
author working even as late as the middle of the second-century. Further, the
description of deacon here is limited to only a few characteristics: “worthy”
(ἄξιος), “humble” (πραΰς), “financially content” (ἀφιλάργυρος), “true” (ἀληθής),
and “tested” (δοκιμάζω). Already by the second century such descriptions were
more broadly defined, often drawing in part on the authority of scripture (il
lustrated by Constitutions above). Beyond this, the Didache’s instructions for
liturgical rituals and community organization themselves seem rudimentary
and perhaps designed for a community only recently established8 and thus per-
haps early in the ministry of the church.9 Finally, the mention of (presumably
“traveling”) prophets and teachers within this passage remains an element of
concern. Such roles were eventually incorporated into the authority of the
bishop in the later church, at which time an editor would not have considered
such individuals any particular threat within the community.
But it may also be that other reasons explain this apparently antique form of
instruction. As many early scholars once argued, the Didache may reflect
“backwater” circumstances in which the role of presbyter is not yet normative
for the community.10 In such a setting there would be great variance in the
structure of ecclesiastical leadership. So too, the charge to appoint bishops and
deacons may be an attempt to establish settled offices of management within the
assembly, apart from those transient figures who travel among communities
promulgating teachings by their own authority. In this context the insertion of
6 The date for the Georgian remains unclear, but its tendencies clearly reflect concerns al-
ready present within the late fourth-century composition of Constitutions.

7 de Halleux envisages that the Didache itself preserves such a “very ancient situation,
perhaps analogous to that attested by Philippians 1:1”; so André de Halleux, “Ministers in the
Didache,” in The Didache in Modern Research, (ed. Jonathan A. Draper; Leiden: Brill, 1996),
300–20 (here 313); trans. of “Les ministères dans la Didachè,” Irén 53 (1980): 5–29.
8 So Francis A. Sullivan, From Apostles to Bishops: The Development of the Episcopacy in
the Early Church (New York: Newman, 2001), 102.

9 For summary considerations, see Georg Schöllgen in Georg Schöllgen and Wilhelm
Geerlings, Didache: Zwölf-Apostle-Lehre; Traditio apostolica: Apostolische Überlieferung,

Fontes Christiani 1 (Freiburg: Herder, 1991), 42–55; Gerard Rouwhorst, “Didache 9–10:
A Litmus Test for the Research on Early Christian Liturgy Eucharist,” in Matthew and the
Didache: Two Documents from the Same Jewish–Christian Milieu? (ed. Huub van de Sandt;
Assen: Van Gorcum; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005), 143–56.
10 See, for example, J. Armitage Robinson, Barnabas, Hermas, and the Didache (London:
SPCK; New York: Macmillan, 1920), 69–83; James Muilenburg, The Literary Relations of the
Epistle of Barnabas and the Teaching of the Twelve Apostles (Marburg: 1929), 165–68.

15.1–2 into the materials may be an attempt to confront issues that arose only
later in the evolution of the assembly. This would suggest some evolution to the
development of the text.11 Further, the role of deacon is not clearly distinguished
from that of bishop here, either assuming no essential differences are evident at
the time of writing or, more likely, that the audience is aware of how the offices
have been defined previously.
More importantly, however, is the charge to respect bishops and deacons as
those “who fulfil the ministry of prophets and teachers,” which may in fact
suggest tension between the “established” offices of bishop and deacon versus
the “charismatic” offices of prophet and teacher. As seen by de Halleux, the
listing of these two sets of leadership may be confirmation of shared responsi-
bility for the liturgical rituals of the community both by prophets/teachers and
bishops/deacons. This raises the question of whether former charismatic minis-
tries were in process of being replaced by later appointed offices or, instead,
whether all four forms of management served contemporaneously within the
immediate context.12 If one assumes these materials reflect a single composi-
tion, then the latter view may in fact be valid. But if one accepts that chap. 15 is
secondary to the original composition of the Didache, then it seems likely that
charismatic forms of leadership were in process of being replaced by more or-
derly forms of direction, as seen in the offices of bishop and deacon.
One is tempted then to conclude that comments on deacons (and bishops) in
the Didache reflect an early understanding of these role(s), though the remarks
themselves should not necessarily be seen as instructions that stem directly
from the hand of the Didachist. Instead, they likely appear as an emendation
that, while certainly early to the tradition, was not otherwise an original con-
cern for the Didachist.
2. Limited or Wider Implications?
The actual intended role of the passage within its context remains inconclu-
sive.13 Firstly, it is uncertain to whom the text is addressed. One questions
whether the charge to “appoint” (χειροτονέω) bishops and deacons is directed
11 Though see Kurt Niederwimmer, The Didache, trans. Linda M. Maloney, Hermeneia
(Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998), 200–202.

12 For the latter view, see de Halleux, “Ministers in the Didache,” 312–14. Here Sullivan
(From Apostles to Bishops, 90) supposes that prophets, in anticipation of times when they
would be absent, likely imposed hands on bishops and deacons for liturgical ministry. No
such concern for transmission of spiritual authority is otherwise evident in the text.
13 As Pardee indicates (Genre and Development, 92), despite some understanding that a
“teacher” (διδάσκαλος) is being addressed both here and in 13.1 (thus to connect these sub-sec-
tions in some minimal sense), “markers are virtually non-existent in 14.1–15.3 – the text sim-
ply changes topics without warning.”

toward the community in general or, instead, to some specific body of leaders.
If the former is true, then such directions to a broadly unnamed populace would
appear as unique within early messianic literature. If the latter is the case, then
one might question who is assumed at the time of writing. In keeping with the
idea that the material is not original to the Didache and yet is still relatively
early, I argue elsewhere that the entire text (and hence this passage as well) may
be originally directed within the community to a third (unnamed) office, that of
presbyters. In this case one might assume the assembly held a three-tiered struc-
ture of governance similar to that endorsed by Ignatius of Antioch,14 which
later becomes the normal framework of ecclesiastical governance. Thus it is to
presbyters that the responsibility of appointing bishops and deacons would nat-
urally be directed.15 More recently Alistair Stewart has questioned this prem-
ise, specifically arguing for the close association of presbyter–bishops as the
foundation for the eventual rise of mono-episcopacy in the later church and
thus the audience to which the Didache’s charge is directed. This is certainly
feasible, and his argument is directed toward the broader range of relevant
Christian texts that might come into consideration here.16 In either case, one
does well to reject the idea that it is to the general community itself that the
charge to elect deacons (and bishops) derives. By consequence then, it is unnec-
essary to resolve that the designation of deacon as assumed by the community
of the Didache is in some sense unique within the development of the ecclesias-
tical structure of the early church. It likely reflects some broader understanding
shared by analogous communities and, hence, may be informed by available,
late first- and early second-century literature.
At the same time, if one assumes this charge is made to a specific (unidenti-
fied) governing body, then it is possible the entirety of the Didache is likewise
addressed to this particular group. In this way one may argue that deacons
(together with bishops [and presbyters?]) are likewise responsible for the re-
maining elements found within the Didache, that is, instruction of catechumens
(chs. 1–6), supervision of baptism and prayer (chs. 7–10), direction of relation-
ships with outsiders (chs. 11–13), and regulation of community life in general
(chs. 14–15). This may be suggested, for example, by the opening word “thus/
therefore” (οὖν)17 in this passage, signifying that the correct assignment of
bishops and presbyters is viewed as necessary for appropriate forms of worship,
as illustrated by the call to “gather together” in chapters 14, if not also the in-
14 And by association, the work perhaps should likewise be attributed to the region of
Antioch.
15 Clayton N. Jefford, “Presbyters in the Community of the Didache,” in Papers Present-
ed at the Tenth International Conference on Patristic Studies Held in Oxford 1987 (ed. Eliza-
beth A. Livingstone; Leuven: Peeters), 123–26.
16 Alistair C. Stewart, The Original Bishops: Office and Order in the First Christian
Communities (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2014), 179–81.

17 Translated above as “so.”

structions on baptism and prayer in chapters 7–10, and the charge to catechu-
mens in chapters 1–5/6. On the surface this seems plausible, and scholars on
occasion might well accept this to be the case.18 Nevertheless, the matter is not
so clearly defined and presses for additional evidence.
3. Unique in Concept or Typical?
Assuming the text of 15.1–2 (whether original or emendation) derives from the
late first or early second century, one might profitably compare views from
parallel Christian literature of the period. Among the writings of the apostolic
fathers one finds various references in Ignatius of Antioch and Polycarp of
Smyrna from the East, as well as in 1 Clement and the Shepherd of Hermas from
the West.19
The view of Ignatius concerning the status of deacon is largely defined in
theological terms, indicated by his comment that deacons are “godly” (κατὰ
θεὀν) and “entrusted with the ministry of Jesus Christ” (πεπιστευμένων
διακονίαν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ), who is eternally with the Father.20 This office, to-
gether with those of bishop and presbyter, is “set forth via the mind of Jesus
Christ” (ἀποδεδειγμένοις ἐν γνὡμῃ Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ),21 and thus it serves as the
standard by which believers may judge whether their own actions are “blame-
less” (καθαρός).22 Indeed, it is “as the command of God” (ὡς θεοῦ ἐντολήν) that
deacons should be respected.23 Ignatius notes as well that deacons (viz. Rhaius
Agathopus specifically) have opted “to renounce worldliness” (ἀποτάσσω τῷ
βίῳ), 24 being “ministers of Jesus Christ’s mysteries” (τοὺς διακόνους ὄντας
μυστηρίων Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ) 25 who are tasked “to attend to God’s community”
(ἐκκλησίας θεοῦ ὑπηρέται) beyond simply “being servants of food and drink”
(βρωμάτων καὶ ποτῶν εἰσιν διάκονοι).26 From these comments it is clear that in
the mind of Ignatius the office of deacon is considerably more than that of “table
waiter,” as is otherwise suggested by Acts 6:1–6. Without being specific with
regard to their duties, deacons are envisioned as responsible servants in the im-
age of Jesus of Nazareth who act as the risen Christ within the community,
presumably fulfilling pastoral functions for those in need, as seen in Matt
18 See, for example, Sullivan, From Apostles to Bishops, 9–10.

19 For more details, see elsewhere in this volume.
20 Ign. Magn. 13.1 and 6.1 respectively.
21 Ign. Phld. proem; 3.1.
22 Ign. Trall. 7.2.
23 Ign. Smyrn. 8.1. Ignatius does not explain from where he derives this observation,
whether from scriptural authority, apostolic tradition, or personal revelation.

24 Ign. Phld. 11.
25 Ign. Phld. proem.
26 Ign. Trall. 2.3.

25:31–40. Most assuredly, however, deacons (together with presbyters) are be-
holden to the bishop and likely serve in their primary role as stewards to the
grace and vision of that office.27
The bishop Polycarp, leading the community at Smyrna, is much more spe-
cific – if somewhat less theologically inclined – when he offers instructions to
the assembly in Philippi. In Pol. Phil. 5.2, he observes that deacons must be
“blameless” (ἄμεμπτος) before God’s righteousness, acting “as servants of God
and Christ and not of people” (ὡς θεοῦ καὶ Χριστοῦ διάκονοι καὶ οὐκ ἀνθρώπων).28
As a result, deacons are “not slanderers, insincere, or greedy, but self-controlled
in all things, compassionate, diligent, and acting in unity with the truth of the
Lord, who became ‘servant’ (διάκονος) of all.” Polycarp’s extended description
is far more practical in form than is that of Ignatius, presumably borrowing
from the imagery of 2 Timothy (see Constitutions above) and imagining the
specifics of how a deacon must perform his duties on a daily basis. At the same
time, however, the note that Christ likewise became “servant of all” has over-
tones of the Apostle Paul’s great kenotic hymn in Phil 2:5–11, especially in v. 7
where one reads that Christ “emptied himself by taking the form of a servant”
(ἑαυτὸν ἑκένωσεν μορφὴν δούλου λαβών). The term Polycarp uses here, of course,
is “deacon” (διάκονος), which is not Paul’s term “servant/slave” (δοῦλος). Yet
Polycarp’s description of the office fits Pauline perspective admirably in its as-
sumptions about the need of deacons to serve fully. So too, in much more theo-
logical terms, is the image offered previously by Ignatius, thus suggesting that
both authors reflect an Eastern consciousness that worthy leadership is achieved
through complete submission to service, first to God and thereafter to God’s
human subjects.29
The situation in Rome during this same period features similarities and
differences. The author of 1 Clement, for example, envisages that deacons (to-
gether with bishops) reflect an ancient system of offices, illustrated with the
words of Isa 60:17 LXX (“I will appoint your leaders in peace and your bishops
in righteousness”),30 but rendered here as “their bishops in righteousness”
(ἐπισκόπους αὐτῶν ἐν δικαιοσύνῃ) and “their deacons in faith” (διακόνους αὐτῶν
27 See Thomas A. Robinson, Ignatius of Antioch and the Parting of the Ways (Peabody,
Mass.: Hendrickson, 2009), 95–98, 104–5.

28 Hartog astutely observes how this differs markedly from Ignatius’ belief that deacons
“are to ‘please everyone in every respect’” (Ign. Trall. 2.3); so Paul Hartog, Polycarp’s Epistle
to the Philippians and the Martyrdom of Polycarp (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013),
119.
29 I envisage this connection despite Brent’s insistence that substantial differences exist
between the perspectives of these leaders. See Allen Brent, “Ignatius and Polycarp: The Trans-
formation of New Testament Traditions in the Context of Mystery Cults,” in Trajectories
through the New Testament and the Apostolic Fathers (eds. Andrew F. Gregory and Christo-
pher M. Tuckett; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 325–49.
30 This itself is a lenient translation of the Hebrew, which reads: “I will make your overse-
ers peace and your oppressors righteousness.”

ἐν πίστει).31 Several chapters earlier the author alludes to the “high priest”
(ἀρχιερεύς), “priest” (ἱερεύς), and “Levite” (Λευίτης) as those who have been
assigned their proper duties,32 presumably to trace (if only loosely) the lineage
of bishop, presbyter, and deacon to ancient Jewish tradition. Both these refer-
ences clearly are designed to reaffirm for the letter’s audience (i. e., the commu-
nity at Corinth) that ecclesiastical offices derive from well-established sources.
At the same time, however, the author observes that it was the apostles them-
selves who established bishops and deacons as “their first fruits” (τὰς ἀπαρχὰς
αὐτῶν) – “tested by the spirit” (δοκιμάσαντες τῷ πνεύματι) – to lead those who
come to believe.33 Thus, without use of duplicate terminology, 1 Clement re-
flects the same understanding as Ignatius and Polycarp that deacons, having
come from the roots of authority (whether Jewish and/or apostolic), are to be
respected as worthy leaders approved by divine tradition and the spirit of God.
More specific to the role of deacons within the Roman setting is the witness
of the Shepherd of Hermas. Here it is explained that deacons are responsible for
the maintenance of widows and orphans (Sim. 9.26.2) and are to walk in God’s
holiness with purity and reverence (Vis. 3.5.1).34 This image of service is shared
with that of bishop, indicating that the functional duties of the two offices are in
certain ways commensurate. Apart from this, Hermas is concerned primarily to
note that those who occupy the role of deacon (as with other offices) must do so
righteously, thus to ensure that the appropriate structure of the eternal church
is correct. In this respect, Hermas reflects a similar concern to that found in
1 Clement for the enduring role of the office and its sacrosanct status in the
tradition of faith. Otherwise, the author seems unconcerned for the theological
nature of what a deacon represents, either with respect to Jewish tradition or
divine blessing.
Accordingly, one observes how the vision of Ignatius and Polycarp differs
markedly from that of 1 Clement and Hermas. The bishops from the East have
decidedly more advanced views of the theological dimension of the role of dea-
con, while Roman authors are decidedly focused on the roots of the office with-
in ancient traditions, bearing core values for ecclesiastical structure. This is not
31 So 1 Clem. 42.5. On this, see especially Bart J. Koet, “Isaiah 60:17 as a Key for Under-
standing the Two-fold Ministry of ἐπισκοποι and διἀκονοι according to 1 Clement (1 Clem. 42:5),”
in The Scriptures of Israel in Jewish and Christian Tradition (eds. Bart J. Koet et al.; FS Maarten
J. J. Menken: Leiden: Brill, 2013), 345–62.
32 1 Clem. 40.5. The connection between Levites and deacons is made elsewhere in Didas-
calia 9.3.
33 1 Clem. 42.4.
34 Osiek observes that the image of deacon offered here “could already be evolving in
Rome as well as the East into a specific name for those who assist ἐπίσκοποι.” Seen in contrast
to apostles and prophets, though, embezzlement and corruption of “church funds intended
for the needy” clearly is at issue. See Carolyn Osiek, The Shepherd of Hermas: A Commentary
(Minneapolis: Fortress, 1999), 249.

to say that each grouping of texts shares exactly the same perspective, yet gen-
eral tendencies that indicate similarities among specific geographical regions are
discernable.
The Didache typically is assigned to territories in the eastern Mediterranean,
sometimes Egypt and Palestine, but most often Antioch or greater Syria. In
certain respects, therefore, one might imagine that the views of the Didachist
would reflect more prominently the tendencies of Ignatius or Polycarp in their
orientation. Significant about the Didache, however, is the lack of any specific,
explicit doctrine or dogmatic orientation to help characterise theological func-
tions within the community. The text thus remains unlike the orientation of
Ignatius or Polycarp. On the other hand, the Didachist indicates no particular
concern to situate the role of deacon within a broader ecclesiastical trajectory or
to justify the functions of the office within the larger framework of leadership.
In this respect, then, the Didache does not share the concerns of 1 Clement or
Hermas.
One must subsequently question how the Didache’s perspective fits into any
possibly larger framework of theology and structure. It is certainly conceivable
that the Didache stands alone in comparison with contemporary literature. If
this is the case, then one likely should attribute the work to some backwater
situation and see its view of deacons as limited to unique circumstances. Under
such suppositions there is no need to assume that anything more can be known
about deacons (or bishops) from the view of the Didache other than what de-
rives from a surface reading, that is, that worthy and righteous individuals are
to be elected from within the assembly and that their functions are nondescript.
In other words, they serve only as a general form of leadership (i. e., “servants”)
for the community without specifically defined duties.
At the same time the text may actually function with some underlying as-
sumption about the role of deacons that is simply assumed by the person(s) who
placed this passage within the text, whether Didachist or editor. If this is indeed
the situation, then readers are left with a variety of choices (indicated by paral-
lels from Ignatius, Polycarp, 1 Clement, and Hermas) from which to understand
the context of these words. Unfortunately, little helps to define this choice since
the Didache itself offers no specific material related to these literary parallels.
4. Summary and Conclusion
Having offered a variety of issues, one finds only limited evidence by which to
define the nature of deacon from the perspective of the author or editor. This
data and the conclusions to be drawn from it may be summarised as follows.
On the surface the Didache offers exceedingly few words on deacons, indi-
cating they should be appointed from among those considered worthy accord-

ing to divine mandate, humble, financially content, tested and found to be true,
who will act in the same service as prophets and teachers. They demand respect
as those who represent the integrity of the community. While the only known
parallels to our primary Greek witness (i. e., the Georgian text and Constitu-
tions) indicate several ecclesiastical emendations to the Didache’s basic reading,
this hardly means that what is preserved in the Greek derives from the Vorlage.
The immediate context does not demand any particular comment on deacons
(or bishops), hence one might suspect its insertion to be later, either as a timely
correction by the author or by an editor who faces new issues within the com-
munity. At the same time, however, lack of concern to strictly describe these
offices suggests that such insertion is not significantly late, likely no more than
the early to mid-second century.
This timing is significant, since it permits consideration of the text’s vision of
deacons from the vantage point of contemporary literature provided by Ignatius
and Polycarp in the East and Clement and Hermas in the West. Yet, any lack of
concern for theological perspectives (as seen in the first two figures) or for ori-
gins and traditions (as seen in the latter) leave the Didache in a unique situation.
One questions whether the reader should simply assume elements supported by
these authors are likewise of concern to the Didachist or early editor. While this
may be the case, no language in the Didache suggests any of these parallels, nor
is there evidence to help decide in which direction the author is disposed. Sub-
sequently, the parallels do not offer much by which to explain the author’s views
in this respect.
Furthermore, the question of context may provide the greatest understanding
of the role that deacons held for the community at large. To some extent the use
of “thus/therefore” (οὖν) at the beginning of the instruction (as seen above) like-
ly assumes some dependence on the broader situation of public worship found
in chap. 14.35 In this way the earlier call of chap. 14 (“when you come together
on the Lord’s day and after having acknowledged your offences so that [your]
sacrifice may be pure, break bread and give thanks”) might logically beg for
some comment concerning those who might be expected to guide and direct
such rituals, that is, the “bishops and deacons” of chap. 15 (apart from prophets
and teachers mentioned previously). If liturgical rites are demanded, then de-
scription of those who will preside must be offered. Here the immediate frame-
work of the text makes sense, whether from the Didachist or later editor, and in
this respect the closing words of 14.3 about the authority of the Lord36 would
seem a fitting point of departure for an insertion on ecclesiastical leaders.
35 Thus the position of Sullivan, From Apostles to Bishops, 89–90.

36 The Didachist here quotes Mal 1:11,14: “In every place and time offer me a pure sacri-
fice, because I am a great king, says the Lord, and my name is marvelous among the nations.”

But one must then ask about the broader structure of these materials, presum-
ably to include at least chaps. 7–13 on baptism, prayer, ritual meals, acceptance
of apostles and prophets, and distribution of support for those in need and those
in custody of the community’s life of faith. One might assume that if bishops
and deacons are responsible for rituals of worship within the community, then
likely the same holds true for other aspects of community life, such as baptism,
prayer, etc. This may derive logically in comparison with views of ecclesiastical
offices found in subsequent Christian literature. At the same time, though, no
specific charges are made in this respect, and thus the Didache remains un
helpful.
In the final analysis one likely should see the designation of deacon in the
Didache as broadly defined by the evolving nature of that office in the late sec-
ond-fourth century institutional church, though here in much more primitive
form. Indeed, lengthy descriptions of the role are not specifically outlined in the
Didache as elsewhere in literature. Yet ancient materials do not necessarily so-
licit explanation for issues not otherwise questioned. Instead, one might see the
role of deacon in this tradition more clearly through the reading of other au-
thors of the period and primarily as the wellspring for imagery found in later
forms of ecclesiastical material, such as Apostolic Constitutions, Apostolic
Church Order, and Didascalia. Such views are speculative, of course, and they
are weakened by doubts concerning their unproven nature.

Deacons (Διάκονοι) and Διακονία in the Writings
of Justin and Irenaeus
Paul Foster
1. Introduction
Both Justin and Irenaeus wrote major Christian works in the second half of the
second century. The former composed his Apologies and Dialogue with Trypho
around the 150s, or at the midpoint of the second century. By contrast, Irenaeus
wrote his two surviving works two to three decades later. Justin was active in
the imperial capital, where the size of the city may have resulted in a multiplici-
ty of autonomous, or at least semi-autonomous, Christian communities. Irenae-
us was bishop of the provincial city Lyon in Gaul. It is difficult to provide an
accurate estimate of the population of the city, but it may have been one to two
orders of magnitude smaller than Rome.1 These demographic realities need to
be kept in mind when considering the roles of deacons and their forms of service
in these two distinct urban centres during the second half of the second century.
2. Justin on Deacons
There are only a few extant writings that can be attributed to Justin with any
certainty. These are found in three late medieval or early modern manuscripts.
The earliest of these, Parisinus graecus 450, is a compendium of writings assigned
to Justin and other early Christian authors. It “comprises 467 paper folios meas-
uring 28.5x21.5cm, and was completed according to the colophon, on 11 Sep-
1 It is frequently stated that the population of ancient Rome reached its maximal point
during the second century with more than one million inhabitants. See Peter A. Brunt, Italian
Manpower: 225 BC to AD 14 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1971), 376–88; Olivia R.
Robinson, Ancient Rome: City Planning and Administration (New York: Routledge, 1992),
8. This figure has been challenged by Glenn Storey on the basis of population density studies
of urban locations such as Pompeii and Ostia during the first century. Thus he argues for an
estimate of the population of Rome of “roughly 450,000 inhabitants.” Glenn R. Storey, “The
Population of Ancient Rome,” Antiquity 71 (1997): 966–78.

216 Paul Foster
tember 1364 (fol. 461 a).”2 Of the remaining two manuscripts, Claromantanus

82/Philippicus 3081 dated to 2 April 1541, has been shown to be a direct copy of
Parisinus graecus 450.3 Although not as widely accepted, there are reasons to
suspect that the third manuscript, Ottobonianus 274 (also dated to the middle
of the sixteenth century), is another copy of Parisinus graecus 450.4 Therefore
only Parisinus graecus 450 provides independent attestation to the writings of
Justin. Among its fourteen tractates, only three have any claim to be authentic
writings of Justin – the Dialogue with Trypho and the First and Second Apolo-
gies.5 Thus in considering Justin’s views on deacons (διάκονος) and service
(διακονία), only ideas expressed in these three texts will be considered.
The occurrence of the relevant terms in the three authentic writings of Justin
is as follows: First Apology: διάκονος twice, διακονία zero; Second Apology:
διάκονος zero, διακονία zero; Dialogue with Trypho: διάκονος zero, διακονία
zero. Hence the evidence is limited, but the two examples of the use of the term
“deacon” contained in the First Apology are instructive in regard to Justin’s view
on the function of those who bore such a title in early Christian communities.
In the first reference, Justin describes various features of group meetings.
This commences with a brief description of a person newly initiated into the
community having been baptised, then being brought to a place of meeting with
fellow believers (1 Apol. 65.1). In describing the format of such gatherings, Justin
states that after the believers have ceased praying they then greet one another
with a kiss (1 Apol. 65.2). The next phase of the meeting is the eucharistic rite. It
is interesting to note that Justin does not refer to the person leading the rite as a
presbyter, πρεσβύτερος, which had become fairly standard terminology by this
period. 6 Instead he uses the term προεστῶτος, typically translated as “presi-
dent.” In the New Testament the term is used only once, in conjunction with
πρεσβύτερος, to denote the elders who preside or rule in a good manner, οἱ καλῶς
προεστῶτες πρεσβύτεροι (1 Tim 5:17). It is possible that this description con-
tained in 1 Timothy denotes different types of elders, with οἱ καλῶς προεστῶτες
πρεσβύτεροι being ruling elders who are praised for their sound leadership.7
2 Dennis Minns and Paul Parvis, Justin, Philosopher and Martyr: Apologies (Oxford: Ox-
ford University Press, 2009), 3.

3 Philippe Bobichon, «Oeuvres de Justin Martyr: le manuscrit Loan 36/13 de la British
Library, un apographe de manuscrit de Paris (Parisinus graecus 450),” Scriptorium 57 (2003):

157–172, 158.
4 Minns and Parvis, Justin, 3.
5 Minns and Parvis argue that the Second Apology was originally part of the First Apolo-
gy, but came to be considered a separate work when a leaf was shed from the First Apology.
Minns and Parvis, Justin, 28–31.
6 See 1 Clem. 4 4:5; 47:6; 2 Clem. 17:3,5; Ign. Magn. 3:1; 6:1; Ign. Trall. 3:1; 12:2; among
many other references.

7 Thus Marshall suggests, “it is much more probable that the passage is distinguishing a
sub-group of elders who had fuller duties than the others.” I. Howard Marshall, The Pastoral
Epistles, (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1999), 611.

Deacons (Διάκονοι) and Διακονία in the Writings of Justin and Irenaeus 217
However, others have felt that such a distinction is not warranted.8 If the former
view is correct, then the term προεστῶτος may function as a title denoting a sub-
group of elders, that is, a way of referring to the senior or leading elder. If it does
not denote a separate class of elders, then Justin may have been using it as a term
that would have more currency with pagan readers in place of the in-group
technical term πρεσβύτερος. Either way, Justin conceives of this person being
the liturgical leader during the eucharistic rite.
Alongside the προεστῶτος or “president” are other figures, οἱ διάκονοι “the
deacons.” The manner in which Justin introduces the term, οἱ καλούμενοι παρ᾽
ἡμῖν διάκονοι, “the ones called among us ‘deacons’” (1 Apol. 65.5), suggests that
even if the term itself was not a neologism, then the way he was using the term
could not be assumed to be familiar to his implied non-Christian readers. More-
over, in contradistinction to Justin describing a singular προεστῶτος or “presi-
dent” at the Eucharist, he describes a multiplicity of deacons taking part in the
ritual. It appears that they functioned primarily as administrants. Their first
duty described in this passage was conducted during the Eucharist. Justin notes
that after the thanksgiving of thanks was voiced by the “president,” with the
accompanying response of “Amen” from the people, the deacons then “give to
each of those present to partake of the eucharistized bread and wine and water”
(1 Apol. 65.5). The precise mechanics for the sharing of the bread, or for the
mixing of water with the wine are not discussed. The deacons’ function is there-
fore described as being that of distributing the bread and diluted wine.9
The second function of the deacons mentioned by Justin still involved distri-
bution of the bread and wine. However, this tooks place after the service when
the bread and wine were distributed to those not in attendance at the gathering:
“and to those who are absent they carry away a portion” (1 Apol. 65.5). No ex-
planation is provided for the reason why certain group members might be ab-
sent. It is possible to envisage a number of scenarios, many of which would not
be mutually exclusive. However, what Justin emphasises is that the role of the
deacon extended beyond the confines of the eucharistic gathering itself. Moreo-
ver, partaking of the bread and wine was considered suitably important that
fellow group members were to partake of the elements on a weekly basis even if
they were not able to attend the group meeting with fellow believers.
8 Towner feels the only distinction is between elders who discharge there duties well, and
those who do not. Philip H. Towner, The Letters to Timothy and Titus (NICNT; Grand Rap-
ids: Eerdmans, 2006), 361.
9 There is much debate about the precise nature of the reference here and in 1 Apol. 65.3
to the contents of the cup, or “cups,” if one is willing to amend the text. In 1 Apol. 65.3 the text
literally reads, “a cup of water and mixture.” Here the explanation of Minns and Parvis seems
preferable. The president is presented with “bread and a cup, presumably already prepared”
(1 Apol. 65.3). Furthermore, they hypothesise that it is not unreasonable to suppose that the
deacons brought these elements to the president in order that he may offer thanks over them.
See Minns and Parvis, Justin, 254–55, n. 7.

218 Paul Foster
The role of deacons in distributing the eucharistic elements to absent believ-

ers is further emphasised in the second of Justin’s depictions of those described
as διάκονοι. Thus Justin reiterates that “there is a distribution and partaking of
the eucharistized elements to each one, and it is sent to those who are not pres-
ent by means of the deacons” (1 Apol. 67.5). This conveys the same information
as contained in 1 Apol. 65.5, even though slightly different language is employed.
What these twin descriptions do offer is the possibility of considering the way
in which such a distribution was carried out given what is known of the struc-
ture of Christian communities in Rome in the second century. In what he de-
scribes as a “fractionation,” Peter Lampe views communities of believers in
Rome as dispersed and having separate local identities in the city. Thus he ar-
gues, “[i]n the pre-Constantinian period, the Christians of the city of Rome
assembled in premises that were provided by private persons and that were scat-
tered across the city (fractionation).”10 Within this context Justin’s description
of deacons carrying the eucharistic elements to absent community members
might not involve such figures travelling across the entire urban area. The dis-
crete communities may have encompassed smaller and far more localised areas.
Discussing the texts in Justin that refer to deacons distributing the Eucharist to
absent community members, Lampe makes the following observation:
Must we think here only of sick or incapacitated members of one’s own house-church
community? The text does not compel such a limited interpretation. It is conceivable
also that with the words “those who do not attend” members of other house-church
communities in the city are meant.11
Notwithstanding this statement, and while acknowledging that the text does
not absolutely “compel” the interpretation rejected by Lampe, it does seem
more probable that deacons primarily carried the eucharistic elements to mem-
bers of their own communities. The reasons for this could be wider than those
listed by Lampe – illness or incapacity. Rather, if members were in servitude
they may not have had the opportunity to leave the domus of their masters. In
fact another of Lampe’s comments, which might provide a more accurate de-
scription of the independence of Justin’s community, may tell against his sug-
gestion that the deacons carried bread and wine to members of other house-
church groups. He states, “[w]e have to consider that Justin’s circle existed very
autonomously, as a free school, an organization independent from the rest of the
house-church communities of the city.”12 Such independence between house-
churches does not necessarily imply any degree of antagonism.13 Instead such
10 Peter Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus: Christians at Rome in the First Two Centuries
(London: T&T Clark, 2003), 364.

11 Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus, 386.
12 Lampe, From Paul to Valentinus, 377.
13 While houses may have been the predominant type of meeting places for early believers,
as Adams has correctly observed, there were other types of spaces in which Christian com-

localised and autonomous communities may reflect the geographical spread of

the city both in its urban and suburban areas. Further, the lack of larger spaces
may have been a limiting on the size of Christian meetings. Consequently, the
small but scattered nature of early Christian communities, and their autono-
mous existence may have aided the survival of the movement. For if one group
was punished, then the members may not have possessed knowledge of other
groups in the city.
Given the dispersed structure of multiple Christian communities in Rome
around the middle of the second century, deacons need to be understood as
operating in that context. Communities may have comprised between twenty to
fifty individuals. If that estimate is correct, then the deacons could have distrib-
uted the eucharistic elements to absent members with relative ease and probably
without having to travel great distances. However, given the relatively autono-
mous nature of these early Christian groups in Rome, it is difficult to assess
whether the role Justin describes for deacons distributing bread and wine to
absent believers was commonplace practice, or whether it was one of the dis-
tinctive features of his own Christian community. The lack of corroborating
sources means that the most that can be inferred with relative confidence is that
in Justin’s community, deacons regularly carried the eucharistic elements to
members of the group who for whatever reason were unable to attend the eucha-
ristic ritual in person.
Therefore, in the authentic writings of Justin, dating from the second century,
two related tasks are described as being carried out by deacons. First during the
regular community gathering the deacons assisted the figure whom Justin calls
the προεστῶτος, “president.” After the act of giving thanks over the bread and
wine the deacons then distributed the elements to the assembled community
members (1 Apol. 65.5). The second related activity took place after those gath-
ered members had partaken of the bread and the wine – and presumably after
the conclusion of the service although Justin does not make that point explicitly.
At that point, the deacons carried the bread and wine away to any group mem-
bers who had not been present at the group meeting.
3. Irenaeus on Deacons and Διακονία
Only two genuine works of Irenaeus survive. These were most likely written
twenty-five to thirty years after the writings of Justin. The earliest of these,
probably written sometime around 180–185, is commonly known as Adversus
Haereses or Against the Heresies, but also was given the longer title Refutation
munities met. See Edward Adams, The Earliest Christian Meeting Places: Almost Exclusively
House? (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), esp. 198–202.

