Biblical Theology Bulletin Volume 48 Number 1 Pages 34–39

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DOI: 10.1177/0146107917746580
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A Disciple in Damascus

James A. Sanders

Abstract

The story of Saul of Tarsus’s switch from enthusiastic support of mainstream Judaism to joining and preaching
the new messianic Judaism of the Jesus followers of his day invites probing into what the concept of phronesis meant
both to Paul and to those who knew Scripture, especially the prophets. Close reading of the accounts in Acts and
­Philippians about his dramatic change of identity and his own self-doubts underscores the importance of under-
standing how the monotheizing process changes how one thinks brought Saul the student of Gamliel to become Paul
the apostle of Christ and how that set the Jesus movement on a path that changed the world.

Key words: Ananias, phronesis, Saul, the monotheizing process, the prophets’ and God’s Torah thoughts, Paul’s self-
doubts and his change of Jewish identity

T he Book of Acts has three accounts of Saul of Tarsus’

dramatic change of attitude toward and later intent to join the
budding new Jewish messianic sect (Acts 9:3–19; 22:6–16;
26:12–18; cf. Gal 1:11–17) that was growing rather rapidly
(Acts 2:41; 9:31) but that he had been intent on eradicat-
ing. The part in Paul’s change of heart played by Ananias, a
Damascene disciple, does not appear in the last of the three
accounts in Acts. It is recounted fully in the first (chapter 9)
while in the second (chapter 22) the experience on the way to
Damascus and then in the city is cursorily recounted by Paul
in Jerusalem in a speech the Roman tribune allowed him to
give on the steps of the tribune’s barracks there. In the Jeru-
salem speech Paul gives a cursory account of his experience
on the way to Damascus and then of his life-changing visit
with Ananias in Damascus that is crucial to the whole story.
However, Paul in the course of his trials in Jerusalem and
Caesarea tells the truncated story in the later chapters, but
omits details told by the earlier narrator in chapter 9.
Despite the debate that obtained for centuries about Paul’s
so-called conversion, it has become clear that Saul the Phari-
see did not leave Judaism but changed rather into an adherent
of a new messianic Judaism of the pre-70 period, indeed into
a believer that the messiah had come (Ambrose). Not only so,
he became convinced after his retreat “into Arabia” and return
to the congregation in Damascus, that God had set him apart
before birth to be an apostle to the gentiles (Gal 1:15–17).
Paul’s belief that he had been set apart before birth for his new
role in Judaism he drew directly from the prophet Jeremiah
(Jer 1:5), but in Paul’s echo of the prophet’s self-understanding
the question of Paul’s own pre-existence arises. It thus obviates
the issue concerning early belief in Jesus’ pre-existence. Not
only so, in the massive literature coming from the pre-rabbinic
period one reads of the pre-existence of Torah, Moses, Enoch,
James A. Sanders, Ph.D. (Hebrew Union College/Jewish Insti-
tute of Religion) is professor emeritus of biblical studies at the
Claremont School of Theology, professor emeritus of religion at
the Claremont Graduate University, and founder and president
emeritus of the Ancient Biblical Manuscript Center. Sanders
unrolled and published the large Scroll of Psalms from Qumran
Cave 11, and launched the subdisciplines of canonical criticism and
the monotheizing process. Mailing address: 337 West 7th Street,
Claremont CA 91711-4312. Email sandersja7@gmail.com.

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 B I B L I C A L T H E O LO GY B U L L E T I N • VO LU M E 4 8 • 2 0 1 8
Isaiah, Jeremiah, and others (Hurtado: 743–46).
In the fuller account in Acts 9 the Apostle Paul tells of
hearing a voice on the road ask him, “Saul, Saul, why do you
persecute me?” One who knows Scripture, as the early fol-
lowers of Jesus would indeed have known it, cannot but recall
the strikingly similar question that the young David put to
King Saul when David and his pal Abishai paid a call on the
old king in his tent while Saul and his army led by Abner all
slept soundly (I Sam 26:7). Abishai wanted to kill Saul right
there in the tent, but David refused, not wanting to kill an
anointed of the Lord. The young David’s aspirations would
have prevented him doing such a rash deed as assassinating
the Lord’s own anointed if he himself indeed wanted someday
to replace Saul. One doesn’t kill kings who are monarchs “by
divine right,” especially young aspirants who some day might
themselves be as vulnerable. David suggested instead that
they take with them Saul’s spear and waterskin as “negative
calling cards,” as it were (26 :7–12; cf. Gen 38:18).
