BINS 137 Lappenga - Paul's Language of Ζῆλος - Monosemy and the Rhetoric of Identity and Practice 2015 PDF

Paul’s Language of Ζῆλος
Biblical Interpretation Series
Editors in Chief
Paul Anderson (George Fox University)

Yvonne Sherwood (University of Kent)
Editorial Board
A.K.M. Adam (University of Oxford)

Roland Boer (University of Newcastle, Australia)
Colleen M. Conway (Seton Hall University)
Jennifer L. Koosed (Albright College, Reading, USA)
Vernon Robbins (Emory University)
Annette Schellenberg (Universität Wien)
Carolyn J. Sharp (Yale Divinity School)
Johanna Stiebert (University of Leeds, UK)
Duane Watson (Malone University, USA)
Ruben Zimmermann ( Johannes Gutenberg-Universität Mainz)
Volume 137
The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/bins

Paul’s Language of Ζῆλος
Monosemy and the Rhetoric of Identity and Practice
By
Benjamin J. Lappenga
LEIDEN | BOSTON
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Lappenga, Benjamin J., author.

Paulʼs language of [Zelos] : monosemy and the rhetoric of identity and practice / by Benjamin J.
Lappenga.
pages cm. — (Biblical interpretation series)
In title, Zelos is expressed by the Greek characters zeta, eta, lamda, omicron, and sigma.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Summary: “In Paulʼs Language of [Zelos], Benjamin Lappenga harnesses linguistic insights recently
formulated within the framework of relevance theory to argue that within the letters of Paul (specifically
Galatians, 1–2 Corinthians, and Romans), the [zelos] word group is monosemic. Linking the responsible
treatment of lexemes in the interpretive process with new insight into Paulʼs rhetorical and theological
task, Lappenga demonstrates that the mental encyclopedia activated by the term [zelos] is ʻshapedʼ within
Paulʼs discourse and thus transforms the meaning of [zelos] for attentive (ʻmodelʼ) readers. Such identity-
forming strategies promote a series of practices that may be grouped under the rubric of ʻrightly-directed
[zelos]ʼ; specifically, emulation of ʻweakʼ people and things, eager pursuit of community-building gifts, and
the avoidance of jealous rivalry.” — Provided by publisher.
ISBN 978-90-04-30244-0 (hardback : alk. paper) — ISBN 978-90-04-30245-7 (e-book) 1. Bible. Epistles of
Paul—Language, style. 2. Zelos (The Greek Word) I. Title.
BS2655.L3L37 2015
227ʼ.066—dc23
2015028672
This publication has been typeset in the multilingual “Brill” typeface. With over 5,100 characters covering
Latin, IPA, Greek, and Cyrillic, this typeface is especially suitable for use in the humanities.
For more information, please see www.brill.com/brill-typeface.
issn 0928-0731
isbn 978-90-04-30244-0 (hardback)
isbn 978-90-04-30245-7 (e-book)
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This book is printed on acid-free paper.

To Laura
⸪
Contents
Acknowledgements xi
List of Figures and Tables xii
Abbreviations xiii
Introduction 1
1 Ζῆλος as a Univocal Lexical Input in Pauline Usage: Gricean Monosemy

within a Relevance-Theoretic Framework 5
Semantics and NT Word Studies: Michael Winger and Νόμος 10
Semantics and Pragmatics 13
Polysemy 19
Charles Ruhl’s Proposal for Monosemy 27
Gregory P. Fewster’s Systemic Functional Monosemy 31
Beyond Ruhl: Relevance Theory and Ad Hoc Construction of
Meaning 39
Relevance Theory and Reading Texts 44
Relevance Theory and the Location of Meaning 49
A Preliminary Relevance-Theoretical Reading 51
Relevance Theory and Monosemy 53
Further Objections and Implications 58
Problems with Parsimony as an Epistemic Virtue 58
Semantic Oppositions 59
Synonyms 60
The Clash of Truth Values 61
The Advantage of a Monosemic Bias 63
Identity-Making and the Monosemic ζηλ- Word Group 65
Looking Ahead 66
2 The Language of Ζῆλος in Paul’s Literary Milieu 68

Preliminary Considerations 69
The Relationship between Ζῆλος, Ζηλόω, and Ζηλωτής 69
Evidence for Monosemy outside of Pauline Usage 71
The Relevance of Latin and Hebrew Sources 78
Selected Readings 79
Plutarch, Lycurgus and Numa 79
Plutarch’s Strategies with Words 81
Ζῆλος for Polity in Lycurgus and Numa 82
viii contents
Excursus: Ζῆλος as Emotion in Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations 86

Excursus: Ζῆλος in Sirach 89
‘Jewish Zeal’ in Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum 92
Phinehas in the Scriptures and in Later Jewish Literature 93
The Ad Hoc Meaning of Zelo/Zelus in L.A.B. 96
The Use of Zelo/Zelus in L.A.B. 44–47 98
Phinehas’ Prayer in L.A.B. 47.1–3 100
Intercessory Prayer and the Parallel with Moses 103
Conclusion 105
Ζῆλος in the Narrative of Acts 106
Occurrences in Acts 1–21 107
Paul as Exemplar of Redirected Ζῆλος in Acts 22 110
Conclusion 112
Excursus: Ζῆλος in 1 Clement 112
Summary 116
3 Redefining ‘The Good’: Ζῆλος in the Letter to the Galatians 118

Rightly-Directed Ζῆλος in Galatians 4:12–20 118
Interpreting Galatians 4:18 121
The Object of Ζῆλος in Greek Literature 126
Paul’s Redefinition of ‘the Good’ in Galatians 4:12–20 133
Zealots in the Way of the Cross: Redirected Ζῆλος in Galatians 136
Zealots for ‘the Good’: Redirected Ζῆλος in the Pauline Corpus 138
Conclusion 139
Paul the Ζηλωτής in Galatians 1:10–24 140
4 Imitation and the Manifestation of God’s Ζῆλος in Weakness: Ζῆλος in

the Corinthian Correspondence 148
Paul’s Use of the ζηλ- Word Group in 1 Corinthians 148
1 Cor 3:3 148
1 Cor 10:22 150
1 Cor 12:31–14:39 152
Ζῆλος and ‘Imitation’ in the Corinthian Correspondence 157
The Language of Ζῆλος as a Lacuna in Studies of ‘Imitation’
in Paul 157
Ζῆλος for People and Ζῆλος for Worthwhile Things in 1 Corinthians. 160
Test Case: ‘Foolish’ Ζῆλος in 2 Corinthians 11:2 164
“Phinehas Our Father” 167
Reading ζηλῶ . . . θεοῦ ζήλῳ as an Allusion to Phinehas 167
Phinehas and Priesthood 173
Phinehas as Father 174
Contents ix
‘Foolish’ Zeal in 2 Corinthians 7–12 178

‘Zeal’ and ‘Emulation’ in the Mental Grab-Bag for Ζῆλος 179
Paul’s Idea of ‘Emulation’ Defies Cultural Expectations 181
Synthesis and Conclusion 183
5 “I Myself am an Israelite”: Ζῆλος in the Letter to the Romans 184

“Zeal Without Knowledge”: Dane C. Ortlund and Romans 10:2 184
“Provoked to Jealousy”: Richard H. Bell and Romans 10:19–11:14 189
Paul the Ζηλωτής and God’s Plan for Israel 194
Romans 7:7–25 195
Romans 9:1–5 197
Romans 9:30–10:4 197
Romans 10:5–21 198
Romans 11:1–6 199
Romans 11:7–36 200
Romans 13:13 and Conclusion 201
Conclusion 203
Summary 203
Implications 204
Final Synthesis: Christ-Followers as “Zealots for Good Works”
(Titus 2:14) 205
List of Works Cited 209

Ancient Texts and Translations 209
Reference Works 209
Secondary Literature 210
Index of Authors 233
Index of Subjects 238
Index of Ancient Sources 241
Acknowledgements
I am grateful to many individuals for their helpful observations at various

stages of the gestation of the present book, which is a revision of my disser-
tation submitted to the Center for Advanced Theological Studies at Fuller
Theological Seminary in the spring of 2014. Most recently my thanks goes to
Paul Anderson and the editorial board of Brill’s Biblical Interpretation Series.
I am also grateful to the editors of the Journal of Biblical Literature for their
permission to use portions of a previously published article (“Misdirected
Emulation and Paradoxical Zeal: Paul’s Redefinition of ‘The Good’ as Object
of ζῆλος in Gal 4:12–20,” JBL 131, no. 4 [2012]: 775–96) in the present book. In
terms of academic stimulus, it was in my seminary classes with Love Sechrest
and Rich Erickson that I first stumbled on the concept of zeal in Paul’s letters.
Their feedback, along with the encouragement and expert tutelage of Pam and
Charles Scalise, allowed me to begin life as a doctoral student as ‘the zeal guy.’
The erudition of Joel Green and Marianne Meye Thompson made an enor-
mous contribution to the direction of my thinking, and the generous allot-
ments of time and attention from these mentors shaped both my intellectual
and spiritual life in profound ways. In addition to my opportunity to study
under these two giants in New Testament scholarship, I had the good fortune
of securing the best young Pauline Doktorvater in the field, David Downs.
David’s patient and sage advice steered me clear of many pitfalls, and I am
deeply humbled to call him both a mentor and a friend.
My children, Amelia, Annemieke, and William, deserve thanks for their
efforts to remain quiet while “daddy is working in his office,” and even more
thanks for all the times they gloriously failed at this task, bringing much-
needed smiles and untold joy into my daily life. I am thankful, too, for my par-
ents, John and Jo Lappenga, for their constant support of all of my (sometimes
crazy and demanding) endeavors over the years. Finally, my most profound
debt of gratitude is to Laura, to whom this book is dedicated. As she puts it,
“I married a rock star and ended up with a nerd.” Those who know her can
attest to the remarkable dedication, love, and respect that are embedded in
these words. For her unwavering belief in me, for her unmatched ability to
make joyous even the most jarring turns in life, I am forever grateful.
List of Figures and Tables
Figures
1.1 Plot of monosemy to homonymy 21

1.2 Paul’s use of the ζηλ- word group 67
Tables
2.1 Relationships between noun, adjective, and verbal forms 69

2.2 Parallels between Phinehas and Moses in L.A.B. 105
3.1 ‘Ζῆλος for the good’ in Greek literature 134
4.1 The subject and object of ζῆλος in 1–2 Corinthians 160
4.2 The subject and object of ζῆλος in Galatians 164
Abbreviations
Modern Translations
CEB Common English Bible

KJV King James Version
NASB New American Standard Bible
NET New English Translation
NETs A New English Translation of the Septuagint. Edited by Albert
Pietersma and Benjamin G. Wright. New York: Oxford
University Press, 2007.
NIV New International Version
NRSV New Revised Standard Version
RSV Revised Standard Version
Classical and Hellenistic Literature
Aeschines
Fals. leg. False Embassy
Alciphron
Epist. Epistulae
Appian
Bell. civ. Bella civilia
Aristophanes
Thesm. Thesmophoriazusae
Aristotle
Eth. eud. Eudemian Ethics
Eth. nic. Nichomachean Ethics
Mag. mor. Magna moralia
Rhet. Rhetoric
Augustine
Exp. Gal. Commentary on Galatians
xiv abbreviations
Cicero
Acad. Academicae quaestiones
Att. Epistulae ad Atticum
Cael. Pro Caelio
Fam. Epistulae ad familiares
Fin. De finibus
Flac. Pro Flacco
Marcell. Pro Marcello
Mur. Pro Murena
Nat. d. De natura deorum
Phil. Orationes philippicae
Pis. In Pisonem
Tusc. Tusculanae disputationes
Verr. In Verrem
Demosthenes
Epist. Letters
Erot. Eroticus
Dio Chrysostom
Or. Oration
Epictetus
Diatr. Diatribai (Dissertationes)
Ench. Enchiridion
Hesiod
Op. Works and Days
Theog. Theogony
Irenaeus
Haer. Against Heresies
Isocrates
Ad Nic. Ad Nicoclem (Or. 2)
Aeginet. Aegineticus (Or. 19)
Antid. Antidosis (Or. 15)
Big. De bigis (Or. 16)
Bus. Busiris (Or. 11)
Callim. In Callimachum (Or. 18)
Abbreviations xv
De pace De pace (Or. 8)

