Wealth and Poverty in Early Church and Society (Holy Cross Studies in Patristic Theology and History)

Editorial Board

Robert J. Daly, SJ, Chair

Bruce N. Beck

François Bovon

Susan R. Holman

Demetrios S. Katos

Aristotle Papanikolaou

James Skedros

published under the auspices of

The Stephen and Catherine

PAPPAS PATRISTIC INSTITUTE

of

HOLY CROSS GREEK ORTHODOX SCHOOL OF THEOLOGY

BROOKLINE, MASSACHUSETTS

© 2008 by Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School of Theology

Published by Baker Academic

a division of Baker Publishing Group

P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

www.bakeracademic.com

Ebook edition created 2013

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

ISBN 978-1-4412-0593-3

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

Chapter 1, Injustice or God’s Will? Early Christian Explanations of Poverty, by Steven J. Friesen, is revised from Christian Origins: A People’s History of Christianity, vol. 1, edited by Richard Horsley, © 2005 Augsburg Fortress (www.augsburgfortress.org). Used by permission.

Unless otherwise stated, Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, copyright © 1989, by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

CONTENTS

Cover

Series Page

Title Page

Copyright Page

Foreword—Archbishop Demetrios Trakatellis

Preface—Susan R. Holman

Part One: The New Testament Period

1. Injustice or God’s Will? Early Christian Explanations of Poverty—Steven J. Friesen

2. Be not one who stretches out hands to receive but shuts them when it comes to giving: Envisioning Christian Charity When Both Donors and Recipients Are Poor—Denise Kimber Buell

3. James 2:2–7 in Early Christian Thought—Görge K. Hasselhoff

4. Wealth, Poverty, and the Value of the Person: Some Notes on the Hymn of the Pearl and Its Early Christian Context—Edward Moore

Part Two: Egypt in Late Antiquity

5. Widening the Eye of the Needle: Wealth and Poverty in the Works of Clement of Alexandria—Annewies van den Hoek

6. Care for the Poor, Fear of Poverty, and Love of Money: Evagrius Ponticus on the Monk’s Economic Vulnerability—David Brakke

7. Wine for Widows: Papyrological Evidence for Christian Charity in Late Antique Egypt—Adam Serfass

8. Rich and Poor in Sophronius of Jerusalem’s Miracles of Saints Cyrus and John—Susan R. Holman

Part Three: John Chrysostom, the Cappadocians, and Friends

9. This Sweetest Passage: Matthew 25:31–46 and Assistance to the Poor in the Homilies of John Chrysostom—Rudolf Brändle

10. Poverty and Generosity toward the Poor in the Time of John Chrysostom—Wendy Mayer

11. Poverty and Wealth as Theater: John Chrysostom’s Homilies on Lazarus and the Rich Man—Francine Cardman

12. Wealthy and Impoverished Widows in the Writings of St. John Chrysostom—Efthalia Makris Walsh

13. The Hellenic Background and Nature of Patristic Philanthropy in the Early Byzantine Era—Demetrios J. Constantelos

Part Four: Wealth, Trade, and Profit in Early Byzantium

14. Gilding the Lily: A Patristic Defense of Liturgical Splendor—A. Edward Siecienski

15. Wealth, Stewardship, and Charitable Blessings in Early Byzantine Monasticism—Daniel Caner

16. Trade, Profit, and Salvation in the Late Patristic and the Byzantine Period—Angeliki E. Laiou

Part Five: Patristic Studies for Today

17. St. Basil’s Philanthropic Program and Modern Microlending Strategies for Economic Self-Actualization—Timothy Patitsas

18. The Use of Patristic Socioethical Texts in Catholic Social Thought—Brian Matz

Abbreviations

Select Bibliography

List of Contributors

Subject Index

Modern Authors Index

Ancient Sources Index

Notes

FOREWORD

BY HIS EMINENCE ARCHBISHOP DEMETRIOS OF AMERICA

The insights offered by the prolific Fathers of the patristic age continue to reverberate with striking and contemporary relevance. Such insights are vividly revealed in the arena of wealth and poverty in the period of the early church and society. What were the Fathers of the Church witnessing with regard to the plight of the poor in those first centuries of Christendom? How did they articulate a theology that could address the obligations of the wealthy to respond to the needs of the poor in their time? What impact did they have upon the structural functioning of their environments to address such complex needs? What parallels do the creation of charitable institutions and the formation of social policies to address wealth and poverty in their age share with contemporary models of the twenty-first century in our world?