220 Paul Foster
and Overthrow of the Knowledge Falsely So Called. The second extant work is
Demonstration (Epideixis) of the Apostolic Preaching, which survives only in
one Armenian manuscript. However, Eusebius of Caesarea gives the titles of six
other works, quoting from some of them.14 However, the claim made by Euse-
bius that Irenaeus wrote a treatise against Marcion (HE IV.25) appears to be an
inference drawn from Irenaeus’ statement that he intended to produce such a
work (see HE V.8–9; Haer. I.25.2; Haer. III.12.16). Lastly, there are a number of
fragments of dubious authenticity written in Greek, Syriac, and Armenian
which have been attributed to Irenaeus.15
A further problem that arises, which hampers an analysis of Irenaeus’ use of
διάκονος and διακονία terminology, is the fact that the majority of his surviving
writings are extant only in versional witnesses. Therefore, apart from some
Greek fragments, Irenaeus’ writings survive primarily in Latin and Armenian
translations. For the Adversus Haereses there are only two surviving Greek
fragments. The first is P.Oxy 405, which is dated on the basis of palaeography
to the beginning of the third century and which contains III.9.2–3. Second,
there exists a Jena papyrus, most likely early fourth century, which contains
portions of V.3.2–13.1. Neither of these surviving Greek fragments contain ma-
terial that provides evidence for Irenaeus’ use of διάκονος and διακονία termi-
nology. By contrast, a complete Latin edition of all five books survives as does
an Armenian version of books IV and V, along with fragments from the other
books.16 Irenaeus’ second work, Demonstration, survives in the same Armeni-
an manuscript that contains books IV and V of Adversus Haereses.17 This
means that there is no extant witness to Irenaeus’ use of “deacon” or “service”
terminology in the original Greek. This is less of a problem for references to
“deacon,” since the Latin term diaconus functions as a technical term and al-
most certainly renders the Greek word διάκονος. It is more difficult to identify
examples of “service” terminology in either Latin or Armenian that may be di-
rect translations of διακονία terminology. This is because in contrast to the al-
most one-to-one correspondence that exists between διάκονος and diaconus,
such a correspondence does not exist between διακονία and only a single Latin
or Armenian term.
14 For further details see Irenaeus: Life, Scripture, Legacy (eds. Paul Foster and Sara Parvis;
Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012), xii–xiii. The titles of these six works are: (1) Against Blastus, On
Schism (HE V.20.1); (2) Against Florinus, On the Monarchy, or On the Fact That God Is Not
the Maker of Evil (HE V.20.1, 4–8); (3) On the Ogdoad (HE V.20.1, 2); (4) A letter to Victor of
Rome (HE V.24.11, 12–17); (5) On Knowledge (HE V.26); and (6) A book of various discours-
es (HE V.26).
15 The list of these fragments is found in CPG 1 (1983), numbers 1311–17.
16 For fuller details see Irenaeus: Life, Scripture, Legacy (eds. Foster and Parvis), xi.
17 Irenaeus’ Demonstration does not appear to contain any relevant data for this study.
There are no references to the office of “deacon” and no cases where the text appears to be
translating the underlying term διακονία.

In Adversus Haereses, Irenaeus makes reference to deacons on two occasions.

Both of these references occur without any gloss explaining the functions that
were carried out by such office holders. In his description of the deceitful and
devilish activities of a certain Marcus, Irenaeus describes Marcus as a cad who
uses love-potions to entice and defile female believers. Irenaeus recounts the
following case:
A sad example of this occurred in the case of a certain Asiatic, one of our deacons, who
had received him (Marcus) into his house. His wife, a woman of remarkable beauty, fell
a victim both in mind and body to this magician, and, for a long time, travelled about
with him. At last, when, with no small difficulty, the brethren had converted her, she
spent her whole time in the exercise of public confession, weeping over and lamenting the
defilement which she had received from this magician. (Ad. Haer. I.13.5).
The woman in question is not named, but rather described as the wife of a dea-
con. Irenaeus uses of this term, without any explanation, suggests that it could
be presumed to be widespread and well-known terminology at least among his
anticipated readers. In the extant Latin the relevant portion of text reads, ut et
diaconus quidam eorum qui sunt in Asia nostri. It appears that “diaconus” orig-
inated as a Greek loanword taken over into Latin. It corresponds to the Greek
term διάκονος, and denotes a specific role in early Christian communities. The
earliest documented usage of this term in the Jesus movement is found in Paul’s
letters to the Romans and to the Philippians. In Romans the term is applied to
Phoebe who is described as “a deacon of the church in Cenchrea” (Rom 16:2). In
Philippians the reference is more generalised, where Paul and Timothy greet all
the believers in Philippi alongside the bishops/overseers and deacons: σὺν
ἐπισκόποις καὶ διακόνοις (Phil 1:1). There are four further occurrences of the
term in 1 Timothy (1 Tim 3:8,10,12,13). In those contexts the specific duties of
the office of deacon are not described, rather the author of 1 Timothy is con-
cerned to instruct deacons that their moral behaviour should correspond to the
status of their office.18 In the passage that occurs in the first book of Adversus
Haereses, Irenaeus sees a misalignment between the foolish decision of the un-
named deacon, the moral behaviour of his wife, and the expected wisdom and
moral behaviour that befits the diaconal office. Irenaeus may have the ethical
qualities for deacons that are described in 1 Timothy in mind when he laments
the case of the Asiatic deacon permitting Marcus to enter his house.
The second reference to the office of deacon is found in book III of Adversus
Haereses. In the context of describing the teachings of the apostles, Irenaeus
recounts what he understands to be a text that narrates the appointment of dea-
cons. Thus he states:
18 This point is also mentioned by I.H. Marshall when he states, “descriptions of function
are absent from the deacon code in 1 Tim 3. The lists are mainly concerned with character.” I.
Howard Marshall, The Pastoral Epistles (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1999), 487.

222 Paul Foster
Stephen, who was chosen the first deacon by the apostles, and who, of all men, was the
first to follow the footsteps of the martyrdom of the Lord, being the first that was slain
for confessing Christ (Ad. Haer. III.12.10).
Here the story of the appointment of deacons is drawn from Acts 6:1–6, where
Stephen is the first named among the newly constituted group of apostolic help-
ers (Acts 6:5). Significantly, although Stephen is not named as a deacon in Acts,
Irenaeus is already aware of the tradition that identifies Stephen as the first dea-
con among the initial seven appointed to that role. Stephen is identified in a few
broadly contemporary sources. For instance, in the martyrdom account con-
cerning the deaths of believers at Lyon and Vienne, Stephen is presented as the
prototypical and perfect martyr:
καὶ ὑπὲρ τῶν τὰ δεινὰ διατιθέντων ηὔχοντο, καθάπερ Στέφανος ὁ τέλειος μάρτυς· (Epis. Ec-
clesiarum apud Lugdunum et Viennam, 2.5.5).19
However, he is not identified as a deacon. It may be the case that Irenaeus is the
first extant source to name Stephen as a deacon and to cast him explicitly in the
role of being the first deacon. This identification is made on the basis of the ac-
count of Stephen’s appointment in Acts 6 , but in that context he is not described
use the technical term “deacon.”
The use of διακονία terminology, as mentioned earlier, is more difficult to
track due to the various ways the term might be rendered with Latin words.
Equivalents such as “ministerium” or “ministratio” may well render from this
Greek word group. One fairly clear cut example involves Irenaeus’ discussion of
the varieties of spiritual gifts. He writes, “there are diversities of gifts, differenc-
es of administrations (ministerium)” (Ad. Haer. II.28.7). Here Irenaeus is citing
Paul’s comments made to the Corinthians concerning spiritual gifts: Διαιρέσεις
δὲ χαρισμάτων εἰσίν […] καὶ διαιρέσεις διακονιῶν εἰσιν (1 Cor 12:4–5). In this con-
text it can be seen that the Latin translator has employed “ministerium” as an
equivalent for what was almost certainly the underlying Greek term διακονία.
However, Irenaeus’ argument is different from that of Paul. He is refuting the
notion that those who “still dwell on earth, and have not yet sat down on his
throne” (Ad. Haer. II.28.7) can claim to have perfect knowledge. While ac-
knowledging the variety of spirit-given gifts and of services, he goes on to cite
Paul say that “we know in part, and prophecy in part.” Thus the gifts of the
spirit are not proof of perfect spiritual knowledge. In this context Irenaeus does
little to clarify what he might have meant by the term διακονία, apart from it
referring to the variety of the types of service within the believing communi-
ty.20
19 Herbert Musurillo, Acts of the Christian Martyrs, vol. II (Oxford: Clarendon, 1972),
82–83.
20 For a discussion of the meaning of the term in its Pauline context and the way it func-

Irenaeus employs the verbal form ministro in the context of describing the
ministry or “service” of the church on behalf of others and the imitation of
Christ. For Irenaeus these acts of service are not simply imitatio Christi, they
are also a continuation of the work of Christ. He states:
Wherefore, also, those who are in truth his disciples, receiving grace from him, do in his
name perform [miracles], so as to promote the welfare of other men, according to the gift
which each one has received from him. […] It is not possible to name the number of the
gifts which the Church, [scattered] throughout the whole world, has received from God,
in the name of Jesus Christ, who was crucified under Pontius Pilate, and which she exerts
day by day for the benefit of the Gentiles, neither practising deception upon any, nor
taking any reward from them on account of such miraculous interpositions. For as she
has received freely from God, freely also does she minister to others. (Ad. Haer. II.32.7)
The reference to the church ministering, ministro, to others, is likely in the orig-
inal Greek of the text to be written with the Greek verb διακονέω. Here the acts
of service or ministry are attributed to the church as a collected whole, not to
individuals bearing the title διάκονος, or any other specific office or hierarchical
position in the group’s communal structure.
Irenaeus can also speak of non-human entities as performing service. In re-
butting Basilides’ assertion that the prophets were inspired by different gods
when they proclaimed their messages, Irenaeus makes a strong statement that
the apostles, prophets, and other genuine revelatory media all are devoted to the
praise of one divine being:
Now, that the preaching of the apostles, the authoritative teaching of the Lord, the an-
nouncements of the prophets, the dictated utterances of the apostles, and the ministra-
tion of the law – all of which praise one and the same Being, the God and Father of all,
and not many diverse beings, nor one deriving his substance from different gods or pow-
ers, but [declare] that all things [were formed] by one and the same Father. (Ad. Haer.
II.35.4)
The final phrase in this list of speech-acts, “the ministration (ministratio) of the
law,” is again a further example where the underlying Greek term is likely to be
some form of the noun διακονία. While one might assume that these commu-
nicative acts might more naturally be seen as having a human referent, Irenaeus
interprets their function differently in this context. These verbal declarations
uttered by the apostles, the Lord, the prophets, and contained in the law, func-
tion according to Irenaeus to render praise to one divine being. Consequently,
they are seen as speaking in unison and therefore providing a unifying witness
to the one being whom Irenaeus describes as “the God and Father of all.” There
is little consideration or reflection on how the ministration or service of the law
operates to achieve this end, and no reflection on the form of service the Torah
tions in Paul’s argument see Anthony C. Thiselton, The First Epistle to the Corinthians
(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 931–32.

224 Paul Foster
performs. Instead the διακονία language is employed in a generic way simply as

an unspecified description of the mechanics of the activity of the law in render-
ing praise to God. For Irenaeus, this provides sufficient evidence to make his
case that there is one divine being, and not a multitude of divine entities. While
this argument may have satisfied its author, it is debatable whether Basilides or
his followers would have seen Irenaeus’ arguments as being in the least aspect
persuasive.
4. Conclusion: Deacons and Διακονία in Justin and Irenaeus
Writing in the second half of the second century, both Justin and Irenaeus men-
tion the role of deacons, yet only Irenaeus appears to employ the term διακονία.21
In fact both writers refer to deacons twice. The later of the two authors, Irenae-
us, makes his references to deacons only in passing. First he refers to a certain
Asiatic deacon, whose wife fell victim to Marcus, a character whom Irenaeus
portrays as a charlatan, magician, and a heretic. It is unclear whether Irenaeus
views the defilement of the woman as particularly heinous because she is the
wife of a deacon, or whether that detail is intended to provide verisimilitude and
greater moral warning to the story. If it is the former, then Irenaeus may be al-
luding to the qualities expected from both ἐπίσκοπος and διάκονος, as described
in the Pastoral Epistles. Specifically, deacons are to be “husbands of one wife,
good managers of their children and of their own households” (1 Tim 3.12).
While it has been suggested that good management of one’s household is a
demonstration of the ability to be a suitable administrator alongside the
ἐπίσκοπος,22 this does not appear to be the chief concern. However, the concern
in the Pastoral Epistles appears to be focused on the moral rectitude of those
holding the office of deacons. If Irenaeus has the injunction from 1 Timothy in
mind, then it appears to be the case that he is fundamentally concerned with the
ethical standing of those who occupy the diaconal office, not with their man-
agement skills. Thus as Mounce observes, the description in 1 Timothy that
enjoins deacons to be “good managers” or to “manage well” καλῶς, implies “not
only achieving the proper results but doing it the right way.”23 Therefore, with-
21 As noted above, Irenaeus use of the term διακονία will remain at best an inference, unless
more extensive Greek manuscripts of his works come to light. Notwithstanding this transla-
tional problem, there is one strong example where the Latin version of Adversus Haereses cites
1 Cor 12:4–5. In that Pauline passage the apostle uses the term διακονία, and it is almost certain
that the original text of Ad. Haer. II.28.7 would have likewise employed the term διακονία.
22 Towner suggests, “[t]he concern for this management ability suggests that deacons car-
ried out significant leadership duties in service to the overseers, or perhaps (if overseers super-
vised a cluster of house churches in a locality) on a par with overseers but in a more limited
sphere (the house church).” Towner, Timothy, 267.
23 William D. Mounce, Pastoral Epistles (Nashville: Nelson, 2000), 205.

out describing exactly what they do, Irenaeus expects deacons to be morally
upright individuals with families not prone to ethical lapses.
The second time Irenaeus refers to a deacon, is when he names “Stephen, who
was chosen the first deacon by the apostles” (Ad. Haer. III.12.10). The striking
thing is that despite the description in Acts not naming Stephen as a deacon,24
Irenaeus does so. Whether this is an inference he draws himself, or whether he
draws on earlier traditions that may have done so is unclear. Presumably, when-
ever this link was made it was based at least in part on the narrative details that
the seven were appointed to alleviate the apostles of the task of “serving,”
διακονία, or distributing food to the widows. Irenaeus uses διακονία terminolo-
gy in various contexts. However, his use is generalised as does not appear to
convey any specifically Christian nuance, and in fact contains no explicit con-
nection with the office of deacons.
Justin’s extant writings do not employ the term διακονία. He does, however,
use the term διάκονος on two occasions. Unlike Irenaeus, he provides insight
into at least some of the duties carried out by those who held that office, at least
around the middle of the second century in Rome. Deacons are portrayed as
people who assist the “president” in the eucharistic rite. Two aspects of their
role are described. First, within the liturgical service of the gathered communi-
ty, deacons distribute the bread and wine that has been blessed by the president
to the assembled believers. Second, at some point afterwards, the deacons take
the elements of bread and wine to those community members who had not been
present at the service. Thus, for Justin, deacons played an important role in the
liturgical ceremonies of the assembled believers, but also had a further role be-
yond the worship service. They kept absent members connected to the gathered
community by taking the Eucharistic elements to them. In this respect they
promoted group maintenance and stability.
It is not possible to provide a global account of the role and functions of “dea-
cons” based upon the combined testimony of Justin and Irenaeus. Nor is it even
possible to state whether the duties of the office were fairly fixed across Chris-
tian communities in the second half of the second century.25 The reason for that
is the lack of evidence. However, both authors provide an intriguing snapshot of
some aspects of the diaconal role. For Justin, deacons assisted with the distribu-
tion of the eucharistic elements after they had been blessed, both in the imme-
diate context of the gathered liturgical service and beyond it by taking the bread
24 As Peterson correctly observes, “[t]he Seven (see 21:8) are set apart for a ministry of
‘serving tables’, but they are not called “deacons” and Luke’s intention cannot simply have
been to describe how the order of deacons originated (see 1 Tim 3:8–13).” David G. Peterson,
The Acts of the Apostles (Nottingham: Apollos, 2009), 228.
25 Ignatius provides a greater volume of references to deacons in his seven authentic letters
of the so-called Middle recension. However, his concern is more on the role of the ἐπίσκοπος
“bishop,” and the presbyters and deacons are seen in some ways as a supporting cast, who
assist the bishop in the leadership of the Christian community.

226 Paul Foster
and wine to absent members. In this way they performed an important function
in ensuring that those who were unable to attend the collective meetings none-
theless maintained a sense of connection with the group. By contrast, Irenaeus
reveals nothing of the specific duties of deacons. His two references reveal his
understanding of the presumed origin of the office, and the ethical require-
ments for those who hold such a position and for their families. For the former,
he might be dependent on what had become an almost aetiological interpreta-
tion of Acts 6:1–7. By contrast, the negative example of the Asiatic deacon who
had allowed Marcus into his home with the resultant defilement of the deacon’s
wife is presumably a negative demonstration of the moral discernment required
from those who hold diaconal office. Therefore, in the second half of the second
century deacons were expected to be individuals who exemplified the moral
behaviour expected from Christian leaders, and one of their key functions was
in assisting the main leaders of a Christian community in the distribution of the
Eucharist.

Deacons in Acts of Thomas and Related Early
Syriac Literature
Serafim Seppälä
What can we learn about the function of deacons and the character of diaconate
in the early Christian East with the help of the text known as Acts of Thomas
(AT)? The question is not as marginal or unfruitful as it may seem at first glance.
It is also worth pondering because Klijn’s exhaustive commentary on AT1 says
almost nothing on the subject.2
1. Some Background Remarks
For a long time, the wide corpus of early Christian apocryphal literature on the
apostles remained largely forgotten somewhere between the theological disci-
plines. For exegesis, the texts were too late; for Church history, they were too
fictive; and for systematic theology, the texts often appeared too imaginative –
too much like novels and not rich enough in dogmatic ideas. In the last few
decades, however, a slow change has taken place. Church historians have shown
1 Albertus Frederik Johannes Klijn, The Acts of Thomas. Introduction, Text and Com-
mentary (Leiden: Brill, 22003).

2 The editions and translations consulted in this paper include Amir Harrak (tr.), The
Acts of Mār Mārī the Apostle (henceforth AMM). Writings from the Greco-Roman World
(Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2005). The edition of Acts of Thomas in William
Wright, Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles: Edited from Syriac Manuscripts with English trans-
lations (London: Williams and Norgate, 1871; Reprint: Philo, 1968). The Greek text of Acts of
Thomas in Richard Adelbert Lipsius & Max Bonnet, Acta Apostolorum Apocrypha II.2 (Leip-
zig, 1903; re-edition: Darmstadt, 1959). A translation of the Greek text in James K. Elliott,
The Apocryphal New Testament (Oxford: Clarendon, 1993), 439–511. For Apostolic Tradition,
see La Tradition Apostolique (SC 11; Paris: Cerf, 1984). For Doctrina Addai, see George Phil-
lips (tr.), The Doctrine of Addai the Apostle (London: Trübner & Co., 1876). The Teaching of
Addai (ed. George Phillips, trans. George Howard; Society of Biblical Literature Texts and
Translations 16, Early Christian Literature Series 4; Chicago: Scholars, 1981). For Odes of
Solomon, see Rendel Harris & Alphonse Mingana, The Odes and Psalms of Solomon Vol. I:
The Text with Facsimile reproductions (Manchester, 1916). The Odes and Psalms of Solomon
Vol. II: The Translation with introduction and notes (Manchester, 1920).

228 Serafim Seppälä
more interest in the Apocryphal material, due to clues it provides on the diver-
sity of early Christianity. The advantage and disadvantage of this approach is
that when texts are used as witnesses for diversity, it becomes rather irrelevant
whether they originate from the mainstream or from curious groups somewhere
on the margins. Consequently, even the tiniest group becomes relevant if it has
happened to leave a literary trace of itself.
Correspondingly, the lack of dogmatic ideas in the Apocryphal literature has
been reconsidered. In various ways, imaginative narratives may be even more
fruitful than purely dogmatic accounts. Fictional narratives about the apostles
may portray ideals and models of the heroi of the new religion as seen in retro-
spect, offering valuable perspectives on diverse fields such as ethics, anthropol-
ogy and, at times, even ecclesiology or other dogmatic issues. In addition, the
texts are relevant documentaries of the context in which they were born, occa-
sionally revealing contemporary ideals and practices, either explicitly or implic-
itly, and providing insights into various early Christian milieux.
Certainly, there are problems with the relevance and authority of the apocry-
phal literature on the apostles, given that the authors and circles around them
remain unknown in practically all cases, and this fact alone makes these works
non-normative in ecclesial usage. Customarily, the NT Apocrypha is dated
roughly to the third or fourth centuries – at times with no other criteria but a
vague sense that the first or second century sounds too early and the fifth per-
haps too late.
2. Acts of Thomas as Literature
Acts of Thomas is an exceptional case among the Apocryphal Acts in several

ways. Firstly, it can be dated in quite a precise manner, between 220–240.3
Even if the text may not give much historical information on apostolic times, it
is all the more interesting to consider what was thought about the apostles and
apostolic Christianity during the 220’s–230’s, and what kind of contemporary
ideals and practices are reflected in the text. Secondly, the structure and compo-
3 The dating is based on particular details as well as observations of a more general na-
ture. A loose terminus post quem may be taken from the fact that AT has a couple of Roman
names (Tertia, Marcia), since Roman names are known to be taken into use by Edessene kings
in the early third century. Secondly, a delegation from India visited Edessa around 220, which
must have aroused interest on India. The terminus ante quem is based, firstly, on the general
observation that the world of AT is that of small local monarchies – an era which ended in
Edessa in 241 when it became a colonia of Rome. Secondly, one may interpret from Eusebius
(Hist. Eccl. III, 1:1–3) that Origen (d. 251) knew about AT, albeit this is far from certain. Fi-
nally, Ephrem the Syrian, who lived in Edessa in the 360’s, mentioned that the disciples of
Bardaisan (d. 222) wrote down stories on apostles. For more discussion, see Jan Bremmer, The
Apocryphal Acts of Thomas (Leuven: Peeters, 2001), 74–79.

Deacons in Acts of Thomas and Related Early Syriac Literature 229
sition of the text is twofold, and the same applies to its theological contribution.
The work consists of two rather divergent elements: an imaginative frame story
of simple prose is seasoned with liturgical and hymnographic material embed-
ded in the story and interrupting the narrative repeatedly.4 The hymns and
prayers are full of profound dogmatic insights from the early Christian East,
but for the theme of the present paper they are less relevant.
Due to the eccentric and exotic details, most of which occur in the Greek
version,5 the doctrinal status of the text has been subject to many kinds of
speculations. Today very few scholars would identify AT as Gnostic, “even
though it is often quite heterodox,” as Shoemaker recently stated. 6 For the
argument of this paper, however, it is rather irrelevant whether the more heter-
odox Greek readings or the more orthodox Syriac readings are the original
ones, as the latter ones in any case represent very early Christian readings and
practices that we are interested in.
Almost certainly, AT comes from Edessa, which was the centre of Syriac-
speaking Christianity in north-west Mesopotamia in the early centuries and for
hundreds of years to come. In that sense, we are not dealing with a text from
margins: Edessa stood out as a centre of Christian intellectualism, spirituality,
and pilgrimage.7
4 It goes without saying that these may combine various sources. As for the hymns, it is
evident at first glance that the famous Hymn of the Pearl differs substantially from all the
other hymns.
5 The most interesting differences between the Syriac and Greek versions deal with bap-
tism (AT 25–27), Eucharist (AT 157), hell (AT 55), and ethics (AT 85). Moreover, in the Greek
version there is a feminine goddess figure that appears in three places (AT 6, 7, 133). Scholars
have often failed to notice that she is a most detached figure in relation to the narrative as a
whole, and this makes her more likely an interpolation than an original reading. (However
that may be, feminine expressions were used in Syriac on the Holy Spirit; see Aphrahat,
Demonstrations 18:10 and Odes of Solomon 19:3–4.) Perhaps the most striking detail, how
ever, is the use of water in the Eucharist instead of wine in the Greek text (AT 120–121, 132–
133, 152). Scholars have been so enthusiastic to see this as the original reading that they have
failed to see that in the narrative story itself, finding wine for the Eucharist is a central motive
in AT 120, which alone makes it fully possible that “water” is an interpolation. Finally, it is
rather obvious that the Greek text as a whole has been translated (probably even twice) from
the Syriac, which clearly shows from the syriacisms and mistaken translations (for example,
AT 90–91). This makes a heterodox original a purely hypothetical construction. More details
in my monograph plus Finnish translation, Tuomaan teot (Helsinki: Suomen Eksegeettinen
Seura, 2006).
6 Stephen Shoemaker, Mary in Early Christian Faith and Devotion (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 2016), 72.

7 The number of places of pilgrimage, as well as the amount of literary works written in
Edessa was almost unparalleled, but subsequently the Christians of Edessa were oppressed,
and massacred, and consequently forgotten. For the exceptional history of Edessa as a Chris-
tian holy city, see Judah Segal, Edessa: The Blessed City (Oxford University Press, 1970;
Gorgias reprint, 2005). The last Christians of Edessa were massacred during the genocide of
Armenians and Assyrians in 1915.

3. Vocabulary: Alternatives and Solutions
How to start talking about diakonia in Syriac? The question is an elementary

one, due to the fact that Syriac is the eastern dialect of the Aramaic language, the
western variant of which was spoken by Jesus Christ and the apostles in Galilee
and Jerusalem. Obviously, Aramaic practices and conventions had a strong ef-
fect on the earliest Christian Greek; the multi-layered semitisms of the New
Testament do not represent only biblicisms, hebraisms, and literary influences,
but also echoes of a spoken Aramaic background.8
In Syriac and Aramaic, there are two roots for “serving” with rather distinc-
tive profiles. Firstly, there is ᶜBD, familiar from other Semitic languages, includ-
ing Hebrew and Arabic, referring rather widely to work and servitude, includ-
ing slavery.
Secondly, there is the root ŠMŠ that refers to serving in a particular cultic
sense.9 The root ŠMŠ has an exceptionally rich and colourful history in Semitic
languages. Given that the roots of XZX-type (i. e. with identical first and third
radicals) are extremely rare in Semitic languages, it might perhaps even be a very
ancient loan word from a non-Semitic language, but that possibility does not
concern us here. More likely, the XZX-type is an outcome of the alterations and
variations between the Semitic sounds for s, š, and ś.
What is not irrelevant, however, is that in Akkadian and Assyrian šamaš, an
absolute form of šamšu, referred to the Sun God who was in charge of justice
and the growth of crops.10 Even today, the basic words for sun are derived from
this root in both Arabic (šamsu) and Hebrew (šemeš). It is from this sun context
that the root derived its spiritual functions of cultic serving and related prayer-
ful activity. As it happens, this is also reflected in the biblical text, for the corre-
sponding Aramaic verb šammeš occurs in Dan 7:10, in which “thousands of
thousands are serving (‫שְּמׁשּוֵּנּה‬
ַׁ ְ ‫ ”)י‬God. The verbal usage of ŠMŠ, however, seems
to be lacking from Akkadian/Assyrian as we know it, which may indicate that
the cultic meaning for the verb is a Jewish invention, or perhaps an adaption of
vernacular usage in Babylonia. The cultic usage of the root continued in Mish
naic, Talmudic, and in medieval Hebrew, in which šammāš stands for the sacris-
8 The Aramaic influence as such is self-evident, due to its position as spoken vernacular
in NT times. It is among the oddities of modern scholarship that in the multitude of exegetical
studies very little has been said about it. This is undoubtedly due to the fact that to discuss the
matter one should have an active knowledge of Aramaic, which in turn would imply an excep-
tional amount of learning. And even in the best case, speculations on the original Aramaic
expressions behind the Greek wordings would be rather hypothetical. Matthew Black’s An
Aramaic Approach to the Gospels and Acts (1967) is the classic to begin with.
9 Likewise, the Armenian “deacon,” սարկավագ (sarkavag), refers to “servant”; the term
is an ancient loan word, the origin of which had already been long forgotten in antiquity.
10 Simo Parpola and Robert M. Whiting, Assyrian-English-Assyrian Dictionary (Helsin-
ki: State Archives of Assyria, 2007), 268.

tan in the synagogue (see Aramaic gabbai), one who could serve in various func-
tions such as reading the Torah.
To sum up, the verbs and participles derived from the root ŠMŠ have a strong
cultic connotation that seems to have its origins in ancient Sun-worship. There-
fore, the very first step is rather determinative. When the early Christians spoke
about deacons, did they need a word for a practical servant or cultic servant? For
early Christian Western Aramaic, there are no proper sources available, but the
Syriac answer is unambiguous: the basic word for deacon, me šamme šānā, is a
derivation of ŠMŠ and accordingly has strong cultic associations. This is obvi-
ous from the heyday of Syriac literature (4th to 7th centuries), when the verb šam-
meš was used in various liturgical and ecclesiastical as well as practical senses:11
1) to serve in a practical sense
→ servants’ actions such as waiting, attending, supplying
2) to serve in the cultic sense
→ to chant, to recite
3) to serve in an administrative sense
→ to administer, to perform the duties of an office (bishop, priest)
In the synchronic sense, and perhaps diachronically as well, the third one is a
derivative of the second one, for liturgical serving is at the core of any ecclesias-
tical office.12
But how far back in time one can stretch this logic is a rather complicated
question. As an early composition containing even earlier materials, AT is an
important part of that discussion.
The word for deacon is a participle of the paʿʿel conjugation and has a taste of
continuing action: one who repeats a prayer endlessly and worships continuous-
ly is a me šamme šānā par excellence! It is telling that me šamme šānā functions
also as a translation for λειτουργός, as witnessed by Syriac translations of the
word in Rom 13:6,13 15:16,14 and Phil 2:25, as well as usages with more cultic
connotations in Hebrews.15 This does not mean that me šamme šānā has two
different meanings (διάκονος and λειτουργός), however; rather, it shows that to
11 The meanings given are the ones in Payne Smith’s Syriac Dictionary (585–86), arranged
here according to the logic of their use.

12 For this reason, even a priest is called m e šamm e šānā (on rare occasions); a m e šamm e šānā
is a minister of sacred things. However, one may also note that even the ancient cultic use re-
ferring to the Sun has been preserved in šemšānāyā, Syriac for Sun-worshipper, i. e. Yezidi.
13 “authorities are God’s servants (λειτουργοὶ γὰρ Θεοῦ εἰσιν).”
14 “to be a minister of Christ Jesus (εἰς τὸ εἶναί με λειτουργὸν Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ) to the Gen-
tiles.”
15 “He makes his angels spirits, and his servants (λειτουργοὺς) flames of fire” (Heb 1:7).
Christ “sat down at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in heaven, and [he] serves in
the sanctuary (τῶν ἁγίων λειτουργὸς), the true tabernacle set up by the Lord, not by a mere
human being.” (Heb 8:1–2).

be a διάκονος also means being a λειτουργός. Yet this fact does not help us much,
due to the wide usages of λειτουργός in NT times.
In the Syriac NT, me šamme šānā translates διάκονος in the cases related to
specific ministry, such as Phil 1:1 and 1 Tim 3:12, but also in those referring to
an ordinary servant, as well as in a more general spiritual sense.16 This does not
tell much more than that there is a tendency to favour word-by-word translation.
In the case of the epistles, there is no consensus on the date of the translation.
Correspondingly, verbal usages of διακονεῖν are translated with derivatives of
ŠMŠ,17 and διακονίᾳ as a rule is tešmeštā.18 Martha serving Jesus in Luke 10:40
has tešmeštā for διακονεῖν. Moreover, tešmeštā is also used for perhaps the most
explicit cultic term there is in the NT, ἱερατεύειν (“fulfilling the priestly service”)
in the case of Zacharias (Luke 1:8). It may be noted that in the case of Phoebe in
Rom 16:1, the Syriac text has a feminine me šamme šānītā (Gr. διάκονον).
Perhaps the most interesting case, however, is διακονία τῆς λειτουργίας in
2 Cor 9:12, which is rendered into Syriac pulḥānā d-tešmeštā. This in fact shows
that tešmeštā is more akin to λειτουργία (i. e. “liturgy”) than pulḥānā, another
word for serving in the sense of labouring (the root is best known by the Arabic
Fellah, “peasant”). Given that the strong liturgical association of λειτουργία was
obvious in the eyes of the early Christian translators, they chose to use tešmeštā
for it, even though this meant that one had to have pulḥānā for διακονία, which
is against the overall translation policy of the Early Syriac versions. In general,
it seems that the different Syriac versions do not contain significant differences
regarding these wordings; I have consulted the standard Peshitta version, Old
Syriac Gospels,19 and Mardin Pshitto edition.20
4. Servants and Deacons in the Earliest Syriac Literature
Before entering the world of Acts of Thomas, we may make some observations
on the roles and functions of deacon-related vocabulary in the earliest Syriac
literature outside the Didascalia Apostolorum (a topic on its own right). I pres-
ent two examples, the first one of which is (most likely) an original composition
in Syriac, the second a translation.
16 John 2:5,9; Eph 3:7; 6:21; Phil 1:1; Col 1:7; 1 Tim 3:8,12. Unfortunately, the Old Syriac
Gospel text of John 2:5 and 2:9 has not been preserved. In Matt 4:11 and Luke 10:40, both the
Old Syriac and Mardin Gospel have tešmeštā for διακονεῖν and me šamme šānīn for διηκόνουν.
One may note that in the verse in which the angels come and serve Jesus (Matt 4:11), the Syri-
ac text gives the impression that angels come to serve Christ liturgically, i. e. to praise him.
17 Matt 4:11, Luke 10:40.
18 Acts 6:4, Rom 12:7.
19 E. Jan Wilson, The Old Syriac Gospels: Studies and Comparative Translations (Eastern
Christian Studies I–II; Piscataway: Gorgias, 2002).

20 Ewangelyon qadisha: The New Testament Text according to the Pshitto of Mardin (Istan
bul: Monastery of Mor Gabriel & United Bible Societies, 2007).

Odes of Solomon, one of the earliest Syriac texts, is a beautiful collection of

colourful charismatic poetry, the context of which is completely missing: we do
not know where, when or for whom it was written. The contents as such would
fit with a very early dating, even first century, but usually scholars are content
to speak about it as a second or third century work.
In Odes of Solomon, both roots appear in various forms and contexts. Deri-
vations of ᶜBD occur in 11:22, 29:8, and 29:11; ŠMŠ appears in 6:13. To judge by
the context, there are no obvious cases that should be taken as references to
“deacons” in any technical sense; the occurrences refer to the serving of God in
a general spiritual sense. It is remarkable, however, that when the reference is
most probably to liturgical serving, the term me šamme šānā is used, albeit the
cultic/liturgical function is expressed in a symbolic way in accordance with the
poetical character of the text.
Then all the thirsty upon the earth drank,
and thirst was relieved and quenched;
For from the Most High the drink was given.
Blessed, therefore, are the ministers of that drink,
who have been entrusted with His water.
They have refreshed the parched lips,
and have aroused the paralyzed will. 21
Here we may also take a brief look at Psalms of Solomon, which seems to be among
the earliest translations into Syriac. The Hebrew original is lost, but Greek and
Syriac versions remain, offering an appealing opportunity for comparisons. It is
interesting to note that the Syriac text has ʿabdā not only in places where the
Greek has δοῦλος (2:41, 10:4), but also in places where Greek translator has chosen
παῖδα (son, child, servant, 12:7, 17:23). To judge by the context, it seems unlikely
that in either case παῖδα was translated from ben.22 Moreover, no context seems
exclusively cultic, so we cannot speculate on choices of ʿabdā versus me šam-
me šānā. (Even if there was one, a Christian translator might sense me šamme šānā
to be too distinctively Christian to use in the Jewish context of Ps.Sol.)
However, at least the setting illustrates that ʿabdā is a very wide term, 23 which
hints towards a general observation: whenever me šamme šānā is used, it repre-
sents a genuinely specific sense. In other words, a deacon is not a servant in a
general sense but in a rather particular one.
21 Odes of Solomon 6:11–14, translation according to Harris. The context is open for sac-
ramental and/or charismatic reading. It seems insufficient, however, to view the activity de-
scribed as mere preaching of the discursive word, for the hymn itself is part of liturgical and/
or charismatic activity!
22 “May salvation be on Israel, for Israel is His servant forever.” (Ps. Sol. 12:7) “Behold, O
Lord, uplift to them their king, son of David, at the moment you see, O God. May he rule your
servant Israel.” (Ps. Sol. 17:23.)
23 Actually, ᶜBD is not without cultic connotations in Eastern Aramaic, as witnessed by
the name of the famous tractate of Talmud, ʿAvoda zara, “serving of idols.”