Demon. Ad Demonicum (Or. 1)
Ep. Epistulae
Evag. Evagoras (Or. 9)
Hel. enc. Helenae encomium (Or. 10)
Nic. Nicocles (Or. 3)
Panath. Panathenaicus (Or. 12)
Paneg. Panegyricus (Or. 4)
Phil. Philippus (Or. 5)
John Chrysostom
Comm. Gal. Commentarius in Galatas
Hom. Col. Homiliae in epistulam ad Colossenses
Josephus
Ag. Ap. Against Apion
Ant. Jewish Antiquities
J.W. Jewish War
Lysias
Epit. Funeral Oration
Musonius
Frag. Fragments
Ovid
Ars Art of Love
Philo
Agric. On the Agriculture
Conf. On the Confusion of Tongues
Det. That the Worse Attacks the Better
Ebr. On Drunkenness
Leg. Allegorical Interpretation
Legat. On the Embassy to Gaius
Migr. On the Migration of Abraham
Mos. 1, 2 On the Life of Moses 1, 2
Post. On the Posterity of Cain
Praem. On Rewards and Punishments
Sacr. On the Sacrifices of Cain and Abel
xvi abbreviations
Sobr. On Sobriety
Spec. 1, 2, 3, 4 On the Special Laws 1, 2, 3, 4
Virt. On the Virtues
Philostratus
Ep. Epistulae
Vit. soph. Vitae sophistarum
Plato
Phileb. Philebus
Prot. Protagoras
Plutarch
Adul. amic. Quomodo adulator ab amico internoscatur
Aem. Aemilius Paullus
Amat. Amatorius
Cat. Min. Cato the Younger
Comp. Lyc. Comparatio Lycurgi et Numae
Num.
Cons. ux. Consolatio ad uxorem
Mor. Moralia
Lyc. Lycurgus
Num. Numa
Pel. Pelopidas
Per. Pericles
Ti. C. Gracch. Tiberius et Caius Gracchus
Virt. mor. De virtute morali
Virt. prof. Quomodo quis suos in virtute sentiat profectus
Polybius
Hist. The Histories
Sophocles
Oed. col. Oedipus coloneus
Stobaeus
Ecl. Eclogae
Abbreviations xvii
Epigraphical Sources
ig Inscriptiones graecae
I. Ephesos Die Inschriften von Ephesos
IK Inschriften griechischer Städte aus Kleinasien
seg Supplementum epigraphicum graecum
Journals, Series, and Lexical Aids
AB Anchor Bible
ABD Anchor Bible Dictionary. Edited by D.N. Freedman. 6 vols.
New York: Doubleday, 1992.
AnBib Analecta Biblica
ANRW Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt
BBR Bulletin for Biblical Research
BDAG Danker, F.W., Bauer, W.F. Arndt, and F.W. Gingrich. Greek-
English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian
Literature. 3d ed. Chicago: Chicago University Press, 2000.
BECNT Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament
BDB Brown, F., S.R. Driver, and C.A. Briggs. A Hebrew and English
Lexicon of the Old Testament. Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1907.
BDF Blass, F., A. Debrunner, and R.W. Funk. A Greek Grammar of
the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961.
Bib Biblica
BT The Bible Translator
CBQ Catholic Biblical Quarterly
CRBR Critical Review of Books in Religion
EKKNT Evangelisch-katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament
ExpTim Expository Times
HTR Harvard Theological Review
ICC International Critical Commentary
IJL International Journal of Lexicography
Int Interpretation
IVP InterVarsity Press
JBL Journal of Biblical Literature
JETS Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society
JJS Journal of Jewish Studies
xviii abbreviations
JQR Jewish Quarterly Review

JSJSup Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism
JSNT Journal for the Study of the New Testament
JSNTSup Journal for the Study of the New Testament: Supplement Series
JTI Journal of Theological Interpretation
KEK Kritisch-exegetischer Kommentar über das Neue Testament
LN Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament: Based on
Semantic Domains. Edited by Johannes P. Louw and
Eugene A. Nida. New York: United Bible Societies, 1989.
L-S Andrews, E.A., William Freund, Charlton Thomas Lewis, and
Charles Short. A Latin Dictionary Founded on Andrews’ Edition
of Freund’s Latin Dictionary. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980.
LSJ Liddell, Henry George, and Robert Scott. A Greek-English
Lexicon. Edited by Henry Stuart Jones and Roderick
McKenzie. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996.
NAC New American Commentary
NIBCNT New International Biblical Commentary on the
New Testament
NICNT The New International Commentary on the New Testament
NIDOTTE New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and
Exegesis. Edited by W.A. VanGemeren. 5 vols. Grand Rapids:
Zondervan, 1997.
NovT Novum Testamentum
NovTSup Supplements to Novum Testamentum
NTS New Testament Studies
OLD Oxford Latin Dictionary. Edited by P.G.W. Glare. 2 vols.
London: Oxford University Press, 1968.
OTP Old Testament Pseudepigrapha. Edited by J.H. Charlesworth.
2 vols. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983.
PG Patrologia graeca. Edited by J.-P. Migne. 162 vols. Paris,
1857–1886.
PL Patrologia latina. Edited by J.-P. Migne. 217 vols. Paris,
1844–1864.
PNTC The Pillar New Testament Commentary
RB Revue biblique
RevExp Review and Expositor
SIS Studies in Interactional Sociolinguistics
SNT Studien zum Neuen Testament
SR Studies in Religion/Sciences Religieuses
Abbreviations xix
TDNT Theological Dictionary of the New Testament. Edited by

G. Kittel and G. Friedrich. Translated by G.W. Bromiley. 10 vols.
TDOT Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament. Edited by
G.J. Botterweck and H. Ringgren. 8 vols. Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 1974–2006.
THNTC Two Horizons New Testament Commentary
TLG Thesaurus linguae graecae: Canon of Greek Authors and
Works. Edited by L. Berkowitz and K.A. Squitier. 3d ed.
Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990.
TLOT Theological Lexicon of the Old Testament. Edited by E. Jenni
and C. Westermann. 3 vols. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1997.
TynBul Tyndale Bulletin
VT Vetus Testamentum
VTSup Supplements to Vetus Testamentum
WBC Word Biblical Commentary
WTJ Westminster Theological Journal
WUNT Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament
ZNW Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die
Kunde der älteren Kirche
Introduction
The question that drives this study is the following: if Paul’s uses of the ζηλ-
word group (within an individual letter and within his letters as a whole) are
considered together, what insights might be gained about Paul’s rhetorical and
theological strategies? This question is complex, consisting of many subques-
tions involving (among others) textual linguistics, various strands of rhetorical
analyses and epistolary theories, Paul’s use of the Scriptures, and the relation-
ship between particular instances of Paul’s rhetoric and his underlying convic-
tions. Yet the attempt to answer this question in a comprehensive manner is
warranted by the potential implications of taking seriously the blurred lines
between what is often thought of as Jewish ‘zeal’ (ζῆλος) and Greek ‘emula-
tion’ (ζῆλος). I argue that Paul, a self-proclaimed Jewish ‘zealot’ writing in an
emulation-saturated Hellenistic environment, shapes the ζῆλος word group in
the course of his letters to advance a series of theological and rhetorical pur-
poses that may be grouped under the rubric of ‘rightly-directed ζῆλος’; that is,
the reversal of cultural expectations about the people and qualities that are
worthy of emulation.1
My interest in the project emerges out of a perceived deficiency in previ-
ous scholarly attempts to address Paul’s language of ζῆλος. Modern scholar-
ship, while focusing on the Jewish appropriation of the concept of ‘zeal,’ has
comparatively ignored the usage of the terminology in its wider Greco-Roman
context. As a result, we are left with a limited and incomplete picture of what
it means to exhibit ζῆλος according to Paul’s letters.
Specifically, three sets of interests have dominated the discussion. First,
scholars have shown a great deal of interest in historical questions concerning
the Zealots, the party of Jewish revolutionaries that played a key role in the
revolt of 66–70 CE. Although scholars exploring this topic are primarily inter-
ested in Jewish history and the environment of Palestine during and after the
time of Jesus, they have not failed to give attention to the figure of Paul (espe-
cially his background as a Pharisee). Martin Hengel’s dissertation Die Zeloten:
Untersuchungen zur jüdischen Freiheitsbewegung in der Zeit von Herodes I. bis 70
remains the standard resource, even as the topic continues to be explored in
1 ‘Paul’ is here taken to mean the Paul as he is known to us in his letters; see further Chapter
One for the interpretive posture taken in this book.
© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��6 | doi ��.��63/9789004302457_002

2 Introduction
numerous articles and monographs.2 These historical concerns are not a focus
of the present study.
Second, a smaller number of studies have taken up the question of ‘pro-
voking to jealousy’ (παραζηλόω) as it relates to questions pertaining to Paul’s
‘doctrine of Israel’ in Romans 9–11. The definitive study is Richard H. Bell’s 1994
monograph.3 Although the question of Paul’s approach to the Jewish people is
not a primary focus in this book, Bell’s treatment of Paul’s language and theol-
ogy related to ζῆλος in Romans will figure prominently in Chapter Five.
Third, ‘Jewish zeal’ has been a topic of interest for scholars interested in
Paul’s ‘call’ or ‘conversion’ (e.g., Seyoon Kim) and the ‘New Perspective on Paul’
(especially James D.G. Dunn).4 The most recent comprehensive treatment of
the topic of Jewish zeal in Paul’s letters is Dane C. Ortlund’s 2012 monograph.5
Ortlund offers a comprehensive investigation of the language of zeal in the OT
and Second Temple Jewish literature, but covers only Romans 10, Galatians 1,
and Philippians 3 and is primarily interested in arguing (against Dunn) that
Paul is concerned with zeal in its ‘vertical’ sense (directed toward Torah/God)
more than its ‘horizontal’ sense (maintaining Israel’s distinction from the
nations). Thus although Ortlund’s thesis itself is not of immediate interest
for the present study, Ortlund’s work will be a frequent conversation partner,
particularly in Chapters One and Five.
2 See especially the work of William R. Farmer (Maccabees, Zealots, and Josephus: An Inquiry
into Jewish Nationalism in the Greco-Roman Period [New York: Columbia University Press,
1956]), Richard A. Horsley (“The Zealots: Their Origin, Relationships and Importance in the
Jewish Revolt,” NovT 28, no. 2 [1986]: 159–92), and the recent monographs by Christophe
Batsch (La guerre et les rites de guerre dans le judaïsme du deuxième Temple [Leiden and
Boston: Brill, 2005]) and Christophe Mézange (Les sicaires et les zélotes au tournant de notre
ère: La révolte juive au tournant de notre ère [Paris: Geuthner, 2003]). A third edition of Hengel’s
work was released in 2011 (Die Zeloten: Untersuchungen zur jüdischen Freiheitsbewegung in
der Zeit von Herodes I. bis 70 n. Chr. 3d rev. and enl. ed. [ed. Roland Deines, and Claus-Jürgen
Thornton; WUNT 283; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011). Extending from this historical interest
in the Zealots are a number of studies that consider the question of religious violence. See
especially the work of John J. Collins (“The Zeal of Phinehas: The Bible and the Legitimation
of Violence,” JBL 122, no. 1 [2003]: 3–21) and Torrey Seland (Establishment Violence in Philo and
Luke: A Study of Nonconformity to the Torah and the Jewish Vigilante Reactions [Leiden: Brill,
1995]).
3 Provoked to Jealousy: The Origin and Purpose of the Jealousy Motif in Romans 9–11 (Tübingen:
J.C.B. Mohr, 1994).
4 Seyoon Kim, The Origin of Paul’s Gospel (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982); James D.G. Dunn,
The Theology of Paul the Apostle (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 346–55; Beginning From
Jerusalem (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 339–46.
5 Zeal Without Knowledge: The Concept of Zeal in Romans 10, Galatians 1, and Philippians 3
(London: T&T Clark, 2012).
Introduction 3
In view of this state of scholarship, it is my contention that a void exists