Questions such as these, and indeed many more, are dealt with in the many essays that comprise the contents of this book, Wealth and Poverty in Early Church and Society, a publication made possible by the Holy Cross Orthodox Press and the Pappas Patristic Institute of Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School of Theology. The reader of this book will no doubt be struck by the sense of immediacy that runs as an underlying theme throughout the essays. For the Fathers of the Church, the problem of wealth and poverty demanded immediate action. More importantly, they knew that such action required that social, political, and religious actors in society have an informed Christian understanding of the wide-ranging issues pertaining to wealth and poverty. The Fathers used all possible means available to them for an effective, pertinent education: the production of action-oriented literature, passionate preaching based upon the Holy Scriptures, and strong recommendations generated by Christian principles for implementing successful social policies and programs to alleviate dire conditions that were facing their communities in their respective times.

Today, we stand to gain much from returning to that same sense of urgent and sensitive action that the Fathers of the Church considered necessary when facing issues of wealth and poverty. We have witnessed in the very recent past the positive and negative effects of globalization on commerce, the outsourcing of labor and its effects, and the growing dependence upon technology for robust economies in varying regions of the world. All of these issues affect wealth and poverty. More importantly, from a Christian perspective, they affect the manner by which people of wealth interact with people in conditions of poverty. Here, perhaps, the insights offered by the patristic age continue to constitute invaluable and most effective tools for dealing with the issues of wealth and poverty in our contemporary times. While form may have changed much, substance has remained constant in terms of the importance of communicating Christian understandings of wealth and poverty and of the obligations of the wealthy toward the needy. Indeed, we have much to learn from the Fathers of the Church in this domain; and I am pleased to commend the present book of significant essays, offered by the Pappas Patristic Institute, as an important step forward in coping with the burning issue of wealth and poverty in our contemporary world.

† DEMETRIOS

Archbishop of America

PREFACE

T

his collection of essays represents a cross section of recent research on the dynamics of poverty and wealth in Christianity in late antiquity. The essays range from close textual readings to broad topical overviews, to creative application and contemporary issues, and were originally presented as papers at the conference on Wealth and Poverty in Early Christianity, sponsored by the Stephen and Catherine Pappas Patristic Institute at Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School of Theology in Brookline, Massachusetts, in October 2005. This was the Institute’s second annual conference inviting international scholars, graduate students, and interested clergy together to discuss leading topics relevant to patristic studies. In addition to several papers that could not be included here for various reasons, the conference also included a panel discussion and dialogue between His Eminence Archbishop Demetrios, primate of the Greek Orthodox Church in America, and the Reverend J. Bryan Hehir, SJ, president and treasurer of Catholic Charities in the Archdiocese of Boston, on the contemporary topic of poverty and wealth as it relates to religion and patristic studies. The range of these conversations is a measure of the Institute’s commitment to foster international and ecumenical participation in the study of patristic texts and the issues they raise.

Poverty and wealth are never purely academic. Human need and affluence have been treated as moral issues across most cultures throughout history. The Christian responses may have characteristics particular to Christian views on such things as the material world, the divine body, and the incarnation of God in Christ, but, as these essays show, there was a great deal of variety in the how and why of early Christian choices to speak and act on the economic discrepancies that existed—and bothered—writers in antiquity as much as they bother many of us today.

In examining these ancient views, the authors of these essays have asked of their sources certain basic questions: How did New Testament texts and cultural ideals influence the development of social welfare in the subsequent centuries of the patristic period? How might modern readers understand the economic strata of the early church, and how did these differences in the community and church distribution between wealthy and poor influence the way they viewed human need and one another? What did these texts have to say about such issues as ownership, divestment, and the moral valence of poverty, and what are some ways they differ on these issues? What were the ideological differences between voluntary and involuntary poverty? What lifestyle did patristic authors expect, recommend, or even demand of the poor and their fellow believers? How did poor monks give alms, and what did they worry about when they did? What went on between rich and poor in healing sanctuaries, where both were sick? If philanthrōpia to the poor was so important, how did Christians justify the bejeweled splendor of magnificent churches? How did they understand work and trade? And what might these texts offer today in dialogue with modern efforts to address global poverty and injustice? The essays offer various frameworks for informed and thoughtful discussion of these and similar questions.