Later when David and Abishai hid some distance from
Saul’s camp, and Abner awoke, David chided the latter for
not guarding the king as he should have, claiming that he
had accidently chanced on Saul’s spear and waterskin, of-
fering them as evidence that somebody had broken in to kill
Saul, and holding them up so that Abner could clearly see
them. Saul himself then awoke, and recognizing David’s voice
asked if it was indeed David. At that point David asked Saul,
“Why does my lord pursue his servant?” The two questions,
the one the young David asked King Saul back then and the
one Jesus asked Saul of Tarsus on the road to Damascus, are
in essence the same, for the words in both Hebrew and Greek
meaning “pursue” can also mean “persecute.” Anyone who
knows Scripture, whether in Hebrew or Greek (LXX), as
Saul certainly did (whether the author of Acts knew Hebrew
or not), can hardly miss the echo of the question the young
David put to King Saul in what Jesus asked Saul of Tarsus in
the story in Acts, and would hardly miss the point:
King Saul back then did not join the new kingdom the
young David would establish, while Saul of Tarsus will
join the new kingdom under this new David.
But the trauma Saul experienced on “the Road to Damas-
cus” barely introduces the story of the reversal of conviction
Saul experienced. In fact, it left Saul in shock and blinded, so
that he had to be led the rest of the way into the city, but he
was still Saul of Tarsus. The important part of the full story,
in fact, occurs not on the road to Damascus but after Saul was
taken there blind and ill. The narrator tells of a vision of Jesus
experienced by a disciple of “the Way” who lived in Damas-
cus, not unlike Saul’s vision on the way over. In his vision the
Damascene disciple is instructed to go visit the patient who has
been given lodging in the home of a man named Judas in the
Jewish quarter. Ananias was understandably reluctant to obey
Jesus’ commission in the “vision” because he had heard from
many about how zealous this Saul of Tarsus had been in trying
to eradicate the sect, and that he had come over from Jerusalem
with authority from the high priest to arrest members of the
sect and take them back to Jerusalem, for a fate similar proba-
bly to Stephen’s (Acts 7:58). In a manner that commands the
attention of the reader or hearer, the narrator provides a crucial
clue to what gave Ananias the courage to obey.
Ananias had an experience of Jesus, not dissimilar to Saul’s
but in the city after Saul had arrived, instructing him to make a
pastoral call on the offending but now smitten visitor. Folk like
myself who have no psychic abilities or mystic tendencies find
it difficult to relate to the idea of the mechanics of a personal
vision. Perhaps it might be helpful to speak of Ananias’s vision
in the terms of what happens when one hears news such as the
community would already have heard about Saul’s purpose in
coming to Damascus. They were understandably scared and
apprehensive about the purpose of his trip over from Jerusa-
lem. Then they would later have heard that he’d been in some
kind of accident on the way over in which he was blinded and
being led the rest of the way into the city. If one is committed to
the beliefs and purposes of the sect, then that commitment be-
comes the vehicle for hearing all such news. But the fear with
which they had heard news about Saul’s mission in the first
place was probably considerably mitigated when they heard
about his being somehow stricken ill on his way over. Most
probably even hoped that he would not be able to carry out his
declared intentions. They were on edge in any case and keen
to hear any good news that might come with travelers entering
the city, and alert to various possibilities.
Anyone who has lived in the Near East for any length of
time knows that news travels as fast as those who journey from
one place to another. In antiquity folk traveled either by foot
or by hoof, as some in that part of the world still travel today.
Only the better-off could afford riding on an ass or a cart
drawn by some animal (cf. Acts 8:27–28). Today much travel
is done by the service or scheduled taxis that depart when full
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 Sanders, “A Disciple in Damascus” “
of passengers and move between cities, dropping off and pick-
ing up fares as seats become available. These travelers often
provide in the people’s minds a more reliable source of hard
information than the radio or television, which are state-con-
trolled and, frankly, not usually attuned to what is important
to locals. Travelers then share news learned en route when
arriving at their destinations.