on two interrelated fronts. First, despite some careful etymological and lexical
research found in the work of Hengel, Bell, and others, there are no existing
studies on the so-called ‘Greek’ uses of the language of ζῆλος (‘emulation,’ etc.)
in Paul’s letters. Scholars studying Paul’s use of classical rhetoric have given
some attention to this topic,6 and various studies have considered ‘imitation’
in Paul,7 but none treat Paul’s language of ζῆλος in a comprehensive manner.
Second, there has been little attempt to consider linguistic assumptions as
they relate to the occurrences of ζῆλος in Paul’s letters. Scholars have been con-
tent to divide Paul’s language of ζῆλος into simplistic categories such as ‘Jewish
zeal’ (Rom 10:2; Gal 1:14; Phil 3:6), ‘jealousy’ (Gal 5:20; 1 Cor 3:3; 2 Cor 12:20; Rom
13:13), and ‘eager pursuit/emulation’ (e.g., 1 Cor 12:31; Gal 4:17–18). In light of
these deficiencies, this monograph is an extended exercise in linguistic meth-
odology (within the framework of relevance theory and a monosemic bias),8
and focuses most of its attention on the passages that have traditionally been
dubbed ‘Greek’ rather than ‘Jewish.’
Given the web of larger motifs connected to this study (mimēsis, cruciform
identity, Paul’s relationship with Judaism, etc.), this project naturally seeks to
move beyond the interests of a ‘word study.’ Yet the words Paul uses to express
concepts like ‘zeal,’ ‘jealousy,’ and ‘emulation’ will be a critical factor in the
book. There are 24 occurrences of the ζηλ- word group in the undisputed
Pauline corpus.9 The occurrence of ζηλωτής in Titus 2:14 (ζηλωτὴν καλῶν ἔργων)
is the only occurrence among the letters of disputed authorship. In addition,
certain other words that fall within the semantic domains of zeal, jealousy, and
emulation (e.g., σπουδή [e.g., Rom 12:11; 2 Cor 8:8], φθόνος [e.g., Phil 1:15], and
6 E.g., Hans Dieter Betz, Galatians: A Commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Churches in Galatia
(Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979); Bruce W. Winter, Philo and Paul Among the Sophists:
Alexandrian and Corinthian Responses to a Julio-Claudian Movement (2d ed.; Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 2002); see further Chapters Three and Four.
7 E.g., Elizabeth A. Castelli, Imitating Paul: A Discourse of Power (Louisville: Westminster John
Knox, 1991); Willis P. de Boer, The Imitation of Paul: An Exegetical Study (Kampen, Netherlands:
J.H. Kok, 1962); see further Chapter Four.
8 The monograph also utilizes certain elements of standard historical-critical methodol-
ogy. If with Joel B. Green we envision historical criticism as an interpretive project involv-
ing (1) reconstruction of past events, (2) excavation of traditional material, and (3) study of
the historical situation within which the biblical materials were generated, my project falls
largely into category three (“Rethinking ‘History’ for Theological Interpretation,” JTI 5.2 [2011]:
159–74).
9 ζῆλος occurs in Rom 10:2; 13:13; 1 Cor 3:3; 2 Cor 7:7, 11; 9:2; 11:2; 12:20; Gal 5:20; and Phil 3:6; ζηλόω
occurs in 1 Cor 12:31; 13:4; 14:1; 14:39; 2 Cor 11:2; Gal 4:17 [2x], 18; ζηλωτής occurs in 1 Cor 14:12 and
Gal 1:14; παραζηλόω occurs in Rom 10:19; 11:11, 14; 1 Cor 10:22.
4 Introduction
[συμ]μιμητής [e.g., 2 Cor 11:1; Phil 3:17]) are at times relevant to the discussion.
The relative paucity of occurrences will allow the monograph to be compre-
hensive in scope yet focused enough to allow for close exploration of four key
passages: Gal 4:12–20; 1 Cor 12:31–14:39; 2 Cor 11:1–4; and Romans 9–11.
In support of the thesis that Paul utilizes the richness of the conceptual
range indicated by the ζηλ- word group for various theological and rhetorical
purposes, the book divides into five chapters. Chapter One sets out the lin-
guistic framework that undergirds the study. Building on recent developments
in relevance theory, I conclude that a monosemic approach to the ζηλ- word
group best facilitates sound interpretation. Chapter Two examines the use of
the ζηλ- word group in several non-Pauline texts to demonstrate rhetorical and
linguistic analogues to Paul’s own rhetorical strategies.
If the first two chapters show that the potential exists for Paul to develop
such strategies, the remaining chapters take up the question of whether Paul
actually does so and what conclusions may then be drawn about Paul’s rhe-
torical aims and ‘theologizing’10 in specific passages. Chapter Three is the
exegetical heart of the monograph and examines Paul’s redefinition of ‘the
good’ as object of ζῆλος in Gal 4:12–20. Chapter Four considers Paul’s shap-
ing of the ζηλ- word group in 1–2 Corinthians, including the ‘framing’ of Paul’s
discourse on love (1 Corinthians 13) by the language of ζῆλος and Paul’s call
for the Corinthians to imitate godly zeal by exhibiting cruciform weakness in
2 Cor 11:1–4. Chapter Five considers the connection between Paul’s experience
and the ζῆλος of Israel in Romans 9–11.
The conclusion shows that these chapters, taken together, contribute to at
least four topics currently under discussion in Pauline scholarship. A compre-
hensive understanding of Paul’s use of the language of zeal informs (1) studies
of Paul’s ‘former life’ (characterized by ζῆλος in Gal 1:14; Phil 3:6; cf. Rom 10:2);
(2) scholarly discussions about the theme of ‘power in weakness’ in Paul’s let-
ters (2 Cor 12:10; cf. 1:8; 4:7–10; 13:3–4; Phil 3:10; 4:13; 2 Tim 1:8); (3) the wider
discussion about imitation in Paul’s letters (e.g., 1 Cor 4:16; 11:1; Phil 3:17; 1 Thess
1:6; 2:14; 2 Thess 3:7–9); and (4) the topic of Christian identity and practice as set
forth by Paul and taken up by later generations of believers. The book finishes
by showing the appropriateness of the phase ζηλωτὴν καλῶν ἔργων in Titus 2:14
as an apt summary of Pauline ζῆλος.
10 Cf. Paul W. Meyer, “Pauline Theology: A Proposal for a Pause in Its Pursuit,” in Pauline
Theology, vol. 4: Looking Back, Pressing On (ed. E. Elizabeth Johnson and David M. Hay;
Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997), 140–60. Meyer utilizes the term theologizing to allow for
the possibility that Paul’s ‘underlying theology’ is sometimes worked out in the course of
writing.
CHAPTER 1
Ζῆλος as a Univocal Lexical Input in

Pauline Usage: Gricean Monosemy within
a Relevance-Theoretic Framework
The increased attention given to distinct word senses that has accompanied
analysis according to semantic domains (‘concept’ rather than ‘word’ studies)
is a welcome development in NT scholarship.1 Whatever quibbles scholars
have about the Louw-Nida lexicon (LN) as the basis for such study,2 it is widely
agreed, for instance, that a study of ‘redemption’ in Luke-Acts that focuses only
on the λύτρον/λυτρόω word group would be shortsighted, since Luke employs
some 26 words that are sometimes used to convey the concept ‘release’ or
‘rescue.’3
1 The scholars who have most influenced this shift are James Barr (The Semantics of Biblical
Language [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1961]) and Johannes P. Louw and Eugene A. Nida
(Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament: Based on Semantic Domains [New York: United
Bible Societies, 1989]; Lexical Semantics of the Greek New Testament [Atlanta: SBL, 1992]). See
also the summary by Stanley E. Porter and Matthew Brook O’Donnell: “Rather than simply
studying an individual word in all of its occurrences, or a single word in relation to its seman-
tic field—as necessary as these preliminary stages are—analysing entire semantic domains
as they are lexicalized across a corpus, or even corpora, seems to be the way forward in lexi-
cal study” (“Semantics and Patterns of Argumentation in the Book of Romans: Definitions,
Proposals, Data and Experiments,” in Diglossia and Other Topics in New Testament Linguistics
[ed. Stanley E. Porter; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000], 160).
2 For a balanced appraisal of LN, see Stanley E. Porter, Studies in the Greek New Testament:
Theory and Practice (SBG 6; New York: Peter Lang, 1996), 69–73. Gene L. Green proposes that
LN “undergo revision . . . and thus become a more useful tool for NT study” by incorporat-
ing the electronic features of the United Bible Society’s new Semantic Dictionary of Biblical
Hebrew edited by Reinier de Blois and Enio Mueller (sbdh.org), as well as other changes that
reflect recent developments in linguistics (“Lexical Pragmatics and the Lexicon,” BBR 22, no. 3
[2012]: 329).
3 ‘Release’ is conveyed by such terms as ἄφεσις, θεραπεία, ἰάομαι, and καθαρίζω, and ‘rescue’ is
conveyed by such terms as διαφυλάσσω, ἐξαιρέω, ῥύομαι, and σῴζω. By my analysis, there are
26 words in 152 occurrences spanning 42 of the 52 chapters (ranging from Luke 1:47 to Acts
28:28) in a number of different literary contexts (e.g., OT quotations, healing stories, say-
ings of Jesus, Peter, and Paul). This kind of concept analysis draws attention to the central-
ity of ‘release’ and ‘rescue’ within the narrative in a way that studying the words λύτρον and
λυτρόω never could. LN provides an excellent starting point for this kind of study, though it is

6 CHAPTER 1
Yet most would grant that in certain instances, organizing data by lexeme
can be useful, such as when a more ‘general’ usage informs a more particular
‘religious’ usage (as seems to be the case with πίστις in the Synoptics or σῶμα
in 1 Corinthians). However, in the effort to avoid the fallacies popularized by
James Barr (particularly the misuse of etymology and the practice of ‘illegiti-
mate totality transfer’),4 interpreters may find it difficult to defend the validity
of a given word study. Aside from overt wordplay (e.g., ἄνωθεν as ‘again’ or ‘from
above’ in John 3:3 or the various senses of the κριν- word group [‘discern’/‘be
judged’] in 1 Cor 11:27–34),5 on what basis does one argue that the various uses
of a word (often translated differently) should be viewed together? If a word
is widely regarded to have multiple senses (polysemy), is it ever legitimate or
even useful to consider the various lexical entries together? Barr is certainly
correct that interpreters erroneously assume that words are used according to
their etymology, but I argue that there is a converse danger: uncritical appli-
cation of semantic domains can lead to artificial partitioning of a word into
multiple senses.
For instance, one might study the concept of ‘zeal’ in Paul’s letters (LN
ζηλόωa and related words such as σπουδή and προθυμία) without considering
the occurrences of ζῆλος classified as ‘jealousy’ or ‘envy’ (LN ζῆλοςb and related
words such as φθόνος). Or, narrowing things even further, one might study only
the occurrences of ζῆλος that are deemed ‘positive’ and ‘Jewish.’ While it is cer-
tainly possible that within the same text a writer may use a single lexical form
to convey different meanings, it is also possible that the repeated use of the word
is part of a significant rhetorical strategy.
By way of illustration, Paul may use ζηλόω with the sense ‘be zealous for’ in
1 Cor 12:31 and 14:1 but with the sense ‘is jealous/envious’ in 13:4. In this case
important that scholars make various modifications and adjustments and avoid mechanical
assumptions about the accuracy of the categorizations in LN. For instance, Louw and Nida
classify σωτήριονa, b; σῴζωb; and σωτηρίαb, c as a separate category, ‘Save in a Religious Sense’
(21.25–21.32), which I would prefer to regard as a figurative subdivision of a ‘rescue’ category.
Louw and Nida also classify θεραπείαa; θεραπεύωa; ἰάομαιa; ἴασις; καθαρίζωc; ὁλοκληρία; and
ὑγιαίνωa in a ‘Health, Vigor, Strength’ domain (23.129–23.141), but I would include in a ‘release’
category the instances of these words that are used in the sense of ‘release’ or ‘healing’ from
literal or figurative oppression.
4 Semantics, 107, 218.
5 Here Paul employs κρίμα (‘judgment’; 11:29, 34), διακρίνω (‘discern’; 11:29, 31), κρίνω (‘judge’;
11:31–32), and κατακρίνω (‘be under a sentence’; 11:32). To speak of ‘overt’ wordplay is obvi-
ously a subjective assessment, and it might be argued that the monosemous account of word
meaning proposed for the ζηλ- word group might alternatively be viewed as a kind of word-
play between various senses; see further below.
ΖΗΛΟΣ as a Univocal Lexical input in Pauline Usage 7
(as will become clearer below), Paul uses the term strategically to reshape the
jealous rivalry within the community (cf. ζῆλος in 3:3) toward the zealous pur-
suit of greater things (ζηλωτής in 14:12; ζηλόω in 14:39).6 Possibilities like this
latter example are sometimes overlooked because of thematic considerations
(e.g., a study of ‘zeal’ in Paul as it relates to Jewish ‘boundary markers’).7 But
they are also sometimes prematurely dismissed on the basis of an uncritical
appeal to semantic domains or separate lexical senses (e.g., TDNT: “there is no
clear instance of [ζῆλος used in the NT with] the sense of ‘striving after a moral
ideal’ ”).8 At the outset of this book, then, it is crucial to determine whether
6 For an example using an adverb (though still arguably an open class word), we might con-
sider Paul’s use of μᾶλλον in Philippians. LN place μᾶλλον in two domains (μᾶλλονa [78.28]
‘more’ and μᾶλλονb [89.126] ‘rather, on the contrary’), and BDAG adds a third category (‘for
a better reason’; BDAG, 614). Following this assumption of polysemy, it seems clear that
Paul uses μᾶλλονb (‘rather, on the contrary’) in Phil 1:12 (τὰ κατ᾿ ἐμὲ μᾶλλον εἰς προκοπὴν τοῦ
εὐαγγελίου ἐλήλυθεν; “what has come to me was rather for the progress of the gospel”), but
μᾶλλονa (‘more’) in 1:9, 23; 2:12; and 3:4. Yet if μᾶλλον is considered as an instance of mono-
semy, Paul’s readers are constructing meaning from various mental items associated with
μᾶλλον, and will likely create a meaning associated with ‘more’ even in 1:12, especially given
the emphatic ἔτι μᾶλλον καὶ μᾶλλον just three verses prior in 1:9 (“And I pray this: that your
love may abound still more and more with knowledge and all insight”). For an argument for a
monosemous account of some function words (here English and Norwegian), see Thorstein
Fretheim, “In Defense of Monosemy,” in Pragmatics and the Flexibility of Word Meaning (ed.
Németh T., Enikö and Károly Bibok; Amsterdam: Elsevier Science, 2001), 79–115.
7 For a rationale for this kind of narrowing, see Dane C. Ortlund, Zeal Without Knowledge: The
Concept of Zeal in Romans 10, Galatians 1, and Philippians 3 (London: T&T Clark, 2012), 62–3
n. 5; 115–16. Ortlund’s thesis is that James D.G. Dunn has mischaracterized ‘zeal’ as primar-
ily horizontal (separating Jews from other peoples) when its primary direction is vertical
(directed toward God and God’s Law). The problem here, as I see it, is that Ortlund’s examina-
tion of ‘the concept of zeal’ is too narrow in its scope because it assumes that the meaning of
‘Jewish ζῆλος’ in Rom 10:2; Gal 1:14; and Phil 3:6 is unaffected by other occurrences of ζῆλος in
Paul’s writing (Rom 13:13; Gal 4:17–18; 5:20; etc.).
8 Albrecht Stumpff, “ζῆλος, ζηλόω, κτλ,” TDNT 2:881. This statement assumes neat divisions
between word senses that can be easily classified. The existence of such divisions is chal-
lenged in this chapter, but even if we granted multiple meanings, the sense ‘striving after a
moral ideal’ does in fact seem to be present in the NT; see further below on Gal 4:17–18. The
first paragraph of the TDNT entry on ζῆλος exposes both the weakness and the potential of
this classic work. Stumpff writes of ζῆλος, “The original scope of the term in this sense cannot
be fixed with certainty. Its general character fits it for varied use, and its immediate sense
must be determined either by a directly related gen. or from the context” and of ζηλόω, “The
NT usage is in keeping with the assumption that the word is originally vox media, signifying a
human emotion which leads to action. In the NT, too, ζηλοῦν is determined either by an obj.
or by the context when used abstr.” (Stumpff, TDNT 2:877, 886). The pursuit of the ‘original
8 CHAPTER 1
linguistic theory can provide justification for viewing together all occurrences
of a word family within a text.
Toward this end, in this chapter I ask how recent developments in pragmatic
theory might inform NT word studies and offer a corrective to premature or
artificial sense restrictions.9 I argue that a pragmatic approach based on Paul
Grice’s maxim that “senses are not to be multiplied beyond necessity”10 offers
a solution that is more promising than approaches to word studies based solely
on semantic considerations. In other words, to correct the problems brought
about by the proliferation of senses and to encourage thorough exegesis of the
discourse in which a word is found,11 NT scholars should exhaust the possibil-
ity of monosemy for a given word (or word group) before resorting to lexical
scope’ is reminiscent of Barr’s well-known critique of this work (“the past of a word is no
infallible guide to its present meaning”; Semantics, 107), but Stumpff’s article rightly gives
most attention to the contextual and/or syntactical considerations that determine the
contribution of this word to the meaning of a given text.
9 Michael W. Palmer’s plea for procedural clarity some twenty years ago still rings true: “As
interest in the application of linguistics to biblical languages increases, it will become
more and more important to present clearly the assumptions guiding research in this
area. If our results are to be accepted as viable, the methods we use must be made explicit,
since the correctness of the results of linguistic and grammatical analysis depends on
the validity of the modes of argumentation and the analytical procedures by means of
which they are reached” (“How Do We Know a Phrase is a Phrase? A Plea for Procedural
Clarity in the Application of Linguistics to Biblical Greek,” in Biblical Greek Language and
Linguistics: Open Questions in Current Research [ed. Stanley E. Porter and D.A. Carson;
Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993], 152).
10 Studies in the Way of Words (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1991), 47. Grice calls
this ‘Modified Occam’s Razor’ (MOR). Grice’s seminal contribution is found in his 1967
William James lectures at Harvard University, later revised and published as Studies in the
Way of Words. For a summary of the contributions of Grice, see Stephen Neale, “Paul Grice
and the Philosophy of Language,” Linguistics and Philosophy 15, no. 5 (1992): 509–59.
11 As Porter and O’Donnell have pointed out, more attention needs to be given to the rela-
tionship between patterns of argumentation (broadly defined, not necessarily classical
rhetoric) and linguistics (“Semantics and Patterns,” 171). With an eye to the methods of
discourse analysis and sociolinguistics, Porter and O’Donnell draw on the work of Michael
Halliday for their semantic analysis of Romans. My interest in monosemy draws from
more pragmatic approaches, but is in harmony with Porter and O’Donnell’s approach
in its goal of encouraging the consideration of the entire discourse; see further Joel B.
Green: “discourse analysis bring to the fore for investigation the social and linguistic webs
within which speech occurs and derives its significance” (“Discourse Analysis and New
Testament Interpretation,” in Hearing the New Testament: Strategies for Interpretation
[2d ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010], 226; cf. 222, 227).
polysemy. The implications of this monosemic understanding of the ζηλ- word