The book is divided into five parts that proceed more or less chronologically. Part 1 explores several texts and issues that are particularly relevant to New Testament studies. Steven Friesen begins with a look at how four early Christian texts explained the cause of poverty. Considering in turn passages from Revelation, the Letter of Jacob (or James), Acts, and the Shepherd of Hermas, he examines the distinctly different ways these texts explain poverty, with different calls to action, and suggests that patristic studies be more attentive to the reconstruction of submerged perspectives in considering models for the future. Denise Buell continues this challenge, also drawing from the Shepherd of Hermas, as well as the Didache and the so-called First Letter of Clement. Her study examines textual hints for Christian charity within a social setting where both donors and recipients were poor, and challenges the binary rhetoric of donor/recipient by interpreting these texts in light of the fact that most early Christians lived on the economic margins. Görge Hasselhoff homes in on a single passage—James 2:2–7—and looks back at the scarce patristic exegesis of this passage, especially considering those sources that might have been available to Bede in the seventh-century West. His conclusions suggest a curious marginalization of this passage that may hint at a long-standing discomfort concerning its comments on rich and poor. Concluding the first section, Edward Moore looks at the gnostic Hymn of the Pearl as it too evokes the passage in James. The Hymn, Moore argues, understands the promise of wealth as a call to transcendence, and poverty as a lack of a transformative vision of God.

Part 2 brings the reader to four different case studies from Egypt in late antiquity: wealthy lay patrons, monks, church-supported widows, and the sick. Annewies van den Hoek offers a close reading of one of the most frequently cited patristic texts on wealth and poverty: Clement of Alexandria’s treatise Quis dives salvetur?, one of the earliest exegetical studies on the story of the rich young ruler in Mark 10. Comparing Clement’s treatise with later texts from Augustine and Paulinus of Nola, van den Hoek suggests striking theological similarities among these authors’ defense of an intellectual detachment from wealth, a detachment that reflects a very cautious attitude toward renunciation. David Brakke unveils the anxieties about money, charity, and economic activity that percolate through Evagrius’s advice to those more seemingly intrepid about renunciation: his fellow hermit-monks in the Egyptian desert. In their battle against that crafty demon, Love of Money, monks ought to seek economic sufficiency combined with charity, Evagrius says, rather than fiscal security in this life. While Evagrius’s advice suggests that monks came from a range of social classes, his comments on the lower-class monks suggest that Evagrius, like Clement, wrote for upper-class readers. Adam Serfass pushes at the curtain of this literary bias in his essay, a detailed look at Egyptian papyri that provide documentary evidence for how churches sought to meet the everyday needs of the poor, testaments to the cautious redistribution of wealth in several churches, at least as it concerned the control and administration of wine (and clothing) donations for church-supported widows. Finally, I offer a few observations on the rhetoric of rich and poor in a text about an incubation-healing shrine near Alexandria as it operated in the late sixth and early seventh centuries, particularly as views on wealth and poverty may have related to monastic social ideals about humility and moral justice.