5. Deacons in Acts of Thomas: The Liturgical Function
At first glance, AT may appear as one of the most unfruitful sources for ecclesi-
astical or hierarchical relations in the whole of early Christian literature, due to
the imaginative character of the story of a lonely apostle acting alone in India,
performing miracles, in a somewhat untamed way, far removed from other
apostles and ecclesiastical structures. A closer look, however, reveals traces of
an established church order. Moreover, there is also some indirect yet explicit
proof that the prayers of AT may be derived from real liturgical contexts.24
In the narrative of AT, deacons appear explicitly in four occasions.25 As
might be expected, these all occur in the frame narrative, not in the prayerful
hymns. The first context is eucharistic: the table and bread are prepared for the
apostle by a deacon. The second case is caritative, and the last two cases offer
indications of a certain canonical order of affairs, which is striking in the narra-
tive AT, given that the apostle is acting alone in a faraway land.
The brief episodes happen to say quite a lot on the functions of deacons, and
even on the character of the diaconate. Under the imaginative, volatile, and
somewhat unpredictable events of the narrative, there are clear indicators of li-
turgical order. For example, there are five baptisms in AT, and each one of them
is preceded by anointing and followed by the Eucharist, so the basic structure is
rather fixed, and even the details correspond rather well to those known from
the Didascalia Apostolorum.26
In the first occurrence of “deacon” (§ 49), the most relevant information is in
fact revealed by what is not said. Namely, in the narrative the apostle is about to
conduct a post-baptismal Eucharist, and suddenly he tells his deacon to make
some preparations. Where did the deacon abruptly appear from, in the middle
of India? It seems that the most logical explanation is that the presence of dea-
cons in the liturgy was so self-evident that the author perhaps failed to notice
the problem at this point. If there is a liturgy, there must be deacons, too!
The liturgy in question is a most primitive one, for it seems to consist of the
anaphora part alone, containing very beautiful epiclesis prayers and the break-
ing of bread. Of course, the scantiness applies to all early references of the litur-
24 For example, the blessing of water in § 52 says: “May the gift of the Holy Spirit in you
(pl.) become perfect,” even though in the narrative context the water is blessed only in order
to heal one person.
25 AT § 49, 59, 65–67, 169. All the references are to the Syriac (i. e. not Greek) text of AT,
unless otherwise indicated.

26 Perhaps the most evident difference is the lack of explicit credos. It is to be noted that
each baptism takes place in a different setting: bath-house (§ 27), river (§ 49), private home
(§ 157), pool (§ 121), and even in a big jar (§ 132). However, many details correspond to the
practices of the fourth century, for example, the baptismal service held in the night (See Greg-
ory of Nyssa’s Paschal homilies 4, PG 46, col. 681; 44:5, PG 36, col. 611; 45:2, PG 36, col. 623).
Baptism in a river recalls Did. 7:1–3.

gy.27 Each anaphora in AT is unique in its wording, and the eucharistic services
around them seem to represent somewhat spontaneous settings, but one may
note that they have no contradictory elements.28 With this very simplicity,
however, it is interesting that even in so minimal and unadorned a liturgy, some
practical elements of secondary character – linen, for example – are required.
And he went to a river which was close by there, and baptised her in the name of the
Father and the Son and the Spirit of holiness; and many were baptised with her.29 And
the Apostle ordered his deacon 30 to make ready the Eucharist; and he brought a bench 31
thither, and spread over it a linen cloth; and he brought (and) placed upon it the bread of
blessing.32
The deacon is needed to assist and serve the apostle in his liturgical activity. He
prepares the table, which here means to bring in something that can be used as a
table, and spreads a cotton linen (kettānā) on it. The Greek version slightly mod-
ifies the situation revising the “bench” into a “table” (τράπεζα). Then the deacon
brings the bread and sets it on the table-stool – the origins of the Great Entrance
in emergence! Even if the liturgy is lacking in length, the prayers of the apostle
are prolonged and unhurried, even beautiful and profound, and do not contain
unorthodox elements, even if judged from the perspective of later centuries.
Why exactly is an assistant needed in the first place, given that the liturgy
seems to consist merely of a few long prayers? When the section is considered as
a whole, the main impression is that since there are in fact are no practical things
that the celebrant could not deal with by himself, the principal reason the dea-
con is needed during the service in the first place is that his presence enables the
celebrant to concentrate fully on the prayer. This in turn implies that there are
so many practical aspects and procedures in the liturgy – more than those men-
tioned in AT – that to take care of all of them would in fact disturb the prayerful
atmosphere. This is evident from the liturgy as we know it from history, but the
same may, of course, function on a smaller scale in less-developed settings. In
this respect, the brief description seems to reflect the situation approximately as
we know it from the following centuries.33
27 The most famous ones predating AT are the ones mentioned by Justin Martyr (1 Apol.
65–67) and the Didache (9–10).

28 That is, with the exception of the use of water instead of wine on three occasions in the
Greek text (AT § 120–121, 132–133, and 152). For further discussion on the epiclesis, see
Caroline Johnson, “Ritual Epicleses in the Greek Acts of Thomas,” in The Apocryphal Acts of
the Apostles (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1999), 171–204.
29 The Greek version omits the river and describes the baptism instead: “Then he caused
her to come near unto him, and laid his hands upon her and sealed her in the name of the Fa-
ther and the Son and the Holy Spirit.”
30 Syr. m e šamm e šānā, Gr. τῳ διακόνῷ αὐτοῦ.
31 Gr. adds, “which they found there.”
32 AT § 49, translation according to Klijn, Acts of Thomas.
33 That is not to say that the brief description of AT would refer to the liturgy similar to

The character of ordination 34 is the issue, somewhat indirectly, in § 65–67.

The apostle prays and speaks to his Christian converts for the last time before
departing to another location. Here Thomas tells his deacon 35 Xanthippos to
gather all the brethren to hear his consoling message. In his beautiful spiritual
reflection on trust in God, the only practical comfort given by the apostle is that
he promises to leave his deacon Xanthippos to continue his preaching, and rath-
er explicitly elevates him to the same level as himself. Ultimately, the section
tells us only one thing concerning the diaconate, but that is a significant one: it
is from the ranks of deacons that those who continue the work of presbyters36
(and bishops) come. In that sense, the idea of diaconate as a lower rank of clergy
is clearly present.37
The matter receives more light at the end of AT.38 The thematic finale and the
culmination of the narrative is the martyrdom of Thomas: having followed his
Master to the gates of death, the apostle presents a profound prayer that echoes
the mood of Christ’s last prayers in Gethsemane.39 After the martyrdom, the
apostle is buried with great respect. His followers Sifur and Vizan sit on his
grave day and night. Like his master once did, Thomas appears to his disciples
and declares solemnly:
the later one(s), but that the pithy descriptions can be read to reflect something roughly simi-
lar to what we know about the liturgy in the fourth century onwards.
34 Ordination here is, of course, rather free by character and not to be defined according
to the sources of later centuries. On the other hand, a third-century “ordination” cannot be
something completely unlike the one known from slightly later sources. Here the question is,
how to define an ordination in the most minimal sense of the word. To have something that
can be labelled as ordination, one ultimately needs a modest act of initiation that changes the
status or function of the one ordained. Basically this means a blessing after which one is some-
thing that he/she was not before. This usually means that he/she is allowed to commit some
acts that he/she did not commit before (or if he/she did do, it happened without a proper au-
thority). What particular details and wordings are used in the change of status, is in fact
rather secondary, at least in the pre-Nicene era. In the case of AT, this “ordinating” act is ex-
pressed plainly so that someone is “made a deacon” – or is not. Thus the essential thing is that
one cannot be a deacon or function as deacon unless he is “made” one.
35 Syr. m e šamm e šāneh, Gr. τῶ διακόνω.
36 One can say that the presbyters are here symbolised by the apostle for the very reason
that the work is from the third century and applies certain anachronisms.
37 I do not take into account here the speculations on the emergence of rank of presbyters
between the bishops and deacons, based on the Western sources (West here includes Greek
ones), for two reasons. Firstly, the practices of Rome and even Antioch may be irrelevant, or
in any case not normative for the Church of Edessa in 220’s, which seems to have been rather
“non-conformist,” to put it mildly. Secondly, the second level of priesthood, that of the priest,
is made explicit later in the text by the use of qaššīšā.
38 AT § 169.
39 AT § 167. “Unto Thee I have committed my soul, and no man shall take it from Thy
hands. Let not my sins hinder me. Lo, Lord, I fulfilled Thy will and became a slave, for the
sake of this freedom which I am receiving today. Do Thou, Lord Jesus, give (it) to me and
fulfill it with me; for I am in no doubt whatever regarding Thy truth and Thy love, but for the
sake of these who are standing (by) that they may hear, I speak before Thee.”

I am not here. Why are you sitting and guarding me? I have ascended unto my Lord, and
have received what I was looking for and hoping for. But rise and go down hence, for yet
a little while, and ye too shall be gathered unto me.40
In this fashion, the narrative has taken Thomas in the footsteps of Christ
through teaching and debates, healings and miracles, opposition and persecu-
tion, to the very end. In this rather iconic setting, Thomas takes the role of
Christ and his deacon that of the apostle. The narrative proceeds to the gather-
ing of Christians:
And all the brethren who were there used to assemble together, pray and offer the
(Eucharistic) offering and break (bread). For Thomas41 had made Sifur a priest42 and
Vizan a deacon (me šamme šānā) on the mountain, when he was going towards his death.
And our Lord was helping them with His love and was increasing their faith to Him
through them.43
There is no way to read the text here so that me šamme šānā could be a servant or
assistant in a general sense: the hierarchical sense of deaconhood is evident. The
text in fact presupposes that one could not function in the role of deacon in a
liturgical setting without ordination (a sort of appointment).44 Namely, after
mentioning the Eucharist, the narrator seems to notice that there is a problem in
the narrative: how can they have Eucharist after the death of apostle? Therefore,
just like all narrators at a dead end do, he added a brief note to explain what had
happened earlier: Sifur had been made a “priest” and Vizan a “deacon”45 by the
apostle just before his death.
Thus we know two deacons by name in AT, Xanthippos and Vizan. Of the
first, we are told nothing; he is just mentioned once in a prayer.46 Vizan, how-
ever, is one of the main characters in the last parts of AT (§ 139–169): A son of
the king Mazdai and a helpful character. But is there any reason why it was he
who was chosen to be the deacon by the narrator? I suggest that the answer may
be simply that he seems to be younger47 than Sifur, who was an army com-
40 AT § 169, see Matt 28:6. Klijn’s translation slightly modified.

41 Klijn translates the name “Judah,” which is the second name of Thomas in the text, as
“Jesus” to enable a more “Gnostic” reading.
42 Syriac qaššīšā means priest, not bishop; the Greek version has πρεσβύτερος.
43 AT 169. Gr. “And the Lord wrought with them, and many were added unto the faith.”
44 Here, as in the previous case, I do not mean a detailed ritual but an ordaining act (per-
haps a small blessing that functions to nominate one to a new status). Even though the text
says nothing about it, the logic of the narrative makes it rather evident that something was
needed and it took place, and the most natural term for this “something” is ordination (in the
third-century sense of the word, whatever it may be).
45 My own translation. The Greek text has διάκονον for m e šamm e šānā.
46 “Be Thou with the flock of Xanthippos, and anoint his flock with the oil of life, and
cleanse it of its disease, and guard it from wolves and from robbers, that they may not snatch
it out of his hands” (AT § 67). Gr: “Be thou in the flock of Xenophon and anoint it with holy
oil, and heal it of sores, and preserve it from the ravening wolves.”
47 See Apos. Con. 8 (63).

mander by profession. It may also be, however, that the narrator did not consid-
er the matter very carefully.
Considering the peculiar literary character of AT, all these pieces in fact fit
surprisingly well with what we know from the early sources in which deacons
are presented as assistants and servants of the bishop.48 The bishop, in turn, is
a representative of Christ and continuer of the apostolic work. What we have in
AT is a narrative adaption of this very setting. The relation of bishop and dea-
cons reflects the relation of Christ and apostles, and this is evident especially,
and in a beautiful way, in the iconic ending of the book.
6. The Social Role of Deacons
There is also one place in AT in which the deacons are depicted in caritative
work, delivering charity funds for the widows. It is perhaps remarkable that in
this very section there are evident influences from the NT, which is not the case
in most of the AT. The section contains indirect echoes of Acts 18:28, Rom 15:25–
26, and 2 Cor 8 –9, as Klijn noted.49 Klijn, however, failed to refer to the most
evident subtext, Acts 5:42, which is almost directly quoted in the end:
And these multitudes believed, and surrendered themselves50 to the living God and to
Jesus the Messiah, enjoying the blessed works (ᶜbādē, Gr. ἔργοις) of the Most High and
His holy service (tešmešteh qaddīšātā, Gr. τῇ διακονίᾳ αὐτοῦ τῇ ἁγίᾳ);51 and they all
brought a lot of money for the relief (nyāḥā, Gr. εἰς διακονιάν τῶν χηρῶν) of widows, who
were gathered together by the Apostle in each city. He sent to all of them by the hands of
his deacons (b-yad me šamme šānāw, Gr. διά τῶν ἰδίων διακόνων) what they needed for
food and clothing. He himself never ceased to preach and to speak to them in order to
show that Jesus was the Messiah that the scriptures told of.52
For our purposes, it is interesting to note that both Syriac roots for serving are
used; firstly in a rather open sense referring to acts (ʿBD) of God towards man;
48 See, for example, The Apostolic Tradition by Hippolytus 4:2, 8:2 (“the deacon is not
ordained to the priesthood, but to the service of the bishop, to do what he commands”), 22:1,
25:1, 34:1 (“the deacons and sub-deacons shall serve the bishop”). The origins of the text are
debatable and of course it has nothing to do with AT and its milieu, but the parallels are sig-
nificant particularly for that reason. In other words, the narrative character of AT leaves the
matters themselves undefined, but the narratives seem to reflect similar ideas and practices
and fit to a very similar paradigm.
49 Klijn, Acts of Thomas, 254.
50 Greek adds “obediently” (πειθηνίους).
51 In theory, the “holy service” might be read as God performing service (Gr. διακονία) to
the Christians, but rather obviously, “holy service” here refers to liturgical service that the
Christians have the privilege to enjoy by participating in it. Yet what makes it enjoyable is the
presence of God, so ultimately these two ways to understand the expression are not in disa-
greement.
52 AT § 59, translation according to Klijn, Acts of Thomas.

then, human acts of sacred (liturgical) activity towards God are expressed with
ŠMŠ. Those who serve in charitable activity here are referred to with the same
word as deacons in the liturgical serving. Unlike in liturgical contexts, however,
the “deacons” appear now in plural, even though the narrative does not hint at
the possibility of more ordinations having taken place.
The Greek translation has even rendered the “relief of widows” as “diakonia
of widows,” which indicates that διακονία had not absorbed a strictly technical
sense but refers to “service of widows” in a general sense. Nevertheless, here we
must pay attention to the question that should be presented to all early Chris-
tian texts speaking about deacons serving the poor and the sick: did the deacons
serve the widows and the poor for the very reason that they were deacons, or
simply because they were Christians? Or, given that the deacons basically did
what bishops told them to do, the question can be reformulated: did the bishops
command deacons to serve the poor and sick because they were “deacons,” or
because they were the ones under their direct authority, or for other practical
reasons? Answers to practical questions, of course, could vary from time to
time and place to place, according to circumstances. The crucial point, however,
is related to the status: in order to commit liturgical acts one needed to have an
“ordination,” which could mean a most simple blessing in the earliest times, but
to commit practical good acts there was no need for any ordination whatsoever
because they could and should be committed by any Christian.
7. Social Challenges and Communal Ideals
Remarks on the social role of deacons should be read as a part of early Christian
ideals in general. The best-known examples of early Christian solidarity to-
wards the poor are in the Didache (1–4), Epistle of Barnabas (20.2), and Aris-
tides’ Apology. According to Aristides, writing in Athens 100 years before AT,
the Christians
love one another, and from widows they do not turn away their esteem; and they deliver
the orphan from him who treats him harshly. And he who has, gives to him who has not,
without boasting. And when they see a stranger, they take him in to their homes and
rejoice over him as a very brother; for they do not call them brethren after the flesh, but
brethren after the spirit and in God.53
In a similar manner, the social dilemma of rich and poor is taken seriously in
AT. The apostolic way of dealing with the matter is not content with verbal
declarations of the spiritual equality of all. Throughout the AT there is a con-
stant demand, or an unsaid presupposition, that the equality is to be realised in
53 Aristides, Apology 15.6. Translated according to D.M. Kay, The Ante-Nicene Fathers
(ed. Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, 1885–1887; 10 vols.), vol. 9.

concrete, even radical, acts of solidarity. Moreover, in AT the ideals were not
confined inside the Christian community, but extended outside it: the apostle
urged them to build houses to lodge strangers.54
The demand for equality is all the more radical in the Indian setting of AT,
but it was not without a certain radicalism even in the context of its origin,
third-century Syria. The most telling case is that of Tertia, wife of the local
ruler. The first sign of her being influenced by the apostolic teaching is that she
walks home with her own feet, not carried by her servants.55 To become a
Christian meant to give up earthly and social privileges, for these were based on
an untruthful, and for that reason unjust, world-view.
The ideal of equality is reflected also in the portrayal of the emerging Chris-
tian community. Each new believer brought a lot of money for the relief of wid-
ows, and the apostle gathered money and sent through his deacons what was
needed for food and clothes.56 Whether this was in fact practised in the 220’s we
cannot know for sure, but it was certainly understood as an apostolic standard
and, therefore, a Christian ideal.
The class differences are reflected also in the comments made by Karish, a
relative of the ruler. As his wife began to practice renunciation and move around
with the apostle, his basic worry was that the apostle might be a runaway slave
and thus most unsuitable company.57 Such episodes show that demand for so-
cial equality was a most central concern.
The demand of applying spiritual equality in practice is clear in AT, and it
seems to have constituted an elementary part of the early Christian good news.
Moreover, the demand for equality is realised in the listeners little by little: there
is no intention to abolish slavery or classes in any revolutionary sense. The
change spreads through individuals who adopt the Christian way of life. The
challenge is not presented to society as a whole, or to its rulers, no matter how
uncompromising and fearless the apostolic preaching is. The Christian world
changes through the transformation of individuals.
In this kind of ethos, it is rather evident that what we today call “social work”
was not delegated to deacons in the sense that the rest of the community was
freed of the responsibility. As servants of the Church (represented by the apos-
tle in AT), however, they were the natural choices when someone was needed to
make practical arrangements. Yet there is no explicit or even implicit evidence in
the AT that the deacon functioned as a sort of caritative worker.
54 AT § 33.
55 AT § 137.
56 AT § 59. See also § 19 and § 26.
57 AT § 100.

8. Female Deacons in Acts of Thomas
The word “deaconess” does not explicitly appear in AT, yet a role comparable to
that of later deaconesses is not absent. The cases of baptisms of women in fact
portray a clear picture of the reasons why deaconesses were needed in the early
Church. Nothing resembling ordination is mentioned in these cases, however,
which partially explains why the word “deaconess” does not appear.
The first case is the baptism of Mygdonia. After pouring out myrrh on her
head, the apostle asked Narkia to anoint her and to wrap a linen around her in
order to enter the water; the pre-baptismal anointing is a well-known procedure
from many Syriac sources.58 As in many tragedies of antiquity, Mygdonia’s
trusted woman Narkia is her nurse.59
And when Narkia had brought (them) Mygdonia uncovered her head, and was standing
before the holy Apostle. And he took the oil, and cast (it) on her head […] And he cast (it)
upon the head of Mygdonia and said: “Heal her of her old wounds, and wash away from
her her sores, and strengthen her weakness.”60 And when he had cast the oil on her head,
he told her nurse to anoint her, and to put a cloth round her loins; and he fetched the basin
of their conduit. 61 And Thomas went up (and) stood over it, and baptized Mygdonia in
the name of the Father and the Son and the Spirit of Holiness.62 And when she had come
out and put on her clothes, he fetched and brake the Eucharist and (filled) the Cup63 and
let Mygdonia partake of the table of the Messiah and of the cup of the Son of God.64
Later in the narrative, Mygdonia herself is performing the same function in

another baptism: she takes the clothes from those who are to be anointed and
baptised,65 wraps them into a linen and brings them to the apostle. Thomas
anoints the heads of all, but tells Mygdonia to perform the rest of the anointing
for the women, while he himself anoints Vizan:
And when he had prayed thus, he said to Mygdonia: “My daughter, strip thy sisters.”
And she stripped them, and put girdles on them, and brought them near to him. And
Vizan came first, and Thomas took oil. […] And he cast it upon the head of Vizan, and
then upon the heads of these […] And he commanded Mygdonia to anoint them and he
himself anointed Vizan. And after he had anointed them, he made them go down into the
water in the name of the Father and the Son and the Spirit of Holiness.66
58 For a bibliography of sources and studies, see http://syri.ac/brock/baptism.

59 Bremmer, Apocryphal Acts of Thomas, 85; Keith R. Bradley, Discovering the Roman
Family. Studies in Roman Social History (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), 13–36.
60 Greek omits the sentence.
61 Gr. “and there was there a fountain of water.”
62 Syriac has the archaic form “Spirit of Holiness” (rūḥā d e -qudšā).
63 Gr. “he brake bread and took a cup of water.”
64 AT § 121. Italics mine.
65 Likewise, Apostolic Tradition of Hippolytus (21:3) advises those to be baptised to take
off their clothes.

66 AT § 157. Italics mine. Translation according to Klijn, Acts of Thomas with the excep-
tion that, for the sake of clarity, I use Thomas for Judah systematically.

Here we also have a witness to the practice that the neophytes had a special
white robe for the next week (namely, the “bright week” after the Great Week).
The custom is known from the fourth century in both West and East, but here
we have a rare piece of early evidence for it.
In short, the “deaconesses” are needed to strip, anoint, and wrap the women
in baptism; this happens by the authority and explicit command of the apostle,
but there are no traces of anything resembling ordination.
9. Deacons in the Teaching of Addai and Acts of Mar Mari
Finally, it may be interesting to discuss here briefly two related texts that are less
known and of later date but belong to the same genre and probably reflect some
early traditions. The first one is a thematically related work of similar genre,
Teaching of Addai, or Doctrina Addai, one of the somewhat controversial Syri-
ac texts. The final version can probably be dated to the fourth century, but some
of the contents seem to be based on earlier traditions or sources. 67 In principle,
it may not be utterly impossible to have some elements even from the first cen-
tury, but with more probability the oldest traditions might be from the second
century. In any case, a sense of historicity is given by several names of the type
X bar Z that are otherwise unknown.
The relevant portions concerning the diaconate run as follows:
And some years after Addai the Apostle had built the church in Edessa, and furnished it
with everything which was suitable for it, and had taught (talmed) many of the popula-
tion of the city, also in the other villages, both those which were distant, and those which
were near, he built churches, and completed and ornamented them, and appointed (’aqīm
[h]wā) in them deacons (me šamme šānē) and elders (qaššišē), and taught in them those
who should read the Scriptures, and the orders of the ministry (taksē d-tešmeštā) within
and without he taught.
[25b] After all these things he became ill with the disease, by which he departed from
this world. And he called Aggai before all the congregation of the church (kenšā d-ʿed-
dtā), and he brought him near, 68 and made him governor (me dabberānā) and ruler
(pāqōdā) in his place. And concerning Palut, who was a deacon, he made him an elder,
and of Abšelama, who was a scribe (sāfrā), he made him a deacon (ʿabdeh [h]wā me šam-
me šānā).69
The ordination of a deacon is expressed with the same expression as in AT, “to
make someone a deacon.” Now, however, the narration is more likely to be from
67 For details, see Ilaria Ramelli, “Possible historical traces in the Doctrina Addai,” Hugoye,
Journal of Syriac Studies 9.1 (January 2006): 51–127; http://bethmardutho.cua.edu/Hugoye/

Vol9No1/HV9N1Ramelli.html.
68 Syriac qarre beh, translated here literally, also refers to sacrifice, and is a most sacramen-
tal word, for the basic Syriac word for “Eucharist” is qurbānā, ”sacrifice.”
69 Doctrina Addai, f. 25a–25b.

the time of more developed ordination rites, and this gives some support to in-
terpret the similar expression in AT as a reference to ordination.70
Likewise, the deacons of Doctrina Addai clearly are liturgical servants that
are ordained alongside with the priest, or to be exact, between priests and read-
ers. The word tešmeštā, a derivative of ŠMŠ, also shows something essential: it
refers to the “liturgical ministry,” “liturgical order,” but could be literally un-
derstood as “deaconhood,” which again shows how deeply liturgical the idea of
deaconhood is, and how “deaconic” the idea of liturgical serving is.
Unfortunately, the only thing told about Abšelama is that he was given the
task of burying Addai with the presbyter Palut:
And as he was dying he made Palut and Abšelama swear that in this house, for the sake
of whose name, behold, I die, place me and bury me. And as he made them swear, so they
placed him within the middle door of the church, between the men and the women.71
Moreover, there is another text related to Doctrina Addai known as Acts of Mar
Mari (AMM) that tells about the introduction of Christianity to Mesopotamia
in the first and early centuries by the disciple of Addai (Thaddeus) called Mari.
The text is dated to the sixth century, and the stories filled with miracles which
seem to be of late origin. In the best case, some elements in the kernel of the
work may perhaps reflect traditions related to historical facts. For our purposes,
AMM offers a convenient conclusion for the discussion, for the narrative is a
later reflection of events that are thematically similar to those in AT – and occa-
sionally the very same events presented in Doctrina Addai. Namely, AMM in-
cludes certain similar episodes and some parallel themes; to name one, the fa-
mous episode of the Christianisation of Edessa is taken to AMM directly from
Doctrina Addai.
For our purposes, it suffices to note that in AMM all the successful missions,
the ones in which a whole town is converted, are described with fixed manoeuvres
including the same elements: building a church and ordaining priests and deacons.
For example, in the city of king Arzen – an Armenian name, Արսեն – the recovery
and baptism of the king are followed by the conversion of the people:
So he taught (talmed) the whole city, built therein a church and appointed in it (’aqīm
bāh) the priests and deacons.72
70 Namely, the continuous usage of the same expression is the most natural manifestation
of continuity in the practice it refers to; had a practice of entirely different character been in-
troduced, there would have emerged a need for new terminology as well.
71 Doctrina Addai, f. 32b. The passage shows that men and women had separate sides in
the Church.
72 AMM § 7, 16. In the English version, talmed is translated “converted.”

The same expressions are repeated, with churches in the plural, in other places.73
The basic impression given by the descriptions is that in order to practice Chris-
tianity three things are needed: Church, priest, and deacon.
10. Conclusion
Due to the largely imaginative character of AT, one could easily suppose that it
is of no use for discussions on Church order and ordinations. It is because of this
reason, however, that AT does provide an extraordinarily strong witness to the
nature of the diaconate in the Christian Middle East of the first centuries.
Namely, if deacons and ordinations (in a most primitive sense of the word) are
present in such an intrinsic way, even in a text that represents so free and char-
ismatic a spirituality that it has even been suspected of Gnosticism, this proves
sufficiently that the role of deacons was firmly established. This is why they
were taken for granted by the author even in contexts where the presence of
deacons was more or less inconsistent with the narrative. In this way, the prac-
tices of the early third century were projected into apostolic times. In terms of
Rabbinic qal wa-homer reasoning, the situation must be all the more so in more
mainstream texts.
All the sources discussed above constitute a rather coherent whole, at least in
regard to the heterogeneous nature of the material. In the earliest Syriac materi-
al, the role of deacon is that of liturgical assistant. A male deacon that serves in
the Eucharist needs to be ordained – in the early third century sense of the
word, whatever that may have meant. Therefore, the function of deacons is rath-
er clear: they were needed as assistants in liturgical life. In addition, the deacons
could assist also in practical social work. There is no actual reason, however, to
assume that this happened because of their status as a deacon.
Moreover, Acts of Thomas speaks of women deaconess-figures in action in
some detail, even though there is no indication of their ordination. Whether
these women in the Syrian East needed an ordination of some sort in order to
assist in baptism, however, needs to be proven from other sources.
73 AMM § 30 (66) and § 31 (70).

Tertullian and the Deacons
Anni Maria Laato
1. Introduction
In this article, I intend to discuss Tertullian’s view on the office and tasks of
deacons. The development of the diaconate in North Africa, and especially Ter-
tullian’s hometown Carthage, is well documented regarding later times – those
of Cyprian and Augustine – but for the beginning of the third century, Tertul-
lian is almost the only source.1 In this article, I shall discuss all the passages
where he mentions deacons. He does not refer to them many times, and never
clearly formulates how he understood their office and tasks.2 However, from
his texts we can gather some important information on the development of the
diaconate in the West.
Tertullian was not a member of the clergy, even if Jerome later reported so,
but a layperson with authority to teach catechumens and fellow Christians.3
This partly explains why he so seldom mentions the deacons; he did not have
much to do with the administration of the Church. It is also unclear to what
degree his views on the clergy, in this case deacons, reflect the views of the ma-
jority the Christians in Carthage of his time, or whether they are more his per-
sonal theological opinions.
Tertullian’s first surviving texts can be dated between the years 196–206, while
he was an active member of the local Catholic Church in Carthage.4 From the
year 207 onwards, he became more and more interested in, and influenced by, a
charismatic New Prophecy movement, later called Montanism; and his criticism
towards the Catholic Church, especially its bishops, grew. It is, however, possi-
1 See Jan M. Joncas, “Clergy, North African” in Augustine through the Ages (ed. Allan D.
Fitzgerald; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans 1999), 213–17.

2 David Rankin, Tertullian and the Church (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1995), 119.
3 Exh. cast. 7.3. Barnes has convincingly argued that the claim of Jerome (Vir. ill. 53) that
Tertullian was a presbyter lacks credibility. Timothy D. Barnes, Tertullian–A Historical and
Literary Study (Oxford: Clarendon, 1971), 11. For another view, see René Braun, Approches de
Tertullien: vingt-six études sur l’auteur et sur l’oeuvre (Paris: Brepols, 1992).
4 In chronology, I follow Barnes, Tertullian.

246 Anni Maria Laato
ble that he participated in its liturgical worship even during this period.5 Two of
his last works, De ieiunio and De pudicitia, written around 210–212, express
intense condemnation of some of the practices of the psychici, unspiritual, as he
calls (some) members of the main Church,6 but nowhere does he indicate that he
divorced himself from the Catholic worshipping community.7
2. The Clergy and the Laity in Tertullian’s Texts
In order to form a comprehensive picture of Tertullian’s view on deacons, it is

useful to start from his, at the time unique, way of seeing the relationship be-
tween clergy and laity. He distinguishes between these two both when he refers
to actual life in Carthage and in his more theoretical accounts, but it has been
discussed how he actually understood the difference between them.8 We shall
look at four passages from different periods in Tertullian’s career. He uses var-
ied, and not wholly consistent, terminology and images for both groups.
In De baptismo 17, written before he became involved with the New Prophe-
cy movement, Tertullian deals with the question of who has the authority to
perform a baptism.9 According to him, a bishop as the high priest (summus
sacerdos) has the supreme right (summum ius) to administer the baptism, but he
can delegate this task to presbyters and deacons. Nevertheless, Tertullian adds
that in cases of emergency even baptised lay people have the right to baptise
(etiam laicis ius est).10 Tertullian motivates this ius theologically: baptism is
God’s property, and “for that which is received on equal terms can be given on
equal terms” (quod enim ex aequo accipitur ex aequo dari potest). It is, however,
important to notice that according to Tertullian, in normal circumstances no
one should baptise without the authorization of a bishop. He motivates this rule
with the need to preserve peace and order in the church and to avoid schism. In
order to emphasise this, he makes the difference between clergy and laity even
more clear by saying that the laypersons should show respect and modesty to-
5 Eric Francis Osborn, Tertullian: First Theologian of the West (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1997), 176; Tobias Georges, Tertullian “Apologeticum” (Freiburg: Herder,
2011), 19–20. It has been suggested that the New Prophecy movement had its meetings after
the regular services, Douglas Powell, “Tertullianists and Cataphrygians,” VC 29 (1975): 33–54.
6 Rankin, Tertullian and the Church, 48–49.
7 Rankin, Tertullian and the Church, 28.
8 Rankin, Tertullian and the Church, 120–21; J. Patout Burns and Robin Margaret Jensen,
Christianity in Roman Africa: The Development of Its Practices and Beliefs (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 2014), 364–645.
9 De baptismo, Edition and translation: Ernest Evans, Tertullian’s Homily on Baptism:
Edited with an introduction, translation and commentary by Ernest Evans (London: SPCK,
1964).
10 On the meaning of laicus in Tertullian’s texts, see Rankin, Tertullian and the Church,
128–29.