group will then be applied in the remainder of the book.
To use the example provided above, syntactical and literary considerations
suggest that the translation “love is not jealous” is appropriate in 1 Cor 13:4
(ἡ ἀγάπη οὐ ζηλοῖ) and that the translation “be zealous” is appropriate in 12:31
and 14:1. The question that will be pursued in this chapter, however, is whether
this is because ζηλόω has distinct lexical senses that can be identified by the
immediate syntactical context (disambiguation based on the assumption
of polysemy), or whether Paul’s ‘reader’ (as defined below) constructs these
meanings in the moment using a single ‘grab-bag’ of mental items (memories,
mental images, pieces of encyclopedic and/or anecdotal information, etc.)
associated with ζηλόω (ad hoc enrichment of a univocal lexical meaning).12
The latter, I will argue, takes more seriously the mental processes involved in
the communicative event and helps explain the strategic repetition of words
(‘staging’)13 and subsequent identity-making that Paul pursues in several
of his letters.14 I will first address the state of NT word studies and the need
for further methodological refinement; second, I will distinguish my defini-
tion of monosemy from the notion of ‘general meaning’ and situate my pro-
posal within the framework of relevance theory; and finally I will show how
a monosemic understanding of the ζηλ- word group will prove fruitful as we
move toward the study of key passages in Paul’s letters in the remainder of
the book.
12 Syntactical disambiguation need not always imply polysemous senses, since it can be
used to determine the ‘sense modulation’ of a lexical unit. David A. Cruse suggests that
modulation of a single sense occurs in the form of ‘promotion/demotion’ (pour the butter
suggests liquidity) as well as ‘highlighting/backgrounding’ (the car needs washing suggests
the car surface) of semantic traits (Lexical Semantics [Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1986], 52–53).
13 Narrative critics use ‘staging’ to refer to the prominence given to a discourse element.
A prime example of ‘staging’ is the repetition of words, especially when previous defini-
tions and meanings are nuanced or reshaped in new contexts.
14 As Jeffrey T. Reed puts it in his examination of sociolinguistics in the study of Paul, “the
study of language change [in social situations] . . . may help illuminate Paul’s attempt to
change language (symbol) so as to create and change the identity and behaviour of his
readers” (“Language of Change and the Changing of Language: A Sociolinguistic Approach
to Pauline Discourse,” in Diglossia and Other Topics in New Testament Linguistics (ed.
Stanley E. Porter; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000), 122; cf. 151–52).
10 CHAPTER 1
Semantics and NT Word Studies: Michael Winger and Νόμος
Michael Winger is a helpful dialogue partner because his 1992 monograph on

νόμος in Paul’s letters is a NT word study that devotes significant attention to lin-
guistic methodology.15 Winger employs the distinction between ‘meaning’ and
‘reference’ popularized for biblical study by Eugene A. Nida.16 This approach is
common in the field of lexical semantics, and represents a response to inade-
quate assumptions about words (signs) and meaning. Specifically, since ‘mean-
ing’ is not a relation between words and things but rather between words and
concepts, semanticists must develop methodologies capable of handling the
complexities that arise when seemingly stable meanings are applied to differ-
ent entities.
On the basis of syntax, Winger groups the patterns of νόμος into seven cat-
egories of what he calls ‘meaning.’17 Then, he identifies what specific occur-
rences of each of these seven meanings ‘refer’ to. He argues that Paul mostly
uses νόμος to refer to the Jewish law (which Winger importantly argues is ‘what
Jews do’), but that Paul also uses the word to refer to a more general ‘law’ or a
specifically non-Jewish ‘law’ (what another group ‘does’).18 Winger concludes
that “the secular meaning of νόμος carries over to Paul’s religious discourse
with the term, and helps to explain much that he says with it.”19 Despite the
apparent over-simplicity of such a claim, Winger is cognizant that Paul and
his readers would likely not recognize the distinction between ‘religious’ and
‘secular,’ and ultimately his thesis moves in a helpful direction.
As Thomas R. Schreiner has observed, however, one of the difficulties with
Winger’s approach is that is “is not sophisticated enough linguistically, for he
15 By What Law?: The Meaning of Νόμος in the Letters of Paul (Atlanta: Scholars, 1992).
16 Winger traces much of his method to Nida’s earlier work, Exploring Semantic Structures
(International Library of Linguistics 11; Munich: Fink, 1975). The definitions of ‘meaning’
and ‘reference’ (as well as ‘sense’ and ‘denotation’) vary widely, but Winger derives his
definition of ‘meaning’ from Nida (Exploring, 15) and Louw (Semantics of New Testament
Greek [Atlanta: Scholars, 1982], 54–55) and his definition of ‘reference’ from John Lyons
(Semantics [2 vols.; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977], 1:177). See also Peter
Cotterell and Max Turner, Linguistics and Biblical Interpretation (Downers Grove, IL: IVP,
1989), 77–89.
17 The law (1) is verbal (speaks and is perceived); (2) is a standard of judgment; (3) is a guide
to conduct; (4) is a command; (5) defines a particular people; (6) has a source; and (7) is
something under which people put themselves; By What Law?, 47–48.
18 By What Law?, 86, 109.
19 By What Law?, vii.
moves too quickly from syntagmatic patterns to the delineation of categories.”20

In other words, by concentrating on lexical meaning (semantics), Winger tends
to classify occurrences into lexical categories based on the immediate syntax,
and thereby minimizes the need for rigorous exegesis of the entire context.21
This is not to say that Winger fails to engage the wider context (he does), but
that his exegesis comes after the semantic content is determined on syntacti-
cal grounds.
Specifically, Schreiner is concerned that the importance of the divine origin
of the law is missed because of Winger’s sharply delineated categories.22 My
own complaint is that Winger’s method tends to minimize the rhetorical effec-
tiveness of Paul’s repeated and sometimes vague usage of the term νόμος. For
instance, Winger insists that the occurrence in Rom 7:21 (εὑρίσκω ἄρα τὸν νόμον,
τῷ θέλοντι ἐμοὶ ποιεῖν τὸ καλόν, ὅτι ἐμοὶ τὸ κακὸν παράκειται; “So I find a law: when
I wish to do the good, evil is present with me”) is “in a class by itself.”23 Since he
needs to find a label for this usage (a “definite singular reference [Not Jewish
νόμος]”), Winger constructs an elaborate defense of the view that Paul has four
νόμοι in view in 7:22–23.24
It is not clear, however, that Paul’s argument depends on such careful cat-
egorization. After a brief detour from his sustained treatment of the law (the
much-debated internal monologue in 7:15–20), Paul reintroduces his discus-
sion of νόμος with this occurrence in 7:21. It is difficult to imagine that Paul
or his readers need (or would be able) to identify the various νόμοι with the
degree of precision required by Winger’s fourfold scheme (e.g., to definitively
identify the occurrence in v. 21 as the “other law” [ἕτερον νόμον] of v. 23) in
order to appreciate what Paul is communicating. Even Winger concedes that
“the impression that there are so many νόμοι that they can scarcely be kept
20 Thomas R. Schreiner, review of Michael Winger, By What Law?: The Meaning of Νόμος in
the Letters of Paul, JBL 112, no. 4 (1993): 725.
21 Winger specifically defines the ‘context’ to which a word’s ‘meaning’ contributes in a nar-
row sense: “the strictly linguistic surroundings of an element [a word or phonic unit]
within an utterance” (Oswald Ducrot and Tzvetan Todorov, Encyclopedic Dictionary of the
Sciences of Language [Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1979], 333); cf. Winger,
By What Law?, 8 n. 3.
22 E.g., “If νόμος is divine, that character is—linguistically—secondary: not part of the term’s
meaning, but a consequence of its use to refer to Jewish νόμος” (By What Law?, 111–12; cf.
Schreiner, review of By What Law?, 725–26).
23 By What Law?, 81.
24 By What Law?, 184–9. The idea here is that each νόμος has a “realm in which it applies,”
such as Roman and Jewish νόμοι. In Rom 7:22–23, Winger argues, the four νόμοι are those
of God, the mind, sin, and the “other law” (ἕτερος νόμος; v. 23).
12 CHAPTER 1
straight . . . accentuates the relativization of νόμος begun in v. 21.”25 Yet his