Travelers to Damascus would have provided the news that
members of the sect needed. And if there was an incident
of the sort described in the Book of Acts, travelers passing
the scene would have been eager to pass on the news upon
arrival. Most of the sect in Damascus who got the earlier news
would not only have been very apprehensive but some prob-
ably would have started planning on how to escape Saul’s
attention. They had heard about his role as witness to the
stoning of Stephen, and they knew what kind of person he
was and of his purpose in making the trip, breathing threats
against them as he came. The later news, that he was injured
and might take a while to heal, would have given them time to
discuss and plan how to deal with the new situation, figuring
the threat was nonetheless still pending.
Let us suppose that one member of the little Christian com-
munity in Damascus named Ananias had a working image of
the Christ in his head, a very active mental concept of Christ,
a kind of phronesis, or mindset, as Paul would later call it in
his letter to the young church at Philippi (Phil 2:5; cf. Luke
1:17). Ananias would interpret whatever news they got about
Saul through his working image of Jesus in his mind or heart.
The text suggests that only one follower of The Way in Damas-
cus had the vision, and that, we’ll see, was sufficient. Scripture
is full of stories about how God used just one person to turn
history on its head, and that is surely the function of Saul’s
“vision” out on the road. Saul, being well educated in Jewish
theology and tradition, as a student of Gamliel (=Gamaliel:
Acts 5:33–39, 22:3), would undoubtedly upon reflection have
understood his arresting experience on the road as ominous,
perhaps visionary.
Ananias heard the news of Saul’s indisposition and arrival
differently from others in Damascus. Ananias was scared too, as
the narrator makes clear, but he also had an urge ­develop inside
him about what to do, and what Jesus would have him do on this
occasion. He knew he might be called on to make the same kind
of witness Stephen had made earlier back in Jerusalem. But he
must have asked himself if his role was simply to be brave enough
to die a martyr. Maybe he could make a more positive witness
36
somehow, even if he still had to die. Saul was blind and sick
nearby there in the Jewish quarter, so maybe he needed to hear
that Jesus could heal the sick, even the blind (Luke 7:22 echoing
Isaiah 58:5–6 and 61:1; Sanders 1975a). Ananias figured that
all Saul had heard so far was what a threat the Jesus sect was to
the Jewish state and religion because of the rising tension with
Rome and the increasing rumors of a serious Jewish revolt.
Jesus’ followers were more of a threat than the messianic Es-
senes (or whoever they were) who had the good sense to go live
deep in the desert where they could think and do what they
wanted to and not bother the authorities with their crazy ideas.
But these Jesus people lived and practiced what they b­ elieved
where they were a real threat, at least as Saul believed, b­ ecause
they were trying to get people to change the way they actual-
ly thought about life and living under Roman oppression and
dominance. And he knew that Rome did not want people under
their rule to start thinking differently about the so-called pax
romana. Changing the way people act or live is one thing, but
changing the way they actually think about living under Roman
colonization could be very dangerous.
Ananias had a clear vision of the situation, the text says. He
was convinced enough by his Jesus-phronesis to do what he had
been taught Jesus did, even with Roman soldiers and collabo-
rators, and what Jesus actually taught when he was here about
God being the God of All (elô’ah ha-kol). Perhaps Ananias
had a kind of vision like those of the prophets of old who put
themselves at great risk in their time to say what they were con-
vinced, by their vision/concept of the monotheizing process, they
needed to say. The prophets back then had explained that the
reason they felt they had the authority to speak in God’s name,
when Israel was being threatened with extinction by Mesopota-
mian forces, was that they had had a sort of vision or phronesis,
so to speak, back in their time, a strong conviction that God was
the God of All, even Assyria and Babylonia, and not just a na-
tional deity (Sanders 2009; Sanders 2014: 28–46). Ananias’s
phronesis apparently proved just as strong.