Tertullian and the Deacons 247
ward maiores (elders/greaters), which in this context denotes clerical order:

bishop, presbyter, and deacon.11 He ends his argument by calling lay baptism
without the authorization of the bishop a schism, as he writes: “Imitation of
bishops is a mother of schism” (episcopatum aemulatio schismatum mater est.)12
In De praescriptione haereticorum 41.6–8, Tertullian deals with the clerical
offices from a very different point of view. Arguing against some heretics, he
claims that their ordinations (ordinationes) are “carelessly administered, capri-
cious, and changeable,” and that they change offices as they wish: today can
someone be a bishop, another day someone else; a reader can suddenly become
a deacon and a layperson can become a presbyter.13 He ends his cry by saying
that these heretics give even to lay people tasks that belong to the clergy. Just as
in the first passage we looked at, Tertullian confirms the status of the clergy and
the difference between the tasks of clergy and laypeople. What is of utmost
importance for him is that order is preserved. The culmination of the bad con-
duct of these heretics is that “even on laics do they impose sacerdotal tasks
(sacerdotalia munera)!” From the fact that he opposed sudden changes from one
status to another, and his criticism of the ordinationes of the heretics, one can
conclude that both these heretics and Tertullian’s church had ordination rites
into the office of deacon, among others.
In a text from his New Prophecy period, De exhortatione castitatis (7.3–4),
Tertullian emphasises the idea of lay priesthood even more clearly than before.
In this passage, his aim is to argue for the view that no Christian should remar-
ry after the death of a spouse. In order to prove this, he points to an apostolic
prescript given to the clergy (which he here calls ordo sacerdotalis), and claims
that this rule should be applied to all Christians, because all Christians are
priests (sacerdotes) – he motivates this thought with Rev 1:6. Let us have a closer
look at this passage:
Are not even we laics priests? It is written: “A kingdom also, and priests to His God and
Father, hath He made us.” It is the authority of the Church, and the honour which has
acquired sanctity through the joint session of the Order, which has established the dif-
ference between the Order and the laity. Accordingly, where there is no joint session of
the ecclesiastical Order, you offer, and baptize, and are priest, alone for yourself. But
where three are, a church is, albeit they be laics. For each individual lives by his own
faith, nor is there exception of persons with God; since it is not hearers of the law who
are justified by the Lord, but doers, according to what the apostle withal says. Therefore,
if you have the right of a priest in your own person, in cases of necessity, it behoves you

12 Bapt. 17.2. On Tertullian’s understanding of schism and heresy, see Geoffrey D. Dunn,
“Heresy and Schism according to Cyprian of Carthage,” JTS 55/2 (2004): 551–74.
13 41.8 Itaque alius hodie episcopus, cras alius; hodie diaconus qui cras lector; hodie presbyter
qui cras laicus. Nam et laicis sacerdotalia munera iniungunt. Trans. Thomas Herbert Bindley,
On the Testimony of the Soul and On the “Prescription” of Heretics (London: SPCK, 1914).

to have likewise the discipline of a priest whenever it may be necessary to have the right
of a priest.14
First, we notice that Tertullian counts himself among the laity as he writes
nonne et laici sacerdotes sumus? Second, he argues for the priesthood of the laity.
According to him, all Christians are priests in a real sense, not only in a wider
sense. The difference between clergy (ordo) and laity (plebs) is, according to
him, established only by the authority of the Church, and the Church is where
three Christians are gathered even if they are laics. Therefore, even the laics have
the right (ius) of a priest (sacerdos). Thus, the laics may in case of emergency
baptise and even celebrate the Eucharist.15 He summarises his argument by say-
ing that all those who have the right (ius) of a priest, must also have the conduct
(disciplina) of a priest.
The question of second marriage is Tertullian’s topic even in De monogamia.
In paragraph 11.1, he points out that the apostle has ordered monogamy espe-
cially for the clergy (ordo): the bishop, the presbyters, and the deacons.16 In
next chapter, he seems to distinguish between the bishop and the lower clergy,
i. e. presbyters and deacons, as he refers to “the bishops and the clergy” (episcopi
et clerus).17 The purpose of these passages on monogamy is not so much to
clarify the relation between clergy and laity, but to impose higher standards of
life even on the laics – it seems plausible that Tertullian presents here more his
own standards than those of his Church. At the same time he formulates the
relationship between clergy and laity in a way uncommon in his time.
The idea that the real authority belongs to the Church and not to the clergy is
also very clearly formulated in De pudicitia. He wrote this work in his New
Prophecy period against a certain Catholic bishop who had promised absolu-
tion for certain “secret sins” (Pud. 1.6). Tertullian claims that this bishop has no
authority to make such decisions, because the right to forgive eventually be-
longs to the Church of the Spirit, which, he emphasises, can consist of only
three Christians. He claims: “And in this sense the Church of course will con-
14 Nonne et laici sacerdotes sumus? Scriptum est: Regnum quoque nos et sacerdotes deo et
patri suo fecit. Differentiam inter ordinem et plebem constituit ecclesiae auctoritas et honor per
ordinis consessum sanctificatus. Adeo ubi ecclesiastici ordinis non est consessus, et offers et tin-
guis et sacerdos es tibi solus. Sed ubi tres, ecclesia est, licet laici. Vnusquisque enim fide sua uiuit,
nec est personarum exceptio apud deum, quoniam non auditores legis iustificantur a domino,
sed factores, secundum quod et apostolus dicit. Igitur si habes ius sacerdotis in temetipso ubi
necesse est, habeas oportet etiam disciplinam sacerdotis, ubi necesse sit habere ius sacerdotis. SC
319. Engl. trans. S. Thelwall, The Ante-Nicene Fathers (ed. Alexander Roberts and James
Donaldson, 1885–1887; 10 vols.), vol. 9.
15 Burns and Jensen, Christianity in Roman Africa, 242.
16 Tertullian may have been the one who introduced the old Latin word ordo with the
meaning “Christian clergy,” in contrast to the laity, into the Latin language. See Pierre van
Beneden, “Ordo. Über den Ursprung einer kirchlichen Terminologie,” VC 23/3 (1969): 161–76.
17 According to Rankin (Tertullian and the Church, 128), this was not yet common in the
Western church.

done sins, but the Church of the Spirit by means of a man of the Spirit, not a
church as a bunch of bishops (numerus episcoporum). For a lord has rights and
freedom of decision, not a servant; that right belongs to God himself, not to the
priest (sacerdos)” (Pud. 21.16). Read in its context, Tertullian does not in this
passage criticise the office of bishop itself, but his criticism is targeted against
what he considers to be a too-lenient practice in forgiving sins and admitting
sinners back to the Church. In order to clarify the limits of the authority of a
bishop, he claims that, in the end, the authority to forgive sins does not belong
to the bishops or priests, but to the Church.
On the basis of these texts it is clear that for Tertullian, the deacons are a part
of the clergy, and share some of the authority, functions, and special obligations
of conduct with the bishop and the presbyter. He does not have much specific to
say about the tasks of a presbyter. The bishop is the leader of the community;
the deacon and the presbyter are subordinate to him.18 Tertullian emphasises
the apostolic foundation of the episcopacy (Praescr. 32.3; Fug. 13.3). The only
actual task given to the deacons in these passages is to perform a baptism on the
authority of a bishop.
The motivation for the distinction between the ordo and plebs is good order.
Tertullian strongly stresses that actually even the laics are priests (sacerdotes),
and motivates this with Scripture. The priesthood of all Christians does not only
give the right to pray or address God, but all priestly rights, even to administer
sacraments in case of emergency. The task of a deacon, to baptise on the permis-
sion of a bishop, is from this point of view nothing more than what the laics have.
3. The Offices and the Officeholders
Tertullian several times lists the three main offices in the church – bishop, pres-
byter, and deacon – together. In some of these cases, he mentions other offices
or tasks, too (Bapt. 17.1; Praescr. 41.8; Fug. 11.1; Mon. 11.1). We shall return to
those below. Apart from the texts we have dealt with above, we shall look at
some other passages in order to better understand Tertullian’s view on deacons.
We shall start with his criticism on the character and behaviour of some mem-
bers of the clergy.
Tertullian does not hold all the individuals in the offices of the church in high
regard. On one occasion, he writes about clerics who have fled during a perse-
cution. He writes:
But when persons in authority (auctores) themselves – I mean the very deacons, and
presbyters, and bishops – take to flight, how will a layman (laicus) be able to see with
18 Rankin, Tertullian and the Church, 169; Burns and Jensen, Christianity in Roman Afri
ca, 364.

what view it was said, “Flee from city to city?” Thus, too, with the leaders (duces) turn-
ing their backs, who of the common rank (grex) will hope to persuade men to stand firm
in the battle? (Fug. 11.1)19
Tertullian calls these fleeing deacons, presbyters, and bishops “bad shepherds”
– they have been set over the Church and should not flee in the time of persecu-
tion.20 He uses the words dux (overseer/leader/general) which in this context
comes from military vocabulary, and auctor (founder/teacher/person in author-
ity) both being common words for leadership.21 It is apparent that he expected
from the deacons, priests, and bishops more than from ordinary Christians:
people in positions of authority should be an example for the community.
In Tertullian’s view, clerics and other office holders cannot be trusted to al-
ways remain in the orthodox faith, either. In De praescriptione, he mentions
bishops and deacons together – without presbyters, but together with widows,
virgins, teachers, and martyrs – as examples of people who can fall from the rule
of faith into heresy (Praescr. 3.5). These are categories of people from whom you
would normally expect more than you would from ordinary Christians. By this
example, Tertullian intends to point out that one should not test the faith by
persons, but persons by faith. Anyone can lapse.
This short survey shows that Tertullian knew and acknowledged the higher
offices, the bishop, the presbyter, and the deacon. They were the leaders of the
community and from them Tertullian expected a higher standard of conduct
than from other Christians.
In his texts, Tertullian names several other offices or groups in the Church,
too: widow, virgin, teacher, reader, confessor, and martyr. Usually he distin-
guishes between the three higher offices and the others, but once in De prae-
scriptione he separates bishop, presbyter, deacon, and reader (!) from the laity in
the context of criticizing “the heretics” for mixing the tasks of the clergy and the
laypeople. This is probably just a coincidence without any deeper importance;
nothing proves otherwise. In other passages, the above mentioned other offices
named by him are not counted among the sacerdotal clergy, but are anyway
separated from the ordinary members of the Church.
When it comes to the tasks of women, Tertullian witnesses to the offices of
virgin and widow and suggests that there was some kind of formal process of
admission to these offices. Women do not belong to the sacerdotal office (ordo
19 Sed cum ipsi auctores, id est ipsi diaconi et presbyteri et episcopi fugiunt, quomodo laicus
intelligere poterit, qua ratione dictum: “Fugite de civitate in civitatem?” Itaque cum duces
fugiunt, quis de gregario numero sustinebit ad gradum in acie fugiendum suadere? Fug. 11.1.
CSEL 76. Engl. trans. S. Thelwall, The Ante-Nicene Fathers (ed. Alexander Roberts and
James Donaldson, 1885–1887; 10 vols.), vol. 11.
21 For the discussion whether one should read auctor or actor, see Rankin, Tertullian and
the Church, 150–51.

sacerdotalis), in fact, Tertullian explicitly denies women the right to teach or

baptise (Virg. 9.1; Bapt. 1.3: Praesrc. 41.5). He holds in high esteem female mar-
tyrs, confessors, and prophetesses (Marc. 5.8.11; An. 9.4; Exh. cast. 10).22 As
usual in the West, the office of deaconess seems to be unknown for him.23
4. What Did the Deacons Do and What Did They Not Do?
We have seen above that Tertullian knows and acknowledges that the office of
deacon belongs to the clergy together with bishop and presbyter; and that it is
therefore higher in the hierarchy than the non-sacerdotal offices of virgins, wid-
ows, doctors, and lectors.24 As members of the clergy, he expects the deacons
to be monogamous, keep to the rule of faith, and as leaders be good examples for
the lay members of the Church.
Tertullian says, however, very little specifically about the tasks of the dea-
cons. They, as well as the presbyters, can baptise on the authority of the bishop.
The deacons count among the duces, leaders, of the community, which indicates
some kind of role in the administration. In the works that are certainly written
by Tertullian,25 it is never mentioned that the deacons should have special re-
sponsibility for charitable tasks (care for the poor and sick, distribution of mon-
ey etc.); instead, he says that performing works of charity is a task given to all
Christians.26
There is one interesting possibility, though, that during times of persecution
it might have been a task of the deacons to deliver food and encouragement to
imprisoned Christians. Tertullian writes in the beginning of Ad martyras, a
letter of encouragement intended for imprisoned Christians (1.1), that food par-
cels were brought to the prison by both “our lady mother the Church” and in-
dividual Christians.27 Somebody brought to the prisoners his letter of encour-
agement, too. From his way of making a distinction between “our lady mother
the Church” and individual Christians, we can assume that some of the of-
fice-holders were included. He does not tell who actually did act in the name
and authority of the Church; he had of course no need to write it down as those
22 An. 9.4; Virg.17.3.

23 According to Ambrosiaster, the Cataphrygian Montanists ordained female deacons
(Comm. in Ep. 1 ad Tim. 3.8–11). For more on this theme, see Christine Trevett, Montanism:
Gender, Authority and the New Prophecy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).
25 I do not discuss the Martyrdom of Perpetua and Felicitas here in more detail. This text
comes from the same milieu as Tertullian, and it has been suggested that he is the author of
some parts of it. This text gives more information on deacons in North Africa in Tertullian’s
time. See Bart J. Koet, “Dreaming about Deacons in the Passio Perpetuae” in this volume.
26 Apol. 39; Ux. 2.4.
27 See also Jeiun. 12; Ux. 2.4.

who got his letter saw the letter-bearer.28 The idea that these were deacons (or
deacons and presbyters) is supported by the contemporary parallel story in the
Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas (3). There, those who help the prisoners and
bribe the custodians to ease their life for some hours are identified as the dea-
cons Pomponius and Tertius. Later in the same text, the deacons help the mar-
tyrs-to-be in other ways, too. In ch. 6, Perpetua sends the deacon Pomponius to
fetch her baby, and in ch. 10, the same deacon appears in Perpetua’s vision as a
spiritual guide.
Visiting prisons was, according to the above-mentioned passage, also a task
for all Christians, not only office-holders. This is attested even elsewhere in
Tertullian’s texts. In a letter to his wife, Tertullian writes about women visiting
prisoners and taking food to them and says that their heathen husbands would
not like them to do so.29 During times of persecution, taking food parcels,
spiritual encouragement in oral or written form, and other forms of help to the
imprisoned Christians was an act of charity, which had many functions as
McGowan has shown: it affirmed the community, and prepared the martyrs-to-
be for their task in a number of ways.30
Additional support for the suggestion that visiting Christians in prisons was
a special task for deacons and presbyters comes from later times in the same city.
In Cyprian’s time, visiting imprisoned Christians and carrying letters to them
was a task performed by the presbyters and the deacons.31 It had apparently
been so even before him; Cyprian writes that it has been the practice “in past
times under our predecessors” that presbyters and deacons visiting the prisons
had given spiritual instruction to the confessors:
And I had indeed believed that the presbyters and deacons who are there present with
you would admonish and instruct you more fully concerning the law of the Gospel, as
was the case always in time past under my predecessors; so that the deacons passing in
and out of the prison controlled the wishes of the martyrs by their counsels, and by the
Scripture precepts.32
When visiting the confessores in prisons and celebrating the Eucharist there,
Cyprian advised the presbyters to take with them different deacons each time in
order to avoid suspicion.33 The responsibility for the poor and needy was re-
garded as belonging especially to the bishop; but he could and did delegate his
tasks to the deacons and presbyters.
28 On the feeding of the Martyrs, see Andrew McGowan, “Discipline and Diet: Feeding
the Martyrs in Roman Carthage,” Harvard Theological Review 96/4 (2003): 455–76.
29 Ux. 2.4.
30 McGowan, “Discipline and Diet,” 474.
31 Ep. 10.1.
32 Ep. 10.1. Engl. trans. R. E. Wallis, The Ante-Nicene Fathers (ed. Alexander Roberts and
James Donaldson, 1885–1887; 10 vols.), vol. 5.

33 Ep. 4: ut presbyteri quoque qui illic apud confessores offerunt, singuli cum singulis diaconis
per vices alternent, quia et mutatio personarum et vicissitudo convenientium minuit invidiam.

5. Conclusion
Tertullian is possibly the harshest critic of the clergy in early Christian litera-
ture. However, he never questions the offices themselves, but rather those of-
fice-holders who do not live up to his standards. Typical for him is to emphasise
the gifts and demands of the Spirit. For him, bishop, presbyter, and deacon form
the sacerdotal ministry distinguished from non-sacerdotal offices and the laity.
Theologically, however, he stresses the rights of lay people, who, according to
Scripture, are all priests.
Tertullian wrote on themes that were discussed right there and then and
about themes where he saw problems in his own context. In his surviving texts,
we only see glimpses of deacons – they probably were a natural part of Church
life and did not give him much reason to comment. As a layperson, he did not
have reason to mention deacons as bishops did. The deacons are only mentioned
in connection to other offices, primarily that of bishop. His understanding of
the office of a deacon does not seem to have changed during his career, but in his
later texts, his moral expectations of them grew.
We can compare the picture we receive from Tertullian’s texts with the situa-
tion in the same city some time later.34 In Cyprian’s time, the Carthaginian
deacons appear often as receivers of Cyprian’s letters sent from exile. Together
with the presbyters, they took care of the Church in Carthage in the absence of
the bishop. This arrangement caused some problems in discipline: in Ep. 3.3,
Cyprian reminds the deacons of their proper place by saying that Christ ap-
pointed apostles and bishops, and the apostles appointed the deacons to assist
the bishops. The deacons carried letters (Ep. 75.1) and acted on the bishop’s be-
half in practical charity, visiting the sick and poor.35 They also had liturgical
functions assisting in baptisms and the Eucharist (De lapsis 25) and in special
cases, penitence (Ep. 18). Whether all these were already the duties of deacons in
Tertullian’s time, we do not know.
34 For the role of deacons in Cyprian’s time, see Burns and Jensen, Christianity in Roman
Africa, 372–73. For Cyprian’s dependence on Tertullian, see Adolf von Harnack, “Tertullian
in der Literatur der Alten Kirche,” Kleine Schriften zur Alten Kirche: Band 1 (Leipzig: Berlin-
er Akademieschriften, 1890–1907), 247–81.
35 Graeme Wilber Clarke, The Letters of Saint Cyprian of Carthage: vol. 1 (New York:
Newman, 1984), 168.

Dreaming about Deacons in the Passio Perpetuae
Bart J. Koet
In the collection of articles in this volume, the authors assess the role of deacons
in the oldest sources of early Christianity. In this article, the source is the early
third-century Passio sanctarum Perpetuae et Felicitatis (henceforth: Passio Per-
petuae), which is a report of the martyrdom of a certain Vibia Perpetua, her
servant Felicitas and their companions.1 In a collection of studies, edited by
Jan Bremmer and Marco Formisano, several aspects of this text are discussed.
In the preface, the editors argue that its uniqueness concerns the particular con-
stellation of authorial voices, the problems related to gender perspectives, and
the dream reports of Perpetua and Saturus. There are also unsolvable textual
problems presented by its double transmission in Latin and Greek.2
1 For the three Latin versions and the only Greek version known of this passio, see Passio
Sanctarum Perpetuae et Felicitatis (ed. Cornelius van Beek; Nijmegen: Dekker & Van der
Vegt, 1936). For the Latin and Greek texts and a French translation: Jacqueline Amat, Passion
de Perpétue et de Félicité suivi des Actes: Introduction, texte critique, traduction, commentaire
et index (Paris: Cerf, 1996). For a fresh reading of the manuscripts including a new edition of
the Latin text and new translation into English: Thomas J. Heffernan, The Passion of Perpetua
and Felicity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). One can also find a Latin text and a new
English translation in a collection of articles: Perpetua’s Passions – Multidisciplinary Ap-
proaches to the Passio Perpetuae et Felicitatis (eds. Jan N. Bremmer and Marco Formisano;
Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). The Acta Perpetuae, a shorter version of the Passio
Perpetuae is considered by most scholars as a later reworking, but see now Bremmer, “Felici-
tas: The Martyrdom of a Young African Women,” in Bremmer and Formisano, Perpetua’s
Passions, 35–53, esp. 37–41. Because one can find references to these Acta in the newly found
letters of Augustine, Bremmer concludes that the present form of the Acta goes back to a date
shortly after 260 C.E.
2 Bremmer and Formisano, Perpetua’s Passions, v. For an assessment of the textual fea-
tures of the Passio Perpetuae, see Marco Formisano, “Perpetua’s Prisons: Notes on the Mar-
gins of Literature,” in Bremmer and Formisano, Perpetua’s Passions, 329–47. For the unique
features, see the list on 330–31.

256 Bart J. Koet
My starting point is that the Passio Perpetuae – even if it is not an authentic

document 3 – is a window on the Christian communities of the time.4 In their
dreams, the martyrs encounter clerics and in prison they get help especially
from deacons. What do these references tell us about leadership in those days?
In this article I will deal especially with the question: What did the deacons do
according to the Passio Perpetuae?5 However, before dealing with this specific
question, I will sketch how the authors/readers of the Passio Perpetuae under-
stood dreams and visions and how – according to its introduction – the readers
would decode them as divine communications. 6
1. Perpetua: Dreaming in Accordance with Scripture
Much has been written on Perpetua’s dreams and visions as striking and puzz
ling features of this text.7 However, what function do they have for the different
implied authors? And for the original audiences? Before focusing on the role of
the clergy in the passio, it is necessary to deal with some basic assumptions about
interpreting dreams and visions. First we note that when interpreting dreams,
either in literature or at the breakfast table, it is always a reconstruction of the
dream in the form of a narrative – we can only interpret that reconstruction.
The dream reports adduced in the Passio Perpetuae are, as narratives, part of a
larger narrative and we can interpret them with a literary approach.
3 For my assessment of the role of deacons in the Passio Perpetuae, the question of the
extent to which the personal account of Perpetua is authentic is not essential. In literature, it
is often viewed as trustworthy; see Vincent Hunink, “Did Perpetua write her prison ac-
count?,” Listy Filologické 133 (2010): nr.1–2: 147–55 and the literature mentioned there. In his
preface, Heffernan (The Passion of Perpetua, IX–XI) tells how he converted from being a
“sceptic” to somebody who is persuaded that the passio is a document at whose core is a his-
torically verifiable reality. For different opinions, see Ilaria L. E. Ramelli, “Il dossier di Per-
petua: Una rilettura storica e letteraria,” Rendiconti dell’Istituto Lombardo Accademia di
Scienze e Lettere 139 (2005): 309–52, and Judith Perkins, Roman Imperial Identities in the
Christian Era (London: Routledge, 2008), 159–71. For a summary of questions regarding
date, place, title, texts, composition and genre, see Bremmer and Formisano, “Introduction,”
in id., Perpetua’s Passions, 1–13, esp. 2–7.
4 Heffernan (The Passion of Perpetua, 8) sees his study as a contribution “to our understand
ing of this zealously eschatological Christian community of early third century Carthage.”
5 In literature about ministry, Passio Perpetuae is seldom mentioned, but see William
Tabbernee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry in Carthage c. 203,” PRSt 32

(2005): 421–42.
6 In Scripture, there are several passages where God speaks through visions and dreams.
Num 12:6 says that dreams and visions can have the same function and are interchangeable,
even although there may be some differences. For a more elaborate discussion, see my “Scrip-
tures and Dreams: The Prophetic Identity of the Martyr Perpetua: A Narrative Mystagogy,”
in Seeing through the Eyes of Faith. New Approaches to the Mystagogy of the Church Fathers
(ed. Paul van Geest; Late Antique History and Religion, 11; Leuven: Peeters, 2016), 609–628.
7 Burkhard Freiherr von Dörnberg, Traum und Traumdeutung in der Alten Kirche: Die
westliche Tradition bis Augustin (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2008), 68–69.

Dreaming about Deacons in the Passio Perpetuae 257
However, when interpreting dreams, an aspect of dream interpretation which

is relevant to all dream narratives of the past, present, and future is at stake.
Dream narratives partly consist of using conceptual fabrics of human experi-
ence, but at the same time they differ from daily life experiences. In the content
of dreams, there are nearly always elements that are not the same as their equiv-
alents in waking life. But as dreams use the concepts of waking life we cannot
say that they are the opposite of waking life. The philosopher Jeremy Barris
aptly typifies dreams as meta-conceptual.8 A consequence of this meta-con-
ceptual identity of dreams is that in dreams we meet daily experience as well as
unexpected realities. So in analysing the Passio Perpetuae, we should expect to
find both the reality of the clergy of Carthage in those days as well as the distor-
tion of this reality. This distortion will also help us to understand the role of
deacons for Perpetua.
An assumption about the dreams and visions in this passio is that, according
to Perpetua, her special kind of dreaming is a real communication with God. In
the fourth chapter, Perpetua’s brother, who is also a catechumen and is impris-
oned with her, tells her that she now (after her baptism? Or because she is in
prison?) will be entitled to ask about her future in the dreams: passion or release.
From the discussion between them we learn that the fact that she can ask for
dreams as divine communication is seen by them as a special and remarkable
grace. Perpetua herself confirms that she can converse with God (me sciebam
fabulari cum Domino) and, indeed, after asking she gets a vision (Et postulavi,
et ostensum est mihi hoc, 4.2) and promises that she will answer his question the
next day (4.2).9 Several scholars argue that the Latin word fabulari suggests
that Perpetua can have a “homely” conversation with God.10 Asking for a
dream is well-known in Hellenistic circles. One can find an elaborate example
in Apuleius’ Metamorphoses 11. The protagonist Lucius prays in the temple of
Isis and asks for a solution to his problems. Immediately after falling asleep he
8 See Jeremy Barris, “Dreams as Meta-Conceptual or Existential Experience,” Philoso-
phia 42 (2014): 625–44. For an assessment of fantastic elements in visionary/apocalyptic texts

(Revelation; Pastor Hermae; Passio Perpetuae et Felicitatis; Story of Zosimus), see Marco
Frenschkowski, “Vision als Imagination: Beobachtungen zum differenzierten Wirklich-
keitsanspruch frühchristlicher Visionsliteratur,” in Fremde Wirklichkeiten: Literarische
Phantastik und antike Literatur (eds. Nicola Hömke and Manuel Baumbach; Heidelberg:
Universitätsverlag Winter, 2006), 339–66; Heffernan (Passion of Perpetua, 248–54) also dis-
cusses the special effects of dream narratives on the reader in his commentary.
9 It is suggested by some that dream incubation is involved. It is not possible to discuss
this issue extensively here, but it seems to me that dream incubation needs more preparation
than we find in this passage: see Von Dörnberg, Traum und Traumdeutung in der Alten
Kirche, 84. In the Acta Perpetuae (3.1), the relation between praying and receiving the vision
is less clear.
10 See Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 171. Katarina Waldner, “Visions, Prophecy, and
Authority in the Passio Perpetuae,” in Bremmer and Formisano, Perpetua’s Passions, 201–19,
here 214: “Fabulari means having everyday conversation with.”

258 Bart J. Koet
receives answers to his question.11 In contrast to the elaborate description of

the prayer and questions of Lucius, the reference to the asking of Perpetua is
quite short, but she does get a dream, which she recounts in the following part
(4.3–9).
The function of Perpetua’s dreaming concurs to a certain extent with biblical
traditions that such divine communication could take place in dreams and vi-
sions. An important text about dreams and visions as divine communication is
Num 12:1–8 and especially 6–8.12 According to that text, God speaks in dreams
and visions to the prophets, but to Moses he speaks mouth to mouth, face to
face. The arguments for the assumption that Perpetua’s dreams can be seen as
divine communication are already brought to the fore in the introduction,
where the editor argues that dreams can be prophetic and that there are also
prophetic dreams in his time.13 The editor prefaces the testimonies of Perpetua
and Saturus with a principled statement (1–2). He argues that in their time (in
praesenti suo tempore) the newer events are not considered worthwhile because
they are so recent. In those days, the idea was common that only what is ancient
could be of importance.14 The editor denies it and then takes it one step further.
The – at that time – recent martyrdoms of Perpetua and Felicitas will one day
become old and therefore respected examples (documenta). For him, the more
recent events should perhaps be considered on an even higher scale, because of
the overflow of grace promised for the end time (1,3: secundum exuperationem
gratiae in ultima saeculi spatim decretam).
The editor legitimises this by referring explicitly to a biblical text, Acts 2:17–
18a. Joel 2:28–34 is quoted by Peter in the beginning of Acts as a sign of the new
age, which has arrived with the death and resurrection of Jesus (2:17–21).15 The
prophet promises the gift of the Spirit, but he also announces to Israel that its
sons and daughters shall prophesy, that its old men will dream dreams, and that
11 See James Gollnick, The Religious Dreamworld of Apuleius’ Metamorphoses: Recover-
ing a Forgotten Hermeneutic (Waterloo, Ontario: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1999).
12 For Num 12:6–8 being used through the centuries as a proof text for the possibility that
dreams can be divine communication in Christian traditions, see Bart J. Koet, “Introducing
Dreaming from Hermas to Aquinas,” in id. (ed.), Dreams as Divine Communication, 1–21,
7–9.
13 For the idea that in some later Jewish traditions dreams and visions can be typified as
trustworthy when they are legitimised by another divine Word – scriptural tradition, see my
“Trustworthy Dreams? About Dreams and References to Scripture in 2 Macc 14–15, Jose-
phus’ Antiquitates Judaicae 11.302–347 and in the New Testament,” in Persuasion and Dissua-
sion in Early Christianity, Ancient Judaism, and Hellenism (eds. Pieter W. van der Horst et al.;
Leuven: Peeters, 2003), 87–107; now in id., Dreams and Scripture in Luke-Acts: Collected Es-
says (Leuven: Peeters, 2006), 25–50.
14 For this principle, see Peter Pilhofer, Presbyteron Kreitton: Der Altersbeweis der jüdi
schen und christlichen Apologeten und seine Vorgeschichte (Tübingen: J.C.B Mohr [Paul Sie-
beck], 1990).
15 In some Bible editions, Joel 3:1–5 is indicated as 2:28–32. For a discussion of the origin,
form, and function of the quotation, see my “Prophetic Identity of the Martyr Perpetua.”

its young men will see visions. The quotation formula: “thus speaks the Lord”
(or “God”; Acts 2:17), determines the reference as a quotation.
Some scholars suggest that the reference to Joel is related to possible Mon-
tanist influence.16 I do not want to enter that discussion here, but I note that it
is not a reference to Joel, but obviously a quote from Acts and that in Acts
(which is seldom typified as Montanistic), the Joel quotation is used in a parallel
way to the reference to Acts in the Passio Perpetuae.17
The editor begins by addressing a potential objection to the authenticity of
the following dreams – dreams were not only prophetic in the past, but there are
also prophetic dreams in his own time. It is this prophetic stature which is at
stake when Perpetua and Saturus interact with the leaders of the community.
2. Leadership in Early Christianity
Sara Parvis, in her introductory article on Perpetua, stresses that this diary is
the first example of Christian autobiography and that Perpetua gives us a
glimpse of her private life and of the way she constructs her Christian identi-
ty.18 Arpad P. Orban argues that these dreams are our most important source
for popular, non-theological ideas of the afterlife in the early Christian centu-
ries.19 Passio Perpetuae also informs us about the relationship (and tensions)
between the martyrs and the leaders of the community. In this article, however,
I focus on the role of deacons as ministers in an early Christian community.20
Leadership and ministry are always in development. Especially in crisis situ-
ations, managers and leaders have to adapt to new situations. This was also the
case in the beginning of Christianity. Although there was possibly some conti-
nuity in forms of leadership between mainstream Judaism and the new party of
16 Rex D. Butler (The New Prophesy and “New Visions”: Evidence of Montanism in the
Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas [Washington DC: Catholic University of America, 2006])
particularly argues that there are quite a few Montanistic elements in the Passio Perpetuae.
17 For the quotation of Joel 2:28–32 in Acts 2 , see my “Prophetic Identity of the Martyr
Perpetua.” This quotation is at a decisive point in the narrative of Luke-Acts and it discloses
how the disciples will be shown the way through visions and dreams.
18 Sara Parvis, “Perpetua,” The Expository Times 120 (2009): 365–72, 365.
19 Arpad P. Orban, “The Afterlife in Passio Perpetuae,” in Fructus Centesimus, Mélanges
offert à Gerard J.M. Bartelink à l’occasion de son soixante-cinquième anniversaire (eds. An-
ton A.R Bastiaensen et al.; Steenbrugge: Brepols, 1989), 269–77, here 270–71.
20 The passio also gives references to liturgical practices. In 17.1, the martyrs have their last
meal. However, they consider it to be an agape meal (non cenam liberam, sed agapem). In the
early Church, this was the designation for a meal of fellowship eaten probably during (or af-
ter) a liturgical service. Like the terms for clergy, the Latin retains the Greek term. The refer-
ence to the shepherd who gives Perpetua a handful of cheese probably has some eucharistic
overtones. Perpetua receives the cheese in cupped hands and all the people around her say
“amen.” The Shepherd refers to Perpetua as tegnon, the Greek word for child. There are some
other Greek words used in Latin: Horama “divine vision” in 11.1 and diastema, “gulf” in 7.6.

260 Bart J. Koet
the followers of Jesus, some specific forms of Jewish ministry became less im-
portant.21 While, according to Acts, the first followers of Jesus still worshipped
in the Temple, their organization also had its own structure. There was proba-
bly also some influence from the non-Jewish Hellenistic world.22 In the days of
nascent Christianity, Jewish Temple service ceased due to the destruction of the
Temple. That may be one of the reasons why priesthood as a form of leadership,
with its entwinement with the ministry of bringing atoning sacrifices, fades
into the background. The first followers of Jesus are at the same time reluctant
to use pagan priestly titles.23 Relatively “outsider” terms like ἐπίσκοποι and
διάκονοι are coined to identify the leadership and ministry roles.24 The exact
history of the development of leadership ministries in the first few generations
of the early Church is shrouded in obscurity. However, we do get occasional
glimpses of the different developing ministries thanks to some of our sources.
Here I will only sketch shortly some of the sources to give the background of
the leadership in the Passio Perpetuae.
Even in the original letters of Paul there are hints of possible forms of leader-
ship in the communities to which he wrote his epistles. Countless pages are
written to deal with Paul’s apostleship. Less attention is paid to the fact that
Paul is the one who introduces the “title” διάκονος for himself and for his col-
leagues. This title will later be a clear cut title of an ecclesiastical ministry.25
However, he also depicts some of the leaders as συνεργός and even as οίκονόμος.
In Paul’s day, the latter word is often used to qualify an official working in
several administrative contexts.26
21 For the continuity between Jewish ministries and those of the early Church, see James
T. Burtchaell, From Synagogue to Church: Public Services and Offices in the Earliest Christian
Communities (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992).
22 Alistair C. Stewart (The Original Bishops: Office and Order in the First Christian
Communities [Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2014]) argues that the first Christians found
the concept of an episkopos in the Hellenistic world. For my review about this book, see In-
ternational Journal of Philosophy and Theology (76) 2015: 369–72.
23 See, for example, the long tirade against pagan priests by Tertullian (c. 160–c. 225 C.E.)
in his On Idolatry.
24 However, 1 Clement argues that these ministries have their roots in the Old Testament.
Although there are differences between the ministry of Israel and that of Christianity, Clem-
ent takes from the OT two arguments, which he applies to Christian ministry: both are a
two-fold ministry and both are of divine origin (see 1 Clem. 42.5). See my “Isaiah 60:17 as a
Key for Understanding the Two-fold Ministry of ἐπισκοποι and διἀκονοι according to 1 Clem-
ent (1 Clem. 42:5),” in The Scriptures of Israel in Jewish and Christian Tradition (eds. Bart J.
Koet et al.; FS Maarten J. J. Menken: Leiden: Brill, 2013), 345–62, esp. 359–61. Reprinted in
this volume.
25 For διάκονος in Paul, see Anni Hentschel, Diakonia im Neuen Testament: Studien der
Semantik unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck,
2007), 90–184.
26 For Paul as οίκονόμος, see John Goodrich, Paul as an Administrator of God in 1 Corin-
thians (Cambridge; Cambridge University Press, 2012), see my review in International Jour-
nal of Philosophy and Theology 2014 (75): 467–71.