method, because it prioritizes the categorization of senses, compels him to
argue that they can and need to be kept straight. Such theorizing is interesting,
but one wonders if something of the rhetorical punch gets lost, and, more ger-
mane to the interests of this chapter, whether it adequately coheres with the
cognitive processes involved in communication.26
Even if Winger’s method was revised to shift the focus from syntax to the
larger discourse, recent trends in linguistic theory prompt us to consider alter-
natives to the meaning/reference (or sense/denotation/reference) approach
to lexical semantics. Schreiner offers no hint about what a more ‘sophisticated’
linguistic approach might look like, but even Winger himself acknowledges
the possibility of an alternative. He states, “We could . . . say the use of νόμος
as an equivalent for ‘Mosaic code’ in a Jewish speech situation is pragmatic.”
Unfortunately, he concludes, “For my purposes . . . the distinction between
semantics and pragmatics has not seemed helpful, and I will not employ
it here.”27
In the two decades since Winger completed his study, however, an increas-
ing number of NT scholars have turned their attention to the importance of
pragmatics.28 Recent developments in pragmatic theory do not simply reflect
a methodological predisposition to use pragmatics to describe anything that
25 By What Law?, 186. Winger shrugs off scholars who think that Paul is speaking somewhat
imprecisely: “I think they miss the point” (By What Law?, 186 n. 139).
26 It will become clear below that I am not suggesting that we resist over-classification out
of convenience or ambivalence. Geoffrey Nunberg is critical of the view that “linguistic
description is better served if we do not attempt always to cut the cake so nicely, but
content ourselves to record the relevant observations about language use without worry-
ing too much about how to classify them” (“The Non-Uniqueness of Semantic Solutions:
Polysemy,” Linguistics and Philosophy 3, no. 2 [1979]: 143). This is a valid warning insofar as
it resists laissez-faireism for its own sake, but it should be noted that Nunberg’s real inter-
est lies in exposing the assumption that classifications based on semantic content (rather
than use) are even possible.
27 By What Law?, 10 n. 11. Winger seems to trivialize lexical pragmatics with the rather weak
example from Steven C. Levinson that ‘rabbit’ and ‘bunny’ are semantically equivalent,
but differ pragmatically in that ‘bunny’ is used appropriately either by or to children (cf.
Pragmatics [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983], 8–9). See further below on
lexical pragmatics.
28 Gene L. Green has drawn attention to the ripeness of pragmatics for biblical study: “While
lexical semantics has oriented most of our lexical and exegetical work up to this point, it
has not been capable of describing the dynamics of concept formation. Our handbooks
on interpretation show awareness of the ‘something more’ that is going on when we work
to interpret lexemes, and perhaps it is time to revise our understanding of lexicography
is difficult to explain by semantics.29 Rather, they are founded in tandem with

trends in the cognitive and sociolinguistic sciences that are increasingly prov-
ing their value for NT exegesis. Before addressing these benefits and the partic-
ular pragmatic framework within which my proposal for monosemy is situated
(relevance theory), further attention must be given to the distinction between
semantics and pragmatics.30
Semantics and Pragmatics
Charles Morris first proposed a semiotic trichotomy in 1938. Besides syntax (the
study of “the formal relation of signs to one another”), Morris defined seman-
tics as the study of “the relations of signs to objects to which the signs are appli-
cable,” and pragmatics as the study of “the relation of signs to interpreters.”31
More commonly (especially among continental linguists), the distinction is
said to be between what a word means (semantics) and the use speakers make
of a word (pragmatics). This definition is close to the proposal Winger cites
from Steven C. Levinson: pragmatics is “a theory of language understanding
that takes context (i.e., speech situation) into account, in order to comple-
ment the contribution that semantics (which is context-independent) makes
to meaning.”32 On this understanding, it is not difficult to see why Winger sees
no need to distinguish ‘use’ in a pragmatic sense from ‘use’ within a semantic
framework.
For an increasing number of linguists, then, this meaning/use explanation
of semantics and pragmatics has proven imprecise.33 As Jeffrey C. King and
Jason Stanley point out, words such as I and today have a univocal conventional
and exegetical methodology in light of these findings from various quarters” (“Lexical
Pragmatics,” 332–33).
29 See further Nunberg, “Non-Uniqueness,” 143.
30 For the purposes of this monograph, the well-known history of modern linguistic the-
ory will be assumed (see especially Ferdinand de Saussure, Course in General Linguistics
[London: Owen, 1960]). Much more could be said about earlier understandings of semiot-
ics, especially the classic perspective that speakers encode and receivers decode a message
(cf. Claude E. Shannon and Warren Weaver, The Mathematical Theory of Communication
[Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1963]).
31 Charles Morris, Foundations of a Theory of Signs (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1938), 6.
32 Pragmatics, 32; cf. Winger, By What Law?, 10 n. 11.
33 Grice’s maxims (which push against the ‘pragmatics as use’ perspective) have had the
most influence on Anglo-American pragmatic theorists.
14 CHAPTER 1
meaning yet denote varying things on different occasions of use.34 Therefore

the definitions offered above struggle to account for the apparent effects that
use/speech situation have on the semantics of a word. In an effort at finding
more precision, King and Stanley outline three strategies for making a distinc-
tion between pragmatics and semantics, and ultimately endorse the view that
“the pragmatic content is what the speaker communicates over and above the
semantic content of the sentence he uttered.”35
This sounds similar to the definitions cited above, but King and Stanley
argue that the extra-linguistic context shapes the semantic content of certain
expressions. They distinguish ‘weak pragmatic effects’ (which determine inter-
pretation of a lexical item in accordance with its conventional meaning and
thus affect semantic content) from ‘strong pragmatic effects’ (which determine
interpretation but not at the level of semantic content).36 The acknowledg-
ment of the pragmatic shaping of semantic content is one factor that distin-
guishes pragmatic approaches from semantic approaches such as Winger’s.
Winger sees multiple stable semantic senses of νόμος where pragmatics sees
the semantic value of νόμος (whether a single sense or multiple) shaped by the
extra-linguistic context.37
Keeping in mind that the boundaries are notoriously amorphous, another
important distinction to make between pragmatics and semantics involves the
sphere in which ‘disambiguation’ (making a choice between various senses)
takes place. Linguists sometimes characterize disambiguation as a way prag-
matic context determines what is communicated. But this represents a misun-
derstanding of the claims made about pragmatic effects. As King and Stanley
point out, pragmatic effects (whether weak or strong) are not involved in the
34 “Semantics, Pragmatics, and the Role of Semantic Content,” in Semantics vs. Pragmatics
(Edited by Zoltán Gendler Szabó; Oxford: Clarendon, 2005), 113. King and Stanley follow
Richard Heck and dub the conventional meaning of a given lexical item, whether sta-
ble (‘two’) or variable (‘here’), a ‘standing meaning’; cf. Heck, “Do Demonstratives have
Senses?” Philosophers’ Imprint 22 (2001): 1–33; King and Stanley, “Semantic Content,” 114.
35 King and Stanley, “Semantic Content,” 117. The alternative proposals are (1) that no seman-
tic value of an expression varies from context to context, and (2) a hybrid proposal in
which some weak pragmatic effects affect semantic content and others do not.
36 King and Stanley, “Semantic Content,” 118–19.
37 See further Chapter Five, where I address Robert Jewett’s concerns about the possible vio-
lation of Barr’s principles with regard to παραζηλόω in Romans 10–11: “This is an instance
in which the implications of Paul’s argument are allowed to redefine the semantic range
of the term itself, as if ‘emulation’ were an inherent translation option for a word drawn
from Deuteronomy” (review of Richard H. Bell, Provoked to Jealousy, CRBQ 8 [1995]: 172).
resolution of ambiguity.38 Pragmatics certainly shapes meaning, but strictly

speaking the resolution of ambiguity occurs in the realm of semantics. That is,
the sense of a word in a given context is determined by assessing typical usage
in various syntagmatic combinations (a Greek preposition followed by a word
in a particular case, the occurrence of a word within an idiomatic phrase, etc.).
This is one of the reasons for maintaining a semantics-pragmatics distinc-
tion rather than simply subsuming semantics under pragmatics. We will see
below that it is axiomatic (for some) that semantic meaning underdetermines
what is communicated, but this does not mean that semantics can be replaced
with some kind of pragmatic ‘utterance interpretation.’ Indeed, as Kent Bach
has argued, “we should attribute semantic properties to sentences and prag-
matic properties to utterances.”39 That is, extralinguistic information comes
into play because a speaker utters a given word, sentence, or discourse, but
this linguistic content can still be analyzed separately from the ‘utterance.’40
As Max Turner reminds us, the perseverance of words is itself an argument for
the existence of semantic content: “[W]ords survive in a language only if they
have some clear distinctive sense, register, or connotation. Words have their
meanings precisely in contrast to other possibilities.”41
38 Cf. King and Stanley, “Semantic Content,” 119 n. 9. For an overview of ambiguity within a
semantic framework, see Silva, Biblical Words, 148–56.
39 Kent Bach, “Content Ex Machina,” in Semantics versus Pragmatics (ed. Zoltán Gendler
Szabó; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2005), 18.
40 This is not to say that such linguistic content has ‘meaning’ apart from pragmatics. Bach
elaborates with ten interrelated points: (1) Semantics concerns sentences, not utterances;
(2) Saying something is one thing, stating or otherwise meaning it is another; (3) Semantic
content always underdetermines speaker meaning; (4) We generally don’t make fully
explicit what we mean, and what we don’t is not part of what we say; (5) The semantic
content of a (declarative) sentence cannot be equated with what it is normally used to
assert; (6) Pragmatic regularities give rise to faulty ‘semantic’ intuitions; (7) Focusing on
sentences representative of those we use or might use is to commit a massive sampling
error—even unusable sentences have semantic contents, however unintuitive; (8) What
is said (in the locutionary sense) matters even though understanding an utterance often
does not require entertaining or representing it; (9) Context does not literally determine
what is said or what is meant; (10) Demonstratives and most indexicals do not refer as
a function of context—they suffer from a character deficiency (“Content Ex Machina,”
21–22; see also Bach, “Impliciture vs. Explicature: What’s the Difference?” in Explicit
Communication: Robyn Carston’s Pragmatics [ed. Soria Casaverde, María Belén, and
Esther Romero; Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010], 128: “it is a mistake,
common though it is, to think that pragmatics kicks in where literal meaning leaves off”).
41 “Modern Linguistics and Word Study in the New Testament,” in Hearing the New Testament:
Strategies for Interpretation (2d ed.; ed. Joel B. Green; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 203.
16 CHAPTER 1
The question that arises, then, is not so much whether there is a level of
semantic value, but rather the degree to which pragmatics is understood to
relativize this semantic value to context. To put it another way, it is a question
of whether semantics or pragmatics should take the lead.42 We have seen that
Winger offers a wholly semantic account, whereas my own analysis explains
Paul’s use of ζῆλος primarily at the pragmatic level. This gives rise to two
related questions that will be addressed in this chapter: 1) on what theoretical
basis might one be persuaded towards one of these preferences, and 2) what
practical benefits exist for choosing one approach over another?
On one end of the spectrum, semantics is paramount and pragmatics is sim-
ply the ‘wastebasket of linguistics.’43 On this view, lexical semantics is concerned
with how a reader can disambiguate (select the proper sense) of each lexical
item in a sentence. By componential analysis, readers distinguish between the
various senses of a word.44 That is, each word has various components (e.g.,
human, adult, and male for the word man), and the various senses of words
are made up of less-complex components of other words (e.g., a human who is
male and never married is a bachelor).45 These components form the basis on
which lexicons based on semantic domains can be constructed. So, for exam-
ple, a ζηλωτής is a person who is an enthusiast, and another meaning of ζηλωτής
is an enthusiast who is also a member of a Jewish nationalistic group.46 Since
most semantics-based scholars such as Winger rely on some understanding of
As David Tuggy puts it, “the present context simply does not supply anything like all
the information that speakers intend to convey and that hearers in fact understand”
(“The Nawatl Verb Kīsa: A Case Study in Polysemy,” in Cognitive Approaches to Lexical
Semantics [ed. Hubert Cuyckens, René Dirven, and John R. Taylor; Berlin: Mouton de
Gruyter, 2003], 359).
42 As Cotterell and Turner note, “in traditional biblical exegesis it has been customary to
focus attention almost exclusively on semantics, and within semantics there has been
concentration on the meaning of words, lexical semantics” (Linguistics and Biblical
Interpretation, 13).
43 David Tuggy thinks this perception about pragmatics is accurate (“Kīsa,” 357 n. 53), but
Stefan Schneider uses it to describe an outdated perspective on the role of pragmatics
(review of Marcella Bertuccelli Papi, Che cos’è la Pragmatica, Language 71, no. 3 [1995]: 637).
44 Cf. Jerry A. Fodor and Ernie Lepore, The Compositionality Papers (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 2002), 42. Gregory P. Fewster notes that “Componential Analysis is well-accepted
among linguistic semanticists in general and thus it appears to be a worthwhile resource
for biblical linguists” (Creation Language in Romans 8: A Study in Monosemy [LBS 8;
Leiden: Brill, 2013], 32); cf. David A. Cruse, Meaning in Language: An Introduction (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1999), 95.
45 See the discussion in Green, “Lexical Pragmatics,” 318.
46 Cf. LN, 134, 298.
semantic components in attempts to describe (e.g.) the “meaning of νόμος in