John Chrysostom and the fourth-century Cappadocians, particularly Basil of Caesarea, are perhaps the best-known Greek examples of patristic beneficence. Part 3 offers five studies on themes from this period in Antioch and Asia Minor. Rudolf Brändle builds on his 1979 landmark study of John Chrysostom’s use of Matt. 25:31–46 with several exciting new insights. Believing that all wealth was rooted in injustice, Chrysostom invited his audience to take on the self-ordained priestly dignity that accompanies the role of stewards for the poor. Arguing that the Matthew text is the integrative force behind the central thought in Chrysostom’s theology, Brändle’s theological study suggests that John Chrysostom offers a new approach to soteriology that deserves further study. Wendy Mayer then teases out the relationship, in John’s time, between private asceticism, wealth, and economic poverty. Her tightly nuanced essay suggests that economic and voluntary poverty were valued differently, and that these differences lie at the heart of understanding the shifting roles of wealth and poverty in society from the fourth century onward. She introduces the idea that beggars who performed for their alms were granted higher moral value, perhaps because such performance was regarded as a form of work, thus contributing to rather than threatening the social balance of the community. In the next essay, Francine Cardman builds on this theme of theater with a study of Chrysostom’s sermons on Lazarus and the rich man, particularly focusing on the irony of John’s use of theater. Even as he railed against the circus and the shows, John used theatrical devices as a deliberate preaching rhetoric. As we read these texts, Cardman suggests, we too must learn how to see the story play out in our own rhetoric and practice. Efthalia Makris Walsh then returns the reader’s gaze to widows, with a short summary of Chrysostom’s exegesis of Old and New Testament widows and its application to the theology about, and practical issues concerning, the care of widows in his day. Lest we judge too harshly John’s use of Hellenistic culture to make his point, Demetrios Constantelos concludes the section with a reminder of how classical Greek texts influenced the development of Christian rhetoric about philanthropy in this period, particularly in the example of Basil of Caesarea.

Part 4 looks at several issues that characterized the tension between wealth and poverty in late antiquity and the early Byzantine period: church finery, monastic gift exchange, and the question of trade, profit, and salvation. Edward Siecienski begins with a turn of the coin, to discuss the dazzling liturgical splendor that characterized that space within which late antique ascetic preachers denounced ostentation and wealth. Their failure to denounce church finery universally and consistently may suggest in part the aesthetic pressures they faced from theological competitors, but it more likely relates also to patristic views of spiritual beauty. Gold and silver came to represent heaven’s majesty, but such material substances remained relative in contrast with the souls that were the true body of the church. Daniel Caner asks how early Byzantine monks conceptualized their surplus resources, when they had any. Focusing on eulogia, or blessings, this essay suggests a monastic economy of charitable leftovers that might be compared with Jewish gleanings and that existed within an ascetic environment that was often characterized by extreme scarcity, where leftovers were a blessing indeed. Angeliki Laiou concludes part 4 with an examination of how hagiographical texts from the late patristic and Byzantine periods discuss trade and profit. Her examples suggest that merchants were not vilified, and that neither profit nor trade was considered illegitimate for Christians. The church may have sought to turn economic behavior upside down through its miraculous economy, but, as these texts show, both the saints and professional merchants were positive forces in the manner in which charity used the marketplace.

The two chapters in Part 5 turn to the modern problems of poverty to suggest ways that patristic texts might contribute to modern religious and policy dialogue. Timothy Patitsas offers an unusual, provocative study of modern international responses to need that have (or have not) worked, and what the Christian tradition might offer in building the future. Patitsas considers the work of economist Jane Jacobs as well as leading models for global microlending initiatives, and offers these as conceptual stimuli for envisioning how Basil of Caesarea’s fourth-century philanthropic program might be instructive in contemporary development issues. Finally, Brian Matz concludes the volume with his description of a very different project, one emerging from the international academy, that seeks to develop and apply a systematic approach to patristic socioethical texts that directly relate to modern Catholic Social Thought, particularly in modern Europe. These two essays hint at the creative potential for patristic studies in the coming decades. They suggest the immediate relevance of such studies as those in this volume to a broad range of readers, both those working in an academic setting as well as those engaged in social justice and social action that serves the world through the ecclesia.

As volume editor and on behalf of the Institute, I am delighted to acknowledge those who made possible both the conference and this book. The Reverend Dr. Emmanuel Clapsis, then dean of Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School of Theology, brought the vision and gift of the late Stephen and Catherine Pappas for a patristic institute to a reality in 2003, inviting eminent scholars in patristic studies to draft the charter and to establish its founding board, with the support of His Eminence Archbishop Demetrios Trakatellis and the Reverend Nicholas Triantafilou, president of Holy Cross. The Reverend Dr. Thomas Fitzgerald, the present dean, carries the vision forward with his continuing support. The Reverend Dr. Robert J. Daly, SJ, founding chairman of the Institute’s board, has, with inspiring clarity, guided the practical concerns of the Institute to fulfill its goals by encouraging young scholars in patristic studies through conferences, research opportunities, and publications. My own role would have been far more onerous without the Institute’s board as conversation partners, including Drs. François Bovon, Demetrios Katos, James Skedros, and Aristotle Papanikolaou. And the book would not exist in its present form without the generous administrative and collaborative gifts of Dr. Bruce Beck, the institute’s director and series editor. Finally, we thank Dr. James Ernest, editor at Baker Academic and a fellow patristic scholar, who made it possible to publish the series with Baker in collaboration with Holy Cross Greek Orthodox Press.