One might call it a strong working image of God’s Christ that
Ananias had in his head, or heart. It must have been a forceful
one to overcome the instinctive fear the news about Saul’s mis-
sion otherwise caused. The story says that Jesus and Ananias
had a conversation (Acts 9:10–16). And it makes it clear not
only that Ananias was scared, but that even so he felt that he
had to do something, even go make a call on his enemy, the
stricken visitor from Jerusalem. It was compelling enough, in any
case, to set him on his way over to Straight Street, instead of
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just cowering, waiting at home for Saul to get well and probably
resume his mission. Maybe there was an alternative to the mar-
tyrdom that Stephen suffered. He’d go see. It wouldn’t be easy,
but neither would waiting around to be stoned like Stephen be
easy. And if it meant martyrdom either way, this at least would
provide him a chance to monotheize on a personal level, that is,
love his enemy—the way Jesus said they should (Luke 6:27–36;
Matt 5:43–48; Sanders 2014: 77–81). side and said, “Well, there’s a little poem we learned at our
What could possibly have been a vision strong enough to
give Ananias the courage actually to make the call on an en-
emy who wanted to kill him? Maybe it was as strong as the
prophets’ vision that Israel’s God was God also of her ene-
mies. The story goes on to say that Ananias actually went
over to Judas’s house to visit Saul lying on a bed there. Saul
was blind and ill; so the sick room was probably quiet, even
dark. Ananias approached the bed, laid his hands on Saul’s
forehead, and said quietly, “Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus,
who appeared to you on your way over here, has sent me so
that you may regain your sight.” The text says something like
scales fell from Saul’s eyes and he could see again. Again, I
don’t know from scales, but it is clear according to what hap-
pened thereafter that Saul gained from Ananias’s daring visit
a totally different vision of who these Jesus freaks were and
what they stood for (Acts 11:26). The first thing Saul saw
when his eyes opened was one person totally alone, one he
was supposed to arrest, one he had called enemy, who stood
there with his hand on his forehead calling him “Brother.”
He’d never seen or heard anything like that in his life, but
it helped him see life and himself in a way he’d never before
thought possible. Ananias was totally alone, unarmed as it
were, with a combination of fear and love in his eyes. Saul
had undoubtedly never seen anyone who had such courage
and conviction that he put himself in mortal danger like that to
practice what he believed, actually to help Saul see and heal.
What Ananias saw, on the other hand, was a man he had
feared, lying there vulnerable and probably still ill, but with
new sight able perhaps to arrest him on the spot. I imagine
Ananias, having fulfilled his mission, wanted to get out of
there as fast as he could. He had confessed in his conversa-
tion with Jesus who sent him to visit Saul how scared he was.
Mission accomplished. Time to go home. How did he know
Saul would not simply resume his stated mission to eradicate
the sect that meant so much to Ananias?
But as Ananias made his way to the door, Saul might have
said, “Hey, wait a minute, will you? I’d like to know where
you got the guts to come in here and call me Brother. I appre-
ciate a man who has such courage, and I’d like to know how
you dared come here and help me.” I imagine Ananias might
then have paused at the door, peered back into the sick room,
and asked, “You really want to know?” Saul would have re-
sponded, “Yes, I want to know. Come tell me.”
I imagine Ananias might slowly have returned to the bed-
meetings that I recited to myself again and again as I walked
over here, and that’s what gave me the courage to come see
you.” Saul would then have said, “Recite it for me, would
you? I’d like to hear it.”
We need to pause at this point and note that Ernst Loh­
meyer, a NT scholar, published a thesis some time ago that
might help at this point (Lohmeyer). Lohmeyer suggested that
the Song of Christ, or Carmen Christi, that Paul later shared
with the Church at Philippi, had probably been composed
originally in Hebrew or Aramaic by an early Palestinian dis-
ciple. That was as much as Lohmeyer ventured about the
Philippian Song. Others have suggested that Paul composed
the poem himself, but since the poem reverts so well back into
Hebrew (or Aramaic) it seems likely that Paul indeed learned
it from an early Jesus follower.
We can well imagine that Saul would supposedly have
learned it after he had joined the sect, perhaps from Ana-
nias himself. It might have been about the time Saul changed
his name, in traditional biblical manner, to Paul (Acts 13:9).
Anyway, Lohmeyer did not offer a name for the disciple who
taught it to Paul, nor did he relate it to this story in Acts, but
I suggest that it might well have been our Ananias.