the letters of Paul,” it is not surprising that the number of senses proliferates in
Winger’s account (seven ‘meanings’ put to a number of ‘uses’).47
By contrast, lexical pragmatics recognizes that the concept communicated
by a given occurrence of a word very often (or always) differs from the encoded
semantic sense.48 On this understanding, the shortcoming of Winger’s method
is that it seeks to tabulate what Paul communicates on the basis of semantics
alone. As Nathan Salmon puts it:
To conceive of semantics as concerned with speaker assertion (i.e. with

what the speaker who uses the sentence thereby asserts) is not merely to
blur the distinction between semantics and pragmatics. It is to misiden-
tify semantics altogether, and to do so sufficiently badly that those who
conceive semantics in this way, when using semantic expressions like
‘denote’, ‘content’, or ‘true’, are often fruitfully interpreted as not speaking
about the notions of denotation, content, or (semantic) truth at all, but
about other notions entirely—specifically various pragmatic notions.49
More needs to be said about the way and extent to which pragmatics accounts
for what is communicated, but already a dicey question arises: if it is i nsufficient
to account for meaning on the basis of semantics, are interpreters simply lost
in a sea of uncertainty?
47 See further Ernst-August Gutt’s critique of disambiguation based on a code model of
human communication: “While it is undoubtedly true that context helps to disambigu-
ate utterances, it is by no means clear how this could be explained in the code model
framework. It seems the best that model could do would be to add more and more rules
for decoding that made reference to contextual factors . . . It is not difficult to see that this
strategy would result in an immensely complicated code, raising the question whether it is
psychologically plausible to assume that such a complex system could ever be acquired”
(Relevance Theory: A Guide to Successful Communication in Translation [Dallas: Summer
Institute of Linguistics, 1992], 12).
48 Cf. Deirdre Wilson, “Relevance and Lexical Pragmatics,” Italian Journal of Linguistics 15
(2003): 273–74. The present discussion largely concerns lexical pragmatics because I am
primarily interested in the word group, but it should be noted that a promising proposal
for ‘phrasal pragmatics’ has recently been proposed by Esther Romero and Belén Soria
(“Phrasal Pragmatics in Robyn Carston’s Programme,” in Explicit Communication: Robyn
Carston’s Pragmatics [ed. Soria Casaverde, María Belén, and Esther Romero; Houndmills,
Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010], 183–98).
49 “Two Conceptions of Semantics,” in Semantics versus Pragmatics (ed. Zoltán Gendler
Szabó; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2005), 321.
18 CHAPTER 1
It is my sense that biblical exegesis has traditionally gravitated toward

semantic approaches for this very reason: a certain understanding of (lexical)
semantics offers a semblance of control and quantifiability. Yet even linguists
who strongly advocate a semantics-based account of lexicography and dis-
course analysis acknowledge its limitations: “Although integrating discourse
and lexical processing provides a forum where world knowledge and lexical
knowledge interact in precise ways, answers to the long-standing question of
where lexical semantics ends and world knowledge starts remain elusive.”50
So in one sense, the uncertainties are unavoidable whether one emphasizes
semantics or grants pragmatics the lead role. It is true that pragmatic enti-
ties (speech-act forces, etc.) cannot be formalized with the degree of precision
afforded by semantic analysis.51 As we will explore below, however, prag-
matic frameworks for understanding communication have developed that are
increasingly verified and revised in light of evidence from cognitive science.
First, though, we must define polysemy and consider the difficulties plaguing
previous arguments for monosemy.
50 Nicholas Asher and Alex Lascarides, “Lexical Disambiguation in a Discourse Context,”
in Lexical Semantics: The Problem of Polysemy (ed. James Pustejovsky and Branimir
Boguraev; Oxford: Clarendon, 1997), 103–4. Lascarides and Ann Copestake, recognizing
that “pragmatic inference is open-ended and involves arbitrary real-world knowledge,”
acknowledge that many “lexical generalisations” have exceptions that are triggered by
extra-lexical information. Concentrating on logical metonymy and compound nouns,
Lascarides and Copestake propose that links to a pragmatic component (that is, when
pragmatic defaults should override lexical ones) were possible with just two axioms: “the
first ensures that lexical generalisations normally apply in a discourse context, while the
second ensures that normally, discourse information about how a word should be inter-
preted—if there is any—wins over defaults from the lexicon” (“Pragmatics and Word
Meaning,” Journal of Linguistics 34, no. 2 [1998]: 413; cf. Ann Copestake and Ted Briscoe,
“Semi-Productive Polysemy and Sense Extension,” in Lexical Semantics: The Problem of
Polysemy [ed. James Pustejovsky and Branimir Boguraev; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997],
15–67). Their attempts at defining parameters are commendable, but as we will argue
below, pragmatic construction of meaning operates at every level, not simply when “dis-
course information about how a word should be interpreted” is explicit (as Lascarides and
Copestake seem to imply). For a summary of recent work in semantic theory that opposes
the pragmatic approach adopted in this monograph (especially James Pustejovsky’s
Generative Lexicon theory), see Gergely Pethö, “What is Polysemy? A Survey of Current
Research and Results,” in Pragmatics and the Flexibility of Word Meaning (ed. Németh T.,
Enikö and Károly Bibok; Amsterdam: Elsevier Science, 2001), 212–17.
51 Cf. Eve Sweetser, From Etymology to Pragmatics: Metaphorical and Cultural Aspects of
Semantic Structure (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 92.
Polysemy
I stated above that I am not proposing to do away with semantics but simply
emphasizing that meaningful communication is best understood when the
lead role is assigned to pragmatics. Similarly, here I must make clear that I am
not proposing that there is no such thing as polysemy, or that all NT words
must be classified as instances of monosemy in the way I will classify ζῆλος. As
we will explore below, my interest is in shifting the balance, so that polysemy is
no longer the starting assumption but instead the last resort.
To use a well-worn example from English, bank is a word for a place to store
money as well as a word for the side of a river. Yet more precision is needed:
is bank when used to describe an institution that handles money a different
‘polyseme’ from bank when used to describe a large building where deposits
are made? Or are these two uses related in a way that is distinct from the side
of a river use? What about true north and true story? In the NT, what is the
relationship between τό σάββατον (the seventh day in the Jewish calendar) and
τό σάββατον (a week), or between ἀρχή (a beginning) and ἀρχή (a ruler)?52 The
critical distinction to be drawn is that a semantic approach will tend to account
for various related senses by determining a list of multiple senses (polysemes),
whereas a pragmatic approach, while not necessarily denying the existence
of multiple senses, will attempt to account for the differences in other ways.53
First, then, some terminological clarification is in order. Most (not all) lin-
guists agree that the difference between side of a river and place to store money
is an instance of ‘homonymy’; that is, two different words that happened to be
spelled in an identical fashion. If a ‘lexeme’ (an entry in a dictionary) is a family
52 I will not be exploring all of the manifold ways of accounting for extended word uses
(etymological, metaphorical, metonymical, etc.), but in this case it is not difficult to think
of an extension of ‘beginning’ so that a person is ‘one who begins/initiates something’
(cf. BDAG, 138). Again, the question becomes whether we account for these differences
on the basis of syntax, disambiguation, or pragmatic inferences. From the perspective
of relevance-theoretic lexical pragmatics (discussed below), metaphor, hyperbole, and
other loose uses of words are considered cases of ‘broadening’ as part of the inevitable ad
hoc construction of meaning that takes place with every utterance. Thus within relevance
theory the standard distinction between the ‘literal’ and ‘metaphorical’ meanings of words
is rejected (all uses of a word are constructed); see further Manuel Hernández Iglesias,
“Ad Hoc Concepts and Metaphor,” in Explicit Communication: Robyn Carston’s Pragmatics
(ed. Soria Casaverde, María Belén, and Esther Romero; Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave
Macmillan, 2010), 173–82.
53 This of course depends upon the definition of semantics, since some approaches, such as
Systemic Functional Linguistics, incorporate usage-based variation (see further below).
20 CHAPTER 1
of ‘lexical units,’ the sides of a river (bank1) and the financial institution (bank2)
belong in two separate lexemes; bank1 has seemingly no relationship to bank2
other than its spelling. In the case of institution versus building, however, both
lexical units might be considered ‘polysemes’ and be situated under the same
lexeme.54 Polysemy, then, occurs when a lexeme (or ‘lexical form’) has two or
more related meanings (each called a polyseme). Gergely Pethö offers a sum-
mary of the definitions found in most of the literature:
Polysemy is the phenomenon of a single word having two or more mean-

ings, no matter how meaning is defined in a given approach. Word is to be
understood here as an element of the lexicon of a language, i.e. as lexeme,
as opposed to word form (which is a realization of one or more lexemes)
and word token (which is a concrete material realization of a word form
in actual discourse). A further point that is frequently added to the above
definition is that those two or more meanings should be related to each
other. Though this addition is correct in principle, one may argue that it
is redundant and therefore should be left out, since if a word has two or
more unrelated meanings, it can no longer be a single lexeme, but it is in
fact two or more lexemes that happen to be formally identical, i.e. real-
ized by the same word form. In this latter case, we talk about homonymy,
which is an ambiguity of a different kind from polysemy.55
As Pethö indicates, polysemy remains theory-dependent, since it remains

unclear how strongly meanings should be allowed to differ so that they can
still be considered to be related and vice versa. One way of managing this phe-
nomenon is to plot the range of possibilities as follows:56
54 Not all agree on the terms I have chosen here. Cruse, for example, prefers to avoid the
terms ‘polysemy’ and ‘polysemous’ because these words seem to suggest that the lexeme
is primary, whereas Cruse insists that the lexical unit is the primary operational semantic
unit (Lexical Semantics, 80).
55 “What is Polysemy? A Survey of Current Research and Results,” in Pragmatics and the
Flexibility of Word Meaning (ed. Németh T., Enikö and Károly Bibok; Amsterdam: Elsevier
Science, 2001), 177–78. Against this account of homonymy, Nunberg writes: “[T]here seem
to be no general grounds for refusing to treat the multiple uses of polysemous words as
governed by separate conventions [than those for homonymy] . . . . [A]ny attempt to dis-
tinguish formally between homonymy and polysemy in the grammar introduces unwar-
ranted complexities, with no gain in explanation” (“Non-Uniqueness,” 147, 151). On this
basis Nunberg questions whether Chomsky’s well-known example (‘book’ as polysemy
but ‘bank’ as homonymy) is verifiable.
56 Plot derived from William Croft, “Linguistic Evidence and Mental Representations,”
Cognitive Linguistics 9, no. 2 (1998): 151–73; also replicated in David Tuggy, “Linguistic
monosemy derivation polysemy homonymy

(one meaning) (derived from a single meaning) (two connected meanings) (two unconnected meanings)
FIGURE 1.1 Plot of monosemy to homonymy.
The theoretical foundations used to plot a given lexeme on this diagram are
varied and hotly contested, and I make no claim to exhaustive coverage of
the various proposals. For our purposes we may think in terms of ‘lumpers’
and ‘splitters,’57 though this may be something of a false dichotomy. That is,
Ronald W. Langacker cautions against the ‘rule/list fallacy,’ which he defines as
“the assumption, on grounds of simplicity, that particular statements (i.e. lists)
must be excised from the grammar of a language if general statements (i.e.
rules) that subsume them can be established.”58
Even if a word can be shown to have single meaning, Langacker might argue,
this need not preclude the practice of making a list of various nuances of the
word that occur in texts and conversation (e.g., listing ‘zeal’ and ‘jealousy’
for ζῆλος). In one sense I have no problem with this, since my interest is ulti-
mately in understanding Paul’s letters and not lexicography per se. However,
in another sense, creating a list of separate meanings is the very practice that I
think leads interpreters to artificially partition occurrences of the same word.59
On the practical level it may simply mean creating an entry for ζῆλος that
does away with multiple meaning and looks more like the entry in BDAG for
ταπεινοφροσύνη. The entry for this word is one paragraph. It glosses the word
as “humility, modesty,” but contrasts the NT occurrences “in a favorable sense”
with those in Josephus “in a pejorative sense” and indicates that “[h]umility
can also be wrongly directed [Col 2:18, 23].”60 As we will see below, ζῆλος might
be slightly more complex, but discussing the favorable and pejorative uses
together is much to be preferred over portraying them as polysemes.
‘Splitters.’ With this qualification that by ‘lumpers’ and ‘splitters’ I mean a
deeper proclivity than simply the formatting of a lexicon, we may now consider
a few theoretical proposals. Older semantics-based approaches to p olysemy
Evidence for Polysemy in the Mind: A Response to William Croft and Dominiek Sandra,”
Cognitive Linguistics 10, no. 4 (1999): 345.
57 See Patrick Hanks, “Do Word Meanings Exist?,” Computers and the Humanities 34, nos. 1–2
(2000): 208.
58 Foundations of Cognitive Grammar, Volume 1: Theoretical Prerequisites (Stanford: Stanford
University Press, 1987), 29; also cited in Tuggy, “Kīsa,” 343.
59 For further discussion of the influence of the lexicon, see John A.L. Lee, A History of New
Testament Lexicography (SBG 8; New York: Peter Lang, 2003), 3–192; as well as the discus-
sion in Fewster, Creation Language, 26–27.
60 BDAG, 989.
22 CHAPTER 1
held that dictionary entries should supply “every sense that a lexical item can
bear in any sentence.”61 This approach (held by ‘splitters’) has in some ways
been made more achievable since the advent of computerized lexicography,
but the usefulness of such an approach has come under scrutiny. Perhaps a
method can be devised that establishes proper procedures for disambigua-
tion, but there is serious doubt that such a method coheres with the cognitive
processes involved in communication (that is, human brains do not store and
retrieve lexical entries in this way when making meaning from spoken or writ-
ten utterances).62
Other ‘splitters’ might argue that wholly exhaustive lists are unnecessary,
but still insist that polysemy is a given. For instance, David Tuggy calls poly-
semy a ‘fact,’ and makes the following claims:
(i) polysemy is rampant; (ii) polysemous meanings are related in mul-