Susan R. Holman

1

INJUSTICE OR GOD’S WILL?

Early Christian Explanations of Poverty

STEVEN J. FRIESEN

Brazilian theologian, churchman, and activist Dom Hélder Câmara was known as an advocate for the poorest of the poor, not only in the slums of Rio de Janeiro, Olinda, and Recife, but throughout the world. Reflecting on his ministry he observed, When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a communist. While the accusation of being a communist may seem somewhat quaint in North America in the early twenty-first century, in Latin America in the late twentieth century the accusation was often fatal. Nevertheless, between his ordination to the Roman Catholic priesthood in 1931 and his death in 1999, Câmara persisted in spite of great opposition, and these experiences allowed him to explore the difference between offering charity and promoting economic equality.[1]

With his life, Câmara raised the question of whether almsgiving is a sufficient Christian response to poverty. Does the Christian gospel also require an analysis of the forces that create and exploit poverty? This is not an easy question, and I cannot answer it in the next few pages. But we can begin by asking whether the writers of the early church posed such questions. Did they analyze the phenomenon of poverty? Did they ask why the poor had no food? And if so, what did they say about it? What did the earliest churches see as the sources of poverty? Did they think the misery came from divine action or human action? And in response to the existence of poverty, did they promote charity or economic equality?

These are not burning issues in patristic studies. One can find many studies that talk about early Christian attitudes toward wealth and poverty (and especially toward wealth), but I was not able to find a single study on early Christian analyses of the causes of poverty. So let us boldly forge ahead where wiser minds have chosen not to go.[2]

I focus on the earliest period—the texts from the first and early second centuries of the Common Era. Most of the Christian texts from this period do not address these questions directly. As far as I can tell, the origins of poverty is not a topic for discussion in Hebrews, 1–2 Peter, 1–3 John, Jude, 1 Clement, the letters of Paul, the letters of Ignatius, the Acts of Paul, Justin Martyr, or Irenaeus. Scattered references are found in the Jesus traditions of the gospels, but these are quite complicated and they will have to wait for a different study.

That leaves four texts around which to organize my investigation: the Revelation of John; the Letter of James, which is more accurately called the Letter of Jacob; the Acts of the Apostles; and the Shepherd of Hermas. Together, these four proto-Christian texts provide us with four distinct ways of explaining the causes of poverty, and with four calls to action regarding one of the most intractable human problems. They do not demonstrate a linear evolution in the economic thinking and practices of the early assemblies, for the texts come from several communities over the course of several decades. Rather, the texts illustrate four models for study and for action that I hope will facilitate analysis without oversimplifying the issues. Before we examine the texts, however, we need a framework for understanding economic inequality in the early Roman Empire, where these texts were produced.

Economic Inequality in the Early Roman Empire

In their analysis of Roman imperial society, Peter Garnsey and Richard Saller employ the poignant phrase, the Roman system of inequality.[3] With this phrase Garnsey and Saller call our attention to the fact that the Roman Empire maintained its domination of the Mediterranean world through judicial institutions, legislative systems, property ownership, control of labor, and brute force. Like all societies, the empire developed mechanisms for maintaining multifaceted inequality, and like all so-called civilized societies the empire promoted justifications that made the inequity seem normal, or at least inevitable.

As we turn our attention specifically to the economic facets of the Roman system of inequality, there are three fundamental ideas to keep in mind. First, as economic historians point out, the Roman imperial economy was preindustrial. The vast majority of people lived in rural areas or in small towns, with only about 10 to 15 percent of the population in big cities of ten thousand people or more. This means that most of the population worked in agriculture (80 to 90 percent) and that large-scale commercial or manufacturing activity was rare.