The root of the word apostle (ἀπόστολοι) discloses that their function is root-
ed in their being sent (ἀποστέλλω) by the Lord (see 1 Cor 12:28). According to
Acts, their mission was sealed when they received the gifts of the Spirit (2:1–3)
and their mission is limited to the number of twelve and to a certain period in
the life of the ecclesia. Only those who accompanied the apostles the whole time
that the Lord Jesus was with them are eligible to be apostles and thus, according
to Acts, the ministry of “apostle” was deemed to be temporary. However, they
are not the only “charismatic” leaders. Agabus, one of the prophets, is also in-
spired (11:27–28; see 21:10–11). Paul himself, as is clear from his epistles and
from Luke’s presentation of him in Acts, can be seen as an example of wander-
ing leadership. In Acts, along with apostleship, other functions occur as well,
such as teachers and prophets in Antioch (13:1) and πρεσβυτέροι (20:17–38). We
even find a hint of a leadership position based on family circumstances as James,
the brother of Jesus, takes the lead (see 15:13–21 and 21:18–25).
For some time, apostles and prophets seem to have coexisted with an emerg-
ing local ministry of ἐπισκοποι and διάκονοι. It is often assumed that Did. 11.1–
6 depicts itinerant teachers.27 These teachers are depicted as apostles and
prophets. In Did. 15.1–2, we hear about a partial parallel between the itinerant
missionaries and the ministers who stay in the community. Prophets and teach-
ers are presented as a kind of parallel with ἐπίσκοποι and διάκονοι.28
At the same time some charismatic leaders are, to some extent, presented as a
kind of institutional leader (see Acts 1:15–26 and 6:1–7 and 1 Tim 3:1–13). In
Acts, one can find a collegium of twelve apostles, assisted by another forum of
seven, and thus in Acts 6:1–7, Luke seems to present a two-fold structure of
ministry. The apostles appoint the Seven as “assistants” sharing their διάκονία.
Philip’s actions in Acts 8:9–17 seem to presume a two-fold structure. Philip pro-
claims the Word in Samaria. After he has baptised several people, including
Simon – who later in history became known as a magician – the apostles come
to Samaria and they impose their hands on the new disciples so that they may
receive the Holy Spirit (8:17).29 In Acts 6 and the following chapters, this leader-
ship is two-fold.30 Although in the writings of the Apostolic Fathers, like
27 See Clayton N. Jefford, “Understanding the Concept of Deacon in the Didache” in this
volume.
28 For an assessment of the relationship between these two groups, see Aaron Milavec,
The Didache: Faith, Hope and Life of the Earliest Christian Communities, 50–70 CE (Mah-
wah, N.J.; Newman, 2003), 591–98. For the continuity between 1 Tim 3 and Did. 15, see Huub
van de Sandt and David Flusser, The Didache: Its Jewish Sources and its Place in Early Judaism
and Christianity (Assen: Van Gorcum, 2002), 339, 350–53.
29 See Joke H.A. Brinkhof, “Philip, One of the Seven in Acts (6:1–6; 8:4–40; 21:8),” in this
volume.
30 For the origin of hierarchy, see John St. H. Gibaut, The Cursus Honorum: A Study and
Evolution of Sequential Ordination (New York: Peter Lang, 2000); see my article “Diakon:
Adjudant des Bischofs oder Sprungbrett zur Priestschaft. Randbemerkungen zur jüngsten

262 Bart J. Koet
1 Clem. 42.1–5, Herm. Vis. 3.5.1, and in the text of Did. 15.1–2, mentioned
above, we find several texts where there seems to be a two-fold ministry, often
Ignatius of Antioch is put forward as the first witness of the three-fold ministry:
bishop, presbyters, and deacons.31 In a kind of typology of the three ministries,
he directs that everyone should honour the deacons as they do Jesus Christ,
likewise they honour the bishop, as a reflection of the Father, and the presbyters
as a council meeting (sic!) of God and as the college of apostles (Ign. Trall. 3.1).
However, the special tie between deacons and the bishop reappears here: they
belong together like sons and father, while the presbyters are presented as a
collegium.32
3. Ministry in the Passio Perpetuae
It is against this background that we now ask, what kind of ministry or leader-
ship exists in the community that we encounter in the Passio Perpetuae? Wil-
liam Tabbernee, in his assessment of the Montanistic content, examines the ex-
tent to which there are references to what he calls the catholic church in this
text.33 One of the possible indicators could be the clergy mentioned in the sev-
eral layers of this document. In his article, Tabbernee gives a useful list of the
possible ministries in the Passio Perpetuae. However, later I will especially re-
flect on the fact that we meet the clergy in dreams.
Tabbernee argues that most of the data are incidental and that one can find
them in each of the different layers of the passio: a) in Perpetua’s own account;
b) in Saturus’ account, and c) in the framing of the editor. According to Tab-
bernee, in a) Perpetua refers explicitly to only one clerical title: diaconus. In 3.7,
she tells the reader that two blessed deacons (benedicti diaconi) were minister-
ing to them (ministrabant; imperfect of ministrare; in Greek we find a form of
Studie über Cursus Honorum,” Diaconia Christi 41 (2006): 41–46. See Alexandre Faivre,
Naissance d’une hiérarchie: Les premières étapes du cursus clérical (Paris: Cerf, 1977).
31 See Ign. Magn. 6.1: “Be zealous to do all things in harmony with God, with the bishop
presiding in the place of God and the presbyters in the place of the Council of the Apostles
and the deacons who are most dear to me, entrusted with the service (διάκονία) of Jesus Christ,
who was from eternity with the Father and was made manifest at the end of time” (trans.
Kirsopp Lake). See Ign. Smyrn. 8:1 and Ign. Phld. 4.
32 I think that in Ignatius’ presentation of the three-fold ministry, the two-fold ministry
model is still there and thus the transition seems more fluent than is often sketched: see my
“The Bishop and his Deacons: Ignatius of Antioch’s View on Ministry: Two-fold or Three-
fold?” in Sanctifying Texts, Transforming Rituals (eds. Paul van Geest, Marcel Poorthuis and
Els Rose; FS Gerard Rouwhorst: Leiden: Brill, 2017), 171–90. Reprinted in this volume.
33 For the following, see Tabbernee (“Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,”
439–40). In the editor’s comments, he finds some possible implicit hints at other offices in the
Passio Perpetuae like lectores (for example, 21.11?) However, this is only a presumption, since
they are not mentioned in the Passio Perpetuae.

the Greek διακον-root).34 Their names are Tertius and Pomponius and thanks
to their “bribe” the prisoners could go to a better part of the prison. Referring
to Tertullian (Bapt. 17.1–2 and Praescr. 3.5), Tabbernee argues that they were
part of the regular order of ministry within the Carthaginian church, but he
does not mention that, in the early church, there was a special relationship
between bishops and deacons. As assistants of the bishop, deacons could be
responsible for the care of those who are in prison. It seems to me that the re
ference to this diaconal task indicates that they function here as ministers of the
(local) church.35
Tabbernee argues that one can find doctor as the second ministry in Perpe
tua’s account. He refers to Saturus, because it is he who had instructed (“built”)
them (quia ipse nos aedificaverat).36 Tabbernee argues that, as it is Saturus who
taught them, he had to be their catechist.37 He remarks that, in the Carthagin-
ian church, the ordinary Latin word, doctor, was used for the instructor or
teacher, Saturus was therefore their doctor. That is possible, but not necessary.
In Saturus’ dream, the presbyter Aspasius is also called doctor, and therefore
such a title was not uncommon in the community of Perpetua and Saturus.
Therefore, as Perpetua does not refer to him as doctor, we cannot be certain that
he had such a “title.” It is better to stick to the fact that although it is quite cer-
tain that according the Greek and Latin version he functioned as their teacher,
he does not get a title. This is in fact not unusual since in the early church the
ministries were still in a formative period.38
The next possible ministry referred to in Perpetua’s account, as proposed by
Tabbernee, is prophetis or propheta.39 He argues that as a confessor and martyr-
34 See Tabbernee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,” 432–33. In the first
instance, he suggests that in non-ecclesiastical Latin benedicti diaconi simply means “ap-
proved servants” and that thus these diaconi were just servants of the household of Perpetua.
This seems to me incorrect. The loan word diaconus came into Latin via the ecclesiastical of-
fice, just like words such as episcopus, presbyterus and ecclesia. Later Tabbernee (432) rightly
assumes that they were ecclesiastical ministers and he refers to several writings of Tertullian
as possible parallels. His argument is that, because Perpetua and her companions were impris-
oned because they were related to Christianity, the diaconi acted as ecclesiastics. I would like
to argue, that the designation “diaconi” tout court already indicates an ecclesiastical ministry.
35 Heffernan (Passion of Perpetua, 162) remarks that the diaconate did not require ordina-
tion. He does not give any arguments for this statement. On the other hand, Tabbernee (“Per-
petua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,” 432) and Amat (Passion de Perpétue, 198) say
that deacons received an ordination. On the basis of the available sources we cannot say any-
thing definitive about such an ordination, but because we hear about the laying on of hands in
Acts 6 and in later sources, like the various church orders, such a continuing tradition of a
kind of ordination is at least probable.
36 In most manuscripts one can find the sentence quia ipse nos aedificavit.
37 Tabbernee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,” 432–33.
38 In this context, it is notable that in the versions of the Acta SS Perpetuae et Felicitatis,
Saturus is not presented as their teacher, but from the beginning as one of the martyrs. In
Textus A, he becomes Saturninus’ brother (Acta I.1).

264 Bart J. Koet
to-be, Perpetua could ask for prophetic dreams and visions. He rightly refers to
several examples of the high esteem of the African church for confessors. Al-
though, according to him, confessor/martyr and prophet(ess) are not synony-
mous, Tabbernee argues that Perpetua and Saturus were considered likely
prophet(esse)s. I agree that they become prophetic figures. However, because
they did not get the title itself, I would be more hesitant to typify them as having
a “title” prophet, especially because in the fluid situation of the nascent minis-
try, it is not self-evident that those titles were involved.40
Tabbernee thinks that by referring to her baptism, Perpetua possibly refers to
a bishop, since according to him, the baptismal liturgy was normally performed
by the bishop. However, the baptism is only mentioned in passing. Although
there are no details about how Perpetua and her company were baptised and by
whom, it is clear that they were baptised while they were under arrest (3,1: cum
prosecutoribus essemus).41 We find quite a few details regarding baptism as prac-
tised in third-century Carthage in Tertullian’s De baptismo. In Chapter 17, he
says that the chief priest (Summus sacerdos; the bishop!) has the right to baptise,
while the presbyters and deacons (like Philip in Acts 8) may baptise, but only
with consent of the bishop. According to him laymen also have the right; for
what is equally received can be equally given. Unless bishops, or presbyters, or
deacons, are on the spot, other disciples are called to baptise.42
Since the martyrs-to-be are baptised during their arrest,43 it is thus possible
that they are baptised by one of the prisoners themselves. However, it is more
probable, but not certain, that one of the deacons baptised them, given that, just
after the reference to the baptism, we are told that deacons came to the prison.
This would be in line with what Tertullian said in De baptismo. That the dea-
cons are go-betweens between the martyrs-to-be and the world outside the
prison is confirmed in 6,7–8, where Pomponius asks for Perpetua’s son back
from her father.
Tabbernee also investigates the references to clergy in Saturus’ account,
which consists of one, quite extensive, dream narrative (11.2–13).44 In his dream,
Saturus and Perpetua are guided into a heavenly place after their martyrium by
four angels. There they meet four other martyrs and are brought to the white-
haired man with a youthful face surrounded by seniores. After a ritual encoun-
ter between Saturus and Perpetua and the man on the throne, they go outside
40 For Perpetua as a prophetic figure, see my “Prophetic Identity of the Martyr Perpetua.”
41 See Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 155–56.
42 See the article of Anni Maria Laato, “Tertullian and the Deacons,” in this volume. For
another assessment of the details regarding baptism in Carthage in the third century in the
writings of Cyprian, see Victor Saxer, Vie liturgique et quotidienne à Carthage vers le milieu
du IIIe Siècle: Le témoignage de Saint Cyprien et de ses contemporains d’Afrique (Citta del
Vaticano, Roma: Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Christiana, 1969), 117–28.
43 See Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 59.
44 See Bremmer, “Vision of Saturus in the Passio Perpetuae.”

and there meet Optatus, the bishop (episcopus), and Aspasius, the priest (presby-
ter) and teacher (doctor). Tabbernee argues that the seniores resemble the council
of seniores which was in Carthage.45 He distinguishes between these seniores,
who were older men, lay people akin to community elders, and presbyteri, who
were senior clergy.46 As argued by several scholars, the mention of these elders
reminds us of passages in Revelation and especially of 4.4:
And around the throne were twenty-four thrones, and upon the thrones I saw twenty
four elders sitting, clothed in white garments and golden crowns on their heads.47
Tabbernee suggests that Saturus’ vision combines apocalyptic/celestial imagery

with an earthly/liturgical model. According to him, the enthroned Christ is
surrounded by a council of elders who perform liturgical functions. This is a
mirror image of the bishop seated on the cathedra surrounded by his council of
elders who perform certain liturgical functions in ecclesia.48
Tabbernee refers to the fact that the elders described in this part of Saturus’
vision are called seniores, while the Latin term presbyter is used to designate
Aspasius the presbyterus doctor (13.1).49 This confirms that there was a differ-
ence between them. Tabbernee argues that this reference to Aspasius proves the
existence of presbyters – as distinct from seniores – in Carthage. He does not
assess the meaning of this reference.50 His assessment of episcopus is more
elaborate. Saturus’ record of his vision provides explicit evidence that in the
beginning of the third century the Carthaginian church had an episcopus.51
According to Saturus’ account, when Perpetua and Saturus left the place where
they met the old man with a youthful face, they see the episcopus Optatus on the
right and Aspasius, on the left, in front of the door standing apart from each
other (seperatus) and looking sad (13.1).52 One of the possible reasons of this
sadness is probably revealed in the following. They fall on their feet (sic) and ask
45 In the Greek version, these men are indicated by presbuteroi.

46 Tabbernee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,” 437.
47 Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 288.
48 For this council of seniors, see Brent D. Shaw, “The Elders of Christian Africa,” in Pierre
Brind’Amour et al., Mélanges offerts en hommage au Réverend Père Étienne Gareau (Quebec:
Editions de l’Université d’Ottawa, Université du Québec à Trois-Rivières, Société des études
anciennes du Québec, 1982), 207–26. See also my “Bishop and his Deacons”.
49 In the Greek text, there is no equivalent of the term doctor. This possibly indicates that
for the Greek audience the term presbyter suffices. For Aspasius, see Heffernan, Passion of
Perpetua, 57–58. Referring to Tertullian, Praescr. 3.5 Heffernan (Passion of Perpetua, 57–58)
suggests that as presbyter-doctor, Aspasius was responsible for the catechumens.
51 Tabbernee, “Perpetua, Montanism, and Christian Ministry,” 438. In his book about
the origin of bishops, Stewart (Original Bishops, 314) refers to the Passio Perpetuae only in
passing. This passio is one of the earlier attestations of an episcopus in Africa.
52 Bremmer, “Vision of Saturus in the Passio Perpetuae,” 67: “The standing apart of both
clerics is evidently symbolic of the dissensions within their congregation, and it is remarkable
that they prostrate themselves before the lay persons Saturus and Perpetua.”

266 Bart J. Koet
the martyrs to reconcile them! Tabbernee rightly refers to the implication: it

seems that these clerics attribute to the martyrs the authority to do so. Howev-
er, the martyrs refuse and point them to their positions: Are you not our papa
(again a Greek word in a Latin context) and you the presbyter? Despite this
slightly reproaching question Perpetua starts to talk to them in Greek. Howev-
er, the angels ask the clerics to leave the martyrs alone. They even confuse them
(conturbaverunt) and say to Optatus that he has to correct his people, because
they resemble the mob who returns from the circus!
Tabbernee argues that in this vision the locus of ecclesiastical authority is
shifted from the martyrs to the bishop. This is possibly overstressing the evi-
dence. It is true that in the beginning the martyrs seem to have a higher moral
status than the clerics. However, they do not get an official status and when the
angels exhort Optatus to take his responsibility again, that does not say that he
suddenly gets again his (presumably lost) authority back. I should like to argue
that indeed here is a tension between the moral authority of the martyrs and the
moral authority of the clerics, who are in a dispute with each other, albeit about
something that is not revealed to us (and therefore this is probably not the most
important issue). Optatus’ responsibility seems to be undermined by the fact
that he cannot stimulate his flock in a proper way. Both clerics are reproached
for the dissensions, but only Optatus has to correct his flock. This suggests that
there was a difference between them and that Optatus is in charge as the epis-
copus, the overseer and the supervisor of the community, while the presbyter in
the Latin version is typified as a teacher.
4. Dreaming about the Clergy
In addition to the factual evidence for the existence of clergy in this part of Af-
rica described above, we can find evidence for the role of the clergy in the life of
the communities in the dreams and visions. Above, we saw that in Saturus’
dream certain tensions between what one can call charismatic leadership and
the beginnings of institutional leaders are alluded to. Tabbernee rightly assumes
that the bishop’s and presbyter’s appeal to settle a dispute between them pro-
vides a glimpse into the life of the early community.53 He suggests that there
was a three-fold form of authority: a three-fold order of ordained clergy, a group
of lay elders (seniores) and confessors and martyrs. He says, that “it appears that
this tripartite episcope worked well in that in provided an appropriate system of
‘checks and balances.’”54 Although I see some problems for the actual working
process of such a tripartite authority (for example, Perpetua and Saturus are


martyrs and therefore dead; how can they function as leaders in the communi-
ty?), the narrative of the passio Perpetuae indeed shows the high esteem of the
early African church for these martyrs.55 This is clear from several indications
in the dream narrative of Saturus.
When they enter the after-life situations, the angels not only guide them, but
also give them honour (Honorem nobis dederunt) and admire them (cum admi-
ratione), and Perpetua and Saturus are invested with special clothes, each receiv-
ing a white stole. In his discussion about the colour of early Christian clothing,
Wilpert argued a long time ago that “white” is selected to depict the clothes of
Jesus during the transfiguration (see Matt 17:1–9/Mark 9:2–10/Luke 9:28–36;
especially Mark 9:2/Luke 9:29), because white is the “colour” of light, while
black is the “colour” of darkness.56 Thus the inhabitants of heaven wear white
(see Rev 7:9–14). Wilpert refers to the Passio Perpetuae 4.8 when Perpetua in her
first vision enters a garden of paradise and sees candidati millia multa. He men-
tions the vision of Saturus and remarks that these angels clothed them in white
stoles.57 Wilpert refers to Rev 3:5, where it is said that he who overcomes shall
be clothed in white garments and will be in the Book of Life and his name will
be confessed before the Father and his angels.
The stola candida of Perpetua and Saturus reminds us of the stola candida of
the angel in Mark 16:5 (in Greek stole leuke). It can evoke the fact that in later
centuries deacons received a stola candida during their ordination.58 Although
it is impossible to prove that this is a historical connection, it seems to me unde-
niable that the gesture of bestowing a stola candida is a kind of investiture and
that it shows how well regarded the martyrs are. Another indication of this high
esteem is the fact that Optatus and Aspasius ask Perpetua and Saturus to make
peace between them (Componite inter nos), because the martyrs were gone and
had left these clerics in the state of dissension. This shows that according to this
dream narrative the martyrs are capable of correcting the bishop and the pres-
byter and even when it is something of a wish fulfilment dream it teaches the
reader/hearer that such a relation between martyrs and clergy can be possible.
55 In later church orders one can find still this reverence. Confessors did not need an or-
dination, because they were “sanctified or ordained” with their confession in the court, see,
for example, Trad. Ap. 9.
56 Joseph Wilpert, Die Gewandung der Christen in den ersten Jahrhunderten: Vornehmlich
nach den Katakomben-Malereien dargestellt (Keulen: Commissions-Verlag, 1898), 28–29.

57 This is the meaning of the Greek text. For a discussion about the ambiguous Latin text
(introeuntes vestierunt; who is being dressed here?), see Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 286.
58 In later tradition, a stola candida refers to the deacon’s stole. The oldest deacon stoles
were white; see Fourth Council of Toledo (in 633), canon 40. The whole phenomenon of stole
as a sign of a ministry is quite complicated. There is a relation with the orarium. As early as
the canones of the Synod of Laodicae, the lesser clergy are forbidden to use an orarium. Ac-
cording to the ninth canon of the Synod of Braga (563), wearing a stole makes the difference
between the deacons and sub-deacons. Later, not only deacons but also priests and bishops
wear stoles. During the ordination ritual these clerics received a stole.

268 Bart J. Koet
5. Dreaming about the Deacon Pomponius
It is Perpetua’s fourth vision, her most complex and surreal dream, that is prob-
ably the most frequently investigated one. One of the perplexing motives in this
dream narrative is that Perpetua changes gender. However, in the dream images
in this vision, there are indications about the role of the clergy in the life of the
early Christians. In his discussion of this chapter Heffernan stresses that this is
a dream and as a dream it must follow the logic of dream narratives.59 He ar-
gues that this fourth dream is structurally related to the first one and that it
confirms the prophecy that Perpetua will die, but as a martyr will triumph over
death.
In the dream, on the day before they will fight, the deacon Pomponius comes
to the door of the prison and knocks vehemently. It is Perpetua herself who
opens this door. Pomponius leads her to the amphitheatre through places that
are rugged and winding. After some encouraging words he leaves her. A certain
Egyptian enters the stage, surrounded by helpers. Her helpers and supporters
(adiutores and fautores) strip her and she becomes a man (facta sum masculus).
A man of great size holding a staff like a trainer (quasi lanista) enters. He an-
nounces that, if the Egyptian wins, he will kill Perpetua, but if she defeats him,
she will receive a branch (ramus) with golden apples. Perpetua wins and receives
the branch from the lanista. She now knows that she will fight with the devil,
but also that victory will be hers (10.14).
Here I want to focus on the role of the deacon Pomponius, the one with whom
the dream narrative starts. He comes to the door of the prison and knocks vehe-
mently. Heffernan shows that Chapter Nine ended “with the pathetic image of
her pitiable, beaten, and dejected father,” while “[T]he opening line in Chapter
X begins with the contrasting image of the confident and bold deacon, Pom-
ponius.”60 He suggests that thus her biological father is replaced by Pomponi-
us, her spiritual father.
Pomponius’ outfit is special. He wears a white unbelted tunica (discincta can-
dida). 61 Especially his footwear is remarkable: multilaced sandals (multiplices
galliculas). 62 Heffernan thinks that he is a mixture of a Christ-type with Mercu-
ry. 63 However, within the dream narrative, the special sandals refer to the lani-
59 Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 248–54, here 249.

61 In the Greek version he is wearing a tunic with a belt!
62 Heffernan (Passion of Perpetua, 257) argues that Gallicula is post-classical and that
this is the first attestation. He suggests that it is derived from caligula, the shoe worn by Ro-
man soldiers. The word caligula became well-known in history, because it was the nickname
of Gaius, the cruel Roman emperor from 37–42. Caligula is the diminutive form of caliga, a
hob-nailed military boot (see Suetonius, Cal. 9.1).

sta look-a-like because he has also these special sandals (galliculas multiformes). 64
The lanista is also wearing an unbelted tunic (in the Latin version: discinctatus).
However, he himself is not only far bigger, his clothes are far more expensive.
The unbelted tunic is a purple garment with two stripes running down from the
middle of the chest (purpuram inter duos clavos per medium pectus habens). This
tunic indicates a certain status. Also his footwear shows his high position. His
sandals are decorated with gold and silver (ex auro et argento factas).65
The similar style of clothing shows that there is a special relationship between
these figures. 66 This relation also becomes manifest in certain resemblances be-
tween what these figures say. Before leaving Perpetua, Pomponius says: “Don’t
be afraid, I am here with you (hic sum tecum), and I will work together (col
laboro tecum) with you.”67 Tecum is used only three times in the passio: twice
here, and once on the lips of the lanista. After Perpetua’s victory he says: filia,
pax tecum. 68 There is another connection between the two men. While the dea-
con is a kind of mental coach, the lanista look-a-like refers to physical coaching.
In a psycho-analytical analysis of this dream Hartmut Böhme argues that, be-
cause of his magnificent vestments and majestic sovereignty, in his guises of
judge and redeemer and eschatological peace-giver, the lanista represents the
internalised and transcendent presence of Jesus Christ within Perpetua.69
This seems to be a nice theological statement for a psycho-analyst (perhaps
overstressing the Christological theme); however, it slightly overlooks the data
of the dream narrative itself. In the dream, the lanista is related to Pomponius
and they both care for Perpetua. In “real life,” Pomponius had already fulfilled
this task as deacon twice. According to 3.7, he had access to the prisoners, to-
gether with Tertius, another deacon. Pomponius is also the one who asks Per-
petua’s father to give her son back to her (6.7). Although this mission fails, it
does show how Perpetua trusted this deacon and asked him to fulfil delicate
missions.70
64 Wilpert, Gewandung der Christen in den ersten Jahrhunderten, 32: “Die Beiwörter
multiplices und multiformes ex auro et argento factas beziehen sich auf die goldenen und sil-
bernen Verzierungen die auf den Riemen, oft in kunstvoller Ausstattung angebracht warden.”
65 There is a manuscript which makes the similarity of Pomponius and the lanista even
more explicit as it has an addition in 10.2 ex auro et argento, referring to the sandals of Pom-
ponius. See Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 111.
66 Heffernan (Passion of Perpetua, 252–53) also notes that there is a special relation be-
tween the diaconus and the lanista, but he gives less attention to the similar clothing.
67 Conlaboro is a Christian word. See Heffernan, Passion of Perpetua, 260.
68 David Konstan (“Perpetua’s Martyrdom and the Metamorphosis of Narrative,” in
Bremmer and Formisano, Perpetua’s Passions, 290–99, here 294) sees Pomponius as a father
substitute who encourages and assists Perpetua before the trial and, as the giant arbiter, reap-
pears during the contest and in the end addresses her as filia.
69 Hartmut Böhme, “The Conquest of the Real by the Imaginary. On the Passio Perpe
tuae,” in Bremmer and Formisano, Perpetua’s Passions, 220–43, here 231; see Habermehl,
Perpetua, 182.
70 Heffernan (Passion of Perpetua, 48) suggests that Pomponius acts twice in Perpetua’s

270 Bart J. Koet
It is therefore not surprising that Pomponius in dream life gives “dreamster”

Perpetua feelings of reassurance and that the lanista, as a transformed and en-
larged Pomponius, completes this reassurance. And thus it became true that
Pomponius, although he left, was there with her! In his assessment of the fantas-
tic element in early Christian literature, Marco Frenschkowski is hesitant to
qualify the dream of Perpetua as fantastic. He argues that, although the gender
transformation is fanciful, the message of this vision is not ambiguous
enough.71 However, Frenschkowski ignores the quite ambiguous relation be-
tween Pomponius and the lanista. The lanista can be seen as a distorted Pom-
ponius. While he is bigger and wears more beautiful clothes, he protects Perpet-
ua as replacement of Pomponius. In this distortion, so fitting for a dream narra-
tive, we learn something about the relationship between Perpetua and the
deacon Pomponius, who in the dream – as is the task of a deacon – comes to
assist Perpetua for the third time. The deacon is symbolic for the (divine?) pro-
tection she gets during her trial. At the same time the fact that the deacon says
that he will stay, but disappears is an indication that in this dream narrative not
only feelings of protection are at stake, but that it also reveals something about
Perpetua’s fear for the near future and death.
6. Conclusion
In the Passio Perpetua, we get a special window on the past largely through
dream narratives. In these dream narratives, and in their framing, we can get
some insights into the organisation of early Christianity in Africa. There are
already traces of the threefold ministry: an episcopus, a presbyter, and diaconi,
but we also hear about the special status of martyrs. Focusing our question on
deacons, we can see that there are some indications about their functioning. It
seems that the bishop and the deacons are in charge of caring for the people. The
deacons have to do the practical work like visiting the prison, caring for the in-
mates and being trusted with very confidential missions, while the bishop is
quite clearly in charge of overseeing the whole flock, as is said by the angels
(13.6). While the presbyter Aspasius is depicted as a doctor, he seems to be re-
sponsible for one of the other forms of teaching. It could be that presbyters were
in those days, and in that part of the world, more involved in teaching and in
advising the bishop. We hear about a tension between the episcopus and the pres-
byter but we do not learn anything about the nature of the disagreement. How-
ever, it is the bishop who is reprimanded by the angels, because he is the one
who is held responsible for the unity of the community.
dream life and only once in real life. This is not true. He acts twice in real life and only once
in her dream life.
71 Frenschkowski, “Vision als Imagination,” 351–52.

There is a relationship between the clergy and martyrs. It seems that the latter
are to a certain extent more esteemed than the former. At the same time the
clergy is held responsible for the wellbeing of their flock. Next to these minis-
tries, the seniores in the dream could reflect a council of seniores in the church
community, a council of elderly wise men. However, the indications in the
passio itself that such a council exists are not very strong.
In the Passio Perpetuae, we encounter deacons in “real life” and in “dream
life.” We hear something about what deacons do: they are responsible for the
care of the community (social work) and they have money to give “bribes.” We
also get another insight from this text: the feeling a deacon can call forward in
the dream life of a martyr. It seems that his relationship with Perpetua is such
that in dream life the deacon Pomponius becomes a beacon for Perpetua during
her trials in prison, even in the person of his alter ego, the lanista.

Deacons in the Texts Contemporary with the
New Testament (Philo of Alexandria and Josephus)
Anssi Voitila
Pierre Vidal-Naquet wrote an introductory article to Pierre Savinel’s French

translation of the Jewish War of Josephus. This article, entitled “About the good
use of treason” (“Du bon usage de la trahison”),1 gives an apt description of
the many-sidedness of the role of Josephus as an agent between Romans and the
Jews. He even called the first chapter “Intermediary.” This title and the depic-
tion following it helps us to understand what Josephus meant when he pictured
himself as διάκονος in this text (J.W. 3.354). Often, his self-designation may be
compared with Paul’s similar definition in the New Testament (1 Cor 3:5;
2 Cor 3:6; 6:4; 11:15, Eph 3:7, and Col 1:23).
Consequently, the study of the usage of the word διάκονος in the texts of
Greek-speaking Jewish authors from the period, Philo (25 B.C.E.–50 C.E.) and
Josephus (about 37–100 C.E.), deepens our understanding of the meaning of the
word. Their semantic and philological analysis illustrates how the concept dea-
con was understood. Philo and Josephus provide reference material from the
period in which the New Testament was written that has not necessarily been
influenced by Christian usage, at least, in their original form. This material may
therefore help us to understand the concept at the earliest stage of Christianity.
In this article, I have searched only the word διάκονος “deacon,” and not the
διακον- stem, presenting all the instances in the texts of these authors. Philo uses
the word five times whereas Josephus mentions it fourteen times.2
1 Flavius Josèphe, La guerre des Juifs (Traduit par Pierre Savinel; Paris: Minuit, 1977),
9–115.
2 Texts have been searched using software by Accordance. Version 8.4. November 2009.
Oak Tree Software, Inc. http://www.accordancebible.com.

274 Anssi Voitila
Based on the presentations of Collins and Hentschel, I am proposing in this

article the following description, a sort of process diagram of how we may con-
ceptualise what a deacon was.3 We may draw a graph.4
Intentionality Control/Energy Flow Result
R R
A
Primary B
S S
Agent Beneficiary
Secondary
Agent
In the graph, the secondary agent (S) represents the deacon. S/he is an intermedi
ary figure through, or by means of, whom something is transferred or delivered
from one place to another, s/he has the control over the action (the bending ar-
row), and uses his/her energy (waving arrow) to achieve the result. The primary
agent (A) represents the subject, whose intentionality (the straight arrow) is be-
hind what the deacon is delivering/transferring, to achieve some aim/objective
(R, Result), to a recipient and/or someone who benefits from the achievement
(B, Beneficiary). In this article, I will scrutinise how well this conceptualisation
fits the usage in these texts, and refine the description, if necessary.
1. Philo
As already stated, Philo uses the word five times in his works. For Philo, dea-
cons have a task to perform only for a limited time. This means one is a deacon
only temporarily: a superior person, in a social hierarchy, has given a task to be
performed by a person who is therefore a deacon. The person does not hold the
position of deacon, and certainly not permanently, but his/her being a deacon
3 Generally speaking, διάκονοι (diakonoi) seem to have performed an intermediary role
between the superior agent and the realisation of a duty/service bestowed (by this agent),
typically, but not necessarily, on a third party, who may have been a beneficiary and/or recip-
ient of the completion of this duty/service (John N. Collins, Diakonia: Re-interpreting the
Ancient Sources [New York: Oxford University Press, 1990], 335–37; Anni Hentschel, Diako-
nia im Neuen Testament: Studien der Semantik unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Rolle
von Frauen [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007], 433).
4 This graph is adopted from the graph describing split agency in intermediary situa-
tions in Silvia Luraghi, “Agency and Causation,” in Encyclopedia of Ancient Greek Language
and Linguistics (ed. Georgios K. Giannakis; Leiden: Brill, 2014), 65–72, 70.

Deacons in the Texts Contemporary with the New Testament 275
ends when the task is performed. His/her proper position is elsewhere. S/he
earns his/her living somewhere else. But when carrying out this task, s/he is a
deacon. Who this superior person is, is not always clearly indicated.
As a first instance, I shall discuss the occurrence in the book, called The Con-
templative Life (§ 75), which gives an account of the sacred communal meal (τὸ
ἱερὸν συμπόσιον) of the so-called Therapeutae monastic community (§§ 64ff).
This meal is celebrated every seventh week (δι’ ἑπτὰ ἑβδομάδων § 65), and is es-
pecially sacred when it takes place in the 50th week, because after 7x7= 49. At the
communal meal, the service was carried out by the deacons. Their actual duties
are not exemplified, they are simply called διακονικαὶ χρεῖαι “duties of deacons”
(§ 71) and ὑπηρεσία “service” (§ 75). Instead, Philo states that they served will-
ingly (§ 71). Their duties at the table were not permanent but they were chosen
to perform for just this occasion (§ 72). According to Philo, deacons are young
members of the community. He does not, however, mean their biological age
but the years they have spent in the community. Thus, the senior members (el-
ders) are more familiar with the teaching of the community than the younger
members but not necessarily senior in age (§ 67).5 As Philo puts it, these persons
voluntarily offered themselves for the service, because it gave them an opportu-
nity to learn from the more experienced members (§ 71–72). The term διάκονος
allows the interpretation that there may have been both male and female dea-
cons. 6 Taylor argues, however, that these junior members of the community
served every day, for example, preparing common meals, waiting at the table,
and cleaning for the senior members.7 This conclusion is reached by “peek[ing]
behind the text” but then it is noteworthy that on these occasions Philo does not
call them διάκονοι, only here.
Contempl. 75 Καὶ τὰ μὲν πρῶτα These are the preliminaries; but after
τοιαῦτα. μετὰ δὲ τὸ κατακλιθῆναι μὲν the guests have sat down at the table in
τοὺς συμπότας ἐν αἷς ἐδήλωσα τάξεσι, the order which I have described, and
στῆναι δὲ τοὺς διακόνους ἐν κόσμῳ πρὸς the deacons have taken their stand in
ὑπηρεσίαν ἑτοίμους good order, ready for service […]. 8
8
The deacons at the sacred communal meal of Therapeutae resemble those encoun-
tered in the Greek inscriptions from the slightly earlier period. These διάκονοι
5 § 67: “for they do not look on those as elders who are advanced in years and very an-
cient, but in some cases they esteem those as very young men, if they have attached themselves
to this sect only lately, but those whom they call elders are those who from their earliest in-
fancy have grown up and arrived at maturity in the speculative portion of philosophy, which
is the most beautiful and most divine part of it.”
6 So also Joan E. Taylor, Jewish Women Philosophers of First-Century Alexandria: Philo’s
“Therapeutae” Reconsidered (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 100 n. 59.