tiple, reasonable, even systematic ways; (iii) context is necessary for the
establishing and maintenance of these meanings and for choice among
them; (iv) yet this does not warrant a deterministic account of those
meanings such as might allow them to be omitted from the theoretical
lexicon because of their relation to more basic meanings or to context.
The meanings are neither arbitrary nor inevitable with respect to each
other and to context; they are only reasonable.63
Besides the difficulties involved in establishing protocols for disambiguation,

the problem here is that words like ‘reasonable’ are highly subjective.64 It is
61 Jerrold J. Katz and Jerry A. Fodor, “The Structure of a Semantic Theory,” Language 39
(1963), 183.
62 Contra Eugene A. Nida: “[T]he real existence of such meanings is not to be found in dic-
tionaries but in people’s hands, as series of synapses in the networks of the brain that
can be quickly activated” (“The Role of Context in the Understanding of Discourse,” in
Discourse Analysis and the New Testament: Approaches and Results [ed. Jeffrey T. Reed and
Stanley E. Porter; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999], 21). See further Dan Sperber
and Deirdre Wilson, “The Mapping Between the Mental and the Public Lexicon,” in
Language and Thought: Interdisciplinary Themes (ed. Peter Carruthers and Jill Boucher;
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 184–200.
63 “Kīsa,” 324. See also J.P. Louw: “To always award one meaning to one word is incorrect
since it denies the basic fact of polysemy” (Semantics, 40).
64 The techniques of corpus linguistics perhaps mitigate some of the difficulties involved in
disambiguation.
not at all clear that the social customs and intuitions involved in establishing
what makes up a ‘conventional’ sense of a word are satisfactorily quantifiable.65
More recently, James Pustejovsky has put forward an influential program
(Generative Lexicon theory) that remains focused on semantics but takes
into account the way the full range of the utterance contributes to semantic
meaning.66 For example, for Pustejovsky, the semantics of bake a cake is dif-
ferent than in bake a potato.67 Yet unlike other approaches to lexical seman-
tics, for Pustejovsky the verb itself (bake) is not polysemous (bake1 ‘create a
food item’ and bake2 ‘heat in an oven’). Rather, for Pustejovsky it is the seman-
tics of the noun cake that (in part) contributes to the creation sense of bake
in this utterance. Pustejovsky still accounts for the various senses by way of
semantics rather than pragmatics, but in this case Pustejovsky’s innovation is
to shift the location of polysemy from the verb to the noun.68 The result is that
although Pustejovsky wants fewer lexical entries than some earlier approaches
65 This is not to suggest that good attempts have not been made, particularly from the per-
spective of cognitive linguistics. Vyvyan Evans, in her study of the word ‘time,’ proposes
that “lexical items constitute highly granular categories of senses, which are encoded in
semantic memory (= the lexicon).” Her proposal (which promotes a ‘sanctioning sense’)
necessitates a set of criteria for determining what counts as a distinct sense, and Evans’
primary aim “is to present just such a set of criteria and their detailed application” (“The
Meaning of Time: Polysemy, the Lexicon and Conceptual Structure,” Journal of Linguistics
41, no. 1 [2005]: 34). My own sense is that although Evans’ analysis may be able to account
for select instances in the mental lexicon, for the production of written lexicons it is
intuition that ultimately distinguishes conventional from non-conventional word-uses.
That is, social practices (‘conventional’ in the weak sense) deem a word-use acceptable,
and polysemy is “where a form that is intuitively ‘one word’ has several normal uses”
(Nunberg, “Non-Uniqueness,” 145). It seems to me that the complexities involved in mov-
ing from an individual mind to a social communicative phenomenon render quantifi-
cation next to impossible. As Sperber and Wilson contend, “[I]t does not much matter
whether or not a word linguistically encodes a full-fledged concept. . . . Whether they
encode concepts or pro-concepts, words are used as pointers to contextually intended
senses” (“Mapping,” 200).
66 See especially Pustejovsky’s unified treatment in The Generative Lexicon (Cambridge:
MIT Press, 1995), as well as the recent volume edited by Pustejovsky et al. (Advances in
Generative Lexicon Theory [Dordrecht: Springer, 2013]).
67 Pustejovsky, Generative Lexicon, 124; see also the summary in Jerry A. Fodor and Ernie
Lepore, “The Emptiness of the Lexicon: Reflections on James Pustejovsky’s The Generative
Lexicon,” Linguistic Inquiry 29, no. 2 (1998): 278.
68 This is something of an oversimplification, since some would argue that Pustejovsky’s use
of the term ‘polysemy’ applies to phenomena that could be considered ‘allosemy’ (non-
distinct variations in meaning; cf. Paul D. Deane, “Polysemy and Cognition,” Lingua 75,
no. 4 (1988): 345–46) or even monosemy (if defined as the application of a single ‘general’
24 CHAPTER 1
( “limiting the number of senses actually stored in the lexicon”), his approach
operates under the assumption that words are polysemous.69
We might note here that Pustejovsky’s approach initially seems promising
for my own account of ζῆλος/ζηλόω, since it might be possible to attribute dif-
ferences in meaning to the object of ζῆλος rather than the word itself (see fur-
ther the exegetical sections below). Unfortunately, Paul’s use of the ζηλ- word
group quickly causes problems, since in several cases the object (or any other
clue in the immediate syntax) is unclear or wholly missing (e.g., 1 Cor 13:4;
Gal 4:17).
In any case, the ‘splitter’ camp also includes theorists who promote a prag-
matic account of polysemy. For instance, Geoffrey Nunberg views semantic
content as radically indeterminate, yet finds it useful to partition words into
polysemes determined by use.70 He writes, “there are certainly large numbers
of cases in which we would have to ignore our intuition that two uses of a
form instance the ‘same word,’ in favor of postulating two separate lexical
conventions.”71 For example, despite the impulse to view the various uses as
different applications of one meaning, for Nunberg the words land and hood
have at least two senses (‘nation’/‘ground’; ‘of a coat’/‘of a car’). Nunberg’s
rationale for ‘splitting’ is very different from that of Pustejovsky, since Nunberg
makes no claims at all about semantic content.72 While acknowledging that
even a use-based approach to polysemy might reasonably limit the number
of polysemes in the lexicon,73 Nunberg calls into question the possibility of
meaning to different referents; but see my discussion of monosemy below). Pethö calls
what Pustejovsky defines as polysemy ‘systematic polysemy’ (“Polysemy,” 212 n. 71).
69 Pustejovsky, Generative Lexicon, 105. It should be noted, however, that Pustejovsky does
say that distinct senses like those of the word ‘bank’ can be part of the same “lexical con-
ceptual paradigm” (Generative Lexicon, 91).
70 “Non-Uniqueness,” 143.
71 “Non-Uniqueness,” 147. Nunberg elaborates on the intuitive urge to hold senses together:
“What connection we feel between these uses does seem to owe more to our apprehen-
sion of an etymological relation between them (whether real or imagined) than to any
synchronic process that derives one use from the other.”
72 “A pragmatic account of polysemy will explain to us how a name or general term can be
used to refer to something in the absence of a linguistic convention for doing so. . . . So it
will be distinct from a theory of linguistic meaning, of how we get from words to things; it
will be concerned exclusively with speakers and things, and will have nothing to say about
words at all. . . . All that linguistic semantics should be asked to provide is an account of
how languages come to be used and understood, and we can do that, it turns out, without
having to say that speakers know what words mean.” (“Non-Uniqueness,” 153, 177).
73 “[T]he lexicon itself undergenerates the class of acceptable uses; all that we have to do, it
would seem, is to restrict the number of lexical conventions to govern a subset of normal
uses, from which the others can be pragmatically derived” (“Non-Uniqueness,” 153).
establishing criteria for what uses can be called ‘conventional’ and therefore
stands firmly in the ‘splitter’ camp.74
‘Lumpers.’ The move away from multiple senses (‘lumpers’) is also cham-
pioned by semantics-leaning and pragmatics-leaning linguists alike. Patrick
Hanks notes the way that some semanticists engaged in computer-based
lexicography draw on the componential approach championed by Ludwig
Wittgenstein, where semantic components are not necessary contributors to
meaning but merely possible.75 To describe the word bank, for example, Hanks
says that “a lexicon for machine use would start by identifying the seman-
tic components of bank as separate, combinable, exploitable entities. This
turns out to reduce the number of separate dictionary senses dramatically.”76
Though different from pragmatic monosemy, this approach is promising in its
ability to keep together a large building and an institution as one sense (bank).
That is, bank might include possible components like is an institution, is a large
building, of finances, and for storage, but need not have all of them activated
simultaneously. As we will see below, the activation of combinable elements is
something the compositional semantics approach has in common with ad hoc
meaning construction within a pragmatic framework.77
For ‘lumpers’ who prefer that pragmatics take the lead, however, the point of
departure is the precisely the idea of componentiality. Writing on lexical prag-
matics, Reinhard Blutner finds it impossible “to decompose the lexical items
of a compound expression into conceptual components which combined
together determine the conceptual interpretation of the whole expression.”78
Instead of accounting for ways that polysemes are related to each other within
the framework of lexical semantics, Bluntner believes these relationships are
better accounted for by “pairing (radical) semantic under-specification in
the lexicon with an [sic] pragmatic mechanism of contextual enrichment.”79
74 “Non-Uniqueness,” 153.

75 Cf. Wittgenstein on the meaning of the word ‘game’ (Philosophical Investigations, 66).
76 “Word Meanings,” 209. See also the semantic approach of Fodor and Lepore, who propose
against Pustejovsky that “a lexical entry is allowed to be complex” (“Emptiness,” 285).
77 Another proposal that might be mentioned among the semantics-leaning ‘lumpers’ is the
single rich lexical entry idea of L. Jonathan Cohen, who argues for single semantic entries
based on features that can be cancelled (“Some Remarks on Grice’s Views About the
Logical Particles of Natural Language,” in Pragmatics of Natural Language [ed. Yehoshua
Bar-Hillel; Dordrecht: Reidel, 1971], 50–68). See Robyn Carston’s critique of Cohen in
Thoughts and Utterances: The Pragmatics of Explicit Communication (Oxford: Blackwell,
2002), 229.
78 “Lexical Pragmatics,” Journal of Semantics 15 (1998): 139. See also the assessment of Blutner
in Pethö, “Polysemy,” 208.
79 “Lexical Pragmatics,” 124.
26 CHAPTER 1
This perspective challenges the very existence of lexical ambiguity, which has
long been criticized based on the lack of one-to-one translatability between
languages, and more recently on the basis of cognitively oriented case studies.80
Semantic underspecification lies at the heart of the framework within
which I will develop my proposal for monosemy below, so here we are simply
concerned with distinguishing this approach from the others we have consid-
ered. The perspective based on radical underspecification draws deeply from
Grice’s notion of conversational implicatures, but more simply it attempts to
answer a nagging problem of componentiality: if our minds do not determine
meaning by retrieving linguistically-expressible components of words (stored
files like person, male, not married), why approach words in a way that is for-
eign to our cognitive processes?81 As Reinier de Blois writes:
In our linguistic analyses we should not be merely aiming towards

descriptive systems that work, but for systems that are intuitively ade-
quate, that represent as much as possible the ways of thinking of the
speaker of the language, and do justice to his/her organization of experi-
ence, his/her system of beliefs, experience, and practices. We are not sup-
posed to impose a system on the language. Instead of that we are to try to
discover the semantic structure of the language.82
I make no attempt here satisfactorily to distill the body of evidence

amassed by scholars working in the field of cognitive linguistics, nor do I
claim that all cognitive linguists are compelled to move in the direction I pro-
pose (monosemy).83 Yet if “[l]anguage is systematically grounded in human
80 Cf. Robyn Carston, Thoughts and Utterances, 273–8; Pieter A.M. Seuren, “Presupposition,
Negation and Trivalence,” Journal of Linguistics 36 (2000): 1–37.
81 “[Polysemy] has proven almost impossible to accommodate within structural theories of
language”; Deane, “Polysemy and Cognition,” 325; see further Lyons, Semantics, 2:550–69.
Studies in psycholinguistics indicate that the phonological form of a word automatically
activates all senses of what are considered to be ambiguous words (cf. Robyn Carston,
Thoughts and Utterances, 219 n. 50).
82 Reinier de Blois, “Lexicography and Cognitive Linguistics: Hebrew Metaphors from a
Cognitive Perspective” (paper presented at the annual meeting of the SBL, Toronto,
25 November 2002), 1–2; cited in Green, “Lexical Pragmatics,” 319. Blois goes on to detail the
developments in cognitive linguistics that are helping to shape the Semantic Dictionary of
Biblical Hebrew, which distinguishes itself from the earlier Louw-Nida Greek lexicon with
such innovations as ‘contextual’ semantic domains.
83 Many scholars in the field of cognitive linguistics have, in fact, proposed that semantic
structure derives from and mirrors conceptual structure; see especially George Lakoff
c ognition, and cognitive linguistics . . . can account in a unified fashion for