Second, there was no middle class in the Roman Empire. Because the economy was primarily agricultural, wealth was based on the ownership of land. Most land was controlled by a small number of wealthy, elite families. These families earned rent and produce from the subsistence farmers or slaves who actually worked the land. With their wealth and status, these families were able to control local and regional governance, which allowed them to profit also from taxation and from governmental policies. These same families also controlled public religion.

Third, poverty was widespread both in rural and urban areas. Interpreters of early Christian literature tend to underestimate the overwhelming poverty that characterized the Roman Empire. And when we do mention the problem of poverty, we tend to use the undefined binary categories of rich and poor in our descriptions. To promote clarity (and to force people to define their terms), I have developed a poverty scale that provides seven categories for describing economic resources[4] (see table 1.1). The percentages are based on data from urban centers of ten thousand inhabitants or more, but we need to remember that in rural areas poverty was even worse: while superwealthy elites (categories 1–3) made up about 3 percent of an urban population, they were only about 1 percent of the total imperial population. The focus on urban centers is necessary because this type of city is where the audiences for these four texts lived. Another way to understand these figures is to render them as a pyramid chart that visually depicts the inequity involved (see figure 1.1). It is difficult to put monetary values on these categories because prices varied greatly in rural and urban areas; table 1.2 provides some rough guidelines.

Table 1.1. Poverty Scale for a Large City in the Roman Empire

Poverty is, of course, a more complicated phenomenon than the mere possession of financial resources. In the twenty-first century poverty is affected by many factors, and we should expect no fewer complications in ancient societies. In the early Roman Empire financial resources were probably the single most influential factor in determining one’s place in the social economy, but financial resources were not the only factor. Other factors would have included gender, ethnicity, family lineage (common or noble), legal status (slave, freed, or freeborn), occupation, and education. Patronage relationships were especially important in one’s economic survival, for a patron gave one access to restricted resources that were otherwise unavailable. In times of crisis a patron could mean the difference between life and death. But financial resources provide us with one way to open the discussions, and also have the virtue of sometimes being quantifiable in ways that other factors are not.[5]

Table 1.2. Annual Income Needed by Family of Four

Note: Adapted from Ekkehard W. Stegemann and Wolfgang Stegemann, The Jesus Movement: A Social History of Its First Century (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1999), 81–85. The estimates are based on 2,500 calories per day for an adult male, and include nonfood expenses such as housing, clothing, and taxes.

Figure 1.1. Poverty Scale Percentages

When we discuss the explanations of economic inequality found in early Christian texts, then, we must fight the tendency to impose the categories of modern industrial economies on the Roman Empire. Most of the recipients of these four texts lived in large urban areas with a preindustrial economy. Unless there is evidence to the contrary, we should assume that most or all of the recipients of a particular text lived near the level of subsistence.

Revelation of John: Apocalyptic Condemnation of Imperialism

The Revelation of John presents a blistering critique of Roman imperialism as the source of injustice and poverty. The text began to circulate in the late first century among urban churches in western Asia Minor (modern Turkey). The author described Roman imperialism as a system of blasphemous arrogance and deception: the powerful imperial elites (mostly PS 1) collaborate with members of the local aristocracies (PS 2–3) in order to deceive the masses into compliance.

Since the text is visionary with spectacular imagery, it makes its case not so much through argumentation as through symbols. The symbols are steeped in the traditions of Israel, but the author seldom quotes them. Instead, John narrates visions that mix elements of biblical traditions with allusions to the sociohistorical settings of the churches. The result is an apocalypse that portrays the Roman Empire as Satan’s tool, opposed to the God of Israel, and destined for destruction.

Two texts help us understand the critique better. The first text is the vision of two beasts in Rev. 13. The first half of the vision reveals a beast from the sea that clearly represents Roman imperialism; if we miss this in Rev. 13 the identification is made explicit by an interpreting angel in chapter 17. This seven-headed, ten-horned imperial monstrosity receives satanic authority to blaspheme and to conquer. The details of the vision draw heavily on the book of Daniel to portray Roman rule as the ultimate superpower opposed to God. It conquers the world, defeats the saints, and is worshiped by the whole world.