7 Taylor, Jewish Women Philosophers, 99–103.
8 English translations are my own.

276 Anssi Voitila
were elected by lots9 or otherwise held the position temporarily in cultic meals.
These functionaries hold a position so valued in the Greek world that there have
been found, in several locations, lists of cult personnel, also cataloguing and nam-
ing διάκονοι,10 beginning from the third century B.C.E: Troizenis of Peloponne-
sos (IG IV 774 [+ μάγειρος]; 824 [+ κᾶρυξ]), from Thyrrhenia of Akarnia, in Cen-
tral Greece, second century B.C.E. Further, we know from other sources that in
Greek banquets there were also young men serving as waiters, one purpose of
which may have been to learn manners and traditions of the community, by ob-
serving the seniors’ behaviour and by listening to their stories and myths.11 Sim-
ilarly, at the Therapeutae’s meal, the deacons were supposed to hear more learned
persons’ manners and speech and to become wiser. Their roles are referred to with
familial terms – parents and children – by which Philo emphasises that there was
no “subservience among the junior members”12 of the community. Later in this
article, we will meet deacons serving at cultic meals in the texts of Josephus.
It is also interesting that Philo expressly affirms that the deacons of the Ther-
apeutae are not slaves (ἀνδράποδα, δοῦλοι, § 70–71). It may be concluded that the
Greek reader/listener could have inferred this connotation from the usage of the
word deacon, unless expressly denied. However, another important theme in
the book takes precedence over this interpretation. Namely, it was important
for Philo to show that Therapeutae did not keep slaves.13 Likewise, the fact
that the deacons served as volunteers, willing to learn from the elder members
of the community, points in the same direction. Consequently, the Jewish Ther-
apeutae were a philosophical community, which stands out from the other
Greek and Roman philosophical communities.
9 Following Collins (Diakonia, 166–67), as was done in the cultic association of Orgeons
in Athens, judged by the numerous inscriptions from the 4th to 2nd centuries B.C.E. See Paul
François Foucart, Des associations religieuses chez les Grecs: Thiases, éranes, orgéons (Paris:
Klincksieck, 1873), 20–32.
10 In Thyrrhenia of Akarnia, the lists appear more extensive, including πρύτανις (high
priest), ἑστία (priestess), μάντις (diviner/prophet), αὐλητάς (flute-player), ἱεροφόρος (bearer of

the holy vessels), μάγειρος (cook/butcher), διάκονος, ἀρχοινόχους (cup-bearer), ἱεροθύτας (sac-
rificing priest) (IG IX,1² 2:247, the 2nd c. B.C.E.; note: the text is written in Doric Greek).
11 Nancy Bookidis (“Ritual Dining at Corinth,” in Greek Sanctuaries: New Approaches
[eds. Nanno Marinatos and Robin Hägg; London: Routledge], 45–61, 49) presents archaeo-
logical evidence from places where the meals occurred. In these buildings, there are spaces in
the benches along the walls that do not allow reclining, they are too narrow; it is possible that
these seats were intended for women, young men or for waiters/διάκονοι. That they were
young boys (παῖς) is further supported by the vase paintings that represent standing smaller
figures as waiters, as seen in fig. 9 in François Lissarrague, The Aesthetics of the Greek Ban-
quet: Images of Wine and Ritual (trans. Andrew Szegdy-Maszak; Princeton: Princeton Uni-
versity, 1990), 21–22. See also my article “Diakonoi in the Greek-speaking World until 1st c.
CE,” Diakonian tutkimus/Journal for the Study of Diaconia 3 (2015): 225.
12 Taylor, Jewish Women Philosophers, 246.
13 For this, see François Daumas, De Vita Contemplativa: Introduction et notes (Les
œuvres de Philon d’Alexandrie 29; Paris, 1963), 131 n. 3.

In his book On the Giants, Philo discusses the text of Gen 6:2 (12). The He-
brew text of Gen 6:2 relates information about the sons of God, whereas Philo’s
Greek Genesis knew them as angels, ἄγγελοι.
Gig. 12 τῶν οὖν ψυχῶν αἱ μὲν πρὸς Some souls have descended into bodies,
σώματα κατέβησαν, αἱ δὲ οὐδενὶ τῶν whereas others have not deemed wor-
γῆς μορίων ἠξίωσάν ποτε συνενεχθῆναι. thy to be associated with any of the
ταύταις ἀφιερωθείσαις καὶ τῆς τοῦ πατρὸς parts of earth; and the Creator has been
θεραπείας περιεχομέναις ὑπηρέτισι καὶ accustomed to employ these servants
διακόνοις ὁ δημιουργὸς εἴωθε χρῆσθαι and deacons who are consecrated and
πρὸς τὴν τῶν θνητῶν ἐπιστασίαν. clung to the service of the Father, in
the management of the mortals.
Philo tells that these angels are what other philosophers (not Jews) consider ge-
nii (daimones); they are souls flying in the air. He here follows Platonic views.14
He says that, according to Gen 6:2, there are two kinds of angel-souls: those
who have descended into bodies and others who have decided not to mingle
with any part of the earth. The Creator has given different tasks to these angels:
they serve as ὑπηρέτιδες “servants” and as διάκονοι “deacons” in the manage-
ment of people.15 This mirrors the dual nature of duties of the angels: the word
ἐπιστασία refers to the authority over and taking care of humans.16 In what fol-
lows, Philo mentions only two activities these incorporeal angels perform, that
is, they philosophise in the presence of God and act as ambassadors (πρεσβευτάς)
between God and humans – the core word ἄγγελος means announcer/herald/
messenger – (Gig. 14–16). It is tempting to think that for Philo the word
ὑπηρέτιδες represents the philosophising function and διάκονοι the messenger
role of the angels, but it is not so specified in the text. Note that angels are acting
as deacons only temporarily when they carry on their duty as messenger, like
those encountered elsewhere in the Greek world as well as in the early church.
Philo depicts the relationship between God and the angel deacon using the
verb χράομαι, which means “to use for an end or purpose, to take advantage of,
to make use of.”17 This demonstrates a power relation, God being the superior
14 Peder Borgen, Philo of Alexandria: An Exegete for His Time (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 106.
15 John N. Collins (Diakonia Studies: Critical Issues in Ministry [New York: Oxford Uni-
versity Press, 2014], 69) seems only to emphasise the διάκονοι role of the angels and, leaving
out their authority over human beings, depicts the role only as a “mediating agent” in Philo’s
Gig. 12.
16 According to H. G. Liddell, R. Scott, H. S. Jones, A Greek-English Lexicon (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 91996). Franco Montanari’s new The Brill Dictionary of Ancient
Greek (Leiden: Brill, 2014) does not mention this attention/care meaning at all, only authori-
ty/dominion.
17 The idea of χρεία in relation to διακονία is also prominent in the stories of Acts 6:1–7;
Luke 10:38–42, see Bart J. Koet, “Luke 10:38–42 and Acts 6:1–7: a Lukan Diptych on διακονία,”
in this volume.

278 Anssi Voitila
being. This is not uncommon in Greek literature,18 but ordering and sending are
much more common ways of expressing the power relation between a deacon
and his primary agent. The words ὑπηρέτιδες and διάκονοι appear to have the
same meaning also in the next instance.
The masculine ὑπηρέτης appears together with the word διάκονος in On the
Life of Joseph 241. In this text, the word διάκονος conveys a more figurative
meaning than the instances mentioned earlier.
Ios. 241 καὶ νομίζω τῶν συμβεβηκότων And I believe that it was not you, but
οὐχ ὑμᾶς ἀλλὰ θεὸν αἴτιον γεγενῆσθαι God, who was the cause of the events
βουληθέντα με τῶν αὐτοῦ χαρίτων καὶ which took place. He wanted me to be
δωρεῶν, ἃς ἐν τοῖς ἀναγκαιοτάτοις the servant and deacon of his graces
καιροῖς ἠξίωσε τῷ γένει τῶν ἀνθρώπων and gifts which he thought fit to grant
παρασχεῖν, ὑπηρέτην γενέσθαι καὶ to humanity in the time of their grea
διάκονον. test need.
In this passage, Joseph tries to reconcile himself with his brothers who sold him
into Egypt, after they have identified him. Hence, he tries to convince his broth-
ers that they have not done what they did by themselves, but this was God’s
doing so that Joseph may act as a deacon of God’s plan; that means he was the
deacon/servant of God’s favours [grace] and gifts. God had anticipated the com-
ing famine, and therefore sent Joseph into Egypt to prepare food for the family.
Joseph thus had a duty to perform from God, even though he was not aware of
it until afterwards. This same image is used by Josephus in his self-portrait
when he describes his own role as mediator between the Jewish people, the Ro-
mans and God. We will return to this later below.
Philo also uses the term in the metaphorical sense. On two occasions, ears
appear as the deacons carrying a message. In both of them, the ear-deacons are
intermediaries (secondary agents, marked with S in the graph) in the service of
ignoble, ungodly purposes. In On the Posterity of Cain and His Exile 165, ears
act as an intermediary, through whom, according to Philo, those (agent, letter A
in the graph) who think that life is a play persuade the young people (benefi-
ciary/recipient, B) to believe in the Egyptian gods (target/patient, R). Here, it is
important to Philo that the ears (not the eyes) have recognised and acknowledge
the golden calf – made by Aaron – as a god in Exod 32. The ears as the respon-
sible organ is due to his use of a version, similar to the Septuagint, where the
words suggest the image of the idol being forged, a process which, of course,
made a lot of noise. Further, Philo in general highlights the importance of vision
over hearing (LXX Exod 20:18; Philo, Conf. 194), the vision comes through as
the visible voice (φωνὴ ὁρατή) connected with Philo’s interpretation of the name
18 Plato, Leg. 763a; Demosthenes, Timocr. 197; Prov (LXX) 10:4.

Israel as “seeing people” which makes it necessary that hearing is responsible for
this failure.19
Post. 165 ἁπαλαῖς γὰρ ἔτι ταῖς τῶν νέων For those who consider life only a show
ψυχαῖς οἱ τραγῳδίαν τὸν βίον τύφων full of acts of arrogance and stories of
ἐρώντων νομίζοντες κεκιβδηλευμένους love, impressing false ideas on the
χαρακτῆρας ἐναπομάττονται, διακόνοις tender minds of the young, and using
ἀκοαῖς χρώμενοι, ὧν μυθικὸν λῆρον κα- their ears as deacons, into which they
ταχέαντες καὶ μέχρι διανοίας αὐτῶν pour fabulous trifles. They, sinking
ἐντήξαντες θεοπλαστεῖν τοὺς τὰ φρο- the idea deep into their minds, compel
νήματα ἄνδρας μὲν μηδέποτε γινομέ- these persons who were never even
νους ἀεὶ δὲ θηλυδρίας ὄντας ἠνάγκασαν. men of their minds but always effemi-
nate creatures to make an image of god.
Mos. 2.199 καλὸν ἐκνίψασθαι τὴν ἀθλίαν It would be well that this unhappy
ψυχὴν ἐπηρεασθεῖσαν μὲν ὑπὸ φωνῆς, soul purifies itself, because it has been
διακόνοις δὲ τοῖς ὠσὶ χρησαμένην, insulted by the voice which has served
αἰσθήσει τυφλῇ. the ears, blind sense, as deacons.
Similarly, hearing appears as an unfaithful and blind sense in About Moses 2:199.
The listener uses (χράομαι) his ears as mediator who, by hearing the curse, caus-
es the listener to feel insulted. The ears are blind because their make you blind
spiritually – you become an idolater.20
Due to the nature of metaphor, the abstract idea (the “target domain”) that the
metaphor is supposed to describe does not fully correspond to its counterpart
in the concrete world (the “source domain”) through which the comprehension
of the abstract idea takes place.21 In this case, the ears-deacon has not received
from those who think that life is a play a clear command to perform the task to
persuade the young minds, or, in the latter example, the listener has not com-
manded the ears to hear the curse, but the addressees of the text will understand
what is meant.
The fact that Philo uses the term deacon in the metaphorical sense does not
alter the fact that our word in the concrete world signifies an agent who by the
mandate of a superior being carries a task to any third party that benefits from
the execution of the task. Rather, the metaphorical meaning substantially corre-
sponds to the concrete one in terms of our conclusions, and as such, confirms
them. Further, deacons are deacons just for the time they are performing the task.
19 Géraldine Hertz, “L’ouïe, ‘ce sens aveugle’: le statut de l’ouïe dans la vie pratique et
religieuse chez Philon d’Alexandrie,” PALLAS 98 (2015): 155–81, 174–76.

20 Hertz, “L’ouïe,” 177 and n. 120.
21 For this, see, George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, Metaphors We Live By, with a new
afterword (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980), 52–55.

280 Anssi Voitila
2. Josephus
Josephus employs the word διάκονος more often than Philo; fourteen instances
appear. It is used in the same senses as in Philo, but there are differences, too.
Josephus utilises the word to indicate διάκονοι who perform this function for
longer periods, in the same way as the word denoting a servant, such as θεράπων,
παῖς or ὑπηρέτης, which is used almost as a synonym for διάκονος. This interpre-
tation arises, at least partly, from the fact that the text itself does not report the
exact duration of the performance or give the date for the assignment.
Interestingly, Josephus, on two occasions, presents himself as a deacon (J.W.
3.354 and 4.626). It does not come as a surprise that, in both occasions, he is
acting on behalf of God, playing the role of an intermediary. Both cases appear
in The Jewish War. Josephus’ changing position, from being among the leaders
of the so-called first Jewish revolt (66–70 C.E.) to joining to the Roman side and
participating in the Roman conquest of Jerusalem was already, in his own time,
difficult to see as anything other than a betrayal of his own people.22
J.W. 3.354 “κἀπειδὴ τὸ Ἰουδαίων,” ἔφη, He said, “Since you have thought fit to
“φῦλον ὀκλάσαι δοκεῖ σοι τῷ κτίσαντι· break the Jewish nation, whom you
μετέβη δὲ πρὸς Ῥωμαίους ἡ τύχη πᾶσα, have created, and since all good fortune
καὶ τὴν ἐμὴν ψυχὴν ἐπελέξω τὰ is gone over to the Romans, and since
μέλλοντα εἰπεῖν. δίδωμι μὲν Ῥωμαίοις you have decided that my soul should
τὰς χεῖρας ἑκὼν καὶ ζῶ· μαρτύρομαι δὲ announce what is to come, I willingly
ὡς οὐ προδότης, ἀλλὰ σὸς εἶμι διάκονος.” give myself up to the Romans, and con-
sent to live. And I take you as a witness
that I do not go there as a traitor, but as
your deacon.”
In J.W. 3.354, Josephus shows himself as praying. He describes his own situa-
tion and the fate of the Jews as divine providence, portraying himself as his
namesake, the patriarch Joseph.23 (He is also an interpreter of dreams sent by
God 24 – ἦν δὲ καὶ περὶ κρίσεις ὀνείρων ἱκανὸς συμβαλεῖν τὰ ἀμφιβόλως ὑπὸ τοῦ
θείου λεγόμενα, “he was skilled as an interpreter of dreams, ambiguous utter-
22 James S. MacLaren, “Delving into the Darkside: Josephus’ Foresight as Hindsight,” in
Making History: Josephus and Historical Method (ed. Zuleika Rodgers; Leiden: Brill, 2006),
49–67, 62; Also, Francoise Mirguet (“Flavius Josèphe construit son image,” Écritures et réécri-
tures [eds. Claire Clivaz et al.; BEThL 248; Leuven: Peeters 2012], 35–48, 45–48) refers to the
work of M. Stanislawski, Autobiographical Jews: Essays in Jewish Self-Fashioning (Seattle:
University of Washington Press, 2004), 31 n. 9.
23 It is interesting, though, that Josephus does not call the patriarch Joseph a deacon any-
where, as Philo does in the text discussed above.

24 This relation is suggested also by Henry St. John Thackeray in his translation of Jewish
War (Loeb Classical Library. Vol. 487 ad loc.; so also, Per Bilde, Flavius Josephus between
Jerusalem and Rome [JSPSup 2. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1988], 189–90), although it is true, as

ances of the Deity” – as he says just before [3.351–353]). He is sent by God as a

deacon on a mission, whose fate is to act as a messenger of the Jews and God at
the court of the Roman emperor in Rome.25 There he defends his people who
have revolted, and tries to convince the Romans that it is not the Jews who are
to blame, but rather, the Roman administration in Judea and the bad leaders of
the Jewish people. In another paragraph (4.626), Josephus has the emperor Ves-
pasian himself declare that Josephus is the deacon of God’s voice. Thus, he “was
officially recognized” as a prophet (4.629).26 It is also significant that the mes-
senger role (ἄγγελος, πρεσβευτής) is connected to the word deacon here as was
also the case in Philo, Gig. 14–16.27 So as Gnuse argues, 28 Josephus presents
himself as a prophet, a messenger (ἄγγελος) sent by God (3.400) who proclaims
what God has told him. He is clearly a new Joseph, an interpreter of dreams and
a prisoner liberated by a righteous ruler. And in this role he was a deacon of God.
The term deacon appears referring to the temporary nature of the task to
carry messages in Jewish Antiquities 7.224.29 This story is related in 2 Sam
17:15–29: at the time of Absalom’s rebellion the “high priests” on King David’s
side told their sons to provide the necessary information concerning Absalom’s
actions to the king. When they successfully completed the mission, Josephus
calls the sons “pious and reliable deacons.”
In Ant. 8.354, the prophet Elisha is called a student (μαθητὴς) and a deacon of
the prophet Elijah. Later he is also referred to as a deacon and θεράπων-servant
in the next book from 9.54–55.30
Ant. 8.354 καὶ ἦν Ἠλίου τὸν ἅπαντα and as long as Elijah lived, he was his
χρόνον τοῦ ζῆν καὶ μαθητὴς καὶ διάκονος. disciple and deacon.
Collins elaborates (Collins, Diakonia, 114), that the patriarch Joseph is not actually a spokes-
man of God.
25 In fact, Josephus, in his book Life of Josephus, presents the divine providence as acting
throughout his life. He presents himself as the only person capable of communicating the
events of the Jewish war because he has been educated in Jewish values and he had lived
through the events he describes as well as knowing the Roman way of presenting these mat-
ters to his audience. Mirguet, “Flavius Josèphe construit son image,” 43–44.
26 Bilde, Flavius Josephus, 54.
27 Collins (Diakonia, 111–15) highlights the fact that even if this role of the dream inter-
preter is true, Josephus presents himself most of all as “the spokesman of the Jewish deity.”
Collins, Diakonia, 114.
28 Robert Karl Gnuse, Dreams and Dream Reports in the Writings of Josephus: A Traditio-
Historical Analysis (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 140.

29 Collins (Diakonia, 128) describes the deacons, in Ant. 7.201 and 224, as “recounting
messages and missions on behalf of persons in high standing.” Thus, these deacons act as
messengers of highly placed people in society. The word διάκονος, however, does not function
as a noun in Ant. 7.201 but as an adjectival attribute (πιστοὺς […] διακόνους παῖδας). Therefore,
the duty is not that of the deacon but at least partly that of a servant/errand boy (παῖς).
30 Collins argues that in these three cases we are dealing with the prophet’s personal atten-
dant. (Diakonia, 299–300 n. 1).

282 Anssi Voitila
Ant. 9.54–55 ἅμα δὲ ἕῳ τοῦτο μαθὼν, ὁ At the break of dawn, the prophet’s
τοῦ προφήτου διάκονος καὶ ὅτι ζητοῦσιν deacon learned of this, and that his
οἱ πολέμιοι λαβεῖν Ἐλισσαῖον ἐδήλωσεν enemies were seeking to take Elisha,
αὐτῷ μετὰ βοῆς καὶ ταραχῆς δραμὼν he came running to him, and crying
πρὸς αὐτόν. ὁ δὲ τὸν θεράποντα μὴ aloud, told him of it; but he encour-
δεδιέναι παρεθάρρυνε καὶ τὸν θεόν, ᾧ aged his servant, not to be afraid and
συμμάχῳ καταφρονῶν ἀδεὴς ἦν, told to beseech God with whom as ally
παρεκάλει τῷ διακόνῳ πρὸς τὸ λαβεῖν he could scorn the enemy without fear,
αὐτὸν εὔελπι θάρσος ἐμφανίσαι τὴν αὑτοῦ and to make manifest to his deacon his
δύναμιν καὶ παρουσίαν, ὡς δυνατόν. power and presence, so far as was pos-
sible, in order that he might take hope
and courage.
Now, one could well argue that deacon here means a well-established post as a
servant, but when one looks at the context more closely one notices that the post
of the student and that of the deacon are terminable, that is, at Elijah’s lifetime.
Probably the writer did not necessarily think in such a complex way, rather El-
isha probably defined himself, in Josephus’ terms, still after Elijah’s death, as his
disciple and deacon: Elisha had a call for his lifetime. In this way, the deaconship
of Elisha does not appear only as a servant/attendant position, as Collins has it,
but Elisha-deacon is presented as a pupil of his master as well, an intermediary
of Elijah’s message after Elijah has been taken away. The genitive “of Elijah”
(student and deacon) surely defines the owner, the one who is served, and from
whom one learns; in addition, the genitive expresses the source of learning, from
whom the teaching comes and who serves as the primary agent.
In paragraph Ant. 9.54–55, the deacon’s assignment seems permanent, a posi-
tion of servant. It is juxtaposed with the word θεράπων and the context does not
mention any assignment or ordering; the word deacon functions clearly as an
epithet.
Similarly, the following cases appear to speak about deacons as having a more
permanent position of a servant. It is interesting, though, that these deacons are
related to table service, to a kind of waiter. Ant. 6.52 tells about the prophet
Samuel who tells certain διάκονοι to serve Saul a king’s portion of the meal.
Ant. 6.52 ὁ δὲ προφήτης ἀγαγὼν αὐτὸν However, the prophet led him into the
ἐπὶ τὴν ἑστίαν κατακλίνει καὶ τὸν banquet, and made him sit down, him
ἀκόλουθον ἐπάνω τῶν κεκλημένων· and those who followed him, above
οὗτοι δ᾿ ἦσαν ἑβδομήκοντα τὸν the invited guests, who were seventy
ἀριθμόν·προστάσσει δὲ τοῖς διακόνοις in number and ordered the deacons to
παραθεῖναι τῷ Σαούλῳ μερίδα βασιλικήν. set the royal portion before Saul.
The duties of the deacons in the text may of course be understood in the same
way as those in the above mentioned sacred meal of the Therapeutae or in the

Greek cultic meals. That is, deacons serve as waiters because someone has given
this task to them; in the Greek text, the order is given to the cook, this arrange-
ment may be in accordance with Greek custom. The meal is called ἑστίασις,
which means a public or tribal meal,31 often offered by one citizen to others. But
the text does not confirm this. Maybe it was considered self-evident? Similarly,
at the meal of the Persian king, the king’s deacons again serve his guests at the
table (Ant. 11.188). This banquet of the Persian king cannot be a cult meal al-
though the expression to give the commission is the same: the primary agent
tells the deacons to serve (προσέταττεν τοῖς διακόνοις).
Still more difficult, in this respect, is the instance of Queen Esther’s deacon
(Ant. 11.228).32
Ant. 11.228 ἡ δὲ Ἐσθήρα ἐπέστειλεν But Esther sent the same deacon back
μὲν τῷ Μαρδοχαίῳ τὸν αὐτὸν πέμψασα to Mordecai ordering him to go to
διάκονον εἰς Σοῦσα πορευθέντι τοὺς ἐκεῖ Susa, and to gather the Jews there to-
Ἰουδαίους εἰς ἐκκλησίαν συναγαγεῖν καὶ gether in an assembly and ask them to
νηστεῦσαι πάντων ἀποσχομένους ὑπὲρ fast and abstain from all food for three
αὐτῆς ἐπὶ τρεῖς ἡμέρας τὸ δ᾿ αὐτὸ days, on her behalf, and Esther promis
ποιήσασα μετὰ τῶν θεραπαινίδων ed to do the same with her servant-
maidens.
Namely, the deacon is defined as the same deacon (ὁ αὐτὸς διάκονος) and he is
carrying messages or written documents between the queen and Mordecai. In
the previous context, the only person carrying messages is the eunuch Hatach.
It is logical, though not entirely certain, that it is about the same eunuch, who is
now characterised as a deacon. He has a message to carry in the situation de-
scribed, but he is a eunuch.
In the metaphorical sense, deacon refers to a person who has put forward a
process or chain of actions by doing something. He or she has served as a chan-
nel for these actions to take place. In Ant. 1.298, Rachel has served as a deacon
in a chain of actions when she led Jacob to Laban’s, her father’s house, so that
31 See, Jean Rudhardt, Notions fondamentales de la pensée religieuse et actes constitutifs du
culte dans la Grèce Classique (Deuxième édition; Paris: Picard, 1992), 159; Robert Parker,
Athenian Religion: A History (Oxford: Clarendon, 1996), 103. Together with the deacons
mentioned in Ant. 11.188 (“waiters at royal banquet”) these deacons are characterised as dea-
cons “in high places” by Collins (Diakonia, 128–29, 300 n. 1). It must be noted, however, that
the banquet Saul attends in Ant. 6.52 is not really a royal banquet and that the deacons were
not there originally for Saul, since Saul enters the meal extempore. Further, Josephus calls the
occassion ἑστίασις, a religious meal. Therefore, the deacons, more likely, are to be taken as
waiters in a cultic service.
32 For the use of the term in Esther, see Bart J. Koet, “Diakonie ist nicht nur Armenfür-
sorge. Neuere exegetische Erkenntnisse zum Verständnis von Diakonie,” in Lernen wäre eine
schöne Alternative: Religionsunterricht in theologischer und erziehungswissenschaftlicher
Verantwortung (eds. Christoph Gramzow, Heide Liebold and Martin Sander-Gaiser; FS Hel-
mut Hanisch: Leipzig: Evangelische Verlag-Anstalt, 2008), 303–18.

284 Anssi Voitila
Jacob became attracted to her and they married, had children, and so on. In Ant.
11.255, Haman gave the king advice which the king considered very useful and
this led the king to give honours to Mordecai. Thus, Haman is the deacon of this
matter. In Ant. 12.187, Josephus takes his readers to Ptolemaic Egypt, where
Joseph son of Tobias was a notable Jewish person. In this text, he asks his broth-
er to hide his transgression of the law, and to assist him in his satisfying his de-
sires, that is to be a good deacon in this matter. This instance differs from the
others in that the process includes a clear primary agent.
Ant. 12.187 καὶ δειπνῶν παρὰ τῷ When Joseph was dining with the king,
βασιλεῖ, ὀρχηστρίδος εἰσελθούσης εἰς a very beautiful dancing-girl came into
τὸ συμπόσιον εὐπρεποῦς ἐρασθεὶς τῷ the banquet, having fallen in love with
ἀδελφῷ τοῦτο μηνύει, παρακαλῶν her, he revealed this to his brother and
αὐτόν, ἐπεὶ καὶ νόμῳ κεκώλυται παρὰ begged him, since a Jew was forbidden
Ἰουδαίοις ἀλλοφύλῳ πλησιάζειν by their law from having an inter-
γυναικί, συγκρύψαντα τὸ ἁμάρτημα καὶ course with a foreign woman, to help
διάκονον ἀγαθὸν γενόμενον παρασχεῖν him in concealing the transgression
αὐτῷ ὡστ᾿ ἐκπλῆσαι τὴν ἐπιθυμίαν. and to become his good deacon by al-
lowing him to satisfy his desire.
Moreover, in J.W. 4.388, the Zealots, at the end of the Jewish War, are presented
as the deacons of a prophecy (of God?) when helping the war to come to its end
– a Roman victory – which fulfils the prediction made by Josephus.
3. Conclusion
In the texts studied here, the term διάκονος indicates a person, in reality or spo-
ken of figuratively, who acts as an intermediary, that is, a secondary agent, be-
tween the primary agent and a beneficiary, a third person or group of persons,
yet again actually or figuratively. The power relationship between the deacon
and the primary agent is usually presented as a deacon being sent, invited, used,
or ordered to perform the task desired. This performing usually takes place
only temporarily, for a limited time. In Josephus, we encounter instances, open
to interpretation, where the word seems to imply a more permanent position,
sometimes being a synonym to other words meaning “servant.”
Deacon embodies for the language user and for his audience a positive term;
it does not seem be associated with a low position or slavery – meanings that
would bring negative connotations to the mind of the writer and his audience.
Thus, it might evoke, in the minds of language users, a servant of higher stand-
ard. It is used of the angels, the prophets, the king’s servants, of the reputable
young men serving at the cultic meals etc. If it relates to something negative, it

is not an inherent part of the semantic content of the deacon-term, rather it is

something associated with the first agent (his motives, purposes, actions) and
with the results of the task the deacon has performed.
Finally, it may be concluded that the conceptualisation of the split agency
presented in the introduction of this article (and pictured graphically) functions
very well for the description of deacons’ agency in the texts of Philo and Jose-
phus. It must, however, be noted that the identity of the primary agent is not
always brought out clearly, particularly in the figurative instances.

Appendices

Abbreviations
Aug Augustinianum
AusBr Australian Biblical Review
BBB Bonner biblische Beiträge
BEThL Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensum
BiTeu Bibliotheca Teubneriana
BTB Biblical Theology Bulletin
CIL Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum
CRINT Compendia Rerum Iudaicarum ad Novum Testamentum
CSEL Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum
CUFr Collection des universités de France
EDCS Epigraphik Datenbank Clauss Slaby http://db.edcs.eu/epigr/epi.
php?s_sprache=en
EPRO Études préliminaires aux religions orientales dans l’Empire Romain
FS Festschrift
HAW Handbuch der Altertumswissenschaft
ICC International Critical Commentary
IG Inscriptiones Graecae
JBL Journal of Biblical Literature
JSNT Journal for the Study of the New Testament
JSNT SS Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series
JSPSup Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha Supplement Series
JTS Journal of Theological Studies
KuD Kerygma und Dogma
NCB New Century Bible
NICNT New International Commentary on the New Testament
ÖTK Ökumenischer Taschenbuchkommentar zum Neuen Testament
RGRW Religions in the Graeco-Roman World
SC Sources Chrétiennes
SP Sacra Pagina
TANZ Texte und Arbeiten zum neutestamentlichen Zeitalter
TDNT Theological Dictionary of the New Testament. Trans. Geoffrey W.
Bromiley. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964
ThQ Theologische Quartalschrift
TRE Theologische Realenzyklopädie
TWNT Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament. Edited by G.
Kittel and G. Friedrich, Stuttgart, 1932–1979
VC Vigiliae christianae
WBC Word Biblical Commentary
WMANT Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament

Authors
Joke H.A. Brinkhof (*1957) studied theology in Amsterdam (Catholic Univer-

sity of Theology, Amsterdam). She had various positions in the dioceses of Rot-
terdam and Utrecht, mainly in pastoral management. After that she taught New
Testament successively at Fontys University of Applied Sciences and at Tilburg
University (Catholic School of Theology). During her career she gave courses to
groups of volunteers in the church and guided them in their work. She obtained
her doctorate in 2015 with a dissertation on Acts 8:5–24, about the mission of
Philip and the confrontation of both Philip and Peter with Simon the magician
and the world of the Gentiles. This encounter with Simon has consequences for
Peter’s dedication to the peoples.
John N. Collins (*1931) lives in Seaford, Melbourne (Australia). Before retire-
ment, he taught history and theology of ministry at Yarra Theological Union in
Melbourne and has been a guest speaker at theological faculties in Germany,
Scandinavia, Britain, and the Netherlands. He has a long-standing interest in
Christian ministry: its biblical, patristic, and theological roots, 20th and 21st
century transformations, its ecumenical dimensions, and contemporary possi-
bilities for renewed forms of ministry. These interests arose from his doctoral
thesis in New Testament Studies at University of London King’s College. His
publications include Diakonia: Re-interpreting the Ancient Sources [1990; re-
issued 2009], which is based on his doctoral dissertation; Are All Christians
Ministers? [1992]; Deacons and the Church: Making connections between old
and new [2002]; and Diakonia studies: critical issues in ministry [2014].
John Granger Cook (*1955) received his PhD from Emory University in the area
of New Testament Studies with doctoral minors in Hebrew Bible and ancient
philosophy. After serving six years in a Presbyterian parish outside of Ashe-
ville, North Carolina he did a post-doctoral project in earliest Christianity with
Vernon K. Robbins at Emory University. He then took a position at LaGrange
College in LaGrange, Ga., USA where he is a full professor in the religion and
philosophy program. His published works include: A Text Linguistic Approach
to the Gospel of Mark (Scholars Press, Society of Biblical Literature), The Inter-
pretation of the New Testament in Greco-Roman Paganism (Mohr Siebeck),
The Interpretation of the Old Testament in Greco-Roman Paganism (Mohr
Siebeck), Roman Attitudes toward the Christians: From Claudius to Hadrian

292 Authors
(Mohr Siebeck), and Crucifixion in the Mediterranean World (Mohr Siebeck).

Currently he is working on a monograph to be entitled: Empty Tomb, Resurrec-
tion, and Apotheosis (Mohr Siebeck).
Paul Foster (*1966) was awarded the D.Phil. in 2003 from the University of Ox-
ford, and is currently Professor of New Testament and Early Christianity at the
University of Edinburgh. His recent publications include Colossians – Black’s
New Testament Commentaries (Bloomsbury, 2016) and The Gospel of Peter:
Introduction, Critical Edition and Commentary (Brill, 2010).
Mark Grundeken (*1984; Dr. theol. 2013, KU Leuven), studied Theology and
Religious Studies in Leiden, Oxford (with a Huygens Scholarship) and Leuven
(2002–2008) and worked as research assistant of Professor Joseph Verheyden at
the KU Leuven (2008–2013) and of Professor Cilliers Breytenbach at the Hum-
boldt-Universität zu Berlin (2013–2014). Since 2014, he has been Akademischer
Rat at the Albert-Ludwigs-Universität Freiburg and assistant of Professor
Ferdinand Prostmeier. He has published the monograph Community Building
in the Shepherd of Hermas: A Critical Study of Some Key Aspects (SVigChr 131;
Leiden: Brill, 2015), the volume Early Christian Communities between Ideal
and Reality (ed. with Joseph Verheyden; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), and
several articles on early Christianity. He is currently writing a monograph on
the Letter to the Ephesians (his Habilitationsschrift).
Anni Hentschel (*1972) is docent of New Testament at the Julius-Maximilians-
Universität Würzburg. She received her PhD in New Testament Studies at the
Friedrich-Alexander-Universität Nürnberg-Erlangen in 2005. She has publish
ed a lot of articles and two monographs on diakonia, deacons and ministry.
Currently she is conducting research on the foot-washing scene in the gospel of
John.
Clayton N. Jefford (*1955) is Professor of Scripture at the Saint Meinrad Semi-
nary and School of Theology in St. Meinrad, Ind., where he has served on fac-
ulty since 1989. He is most widely known for his publications on the Apostolic
Fathers, with his most recent volumes including The Epistle to Diognetus (with
the Fragment of Quadratus) (Oxford 2013) and Didache: The Teaching of the
Twelve Apostles (Polebridge 2013), as well as his edited volumes (with Jonathan
A. Draper), The Didache: A Missing Piece of the Puzzle in Early Christianity
(SBL 2015) and (with D. Jeffrey Bingham), Intertextuality in the Second Centu-
ry (Brill 2016). At present he is writing a commentary on the Didache for the
Yale Anchor Bible series.
Bart J. Koet (*1955) is Professor of New Testament Studies and Early Christian
Literature at the Tilburg School of Catholic Theology (the Netherlands). His
main field of research is the way interpretation of biblical traditions is used,

Authors 293
particularly in the New Testament (especially Luke-Acts and Paul), Rabbinic

scriptures and early Christian literature. He pays special attention in his re-
search to the connection between interpretation of Scripture and the phenome-
non of dreams. Over the past few years he has also written extensively about
leadership in the early church. The last book he edited was Multiple Teachers in
Biblical Texts, Leuven, CBET 88, Peeters, 2017 (together with his colleague
Archibald L. H. M. van Wieringen). A book about Augustine and his views on
deacons will be published in 2019 by Brill.
Anni Maria Laato (*1963) is adjunct professor in systematic theology at Åbo
Akademi University and docent in patristic theology in Helsinki University.
She studied classical philology at the University of Turku, and theology at Åbo
Akademi University, where she received her PhD in 1998. She has published on
patristic theology, ecumenics, and relations between Christians and Jews. She is
currently the chair of Societas Patristica Fennica.
Margaret Mowczko (*1961) is an independent scholar from Australia with a spe-
cialisation in early Christian and Jewish studies. She received the Paul Dovico
Prize from Macquarie University for her thesis on Phoebe and the role of dea-
cons in the early church. She has published scholarly and popular works related
to the biblical theology of Christian egalitarianism and women in the church.
She blogs at MargMowczko.com.
Edwina Murphy (*1970) is Lecturer in Church History at Morling College
(Australian College of Theology and University of Divinity) in Sydney, Aus-
tralia. She previously served as a Baptist pastor. Her research interests revolve
around Cyprian and the early Christian interpretation of Scripture. Edwina’s
publications include The Bishop and the Apostle: Cyprian’s Pastoral Exegesis of
Paul (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2018) and scholarly articles on aspects of Cyprian’s
use of Scripture. She has also published on the relevance of the early church for
Christian thought and practice today.
Esko Ryökäs (*1953) is adjunct professor in systematic theology at University of
Eastern Finland in Joensuu, where he is also docent of the same topic. At Åbo
Akademi University he is docent in practical theology. He has studied theology
at Åbo Akademi University, where he received his PhD in 1992. He also has a
licentiate degree in Sociology from University of Eastern Finland. He has pub-
lished many monographs and articles about diaconia (Christian social practice),
theoretically and practically. His most recent publications are around how the
Diaconia of modern churches is (or is not) based on the traditions and sources of
the early church. He is currently the chair of the Finnish Association for Re-
search on Diaconia.