Ananias might well have responded to Saul’s request in
the following way:
There was One, you see, who though in the form of God,
did not count equality with God a thing to keep to himself,
But emptied himself,
Taking on the form of a slave,
Having been born in human likeness.
Being then in human form,
He humbled himself
And became obedient unto death,
Even death on a cross.
Therefore, God has highly exalted him
And given him the name
That is above every name,
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 Sanders, “A Disciple in Damascus” “
So that at the name of Jesus
Every knee should bend,
In heaven and on earth and under the earth [Isa 45:23],
And every tongue confess
That Jesus Christ is Lord,
To the glory of God the Father [Phil 2:6–11].
Ananias would have gone on to explain, “I just kept reciting
that poem again and again on the way over here until I felt I
could come in here and offer you some comfort. I mean, if Jesus
could come all the way down from the throne of God and live
our lives with us on earth, persecuted and oppressed for what he
taught, and died on a cross because he told the truth and was
not afraid to do so, then I figured the least I could do was come
over here and call you Brother. You see, he taught us to love
everybody because all people, even enemies, belong to God.”
We can’t be sure, of course, that all this happened exactly
this way, but from what Acts and Paul have left us to ponder it
seems quite possible. The experience would have caused Saul
to r­ ethink his whole position with regard to the sect--rethink,
indeed, his whole life. The text says that when he got well he
joined the congregation in Damascus (Acts 9:19–22), made
a personal retreat in Arabia, then rejoined the congregation
in Damascus (Gal 1:17), whereupon he started himself to
preach about Christ, confounding his mainstream compatri-
ots by his dramatic change of identity, and by his preaching
(Acts 22:22–24).
Later while he was in prison (probably at Rome) he wrote to
the little church he had founded in Philippi about his experiences
and what brought about his arrest. He exhorted them to stand
firm, “striving side by side with one mind (mia psuché) for the
faith of the good news we have ourselves heard, and be in no way
intimidated by opponents” (Phil 1:27–28). In doing so he would
have wanted to share with them the poem Ananias had recited to
him when he was sick at Judas’s house back in Damascus.
It is especially poignant then to note that Paul in the
­beginning of his letter to the little church at Philippi admits
that his imprisonment had brought him to contemplate ­whether
he himself was facing martyrdom, or worse, suicide (Phil
1:19–24; Holloway). One cannot but reflect on Ananias’s de-
liberations in himself whether to accept martyrdom like Ste-
phen’s upon Saul’s arrival in Damascus, or be bold enough to
go pay a visit on his enemy and witness to his understanding
of the Christ event by reciting the poem he’d learned in the
meetings of the small but growing Jesus sect in Syria.
38
He would have introduced the poem by reflecting on what
Ananias had done for him in Damascus, anticipating it with
something like the following: “If there is any courage by being
in Christ, any strength stemming from (Christ’s self-giving)
love, any sharing in the Spirit (of Christ), any compassion
and sympathy for ‘others,’ . . . have the same phronesis Christ
had. . . .  Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in
humility look at others as better than yourselves. Each of you
should look not only to your own interests but to the interests
of ‘the other.’ And you should have in you the same phronesis
that Jesus himself had” (Phil 2:1–5). All these qualities that
Paul attributes to being in Christ were those he had seen in
Ananias, indeed those attributed to God himself in the early
Greek translations of Jewish Scripture. He thus claims that
those divine thoughts and qualities are now available to those
who believe in the Christ.
Paul’s use of the word phroneo, bidding his followers to
think a certain way recalls crucial passages in Scripture that
express what having God’s Torah, or God’s way of thinking,
as the way the prophets thought in their time and wanted the
people to think as well. Torah means far more than simply
“law.” A mere glance at the Pentateuch shows that Torah
is made up of both haggadah and halachah, or gospel and
law—God’s story and God’s law. Torah for the Jew means
God’s most precious gift that all peoples will flow to Jerusa-
lem to learn (Isa 2:2–3) how the God of All actually thinks
(Sanders 1975b; Sanders 1977).