The second half of the vision in Rev. 13 fills out the description of the Roman system of inequality by introducing a second beast, this one from the land. This beast represents the local aristocracies (mostly PS 2–3), who exercise the authority of the first beast.[6] This second beast deceives and coerces the world into submission. The populace must worship Rome or die, according to John. Significantly, the second beast is said to control the local economy for Rome. Note Rev. 13:16–17: Also it causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, so that no one can buy or sell who does not have the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name. In U.S. popular culture this mark of the beast—666—has become the subject of ongoing prophecy speculation. In the first century, however, no speculation was necessary. The domination of the imperial beast was made possible by the aristocratic beast.

A second text elaborates specifically the economic system of exploitation at the heart of this military domination. In Rev. 18 the author takes the reader through a series of proclamations and laments that portray how international commerce and politics figure into the Roman system of inequality. Four sets of players are mentioned: Babylon the queen (mostly PS 1), the kings of the earth (PS 1–2), merchants and shippers (PS 2–3), and the general population (the peoples of the earth, mostly PS 4–7). Babylon the queen—another image for Rome—is the central figure in the system, manipulating each of the other figures in different ways. Her relationship with the kings of the earth is called prostitution (porneia; Rev. 18:9), for theirs is a game of power and payment. With the merchants and shippers, however, the issue is only payment. When the queen is destroyed, their laments are only for the lost profits (18:16–19). According to the Seer, the general population is also complicit in this system of commercial and political exploitation, but their motives are different. They were drunk on the queen’s wine (18:3), deceived by her potions and spells (18:23).

The Seer’s call to action is radical: he advocates a total withdrawal from the machinations of empire in the interests of purity until the Lamb intervenes in history. In the words of the angel of Rev. 18:4, Come out of her, my people, so that you do not take part in her sins, and so that you do not share in her plagues. John’s denunciations of injustice are also extreme, with attacks on the entire imperial system (government, economy, religion, and enforcement) and with threats of divine judgment—eternal suffering in the lake of fire.

The Seer’s model for understanding economic inequality, then, is that Satan controls this world through the empire. The empire suppresses all opposition to its domination. This hegemony is a form of blasphemy because the emperor claims to be the king of kings, the ruler of history, the lord of the destinies of all peoples. According to this apocalyptic model, the political foundation of exploitation is the system of alliances among kings and rulers. The local aristocracies implement the exploitation and ensure that commerce benefits the wealthy, allowing goods to move around the empire to the places where they will most benefit the oppressors. This system of inequality requires the participation of its victims. They are deceived or awed or intimidated into compliance. John’s admonition to the people is that they remove themselves from this system even if it requires martyrdom, for their blood will be avenged by God in the end.

The Letter of Jacob: A Local Prophetic Critique

The second text under consideration is normally called the Letter of James, but I refer to it as the Letter of Jacob. This is a more accurate rendering of the name, and it reminds us of the Jewish facets of this letter.[7]

We do not need to settle the questions of date and authorship of Jacob at this point. For the purpose of charting proto-Christian explanations of poverty, it is enough to recognize that this is a text from the last half of the first century that was intended for wide circulation among believers. The text probably claims the authority of Jacob, brother of Jesus and leader of the Jerusalem assemblies, whether he was actually responsible for the content or not. In general, the content focuses on the theme of proper living in ways that echo the prophetic traditions of Israel: one should trust God completely and act accordingly, keeping one’s life pure and taking care of those who suffer.

In terms of the spectrum of models I am building, the Letter of Jacob moves us closer to the middle: Jacob blames poverty on injustice, but its critique had a narrower vision than did Revelation’s. Rather than condemning the entire Roman Empire, the Letter of Jacob condemned local economic exploitation. It called the faithful not to withdraw from the imperial system, but rather to resist the wealth-based system of status that characterized dominant society.

We can see this by examining two sections of the letter. The first is 2:1–7, where the author criticizes the dominant social system and the judicial system. With great rhetorical energy, Jacob describes a hypothetical situation in which two men visit the synagogue of his readers. One wears fine clothes and a gold ring, placing him in category 4 or higher on the poverty scale.[8] The other is filthy and desperately poor (a ptōchos, PS 7). According to Jacob, if the synagogue operates according to the normal standards of social status by showing honor to the wealthy and disrespect or neglect to the poor, then they are contradicting the faith of their Lord Jesus Christ.