294 Authors
Serafim Seppälä (*1970) is professor of Systematic Theology and patristics at the

University of Eastern Finland. He received his PhD in Oriental Studies from
the University of Helsinki (Faculty of Arts, 2002). He has published exhaus-
tively on Syriac spirituality, Mariology, Byzantine aesthetics, Byzantine and
Rabbinic angelology, the idea of Jerusalem in Judaism, Christianity and Islam,
and the cultural heritage of the Armenian genocide. Currently he is working
with Christian and Islamic polemics from the seventh to tenth centuries.
Peter-Ben Smit (*1979) is professor of contextual biblical interpretation in the
Dom Hélder Câmara chair at Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam and professor by
special appointment of Ancient Catholic Church Structures and the History
and Doctrine of the Old Catholic Churches at Utrecht University. He is also a
research affiliate at the University of Pretoria (Faculty of Theology). He receiv
ed his PhD in New Testament from the University of Bern (2005), the degree of
Habilitation in Church History and the History of Old Catholicism from the
same institution in 2009 and his ThD in Anglican Studies from General Theo-
logical Seminary (New York, 2011).
Lauri Thurén (*1961) is professor of biblical studies at the University of Eastern
Finland since 2002. He is also docent of New Testament exegesis at the Åbo
Akademi University, from which he received his PhD in New Testament 1990.
He has studied classical philology at the University of Turku, Finland; rhetoric
and biblical exegesis at the Uppsala University, Sweden, and Graduate Theolog-
ical Union, Berkeley. He has published several monographs and articles on the
Catholic and Pauline epistles, using a modern rhetorical perspective. His latest
monograph is Parables Unplugged–Reading the Lukan Parables in Their Rhe-
torical Context (Fortress, 2014).
Anssi Voitila (*1958) received his Doctor of Theology from University of Hel-
sinki (2001) and has been adjunct professor (Docent/Privatdozent) at the Uni-
versity of Eastern Finland since 2007. He was Senior Lecturer in Biblical lan-
guages and Studies at the University of Eastern Finland in 2003. He is a parti
cipant in the project “Changes in Sacred Texts and Traditions” (CSTT) (Center
of Excellence in Research, Academy of Finland) at the University of Helsinki.
His research interests span the language of the Septuagint, semantic change, and
the book of Ben Sira. His publications include Présent et imparfait de l’indicatif
dans le Pentateuque grec : une étude sur la syntaxe de traduction (2001).
Munib Younan (*1950) is the former President (2010–2017) of the Lutheran
World Federation (LWF). He is past president (2004–2010) of the Fellowship of
the Middle East Evangelical Churches (FMEEC) and provides leadership for
the ecumenical Patriarchs and Heads of Local Christian Churches in Jerusalem,
as well as for the Council of Religious Institutions in the Holy Land (CRIHL),
comprised of leaders of Jerusalem’s Jewish, Muslim, and Christian communi-

Authors 295
ties. His term as acting Bishop of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Jordan
and the Holy Land (ELCJHL) was from December 1998–January 2018. In au-
tumn 2017, he received the Niwano Peace Price (Tokyo, Japan). He also has an
honorary doctorate from Wartburg College in Iowa, USA (2001) and from Uni-
versity of Münster, Germany (2014).

Acknowledgements
The following articles have already been published and are reprinted here with
the kind permission of the original rights holders:
Anni Hentschel, “Paul’s Apostleship and the Concept of διακονία in 2 Corin

thians,” in Diakonia, Diaconiae Diaconato. Semantica e storia nei Padri della
Chiesa. XXXVIII Incontro di studiosi dell’ antichità cristiana. Roma, 7–9
maggio, 2009 (eds. Vittorio Grossi, Bart J. Koet and Paul van Geest; Studia
Ephemeridis Augustinianum 117; Roma: Augustinianum, 2010), 15–28. Here
reprinted with permission of the president of the Augustinianum.
Bart J. Koet, “Luke 10,38–42 and Acts 6 ,1–7: a Lucan Diptych on Diakonia,” in
Studies on the Greek Bible (eds. Jeremy Corley and Vincent Skemp; FS Francis
T. Gignac: CBQ Monograph Series 44; Washington, D.C.: Catholic Biblical
Association of America, 2008), 163–85. Here reprinted with permission of the
editor of the CBQ monograph series.
Bart J. Koet, “Like a Royal Wedding. On the Significance of diakonos in John
2,1–11,” in Diakonia, Diaconiae Diaconato. Semantica e storia nei Padri della
Chiesa. XXXVIII Incontro di studiosi dell’ antichità cristiana. Roma, 7–9
maggio, 2009 (eds. Vittorio Grossi, Bart J. Koet and Paul van Geest; Studia
Ephemeridis Augustinianum 117; Roma: Augustinianum, 2010), 39–52. Here
reprinted with permission of the president of the Augustinianum.
Bart J. Koet, “Isaiah 60:17 as a Key for Understanding the Two-fold Ministry of
ἐπισκόποι and διάκονοι according to 1 Clement (1 Clem. 42:5),” in The Scriptures
of Israel in Jewish and Christian Tradition (eds. Bart J. Koet, Steve Moyise and
Jos Verheyden; FS Maarten J. J. Menken. SupplNT 148: Leiden: Brill, 2013),
345–62. Here reprinted with permission of Brill.
Bart J. Koet, “The Bishop and His Deacons, Ignatius of Antioch’s View on
Ministry: Two-fold or Three-fold,” in Sanctifying Texts, Transforming Rituals
(eds. Paul van Geest, Marcel Poorthuis and Els Rose; FS Gerard Rouwhorst:
Leiden: Brill, 2017), 171–90. Here reprinted with permission of Brill.

Index of Ancient Sources
(made by Alette Warringa, MA)
1. Hebrew Bible and Septuagint

Genesis 15:2 184n32
2:2 81n7 17 183
6:2 277 17:16–17 80n4
7:2–3 81n7 27:15–23 49
22:11 55n53 33:9 80n4
41:29–43 49
41:53 81n7 Deuteronomy
49:28 80n4 1 49n18
1:9–18 49
Exodus 1:23 80n4
2:16 81n7 4:1 53n39
3:4 55 5:1 60
8:13–16 49 5:1–3 53n39
12:15 81n7 6:5 53, 62
16:5 49n18 6:24–25 53n39
18 49n18 8:1 53n39
20:18 (LXX) 278 10:18 58
22:22 58 11:8 53n39
32 278 11:13 53n38, 60, 60n76
34:32–35 109 11:22 53n38
12:1 53n39
Leviticus 14:29 58
14 81n7 19:9 53n38
19:18 53 30:16 53n38
25 81n7 31:12–13 53n39
Numbers Joshua
4:16 184 3:12 80n4
11:1 49n18, 56 4:1–8 80n4
11:1–25 49 4:2 80n4
11:24–30 49n18 24 84
12:1–8 258
12:3 (LXX) 152n20 Judges
12:6 256n6, 258n12 19:29 80n4
12:6–8 258

300 Index of Ancient Sources
2 Samuel Psalms
17:15–29 281 69:26 80
109 [108 in LXX] 152n19
I Kings 109:8 80
17:1 58 138:7–10 185n36
17:8–24 58
4:29 81n9 Proverbs
5:4 (LXX) 126n46 10:4(LXX) 278n18
10:4a 41
2 Chronicles
29:20 184 Wisdom of Solomon
183n27
1 Esdras
1:15 (LXX) 183n28 Sirach (LXX) 58, 183n27
2:12 93n10 6:10 58
6:18 93n10 14:10 58
29:26 58
Nehemiah 31:12 58
9:32 184 40:29 58
45:24 93n10
Tobit
2:2 58 Isaiah 153, 177–192, 209
1:17 58
Esther (LXX) 41, 72–74, 77, 184, 283 3:5 184n32
1 72, 73 6:9 57
1:1–8 72 6:9–10 57
1:4 73 53 22, 22n18
1:5 72 53:7 184n32
1:8 73 53:12 (LXX) 20
1:10 41, 73n40 54:4–8 72n30
1:16 184 56–66 183
2:2 41, 74 58:3 184n32
6:1 41 60 183, 189
6:3 41 60:1–9 183
6:5 41, 74 60:10–16 183
7:8 72 60:11 184
60:17 (LXX) 153, 153n23, n25, 177–191,
1 Maccabees 209, 209n30, 260n24
1:51 184 60:17b 184n32
11:58 41 60:17–20 183
60–62 183
2 Maccabees 62:4–5 72n30
3:4 93n10
14–15 258n13 Jeremiah
2 72
Job 13, 180 24:1 184
4:16–5:5 180 41:21 41:21

Index of Ancient Sources 301
Baruch Joel
1:9 184 2:28–34
(= Joel 3:1–5) 258, 258n15, 259n16
Ezekiel
16 72n30 Zephaniah
20:5–44 84 1:8 184
Daniel 183n27 Malachi

7:10 230 1:11 212n36
1:14 212n36
Hosea
1–3 72n30
2. Other Jewish Literature
m. Abot 61 11.255 284

1:2 58n65, 61 11.302–347 258n13
1:4 55n49 12.187 284
1:6 5n12 15.224 41, 72n29
1:17 61 18.193 41, 72n29
Aristeas Jewish War/De Bello Judaico

92–95 183n28 3.351–3.353 281
3.354 170n20, 273, 280–281
2 Baruch (Syriac Apocalypse) 3.400 281
29,3.5–6 72 3.401–2 170n20
4.388 284
Flavius Josephus 4.626 280, 281
Jewish Antiquities/Antiquitates Judaicae 4.629 281
1.298 283
2.65 41, 72n29
6.52 41, 72n29, 282–283, 4 Maccabees
283n31 9:17 41
7.165 41, 72n29
7.201 281n29 Philo 274–285, esp. 274–279
7.224 281, 281n29
8.169 41, 72n29 On the Confusion of Tongues/
8.354 281 De Confusione Linguarum
9.54–55 281, 282 194 278–279
10.53 184n34
10.187 184n34 The Contemplative Life/
10.242 41, 72n29 De Vita Contemplativa
11.163 41, 72n29 34.64–71 39–40
11.166 41, 72n29 §§64ff. 275
11.188 41, 72n29, 283n31 §65 275
11.228 283 §67 275, 275n5

§§70–71 276 On the Posterity of Cain and his Exile

§§71–72 275 165 278, 279
§71 275
§72 275 Psalms of Solomon
§75 275–276 233
Ps 12:7 233n22
On the Giants/De Gigantibus Ps 17:23 233n22
12 277, 277n15
14–16 277, 281 Qumran
Several texts 183n28
On Joseph/De Iosepho
241 278 Sifre to Deuteronomy
60, 61
On Moses
2:199 279 Targum Sheni
72
3. New Testament
Matthew 6 22, 22n21

4:11 232n16, n17 6:17–29 72n31
8:14–15 99n37 6:30–44 52
9:20 80n4 6:45–8:26 52
11:25 171n27, 173 7:24–31 52
13:14–15 57 7:28 58
15:27 58 8:22–10:52 19
17:1–9 267 8:27–16:20 19n9
19:5 56 8:27–30 52
21 31 8:31 19
21:12 58 8:35 28n39
25 37, 38 9:2 267
25:29 56 9:2–10 267
25:31 ff. 35n3 9:31 19
25:31–32 39 9:35 26, 28n39
25:31–40 208–209 10:7 56
25:31–44 74 10:32–45 19
25:31–46 31, 32n1, 35 10:33–34 19
25:44 31–43, 74 10:41–45 22n19
27:55–56 98 10:42–44 18, 21
28:6 237n40 10:42–45 17–29
10:43–44 28, 28n39
Mark 10:45 18, 20n11, 22n19, 24,
1:13 41, 174 25n33, 26, 27, 34, 35,
1:30–31 99n37 171n27
4:1–20 57 11:15 58
5:25 80n4 12:40 58n67
5:42 80n4 14:36 27

14:56–57 83 9:48 54
16:5 267 9:51–19:28 52
9:52–53 54
Luke 10 48, 60
1:3–4 79 10:6 54
1:8 232 10:9 54
2:28 54 10:10 54
2:42 80n4 10:16 54
3:3 85n14 10:23–24 55
3–4 82n11 10:25–37 53
4:18–19 85n13 10:25–42 48, 87
4:18 85n14 10:27 62
4:19 85n14 10:38 55
4:25–26 58 10:38–42 45–63 (esp. 52–56,
4:38 88n22 57–60), 66, 66n5, 71n25,
4:39 59n74 177n1
4:43–44 85n13 10:39 56
4:44 85n14 10:40 52n32, 56, 98n37, 174, 232,
5:3 88n22 232n16, n17, 277n17
5:4 88n22 11:1–18:30 53
5:5 88n22 12:3 85n14
5:8 88n22 14:1–24 62n84
5:10 88n22 15:4 56
5:28 56 16:21 58
6:13 80, 81n5 17:5 81n5
6:14 88n22 18:1–8 58n67
6:47 60 18:18 60
7:11–17 58n67 18:31 81n6
8:1 81n6 19:23 58
8:1–3 59, 95n22 19:26 56
8:1–15 57 21:1–4 (esp. 21:4) 58n67
8:2–3 98 22:3 81n6
8:3 46n7, 59n74 22:14 81n5
8:13 54 22:20 84
8:15 55 22:21 58
8:21 55, 60 22:24–26 18
8:35 55 22:24–27 49n19
8:42–43 80n4 22:27 70
9:1 81n6 22:30 58
9:1–6 85n13 22:31 83n11, 88n22
9:2 85n14 22:31–32 88
9:10 81n5 22:32 89
9:12 81n6 23:34 55, 84, 88n22
9:17 52 23:46 84
9:17–18 52 24:10 81n5
9:18 52 24:45–49 90
9:28–36 267 24:47 85n14, 88
9:29 267

John 4:35 81n5

2 66, 67, 67n8, 70, 71, 75–77 4:36 81n5
2:1–11 65–77 4:37 81n5
2:5 232n16 5 63, 83
2:6 65, 73, 76n54 5:1–2 59
2:6–9 75n44 5:2 81n5
2:9 66, 232n16 5:12 51, 81n5
2:11 67n9, 73 5:12–16 83n11, 89n25
8 69 5:14 83
12:2 98n37 5:16 83
12:3 98n37 5:18 51, 81n5
12:26 66, 70n18, n21, 73 5:29 51, 81n5
13 17 5:40 51, 81n5
13:16 106 5:42 50, 51, 62, 238
21 69 6 4n7, n8, 8n24, 9, 10n38,
11n42, 17, 36, 45–63,
Acts 71n25, 84, 86, 104, 152,
1:2 81n5 153n22, 189, 189n58, 222,
1:5 85, 86n16 261, 263n35
1:6 85 6:1 49n18, 50, 51, 83
1:8 84, 88, 90 6:1ff. 70
1:12 89n24 6:1–3 83
1:14 57 6:1–4 52n32
1:14–20 80 6:1–6 11, 66, 79, 81, 182, 104n4,
1:15–26 152n19, 261 189, 208, 222
1:17 32, 50 6:1–7 45–63 (esp. 46–52 and
1:20 152n19 56–60), 87n18, 104, 177n1,
1:21–22 80, 90 226, 261, 277n17
1:22 81 6:2 51, 56, 59, 81n6, 87,
1:25 32, 50, 200n28 171n27
1:26 81n5, 83n11 6:3 59n70, 81, 82
2 259n16 6:4 50, 56, 57, 81, 232n18
2:1–3 261 6:5 83, 222
2:1–4 85 6:5–6 4n7
2:17 84, 259 6:6 81n5
2:17–18a 258 6:7 48, 56, 57, 83
2:17–21 258 6:8 85
2:37 81n5 6:8–8:2 83
2:38–41 85 6:9 51
2:42 57, 57n65, 81n5 6:13 83
2:43 81n5 6:15 83
2:46 58n65 7–8 80
2:47 83 7:58–60 84
3:1–10 83n11, 89n25 7:58 84, 89
4:4 83 8 84, 85, 264
4:13 129 8:1 81n5, 84, 85n13, n14, 89
4:32–37 83 8:1–5 51
4:33 81n5 8:1–40 83

8:4 85 12:12 96n24

8:4–12 85n13 12:25 32, 50n27
8:4–40 79–90 (esp. 84–86) 13:1 191, 261
8:5 84, 85, 85n15 13:1–3 107
8:5–13 83 13:6–12 83n11, 89
8:5–24 291 13:12 86n16
8:6 88 13:48 86n16
8:7 88 14:4 81n5, 107n13
8:8 88 14:8–10 83n11, 89n25
8:9 88, 89 14:14 81n5, 107n13, 171n27
8:9–13 87 14:20 127
8:9–17 261 14:22 89n26
8:10 88 14:23 152
8:11 88 15:2 81n5, 152
8:12 85, 89 15:4 81n5, 152
8:13 88 15:6 81n5, 152
8:13–14 85 15:7–11 89
8:14 81n5 15:13–21 261
8:14–17 85 15:21 85n15
8:14–24 83n11 15:22 81n5, 152
8:15 85 15:23 81n5, 152
8:17 85, 261, 261n29 16:4 81n5
8:21 88 16:14–15 96n24
8:26 84 16:15 86n16
8:27–39 86 16:33 86n16
8:38 85 16:34 58
8:39 85n14 16:40 96n24
8:40 84 17:4 95
9:1–6 85n13 17:12 95
9:4 55, 83n11 18:18–19 91
9:17–18 86n16 18:28 238
9:20 85n15 19:1–5 86
9:27 81n5 19:1–7 83n11
9:36–41 83n11, 89n25 19:2–7 86n16
9:43 89 19:8 89n26
10 89 19:11–12 83n11, 89n25
10:5 88n22 19:13 85n15
10:18 88n22 19:21 51
10:32 88n22 19:23–40 83n11, 89n25
10:34–43 85n13 20 152, 197n18
10:37 85n15 20:9–10 83n11, 89n25
10:42 85n15 20:17 127, 152
10:44–48 86n16 20:17–38 152, 16
11:1 81n5 20:24 32, 50
11:13 88n22 20:25 85n15, 89n26
11:27–28 261 20:28 152
11:29 32, 50n27 21:8 63, 79–90, 225, 225n24,
12:6–10 83n11, 89n25 261

21:8–9 90 2:17 112

21:10–11 261 3 161
21:18–25 261 3–4 151
21:19 32, 50 3:4–17 152
22:3 55, 59 3:5 97, 152, 204n5, 273
22:7 55 3:6–8 171n27
22:16 86n16 3:8 171n27
22:20 84 3:9 152, 171n27, 204n5
23:11 51 4:1 152, 204n5
26:14 55 4:9 152
28:16–31 51 4:17 100n43
28:23 89n26 4:18 121
28:25c-27 57 9:5 171n27
28:31 85n15, 89n2 9:14 112
10:30 121
Romans 10:33 158
1:1 126 12:4–5 222, 224n21
2:13 62n85 12:4–11 109
3:8 121 12:4–31 102n51
11:1 151 12:28 261
11:13 32 15:5–8 107, 113, 115
12:4–8 102n51 16:10 100n43
12:6–8 102n51 16:10–11 91n2
12:7 32, 109, 232n18 16:15 188n54
12:8 94n12 16:15 ff. 96n26
13:6 231 16:19 95n24
15:8 97
15:16 231 2 Corinthians
15:23–24 99 1:1 151
15:25 37, 97 2:13 92
15:25–26 238 2:14–6:13 108
15:28 99 2:14–7:4 10n37, 111n24
15:30–32 46 2:14–16 110
16:1 58n66, 97, 128, 232 2:17 112n25
16:1f 114n30 3:1 107, 121
16:1–2 91n2, 92 3:1–3 108
16:2 58n66, 91n2, 94, 94n13, 3:2–5:21 112
221 3:3 173
16:3–5 95n24 3:5f 109
16:17–20 121 3:6 109, 273
16:18 121 3–6 103
3:7 121, 171n27
1 Corinthians 3:7–11 110
1:1 151, 152n18 3:7–18 109
1:1–3 179n5 3:12 129
1:3–4 151 4:1 110
1–4 179 4:2 110
1:11 96n24 4:4 110

4:6 110 1:7 121

4:7 111 2:4 121
4:11 111 2:9 180
4:18 110 2:12 121
5:11–21 111 2:13 121
5:17–21 109 2:15–21 62n85
5:18 111 5:9 121
5:19 111 5:12 121
5:20 111 11–12 107
5:20–21 106n12 15–16 107
6:1–10 112 16–17 107
6:3 112
6:4 112n25, 171n27, 273 Ephesians
6:4a 112 2:20 104, 115
6:4b-10 112 3:7 97, 232n16, 273
8:1–6 (esp. 8:4) 46 4:11 171n27
8–9 103, 238 4:11–12 115
8:16–24 100n43 5:18 125n39
8:19 173 6:10–12 171n27, 172
8:20 173 6:19 129
8:23 106 6:21 92, 100, 154n26, 176,
9:1 46 232n16
9:12 232 6:21–22 97
10:2 121
10:10 108 Philippians
10:12 107 1:1 154, 171, 189, 201n33,
10–13 10n37, 112 205, 205n7, 221, 232,
10:13–15 121 232n16
11 103, 108, 115, 171 1:2 169
11:4 108 1:20 129
11:6 108 2:5–11 209
11:7f. 112 2:25 106, 204n5, 231
11:12–15 112 2:25–30 100n43
11:13 121 2:29 91n2
11:13f 113 3:19 121
11:14–15 97, 97n31, 113 4:2–3 175
11:15 273
11:20 108 Colossians
11:22 108, 112 1:7 97, 154n26, 161, 171,
11:23 112, 113, 170 232n16
11:23b–29 113 1:23 97, 273
12:1 108 1:24–29 115
12:7–10 114 4:7 92, 154n26, 161, 171, 176
12:12 108 4:7–9 97, 100
12–15 46 4:8–9 100n43
4:15 96n24
Galatians 107, 120, 124, 124n35 4:17 154n26
1:1 107, 204n5

1 Thessalonians 4:3 121, 125

3:2 176n68 4:4 129
4:17 171n27 4:6 97, 115, 126
5:12 94, 94n12 5:15 121
5:17 94, 94n12, 127, 216
1 Timothy 5:17–25 127
1 120, 121, 122, 125, 126 5:23 121, 125
1:1 115 5:24 121
1:3 124, 221n18 6 125
1:3–6 129 6:1–7 226
1:3–7 118 6:4 121
1:4 118 6:5 121
1:6 121 6:5–10 123
1:7 121, 123, 124 6:9 121
1:9 121 6:10 129
1:10 121 6:20 118
1:12 126, 154n26 8 123
1:19 121
1:20 121, 122 2 Timothy 209
2:7 204n5 2:9 118n6
2:8–15 119, 128 2:15 204
3 117, 119, 124, 125, 221n18, 2:18 121
261n28 3:2 121
3:1 94n12, 124n37 3:6 121
3:1–7 116, 125 3:8 121
3:1–13 5, 119, 153, 154, 261 4:4 121
3:2 199n25 4:12 100
3:3 123
3:4 94, 94n12, 171n27 Titus
3:5 94n12 1:5 127
3:6 121, 126 1:7 127
3:7 121, 162 1:10 121
3:8 117, 119, 121, 125, 128, 1:11 121
169, 171, 221, 232n16 1:11–14 121
3:8–13 115, 117–130, 225n24 1:15 121
3:9 121, 129, 129n60, 154, 1:16 121
154n26, 157, 186n42 2:3 125n39
3:10 121, 124n37, 221 3:8 94n12
3:11 121, 127, 128, 128n56, 3:12 100
171n27 3:14 94n12
3:11–12 128
3:12 94, 121, 125, 128, 221, 224,
232, 232n16 Philemon
3:13 121, 125, 126, 128, 129, 1:1–2 92n3, 95n25
221 1:2 92
4 125 1:12–13 100n43
4:1–3 119 8 129
4:2 121 10–11 162

Hebrews 59N72, 187, 188, 231 2:3 121

1:1 171n27 2:10 121
1:7 231n15 2:13 121
2:6–8 185n36 2:14 121
2:17 187n47 2:15 121
3:1 187n47 2:18 121
4:4 185n36
4:14 187n47 1 John
4:15 187n47 2:1–11 67–68
5:5 187n47
5:10 187n47 2 John
6:20 187n47 1:1 96n24
8:1–2 231n15 1:5 96n24
9:1 187n47
Jude
James 2 121
1:22–27 62n85 4 121
1:26–27 58 7–8 121
2:7 121
2:20–25 62n85 Revelation 257
1:6 247
1 Peter 2:14 121
4:4 121 2:20–22 184n31
5:1–4 127 3:5 267
5:2 119 4:4 265
5:5–6 127 7:9–14 267
21:22–27 184n31
2 Peter
2:1 121
4. Other Early Christian Literature
Acta SS Perpetuae et Felicitatis (see also References to Greek text:

Passio Perpetuae and Felicitatis) 6 229n5
1.1 263n38 7 229n5
3.1 257n9 25–27 229n5
55 229n5
Acts of Mar Mari (AMM) 85 229n5
242–244 90–91 229n5
§ 30(66) 244n73 120 229n5
§ 31(70) 244n73 120–121 229n5, 235n28
132–133 229n5, 235n28
Acts of Paul 133 229n5
1:7 100n43 152 229n5, 235n28
157 229n5
Acts of Thomas (Greek/Syriac) References to Syriac text:
227–244 § 19 240n56

§ 26 240n56 Apostolic Church Order

§ 27 234n26 213
§ 33 240n54
§ 49 234, 234n25, n26, 235n32 Apostolic Constitutions
§ 52 234n24 98n33, 204, 213
§ 59 234n25, 238n52, 240n56 7.31 204
§ 65–67 234n25, 236 8(63) 237n47
§ 67 237n46
§ 100 240n57 Apostolic Fathers
§ 120–121 235n28 150, 150n6
§ 121 241n64
§ 132 234n26 Aristides of Athens
§ 132–133 235n28 Apology
§ 137 240n55 15.6 239, 239n53
§ 139–169 237
§ 152 235n28 Arator subdiaconus
§ 157 241n66 75
§ 167 236n39
§ 169 234n25, 236n38, 237n40, Augustine
n43
De catechizandis rudibus
Alcuin of York 1, 2 162n67
5n11
Sermo app. 92 76n51
Ambrosiaster
Tractatus in Joannis evangelium
Commentarius in epistolam ad Romanos VIII 75, 75n46
16.1 134n5 IX 75, 75n46
Commentarius in epistolas Paulinas 1 ad Barnabas

Tim Epistle
3.8–11 251n23 20.2 121, 239
Ambrose Clement of Alexandria

165–176
De Officiis Ministrorum
1,41 204–216 76n51, 52, 53 Excerpta ex Theodoto
165
Aphrahat 1.16.1 172n35
1.24.1 171n28
Demonstrations 3.58.1 171n27
18:10 229n5 4.85 41n27
4.85.2 174n56
Apocryphon Ioannis
119, 119n19, 125 Paedagogus 165, 172
1.2.4 168n16, 172n32, n33
Apollinaris of Laodicea 1.6.45 173n50
75 1.9.85 171n27

1.9.79 170n24 6.2 166n5

1.10.46 174n52 6.3.34 169n17, 175n60, n61
2.1.11 174n57 6.7.54 166n6
2.3.35 174n57 6.8.62 166n8
2.3.37 173n48 6.8.67 166n7
2.7.53 173n51 6.13.106 167n9, n10, n11, 168n16,
2.7.56 171n27 169n18, 172n31, 176n72
2.10.87 173n42 6.13.107 165n3, 167n13, 171n27,
3.1.2 172n33 172n31, 175n59, 176n70,
3.4.26 174n54 n71
3.4.28 174n53 6.15.115 168n14
3.4.29 174n54 6.16.147 173n41
3.6.35 174n52 6.17.157 171n28, n29
3.10.49 173n40 7.1.3 165n3, 175n62, n63
3.12.97 165n3 7.7.41 171n27, 173n47
Protrepticus 165
Clement of Rome
Quis dives salvetur
165 First Epistle of Clement
10.6.2 174n55 153, 177–192, 208, 209,
29.4.5 171n27, 172n36 210, 211, 212, 260n24
35.2.2 173n39 1:2–3:1 179
35.2.4 173n46 1:3 179
3:3 179
Stromata 165 4 180
1.1.4 171n27 4:1–39:9 181
1.1.7 168n14, 171n27 5 180
1.1.13 171n27 7:2 180
1.1.14 173n44 9:1 180
1.17.81 170n24 13:1 180
1.17.85 170n25 14:2 180
1.1.7 168n15 15:1 121
2.8.38 172n34 15:2 185n36
2.17.77 173n43 16:1 188n53
2.18.96 172n38, 173n39 21:2 185n36,
3.5.41 173n45 26:2 185n36
3.6.53 98n34, 165n3, 171n27, 28:2 180, 185n36
175n66, n67, 176n69 30:11 121
3.12.79 171n27, 172n37 32:2 187
3.12.80 171n27, n28, 172n37 36:2 188
3.12.87 173n41 39:2–9 180
3.12.88 165n3 40 182
4.15.97 173n49 40:1 180, 181, 182
4.17.106 170n22 40:1–41:4 181
4.21.132 171n27 40:1–43:6 181
5.6.35 171n27 40:1–44 181, 191
5.10.63 171n27, n28 40:1–61:3 181

40:2 182 63:3 100–101n46

40:3 182 64 187
40:4 182 65:1–2 181
40:5 182, 187, 210n32
40–41 182 Second Epistle of Clement
40–44 178, 180–182, 190 17.3 216n6
40–65 181 17.5 216n6
41 182, 183
41:1 180, 183
41:1–5 153 Cyprian of Carthage
41:2–4 183 252–253
41:3 182
41:4 180 De lapsis
42 183, 190 25 253
42:1–2 183
42:1–5 153, 262 Epistles
42:1–43:6 181 3.3 253
42:4 183, 210n33 4 252n33
42:4–5 186, 189, 201n33 10.1 252n31, n32
42:5 153, 153n23, 177–192 18 253
esp.182–189, 210n31, 75.1 253
260n24
42–44 186 Cyril of Alexandria
43 183
43:3 187n46 Homilia 69 in Lucam
44 4, 127, 182, 183 54n45
44:1 182
44:1–47:7 181 In Joannis evangelium
44:2 182 75, 75n48
44:3 179, 182, 188n53
44:3–6 182 Didache 190, 203–213
44:4 186, 187, 192 1–4 239
44:4–5 186 1–5/6 208
44:5 186, 187, 216n6 1–6 203, 207
44:5–6 186 7.1–3 234n26
44:6 179, 182, 187 7–10 203, 207, 208
44:8 179 7–13 213
45 181 9–10 205n9, 235n27
45:1 179, 182 11.1–6 261
45:8 182 11–13 207
46:1 182 11–15 203
47:6 179, 216n6 14–15 207
51:9 180 14 207, 212
54:2 179, 179n8, 188n53 14.1–2 203
58:2 179 14.1–15.3 206n13
60:11 184 14.3 212
60:17b1 184 15 190, 212, 261n28
61:3 187 15.1 201n33

15.1–2 152n20, 153, 154, 190, 203, Geert Groote 5n11

204, 206, 208, 261, 262
15.3–4 203 Gregory of Nyssa
16 203 75, 234
Paschal Homilies
Didascalia (Syrian) 4 (PG 46 col. 681) 234n26
9 157n46, 159 44:5 (PG 36 col. 611) 234n26
45:2 (PG 36 col. 623) 234n26
Didascalia Apostolorum
98, 213, 232, 234 Heracleon (Gnostic) 74–75
Doctrina Addai Hermas,

242–244 see Shepherd of Hermas
f 25a–25b 242n69
Hippolytus
Epistulae Ecclesiarum apud Lugdunum Traditio Apostolica/Apostolic Tradition
et Viennam 4:2 238n48
2.5.5. 222, 222n19 8:2 238n48
9 267n55
Eusebius of Caesarea 21:3 241n65
Historia Ecclesiastica 22:1 238n48
150, 150n8, n9, 220 25:1 238n48
III.1.1–3 228n3 34 160n58
III.9.2–3 220 34:1 238n48
III.16 178
III.36.12 150n8 Ignatius of Antioch
IV 220 74, 99, 149–163, 208, 209,
IV 23.10 179n6 210, 211, 212
IV.25 220
IV.30 13n50 Epistle to the Ephesians
V 220 1.3 155
V.1 13n50 2.1 156n38, 160, 162
V.3–2-13.1 220 2.2 156, 163n74
V.8–9 220 3.1 155n36, 161n62
V.12–17 220n14 4.1 156, 162n70
V.20.1 220n14 6.2 155
V.20.2 220n14 12.2 161n62
V.20.4–8 220n14 20.2 156, 163n74
V.24:11 220n14
V.26 220n14 Epistle to the Magnesians
2 155, 156, 160
Francis of Assisi 2.1 99n39, 159, 162
5n11 2.2 156n38
3.1 157n46, 159, 162n73,
Gaudentius of Brescia 216n6
76 4.1 156
Tractatus IX, De Evangelii lectione 6.1 99n39, 156, 157, 157n44,
76n54 n46, 158, 159, 162, 208n20,
216n6, 262n31

6.1.f 104 7.1.2 155n35

6.2 104 7.1–2 156
7.1 156 7.2 208n22
13.1 156, 158, 208n20 12.2 216n6
13.1–2 157–158 13.2 15
13.2 158
15.1 155
Irenaeus of Lyon
Epistle to the Philadelphians 149n2, 215–226 esp.
Intro 156, 208n21, n25 219–224
3.1 208n21 and 220n14
4 262n31
4.1 99n39, 156, 160 Adversus Haereses
5.1 156 4n8, 219–224
7.1 156, 163n74 I.13.5 221
10 160 I.25.2 220
10.1 156n39 II.28.7 222, 224n21
10.1–2 99n42 II.32.7 223
11 208n24 II.35.4 223
11.1 156, 156n38, 162 III 221
11.2 160 III.9.2–3 220
III.12.10 4n8, 149n2, 221–222, 225
Epistle to Polycarp III.12.16 220
2.2 121 IV 220
5 156 IV. 26.5 185n37
8.1 150n7 V 220
V.3.2–13.1 220
Epistle to the Romans
2.2 160 Epideixis/Demonstration
5.1 150n7 219, 220
Epistle to the Smyrnaeans Other works by Irenaeus