In Isaiah 55:8–9 the exilic prophet offered as explanation
for God’s grace (in allowing any and all exiles, even those who
had defected during exile the right to return home) that God’s
thoughts are not human thoughts and ways. God’s thinking is
as different from human thinking as the heavens are above the
earth, the prophet said. The Septuagint translates the He-
brew words for “thoughts” with forms of the Greek diánoia
that Luke uses to speak of hearts burning within the disciples
when Jesus opened Scripture for them on the road to Em-
maus (Luke 24:31–32). The Septuagint uses the same words
based on the Greek dianoigo at Isaiah 55:8–9, as well as the
more common Greek noun, boule.
More importantly, all the pre-exilic prophets (except per-
haps Amos) argued that God’s judgments against his people
executed through the imperial expansionist policies of the late
Iron Age Mesopotamian powers would also be transforma-
tive for the people if they took them to heart as God’s desire to
instill God’s ways of thinking into the people themselves. Jer-
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emiah promised that the adversity would be a divine surgery
in which God would suture his Torah onto the heart of the
people collectively (Jer 31:31–34). Ezekiel claimed much the
same when he argued that the adversity in the hands of God
would effect a new heart in the people and implant a new
spirit in them so that they could think God’s Torah thoughts
themselves (Ezek 36:26–27). Hosea had his way of saying
much the same (Hos 2:14, 6:1; cf. Mic 6:8).
Mind you, these were the prophets whose messages were
despised in the pre-war days when they actually lived and
preached back home, but were upon recollection in Exile
and thereafter heard in an entirely new way because they ex-
plained how God could let old Israel and Judah be destroyed
(cf. Deut 29–31), in order to transform them into a new Israel
that became Early Judaism into which both Jesus of Naza-
reth and Saul of Tarsus were born and nurtured. A metaphor
Jeremiah used was that of circumcising the heart of the peo-
ple collectively (Jer 4:4; Deut 10:16 and 30:6). The heart
was viewed in both biblical Hebrew and Greek as the seat
of thinking, not emotion as we do today; that was expressed
metaphorically as the bowels and/or wombs (Jer 4:19; Phil
1:8, 2:1; Col 3:12). God was implanting through adversity
a kind of phronesis of God’s own Torah thinking into the
remnant, those in whose hearts God’s way of thinking took
root (Isa 51:7), the opposite of those who were still stubborn
of heart (Isa 46:12) and resisted Torah thinking (Sanders
2005: 70–88; Sanders 2014: 28–46).
Paul, knowing well the prophetic literature in both He-
brew and Greek, would then have copied his Greek transla-
tion of the poem into his letter to the followers of The Way
in Philippi, encouraging them to be as loving toward those
who threaten them as Ananias had been to him back in Da-
mascus. Reflecting himself upon the same poem, he made his
decision: like Ananias he would face possible death but only
by continuing to witness to what God had done in Christ by
“remaining in the flesh . . . so that in me you may have ample
cause to glory in Christ Jesus . . . ” (Phil 1:24–26).
The otherwise unknown disciple in Damascus, Ananias,
by hearing the news that his enemy, Saul of Tarsus, had had
an accident and was blind and ill, and by understanding it
through the phronesis of God’s Christ in his heart, instilled by
reciting a little poem he’d learned in their meetings in Damas-
cus, took his life in his hands and went over to Judas’s house
and called his enemy “Brother.” And in doing so Ananias in
effect gave the apostle Paul the courage and boldness he him-
self later needed when depressed by imprisonment in Rome
for preaching precisely what Ananias had taught him about
Jesus. After all, Jesus did command his followers to love their
enemies and pray for those who persecute them (Matt 5:44;
Luke 6:27–28, 7:22). To be able to do that one would have
to become telos, “perfect” like God, being able to empathize
with the other as also God’s creature, thus qualifying to be-
come “sons of God in heaven” (Matt 5:45), indeed members
of God’s own heavenly council whose job was to see that justice
was done on earth (Ps 82; cf. Job 1–2; Isa 40:1–11, et al.).
Having such a phronesis (or God’s Torah thinking) in
his heart had a rippling effect when Ananias made his bold
decision to go show the kind of love he’d learned about Jesus,
even to the dreaded Saul of Tarsus. Ananias would have had
no idea that his decision to pay a visit to his enemy would have
been the cause for Saul of Tarsus becoming the Apostle Paul,
who would later share it in his correspondence that would be
read by many for two millennia to come.
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