The author’s rhetorical purpose in verses 1–4 is to distance fellow synagogue members from this status system based on wealth. The author asserts that in the synagogue all should be treated with compassion. Normal social interaction that showed honor to someone simply because he or she was rich was wrong. If believers participated in the wealth-based status system of their time, they perpetuated inequality and became accomplices in the victimization of the poor.

As the author works to convince his audience to abstain from showing honor based on wealth, he poses a rhetorical question that implies a condemnation of the judicial system as well.

Listen, my beloved brothers and sisters. Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom that he has promised to those who love him? But you have dishonored the poor. Is it not the rich who oppress you? Is it not they who drag you into court? Is it not they who blaspheme the excellent name that was invoked over you? (James 2:5–7)

The rhetoric of this section asserts that there are two alternatives: the system of the world and the system of God’s kingdom. In the synagogues of God’s kingdom, the materially poor are rich in faith and so they should not be dishonored by brothers and sisters who are financially better off. The author then seals the argument with a rhetorical question: why do they honor the rich of the world, the very people who use the court system to oppress them? So in the course of discussing the gap between society’s system of honor and God’s system of honor, Jacob cites a second reason for economic inequality: the courts are not for justice, but rather for injustice.

In a second passage, James 5:1–6, we see the author’s most caustic critique of the economic system. Here Jacob criticizes a fundamental feature of the Roman system of inequality: wealthy landowners exploiting the laborers who worked their fields. As noted earlier, land ownership was the primary means by which the elite minority generated and maintained their wealth. Poor laborers, sharecroppers, and slaves did most of the production in exchange for subsistence wages or provisions. Much of the value of their labor was taken by the elite families, who paid them low wages, charged them rent, appropriated their crops, and/or demanded payment of taxes.[9] According to Jacob, this economic practice of the rich was equivalent to murder.

There are two aspects to Jacob’s critique of rich landowners, both of which drew on the traditions of the Israelite prophets. First, Jacob condemns the accumulation of capital using the imagery of corrosion (compare Isa. 51, especially verses 8–16): the corrosion on their precious metals would be evidence against them in the final judgment; the corrosion would consume even their very flesh. Second, Jacob accuses the wealthy of squandering the surplus generated by the unpaid labor of the workers (James 5:1–3). Because the rich use that surplus for their own satisfaction, the divine warrior of Israel, the Lord of Hosts (ho kyrios sabaōth), will avenge those who oppress the poor (5:4–6, drawing explicitly on Isa. 5, Jer. 12:9, and other biblical texts).

Can we locate Jacob’s audiences on the poverty scale? The author assumes that there are no wealthy landowners in the congregations to which he writes, since 5:1–6 speaks of them as outsiders. The author also assumes that a man with the gold ring and fine clothes would be unusual but not out of the question. So the rhetoric of 2:1–6 locates the audiences mostly between the desperate poor man (PS 7) and that man with extravagant clothes (PS 4).[10] Thus the author’s implied audiences lived near subsistence level (PS 5–6), probably with some destitute (PS 7), and perhaps a few with moderate surplus resources (PS 4), but no one from the wealthy elite (PS 1–3).

To sum up what we know of the Jacobean perspective, then, resources are distributed unequally in society because landowners exploit workers, because the rich manipulate the justice system, and because the rich squander their immoral gains on self-indulgence. The system survives because those who are exploited participate in the system; they reproduce the system of honor for the wealthy few and dishonor for those who are financially disadvantaged.

In terms of its economic analysis, this perspective draws on the conceptual world and public protests of the prophets of Israel. There is a special concern for the poor and disadvantaged, and strident criticism of wealthy elites. The roots of this prophetic critique are in the ancient history of Israel’s struggles with its own ruling elites. Jacob relocates this ancient critique to the contemporary oppression of the urban poor by the local aristocracies of the Roman Empire. This relocation results in less discussion of the responsibilities of the emperor and greater focus on the abuses of those who are rich. Jacob denounces injustice and advises the community to share what resources they have until the Lord of Hosts avenges the cries of the exploited workers.

Acts of the Apostles: A