8.1 156, 157n46, 159n56, 220n14, n15
163n74, 208n23, 262n31
10.1 156
11.2–3 99n42 John Chrysostom
12.1 160 75–76
12.2 99n39, 156, 160, 163n74
Homiliae in Joannem
Epistle to the Trallians 76n50
1 158
2.1 158 Jerome
2.1–2 156
2.2 158, 159 De viris illustribus
2.3 104, 157, 157n41, 158, 163, 53 245n3
208n26, 209n28
3.1 101n50, 104, 156, 158, 159, Justin Martyr 74, 215–226, esp. 215–219,
159n56, 216n6, 262 235n27

Apologies 215, 216 10.2 269n64

First Apology 216, 215–226, 235n27 10.14 268
65.1 216 11.1 259n20
65.2 216 11.2–13 264
65.3 217n9 13.1 265
65.5 217, 218, 219 13.6 270
65–67 35n27 17.1 259n20
67.5 218 21.11 262n33
Second Apology
216 Polycarp of Smyrna
208, 209, 210, 211, 212
Dialogue with Trypho Letter to the Philippians 1
215, 216 101–102n50, 209
2:5–11 209
Odes of Solomon 2:7 209
6:11–14 233n21 5:2 209
6:13 233
11:22 233 Psalms of Solomon
12:7 233n22 2:41 233
17:23 233n22 10:4 233
19:3–4 229n5 12:7 233, 233n22
29:8 233 17:23 233, 233n22
29:11 233
Pseudo-Augustine
Origen 75–76 Sermo 92 76
Commentarius Pseudo-Dionysius
in Evangelium Johannis The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy
75, 75n43 168
fr.29, IoGCS10, 505
75 Pseudo-Hippolytus
76, 76n50
Passio Perpetuae and Felicitatis
99n39, 525, 253, 255–71 Pseudo-Maximus B
1–2 257, 258 76
1.3 257, 258
3 252 Rufinus
3.1 257n9, 264 Origens Commentary on Romans
3.7 262, 269 16.1 134n5
4.2 257
4.3–9 258 Shepherd of Hermas
4.8 267 153, 191, 193–202, 208,
6 252 210, 211, 212, 257n8
6.7 269
6.7–8 264 Mandates
7.6 259n20 1–12 193n1
9 268 2.6 199n28, 200, 200n28
10 252, 268 2.7.10 199n28

2.11 199n28 Visions

4.3.1 194, 194n6, 199, 199n27 1–5 193n1
6.2.7 199 1.1.1 197
8.4.1–2 199n28 1.1.3 197
8.10 199n26 1.1.9 195n11
8.12 199n26 2.1.3–4 197
10.2.4 199n28 2.2.6–7 196
10.4.1 199n28 2.4.2 197
12.3.3 199n28 2.4.2–3 197, 202
2.4.3 195n11, 197n18, 200–
Similitudes 201n31
1.9 199n28, 200 2.2.6 197, 197n18, 202
1–10 193n1 2.2.6–7 196, 202
2.7 199n28 3 195
8.4.1–2 199n28 3.1.8 197n18
2.10 200 3.2.4 196
5.1.3 199 3.2.5 195
7.6 200n28 3.5.1 153, 191n66, 193, 194,
8.3.2 194 194n5, 195, 196, 197n19,
8.6.5 199 198, 198n20, n21, n22,
9 195 191n66, 199n27, 201,
9.1.9 196 201n34, 202 210, 262
9.4.3 196 3.9.7 197, 197n18, 202, 210
9.5.3–4 196 4.1.8 199
9.15.4 191n66, 194, 194n5, n7,
195, 196, 196n14, n15, 199, Tertullian
201, 201n34, 202
9.16 195, 196 Ad martyras
9.16.5 194, 199 1.1 251
9.16.5–6 194n7
9.16.7 196 Ad uxorem libri duo
9.17.1 194 2.4 251n26, n27, 252n29
9.17.2 194, 195
9.18.2 195n11 Adversus Marcionem
9.19.2 194, 194n6, 199 5.8.11 251
9.22.2 199
9.25.2 194, 194n7, 199 Apologeticus pro christianis
9.26 200n31 39 251n26
9.26.1 196
9.26.2 194n6, 195, 196, 199, De anima
199n28, 200n28, n30, 201, 9.4 251, 251n22
201n31, 202, 210
9.26–27 201n31 De baptismo 264
9.27 194, 198, 202 1.3 251
9.27.1 198 17 246, 264
9.27.2 194n6, 199n26, n28 17.1 249
9.31.5–6 197n18 17.1–2 263
10.2.4 199n28 17.2 247n12
10.4.1 199n28

De exhortatione castitatis De praescriptione haereticorum

7.3 245n3 247, 249, 250
7.3–4 247 3.5 250, 263
10 251 32.3 249
41.5 251
De fuga in persecutione 41.6–8 247
11.1 249, 250, 250n19 41.8 249
13.3 249
De pudicitia 246, 248
De idololatria 260n23 1.6 248
21.16 249
De ieiunio 246
12 251n27 De virginibus velandis
9.1 251
De monogamia 17.3 251n22
11.1 248, 249–250, 250n19
Theodore of Mopsuestia
75
5. Greco-Roman Literature
Ammonius of Alexandria Dio Cassius

75 Historia Romana
54.23.4 41
Apuleius
Metamorphoses Dio Chrysostom
11 257 Orationes
3.75 26n37
Aristophanes
Ecclesiazousiai Diogenes Laertius
116 135n9 Vitae
2.51 144n78
Atheneus of Naucratis
Deipnosophistae Festus
192b 41 Epitoma 137, 137n26
Catullus Heraclides of Cyme

Carmina Fragmente der Griechischen Historiker
63.68 137n28 (FGrH)
2.96 41
Cicero
De re publica Herodotus 165
1.6.6. 135n16 Histories
I.21 105–106
Demosthenes 165 V.38 105–106
Timocrates
197 278n18

Inscriptions: IG 14, 719 (I. Napoli, 1,6)

146n92
AE 1946, 154 (Bona Dea 134) PIR12, 242 145n81
142n60
Bona Dea 133 142n62 Lucian of Samosata
CFA 55, 65, 98 et al., Arval B. Dialogi Deorum
139n36 4.4 40
CIL 22/7, 3 144n74 5.2 40
CIL 3, 11009 (AE 1964, 190) 24.2 41
144n77, 148n98
CIL 5, 762a (Bona Dea 113a) Lucretius
142n 56 De rerum natura
CIL 5, 762b (Bona Dea 113b) 2.606–609 137n28
142n55
CIL 5, 5026 147n95 Macrobius
CIL 6, 68 (Bona Dea 44) Saturnalia
141n47, 143n64, 148n98 1.12.26 143n69
CIL 6, 72 (Bona Dea Hygia) 3.6.15 138, 138n35
141n47
CIL 6, 76 (Bona Dea 24) Naevius
143n71 Belli Punici 4
CIL 6, 496 141n46 frag. 33 139n36
CIL 6, 1779 146n93
CIL 6, 2060 (CFA 49), Arval B. Nonius
139n36 De compendiosa doctrina
CIL 6, 21497 145n81 lib. 2 139n36
CIL 6, 2213 145n80
CIL 6, 2237 (Bona Dea 25) Ovid
141n51 Fasti
CIL 6, 2237 (Bona Dea 26) 3.47 137n29
141n51 4.219 137n28
CIL 6, 2238 (Bona Dea 27) 4.413–414 140n41
142n53 6.289–290 137n29
CIL 6, 2240 (Bona Dea 36) 6.321 137n28
142n54 6.437 137n29
CIL 6, 21497 145n81 Metamorphoses
CIL 9, 3146 145n88 2.716–718 139n38
CIL 9, 4460 146n90 9.89–90 135n16
CIL 10, 4789 145n86 Tristia
CIL 10, 4790 145n86 4.2.35–36 139n40
CIL 10, 4791 145n85
CIL 10, 4849 (Bona Dea 75) Petronius
143n71 Satyricon
CIL 11, 1916 146n91 117.3 144n78
CIL 11, 4635 (Bona Dea 93)
142n53, n58 Photinus of Constantinople
CIL 12, 654 (Bona Dea 130) 75
142n57

Plato 165 Sedulius,

Leges Epistola ad Macedonium,
763a 278n18 134n5
955 37n13
955c 37 Seneca
De beneficiis
Gorgias 1.4.2 94
491e 46
Servius 138
Politeia In Vergilii Aeneidos libros
290c-d 47 5.606 138n32
8.269 138n33
Respublica 11.558 138n34
370e 47
Statius 137
Plautus Silvae
Bacchae 1.1.36 138, 138n30
306–307 144n78
Strato(n) of Sardis
Pliny the Younger Fragmenta
133–148 APL 12.194 41
Epistulae ad Trajanum
2.1.8 140n45 Suetonius
4.8.3 140n45 De vitis caesarum
4.8.5 140n45 Galba
6.6.3 140n45 8.2 139n37
10.31.2 135, 135n10 9.1 268n62
10.32.1 135, 135n10 Tiberius 44.2 139n36
10.96.7–8 134, 134n4
10.96.8 135n10 Theodore of Heraclea
75
Plutarch
Moralia Tibullus
174d 41 Elegiae
678 E-F 69 1.5.3 135, 135n16
Propertius Troizenis of Peloponnesos,

Elegiae 137, 138 see Thyrrenia of Akarnia
4:11.49 137n28
3.10.29 138n31 Tyrrhenia of Akardia (list)
IG IV 774 276
Pseudo-Quintilian IG IV 824 276
Declamationes 135 IG IX 12 2.247 276n10
18.12 135n14
Vergil 138, 139, 140
Quintilian Aeneis
Declamationes minores 5.237–238 139n36
301.21 135 n13 9.803 138n32

11.836 138 Xenophon

11.836–837 138n33 Hiero
4.2 41
Georgica Historia Graeca
3.486, 48–9 140n42, n43 3.4.6. 41
4.110–11 138

Index of Modern Authors
Adams, Edward 218, 218–219n13 Black, Matthew 230n8

Albrecht, Felix 156n37 Bobichon, Philippe 216n3
Alcock, Anthony 119n8 Böhme, Hartmut 269, 269n69
Alexander, Loveday C. 52n32, 149n1 Bömer, Franz 136, 136n24, 137n24
Alikin, Valeriy A. 200n30 Bonhoeffer, Dietrich 178
Amat, Jacqueline 255n1, 263n35 Bonnet, Max 227n2
Aus, Roger 72–73 Bookidis, Nancy 276n11
Avemarie, Friedrich 22n17 Borgen, Peder 277n14
Avis, Paul 11n41 Bornkamm, Günther 91n1
Bradley, Keith R. 241n59
Baarlink, Heinrich 20n10, 25n33 Brandenburger, Egon 32n1
Backhaus, Knut 20n10, 25n33 Brandt, Wilhelm 10n37, 45, 35n2
Bakke, Odd M. 180–182 Braun, René 245n3
Barclay, John 120n18 Bremmer, Jan N. 228n3, 241n59, 255,
Barnes, Timothy D. 133n1–3, 245n3, n4 255n1–2, 256n3, 257n10, 264n44,
Barnett, James Monroe 9n34 265n52, 269n68, n69
Barnett, Paul 108n17 Brent, Allen 150n9, 151n11, 209n29
Barrett, Charles K. 107n13 Bretschneider, Carolus Gottlieb 47n12
Barris, Jeremy 257m 257n8 Brinkhof, Joke H.A. 79–90, 261n29,
Barth, Karl 35, 36n5 291
Batovici, Daniel 200n30 Brodd, Sven-Erik 4n5, 5n13, 8n22
Bauer, Walter 97n32, 128n55 Bromiley, Geoffrey 26n5
Beard, Mary 139n40 Brouwer, Hendrik H.J. 141–143
Beek, Cornelius van 255n1 Brown, Peter 4n3, 95n22
Bekkum, Willem van 9n28 Brox, Norbert 193–201
Bendemann, Reinhard von 52, 53n34 Brunt, Peter A. 215n1
Beneden, Pierre van 248n16 Bulhart, Vinzenz 136, 136n22
Benedict XVI/Ratzinger, Joseph 4n7, n9, Bultmann, Rudolf Karl 68n11
36, 36n10 Burns, James Patout 246n8
Benedict, Hans-Jürgen 11n41, 42, 43, Burtchaell, James T. 260n21
43n29–31 Busse, Ulrich 49n19, 53n36, 66n5, 68–69,
Besser, Rudolf 8n26 70n18, 71, 74
Beuken, Willem A.M. 183–184 Butler, Rex D. 259n16
Beyer, Hermann W. 10n37, 34, 34n2, 45,
45n3, 46, 103n2 Cadbury, Henry J. 83n11
Bieberstein, Sabine 54n46, 55n51 Calvin, John (Jean) 8, 8n24
Bieringer, Reimund 47n13, 108n16 Campbell, R. Alistair 150n5, 155n36
Bilde, Per 280n24, 281n26 Campenhausen, Hans Freiherr von
Bindley, Thomas Herbert 247n13 188n54, 197n19, 201n31

322 Index of Modern Authors
Carter, Warren 52n32, 54, 54n41, n44, Donahue, John R. 19n9, 20n12, 21n16,
55n47, n57 22n18, 24n32
Chryssavgis, John 5n10 Dörnberg, Burkhard Freiherr von 256n7,
Clark, Anna 146n91 257n9
Clarke, Frank 38n14 Dunderberg, Ismo 11n41, 13n48
Clarke, Graeme Wilber 253n35 Dunn, Geoffrey D. 247n12
Clauss, Manfred 144n72, n73 Dunn, James 94, 94n14, n15
Cohick, Lynn H. 91n2, 93, 93n8 Dylan, Bob 3
Colijn, Brenda B. 25n33
Collins, John N. 8n27, 10–14, 17–19, Edwards, J. Christopher 22n18
23n23, 24–25, 27n38, 29, 31–43, 45–51, Egelhaaf-Gaiser, Ulrike 145, 145n82
54n46, 58, 59n71, 62, 66, 66n4, 70–72, Ego, Beate 5n12
74, 74n41, 87, 87n17, 97, 97n27, n28, 29, Eisele, Wilfried 68n11
103n2, 105n6, 110n22, 112n25, 115n32, Elliott, James K. 227n2
117n3, 126n43, 127n52, 129n59, 149n1, Ellis, Edward Earle 92n4
156, 156n37, n39, 158n57, n50, 161n66, Elm, Susanna 134n8
165–176, 177n1, 186n42, 188n50, Eltrop, Bettina 11n41
189n60, 191n68, 192n69, 196n14, Enke, Ferdinand 13n50, 155n33
199n28, 200n29, 274, 274n3, 276n9, Evans, Craig, A. 19n9, 20n12, 21n13, n16,
277n15, 281n24, n27, n29, n30, 282, 185, 185n38, 189, 189n56
283n31, 291 Evans, Ernest 246n9
Collins, Raymond F. 117n2
Colson, Jean 198n23 Fabien, Patric 80n2, 88n20
Conzelmann, Hans 118, 118n5 Fairclough, Henry Rushton 140n42
Cook, John Granger 133–148, 291 Faivre, Alexandre 4n4, 11n42, 155n32,
Coppens, Joseph 49n17 156n37, 158n50, 159n 55, 178n2, 262n30
Cranfield, Charles E.B. 36, 36n6 Filoramo, Giovanni 119n8
Crouch, J.E. 32n1 Fitzmyer, Joseph A. 54n41, n42, 55,
Crijns, Hub 11n41, 43n33 55n57, 79n1, 82n10
Cumming, John 38n17 Fless, Friederike 140n44
Fliedner, Theodor 8, 9, 9n31, 45, 45n1
Daly Denton, Margaret 149n1 Flusser, David 154, 261n28
Dassmann, Ernst 39, 39n21, 187, 187n49 Formisano, Marco 255, 255n1, n2,
Daube, David 49n18 256n3, 257n10, 269n68, n69
Daumas, François 276n13 Foster, Paul 215–226, 292
Davies, Stevan 119n9 Foucart, Paul François 276n9
De Mingo Kaminouchi, Alberto 22n21 Frenschkowski, Marco 257n8, 270,
Della Putta, Chiara 13n48 270n71
Denaux, Adelbert 52n33 Frey, Jörg 14, 105n13, n14, n15
Dennis, Rodney G. 135n16
deSilva, David 95n21 Garcia Ramón, José L. 145n83
Dibelius, Martin 118, 118n5, 194n6, Gaspar, Veerle Maria 140n44, n45, 143,
197n19, 198n22, 200n29, 201n34, n35 143n66, 146n89
Dietzel, Stefan 10n37, 11n41 Georges, Tobias 246n5
DiLuzio, Meghan J. 145, 145n8 Georgi, Dieter 10, 10n37, 17n2, 47n13
Ditewig, William T. 9n28 Gerhardsson, Birger 52n31, 55, 55n48
Dobbeler, Axel von 59n70, 80n2, 88n20, Gerhardt, Martin 45n1
n21 Gewieß, Josef 153n22

Index of Modern Authors 323
Gibaut, John St. H. 10n36, 154n32, 24n30, 25, 25n35, n36, 29, 29n41, 37,
162n68, 163n75, n77, 178n2, 186, 37n12, 39, 42, 42n28, 71, 71n27, 87n17,
186n45, 189n59, 261n30 103–115, 117n1, 126n43, 127n50,
Giles, Kevin 93, 93n9 128n54, 129n59, n60, 152n16, 177n1,
Glock, Anne 145n80 260n25, 274, 274n3, 292
Gnilka, Joachim 22n21 Herrmann, Volker 10n37, 36, 36n9,
Gnuse, Robert Karl 281, 281n28 60n75
Gollnick, James 258n11 Hertz, Géraldine 279n19, n20
Gooder, Paula 11n41 Heschel, Abraham Joshua 62, 62n83
Goodrich, John K. 119n15, 120, 120n17, Heyob, Sharon Kelly 146, 146n92
n19, 121–122, 125n39, 152n17, 260n26 Holmes, Michael W. 101n46
Goold, George Patric 140n42 Horrell, D.G. 179n5
Gräßer, Erich 108n17, 112n26 Horsley, G.H.R. 98n33
Gray, Patrick 100, 100n44 Houtepen, Anton 47n13
Greshake, Gisbert 38, 38n18 Howard, George 227n2
Grol, Harm W.M. van 65n1 Hübner, Reinhard M. 186n45, 187n49,
Grundeken, Mark 193–202, 292 197n19, 201n31
Guerra, Liborio Hernández 144n75 Hunink, Vincent 256n3
Haendler, Gert 176n73 Jaubert, Annie 182n27, 183n27, 188,

Hagner, Donald Alfred 185, 186, 186n41, 188n52
187n47, 189 Jeffers, James S. 197n18, 200n28
Hahn, Ferdinand 107n13, n15 Jefford, Clayton N. 150n6, 203–213,
Hahneman, Geoffrey, M. 194n5 261n27, 292
Halleux, André de 205n7, 206, 206n12 Jensen, Robin Margaret 246n8, 248n15,
Hammann, Gottfried 9n34, 150n10 249n18, 253n34
Hanson, Anthony T. 126n44 Jervell, Jacob 153n22
Harnack, Adolf von 178, 178n4, 195n12, Jewett, Robert 93n7, 99, 99n38, n40, 101,
197n19, 201n32, n34, 253n34 101n48
Harrak, Amir 227n2 Johnson, Caroline 235n28
Harrill, J. Albert 135, 135n10, n11 Johnson, Luke Timothy 63, 63n86, 117,
Harrington, Daniel J. 19n9, 20n12, 121n21, 122, 122n30, 123, 123n30, n34
21n16, 22n18, 24n32 Johnson, Mark 279n21
Harris, Rendel 227n2, 233n21 Joly, Robert 151n11, 197n19, 198n20, n22
Hartman, Richard 11n41 Jonas, Dirk 59, 59n75, 60
Hartog, Paul 209n28 Joncas, Jan M. 245n1
Hatch, Edwin 153n22, 154, 154n29, Junod, Éric 150, 150n10, 156, 157,
157n46, 159n53 157n42, 160n59, n60
Hausschildt, Eberhard 8n22
Head, Peter 100, 100n45 Kahana, Hanna 72n33
Heffernan, Thomas J. 255n1, 256n3, Kannegieser, Charles 74n42, 75, 75n44
257n8, n10, 263n35, 264n41, n43, Karris, Robert J. 122, 122n28, n29, n31,
265–270 125n38, n40
Hemelrijk, Emily Ann 141n46, 145n84 Kaster, Robert A. 138n35
Hengel, Martin 110n22 Katz, Vincent 137n28
Henten, Jan Willem van 21–22n17 Kearsley, Rosalinde A. 94, 94n18m
Hentschel, Anni 11, 11n39, n40, n41, 17, 95n19, n20
17n2, 18, 18n5, 19, 19n8, 23, 23n26, 24, Keck, Leander E. 4n6

Klauck, Hans-Josef 88n20 Luz, Ulrich 32n1, 36, 36n7

Kleine, Werner 111n23 Lyons, George 120n18
Klijn, Albertus Frederik Johannes
162n71, 227, 227n1, 235n32, 237n40, MacLaren, James S. 280n22
n41 MacSeumain, Peadar 38n8
Koet, Bart J. 3–14, 17n3, 43, 43n33, Madigan, Kevin 10n36, 12, 12n44, n45,
45–63, 65–77, 82n11, 83n12, 87, 87n18, 201n31
149–163, 177–192, 210n31, 251n25, Maier, Harry O. 178n3, 194n5, 195n10,
255–271, 277n17, 283n32, 292 197n18, n19, 200n30
Konstan, David 269n68 Malkavaara, Mikko 7n21
Koperski, Veronica 52n31 Maloney, Linda M. 206n11
Kraft, Henricus 155n35 Mann, C.S. 21n16, 23n24, 24n32
Krimm, Herbert 174n58 Martimort, Aimé-Georges 12n43, 98n33
Kroon, Caroline H.M. 139n38 Martínez Deschamps, Monserrat 6n15
Küng, Hans 38, 38n15, n17 Marshall, I. Howard 216n7, 221n18
Marx, Karl 9, 45
Laato, Anni Maria 245–253, 264n42, 293 Mathew, Susan 91n1, 96n26, 101, 101n47
LaCelle-Peterson, Kristina 98n35 McGowan, Andrew 252, 252n28, n30
Lake, Kirsopp 157n41, 158n48, n51, 182, Meeks, Wayne 95n24, 99n41
262n31 Menken, Maarten J. J. 67, 67n7, 72n30,
Lakoff, George 279n21 185n35
Lampe, Peter 197n19, 200n30, 301n35, Merkel, Helmut 5n12
218, 218n10, n11, n12 Merkelbach, R. 146n92
Lattimore, Richmond Alexander 146n89 Merklein, Helmut 109n21
Latvus, Kari 8n24, 9, 9n35, 11n41, 104n4 Mertel, Teodolfo 5n11
Lawless, George 75n46 Midden, Piet van 65n1
Leder, Paul August 13n50, 155n33 Miedema, Anne 23n25
Leis, Annette 7n19 Mikat, Paul 179n8
Lemaire, A. 186n45, 187n48 Milavec, Aaron 190–191, 261n28
Lenhardt, Pierre 61, 61n80, n82 Mingana, Alphonse 227n2
Leutzsch, Martin 193n1, 195n12, 197n19, Minns, Dennis 216–217
198n22, 200n30, 201n31, n34, n35 Mirguet, Françoise 280n22, 281n25
Liddell, H.G., R. Scott & H.S. Jones Mirón Pérez, María Dolores 144n75
97n32, 277n16 Mitchell, Margaret M. 106n9, n10, n11,
Liebs, Detlef 133n2 12, 113n27, 115n31
Lietzmann, Hans 154, 154n31, 200– Moessner, David P. 54n40, 82n11, 89n25
201n31 Mommsen, Theodor 145, 145n87
Lightfoot, Joseph B. 150n10, 159, 159n54 Montanari, Franco 277n16
Lindner, Molly 137n25 Moore, Mark E. 19n9
Lipsius, Richard Adelbert 227n2 Moriarty, W. 183n29
Lissarrague, François 276n11 Morris, Leon 101, 101n49
Llewelyn, Stephen 99n41 Moulton, J.H. 24n29
Löhe, Wilhelm 8, 8n26 Mounce, William D. 117–119, 121n20,
Lona, Horacia E. 180n16, 181–182, 124–128, 224, 224n23
186–188 Mowczko, Margaret 91–102, 293
Lührmann, Dieter 20n12 Muilenburg, James 205n10
Luraghi, Silvia 274n4 Müller, Gerhard Ludwig 39n20
Lütgehetmann, Walter 69n16, 70, 70n22 Munier, Charles 150n10

Murphy, Edwina 3–15, 293 Rahner, Karl 8, 198n23

Murphy-O’Connor, Jerome 94n11 Ramelli, Ilaria L.E. 242n67, 256n3
Musurillo, Herbert 99n39, 222n19 Rankin, David 245n2, 246n6, n7, n8, n10,
247n11, 248n17, 249n18, 250n20, n21,
Neuberth, Ralph 48n15, 49, 49n16, n17, 251n24
52n31, 55n56, 57n62 Rastoin, Marc 83n11
Neymeyr, Ulrich 194n7, n9 Ratzinger, Joseph, see Benedict XVI
Niederwimmer, Kurt 206n11 Reger, Franz 11n41
Nikki, Nina 120n18 Reid, Barbara E. 54n44, 55n55
Noël, Filip 52n33, 53n35 Reimer, Andy M. 88n20
Noller, Annette 7n20, 8n23 Reininger, Dorothea 12n43
Noordegraaf, Herman 43n33 Rengstorf, Karl Heinrich 105n8
North, Wendy E.S. 49n19, 54n42, 66n5 Renssen, Toon 20n10
Richard, Earl 82n10
Ockenden, Ray and Rosaleen 38n15 Richards, Kent Harold 4n6
Ollick, Gregory R. 6n15 Richlin, Amy 141n50, 147, 147n96
Olsson, Birger 70, 70n19, n20, n21 Riesenfeld, Harald 55n48
O’Meara, Thomas 38, 38n16 Rius-Camps, Josep 150, 151, 151n12, n13,
Orban, Arpad P. 259, 259n19 n14, 160, 160n61, 161
Osborn, Eric Francis 246n5 Robinson, Arthur 136n23
Osiek, Carolyn 10n36, 12, 12n44, n45, Robinson, Joseph Armitage 205n10
95n21, 193n3, 195n10, 197n18, n19, Robinson, Olivia R. 215n1
198n20, n22, 199n28, 201n31, 35, Robinson, Thomas A. 209n27
210n34 Rohde, Joachim 195n12, 197n19, 199n28
Osten-Sacken, Peter von der 61, 61n80, Rolfe, John C. 139n37
n82 Roloff, Jürgen 103n3, 105n8
Ross, David 23n25
Pädam, Tiit 7n18 Rouwhorst, Gerard 205n9
Palmer, Robert E.A. 137n27 Rubenbauer, Johannes 136, 136n20, n21,
Parker, Robert 283n31 140n44
Parpola, Simo 230n10 Ruddat, Günther 35, 35n3
Parvis, Paul 216n2, n4, n5, 217n9 Rudhardt, Jean 283n31
Parvis, Sara 220n14, n15, 259, 259n18 Rüegger, Heinz 43, 43n32
Paschke, Boris A. 120n16m 125n39 Rüpke, Jörg 145n79
Payne Smith, Robert 231n11 Ryökäs, Esko 3–14, 293
Perkins, Judith 256n3
Pesch, Rudolf 49n17 Safrai, Shmuel 51n29
Peterson, David G. 225n24 Saint-Denis, Eugene de 140, 140n43
Philippi, Paul 9, 9n32 Sander, Stefan 11n41
Phillips, George 227n2 Sander-Gaiser, Martin 9n30, 70n23,
Pietersen, Lloyd 122n27 283n32
Pihlava, Kaisa-Maria 95n23, 96n25 Sandt, Huub van de 154, 190n61, 205n9,
Pilhofer, Peter 188n51, 258n14 261n28
Pohjolainen, Terttu 7n21 Santos, Narry F. 21n16, 28n39
Pompey, Heinrich 36, 3 6n11 Savinel, Pierre 273, 273n1
Powell, Douglas 246n5 Saxer, Victor 264n42
Putnam, Michael C. J. 135n16 Schäfer, Gerhard K. 32, 35, 35n3, 36,
36n9, 57n63

Schille, Gottfried 57n63 Sullivan, Francis A. 150n10, 155n33,

Schleiermacher, Friedrich 52, 52n33 158n47, 163n74, 205n8, 206n12, 208n18,
Schnabl, Christina 29n41 212n35
Schoedel, William R. 150n9, n10, 156, Sumney, Jerry L. 108n16
157, 157n40, n45, 159, 159n52 Sussman, Lewis A. 135n14
Schöllgen, Georg 154n31, 157n46, 159, Szegdy-Maszak, Andrew 276n11
159n57, 205n9
Schröter, Jens 111n24 Tabbernee, William 256n5, 262–266
Schuddeboom, Feyo 146n93, 147, 147n94 Taylor, Joan E. 275, 275n6, 276n12
Schultz, Celia E. 141, 141n48, 143n63, Thackeray, Henry St.John 280n24
n64 Thelwall, S. 248n14, 250n19
Schüssler Fiorenza, Elisabeth 23n23, Thiessen, Matthew 22n19
29n41, 54n46, 174n55 Thimmes, Pamela 52n32
Schweizer, Eduard 38n14, 171n26 Thiselton, Anthony C. 223n20
Schwemer, Anna M. 110n22 Thrall, Margaret E. 108n17, 109n19,
Scimmi, Moria 12n43 n20
Seeley, David 22n19, 26n37 Thurén, Jukka 119n11
Segal, Judah 229n7 Thurén, Lauri 117–130, 294
Seidl, Johann Nepomuk 6n14, 155n33 Thurman, Eric 21n14
Seim, Turid Karlsen 54n46, 59, 59n73, Toit, André du 120n20, 122, 122n30
n74 Towner, Philip H. 123n32, 129n60, n61,
Seitz, Christopher R. 4n6 217n8, 224n22
Seppälä, Serafim 227–244, 294 Trebilco, Paul R. 93, 93n10
Shackleton Bailey, David Roy 138n30 Tullier, André 190n61, 191, 191n66, n67
Shaw, Brent D. 265n48 Tyndale, William 32
Shelton, Jo-Ann 134, 134n7, 135n11
Sherwin-White, Adrian Nicholas 134, Unnik, Wilhelm C. van 178
134n6
Shoemaker, Stephen 229, 229n6 Van Belle, Gilbert 68n9
Sierksema-Agteres, Suzan J. M. 24n28 Ven, Jeroen M.M. van der 65n2
Sigrist, Christoph 43, 43n32 Versnel, Henk S. 144n78
Smit, Joop F. M. 82n11 Veyne, Paul 144, 144n78
Smit, Peter-Ben 17–29, 294 Vidal-Naquet, Pierre 273
Smith, Carl B. 158n49, 161n64 Voitila, Anssi 273–285, 294
Smith, Dennis E. 58n69 Vorgrimler, Herbert 6n14, 8, 9, 9n30,
Smith, Harold 75n45, 76n49, n50 198n23,
Smitmans, Adolf 75n45, n47, 76, 76n51 Vorster, Johannes 120n18
Smulders, Pieter 151n14 Vos, Dirk de 66n3
Söding, Thomas 20n10
Sohm, Rudolph 117n3 Waldner, Katarina 257n10
Spencer, F. Scott 80n2, 88n20 Wallace, Daniel B. 24n28
Stewart, Alistair C./A. Stewart-Sykes Wallis, R. E. 252n32
149n3, 151n15, 152n21, 53n23, 154n30, Wansink, Craig S. 200n28
160n58, 163n76, 207, 207n16, 260n22, Wasserberg, Günter 51n30
265n51 Weinfeld, Moshe 54n40
Storey, Glenn R. 215n1 Welborn, Laurence L. 178n4
Strohm, Theodor 32n1, 36, 36n8, 57n63 Wheeler, Arthur Leslie 139n40
Whitehead, Kenneth D. 98n33

Whiting, Robert M. 230n10 Worthen, Jeremy 27n38

Wibbing, Siegfrid 121n20 Wright, William 227n2
Wichern, Johann Hinrich 8, 8n26
Wilkins, Michael J. 150n10, 161n62 Yarbro Collins, Adela 20n11, 22n20
Wilpert, Joseph 267, 267n56, 269n64 Yonge, Charles D. 40n24
Wilson, E. Jan 232n19 Younan, Munib 294
Winn, Adam 21n16, 22n19, n21, 26n37, Young, Frances 155n36
28n40 Ysebaert, Joseph 197n19, 198n20, 201n43
Winter, Bruce 95n21
Wisse, Frederik 119n9 Zahn, Theodor 150n9
Wissowa, Georg 141n47 Zerbini, Livio 147n97
Witherington, Ben (III) 92n5, 93n5, 96, Ziebritzki, Henning 14
96n26 Zollitsch, Robert 155n33
Woodard, Roger D. 140n41 Zulehner, Paul M. 29n41


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Introduction

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

Bart J. Koet, Edwina Murphy and Esko Ryökäs

1. How Important is the Second Leader?

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

ature, for example, in the assessment of leadership in early Christianity.3 There

was chosen the first deacon by the apostles.”

national Theological Commission: “Commissione teologica internazionale, Il diaconato.

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

the word “diakonia” in English as influenced by German-speaking tradition, not as a com-

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

2. Deacons and Deaconesses in the Twenty-First Century:

Even the reintroduction of the diaconate as an independent ministry in the Ro-

(January 29, 2016). According to an analysis by Montserrat Martinez Deschamps, a board

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

gische Dimensionen einer diakonischen Kirche (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2016), 391–93.

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

caritative helping spread primarily from the Kaiserswerth diaconal community

within the community.”

versity Press, 2014), 52–53.

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

summarised in William T. Ditewig, “The Dachau Experience and Postwar developments,” in

Journal for the Study of Christian Social Practice 6 (2015): 61–74.

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

3. The Need for Further Research Due to New Philological Ideas

Paul in Second Corinthians: A Study on Religious Propaganda in Late Antiquity (English

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

Berücksichtigung der Rolle von Frauen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007).

coness” / “1. New Testament” is based on Collins’ thesis.

Mißinterpretation der antiken Quellen?; John N. Collins Untersuchung ‘Diakonia’” Pastoral­

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

43 Aimé-Georges Martimort, Les diaconesses, Essai historique (Roma: Edizioni Litur-

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

4. The Aim of This Collection

ing with epigraphical and archeological material.

andria at short notice.

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

5. New Life from Old Texts

Synod of the Church of England, 1993).

78–81, 86: https://www.svenskakyrkan.se/default.aspx?id=1479690 (13.5.2017).

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

2. From the Old to the New Consensus

University Press, 1990).

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

Issues in Ministry (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 3–20.

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

world, whereas the kingdom of God establishes itself in a community of relationships.

The main interpretative shift in comparison with earlier interpretations, as

3. Narrative and Contextual Observations

7 See Collins, Diakonia Studies, 89.

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987), 179; and Evans, Mark, 116–17.

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

of the conversation to matters of martyrdom and death. This pertains both to

cate that he is acting as an emissary with limited authority.

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

mission in relation to this term.

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

one is more likely to be genealogically connected to the text, is however – and

4. Who is a Διάκονος to Whom?

sending out of the disciplines as part of their Nachfolge.

© 2018 Mohr Siebeck.

Mißinterpretation der antiken Quellen?; John N. Collins Untersuchung ‘Diakonia’” Pastoral

a ttends on Hercules and Dionysus (24.2); a fragment of Strato (APL 12.194)