facts in [areas including] pragmatic ambiguity,”84 NT scholars would do well to
rethink our reliance upon earlier semantic theories.
To summarize, then, much like the debate about whether semantics or prag-
matics is allowed to ‘lead,’ theorists tend to lean in one direction or another on
the question of where to plot words on the monosemy-polysemy continuum.
My position is that although homonymy and polysemy exist, we should be sus-
picious of the assumption of polysemy and consequent impulse to partition
various senses.85 Within the realm of lexical semantics, one could say that I
simply have a preference for lumping uses together, rather than to isolate fine
distinctions (I am a ‘lumper’ rather than a ‘splitter’). Within the realm of lexi-
cal pragmatics (and more importantly in the realm of exegetical method), my
proposal might be labeled a ‘monosemic bias.’86
Charles Ruhl’s Proposal for Monosemy
The tradition of questioning the assumption of polysemy goes back at least to

the eighteenth century. For example, in 1798 John Horne Tooke criticized the
proliferation of senses in a popular dictionary:
Dr. S. Johnson has numbered up twenty different meanings of the prepo-

sition FROM. . . . And yet in all his instances (which, I believe, are above
seventy) FROM continues to retain invariably one and the same single
meaning. Consult them: . . . no farther assistance of mine will be n
ecessary
(Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things: What Categories Reveal About the Mind [Chicago:
The University of Chicago Press, 1997]), Ray Jackendoff (Semantics and Cognition
[Cambridge: MIT Press, 1983]), and Gilles Fauconnier (Mappings in Thought and Language
[Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997]). See also the further studies cited by
Evans (“Meaning of Time,” 34). Scholars taking a social and functional approach (such
as Gregory P. Fewster) would suggest that conceptual structure is itself socially mediated
(see further below).
84 Sweetser, From Etymology to Pragmatics, 1.
85 Dominiek Sandra labels the tendency toward the middle ground between homonymy
and monosemy the ‘polysemy fallacy’ (“What Linguists Can and Can’t Tell You About the
Human Mind: A Reply to Croft,” Cognitive Linguistics 9, no. 4 [1991]: 361). However, Tuggy
rightly points out that this is not really a ‘fallacy’ but a hypothesis, since at issue here are
mental representations that are not directly verifiable (“Linguistic Evidence,” 355–6).
86 Some pragmatics-leaning linguists think accounts of polysemy are necessary even from a
cognitive perspective; see, e.g., Deane, “Polysemy and Cognition.”
28 CHAPTER 1
to enable you to extract the same meaning of the word FROM from all
of them.87
This example illustrates that our proposal for monosemy emerges from an
instinct that has long been present, but has been suppressed for a variety of
reasons (good and bad). Even Winger raises the question of whether there are
multiple meanings of νόμος, citing John Lyons’ musing that “[i]t may well be
that the whole notion of discrete lexical senses is ill-founded.”88 As discussed
above, Winger opts to maintain multiple meanings (on the basis of compo-
nential analysis and in conjunction with ‘use’), but not all are convinced that
monosemy must be relegated to the status of rare exception.
In fact, a comprehensive argument for a pragmatics-influenced ‘monos-
emic bias’ has already been proposed. Charles Ruhl put forward the thesis that
words should be supposed to have a single meaning in his 1989 monograph
On Monosemy: A Study in Linguistic Semantics.89 At its core, the book argues
that the semantics of a word (for Ruhl, its inherent lexical meaning) should be
clearly distinguished from the pragmatics of a word (contributions to meaning
made by extralinguistic/extralingual factors). He writes:
Anyone using a dictionary is accustomed to finding that most words have

multiple meanings. . . . Multiple meaning is so pervasive in dictionaries
that it has the force of evident fact; its ubiquity leads us to assume, usu-
ally without taking thought, that multiple meaning is in the nature of
things, an established reality that we need not and cannot question. This
book takes issue with the ubiquitous fact.90
Ruhl does not think all words are monosemic, but “that this should be our stan-
dard expectation (especially when appearances seem otherwise).”91 Ruhl’s the-
sis consists of two hypotheses. First, we are to assume that “a word has a single
general meaning.”92 That is, any meaning that is not present in all occurrences
87 Epea Pteroenta, or The Diversions of Purley (London, 1798), 346–47; cited in Fredric T.
Dolezal, “How Do Words Mean?” (review of Charles Ruhl, On Monosemy: A Study in
Linguistic Semantics), American Speech 66, no. 2 (1991): 203.
88 Semantics, 2:554; cited in Winger, By What Law?, 14.
89 On Monosemy: A Study in Linguistic Semantics (Albany: State University of New York,
1989).
90 On Monosemy, 1.
91 On Monosemy, xi.
92 On Monosemy, 4.
of a word is not part of the word’s inherent meaning. Second, since Ruhl grants
that for many words it proves difficult to characterize a general meaning which
is common to each of the observed instances of usage, we are to assume “[i]f a
word has more than one meaning, its meanings are related by general rules.”93
In other words, distinct meanings are figuratively related (metaphorical exten-
sion, etc.) or provided by extralinguistic factors. Ruhl’s proposal is that mul-
tiple meaning (polysemy or homonymy) exists only if these two hypotheses
fail. With this conclusion (a monosemic bias) I am in full agreement.
Yet Ruhl’s approach is not without its problems, some of which we have
already anticipated above. Some are relatively minor, such as a need for more
terminological clarity regarding semantics and pragmatics, and an overcon-
fidence about our ability to determine what is in fact a ‘convention.’94 The
primary drawback to Ruhl’s proposal, however, is precisely his first hypothesis
about a word’s ‘general’ meaning. This subject deserves further investigation
because it is a key distinction between Ruhl’s definition of monosemy and the
definition I will affirm below.
In contrast to the overspecification of semantic representation found in
some biblical word studies (due to the misuse of etymology) and even in most
general-purpose lexicons (due to the proliferation of senses), Ruhl’s notion of
general meaning is “highly abstract . . . and thus highly formal.”95 Ruhl insists,
as I do, that the semantic value of a word does contribute to meaning. He
tries to show by way of copious real-world examples the unity of the contexts
in which, for instance, the verb bear is used (unity in patterns of transitive
objects, [conventionalized] metonymic inferences, abstract uses, etc.). But he
is unapologetic about the level of radical desemanticizing:
So what does bear mean? It should be clear by now that this question
cannot be answered in words; there is no single word or phrase that can
comprehensively capture exactly what bear contributes. . . . [Defining
in words using multiple senses is perhaps] the only option a dictionary
has. But we should recognize this method as inadequate and distortive.
93 On Monosemy, 4.

94 Notably, the subtitle of the book is “A Study in Linguistic Semantics,” but in the preface
Ruhl calls it “a study in linguistic pragmatics” (On Monosemy, ix). This lack of precision
is worrisome given the importance of clarification about the semantics-pragmatics dis-
tinction discussed above. For a critique of Ruhl’s conception of conventionalized mean-
ings, see Ronald Landheer, review of Charles Ruhl, On Monosemy: A Study in Linguistic
Semantics, Journal of Pragmatics 15, no. 2 (1991): 214.
95 On Monosemy, ix.
30 CHAPTER 1
The challenge is to understand why all the data [about the uses of a given
word] seem to be related. . . .96
There is little question that Ruhl’s monosemic bias has found so few supporters
because of this challenge, which Ruhl admits his book has not met (“it claims
more than it substantiates”).97
David Tuggy seems to ignore the fact that Ruhl (and I) do think polysemy
exists (we argue for a bias), but he rightly targets Ruhl’s insistence upon a ‘gen-
eral meaning.’ After examining the meanings of the Orzaba (Veracruz, Mexico)
Nawatl verb kīsa (‘emerge’), Tuggy writes, “I am by no means claiming that all
the distinctions . . . are salient in speakers’ minds. . . . But I cannot accept, and
the evidence seems to me clearly to deny, that this is the case for all the mean-
ings represented, that the only thing speakers have in mind when they say the
word kīsa is [the most schematic meaning of the many possibilities], which
‘includes’ all the others.”98 Even if certain patterns can be detected among the
uses of a word, how can such a vague ‘general meaning’ be useful, particularly
to the study of ancient texts such as those found in the NT?
With the exception of Gregory P. Fewster (see below) and a brief nod from
Stanley Porter, Ruhl’s proposal has not been endorsed by biblical scholars.99
Something like Ruhl’s reliance on ‘general meaning,’ however, is shared by a
variety of NT interpreters. For instance, even Max Turner, who cautions against
96 On Monosemy, 63. As Landheer laments, “the level of semantic representation of the
lexical items analyzed by [Ruhl] is so abstract that it cannot even be formulated or para-
phrased! . . . What remains resembles the Emperor’s New Clothes: just nothing. Semantics
is stripped off, pragmatics is correspondingly dressed up, but the semantic core turns out
to be too subtle to answer the question what bear means anyway” (review of Ruhl, 214).
97 On Monosemy, 236.
98 “Kīsa,” 357. It may be that Tuggy’s extensive analysis has shown that kīsa is in fact polyse-
mous. The problem I have with Tuggy’s approach is that he hopes his analysis of this one
word will be sufficient to prove that most words should be assumed to likewise be polyse-
mous (Tuggy clearly works with a ‘polysemic bias’). The question in this chapter is which
bias is more helpful to NT interpreters who pursue the study of a word, and ultimately
whether ζῆλος is in fact best understood as monosemous.
99 Stanley Porter has recently suggested that further work in this area is potentially helpful:
“I believe that monosemy is worth considering as a means of understanding the major
persistent issues in New Testament lexicography. I think that one can see monosemy,
especially as so ably laid out by Charles Ruhl, as possibly providing a way forward in a
number of different issues of pertinence to New Testament study” (“Greek Linguistics
and Lexicography,” in Understanding the Times: New Testament Studies in the 21st Century,
Essays in Honor of D.A. Carson on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday [ed. Andreas J.
Köstenberger and Robert W. Yarbrough; Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2011], 32).
a proliferation of ‘technical’ senses in favor of a careful distinction between

meaning and use (similar to the framework employed by Winger), writes that
in Paul’s usage χάρισμα “has rather minimal content and therefore general
meaning. . . . [T]he more natural explanation is Paul’s tactical use of the com-
mon and general sense.”100 Turner’s warnings about specialized senses are well
taken, but further clarification is necessary if Turner’s analysis is to escape the
criticisms levied at Ruhl. I would not quarrel if ‘general meaning’ was defined
as “the purely semantic content/contribution of a given lexical unit.” But in
Turner’s example, it is unclear how other uses of χάρισμα are any less ‘tacti-
cal’ than those in Paul’s usage. If it is an abstraction of what is common to
all occurrences, within a semantic framework (at least those with maximal-
istic tendencies) it seems difficult to distinguish ‘general meaning’ (as usually
employed by biblical scholars) from ‘original’ or ‘etymological’ meaning, which
has rightly been decried by Barr and by Turner himself.101
This is precisely the inconsistency that elicits further reflection on a word
like ζῆλος. On the one hand, I will show that the assumption of polysemy is
unhelpful for understanding the way Paul (and others) make use of linguistic
resources (against the assumptions of most Bible translations and exegetical
word studies). On the other hand, particular occurrences of ζῆλος are not help-
fully reduced to a ‘general meaning’ (as if the idea of ‘emulation’ or ‘jealousy’
cannot be part of the core meaning of ζῆλος because these concepts are not
present in every occurrence). Thus a new framework will be required to navi-
gate a course between misleading polysemy and fruitless abstraction.
Gregory P. Fewster’s Systemic Functional Monosemy
Gregory P. Fewster’s recent monograph Creation Language in Romans 8: A Study

in Monosemy represents the only sustained attempt to utilize a monosemic
100 “Modern Linguistics,” 204–5; italics original. For discussions of ‘technical terms’ in biblical
study, see Silva, Biblical Words, 107. In his examination of ‫קנא‬/ζηλ- in the MT/LXX, Dane
Ortlund surmises that the danger of illegitimate totality transfer “is tempered somewhat
if the term in view appears to be a terminus technicus, in which case semantic stability
increases” (Zeal Without Knowledge, 25). It is certainly true that “[b]y the midfirst century,
the term ‘zeal’ had in certain circles become something of a technical term in Jewish
nationalist circles” (Markus Bockmuehl, The Epistle to the Philippians [BNTC; Peabody,
MA: Hendrickson, 1998], 199), but with Turner we must use caution in assigning this label.
As we will explore below, it is preferable to grant the technical usage a (perhaps promi-
nent) place within the mental encyclopedia.
101 Cf. Barr, Semantics, 107–60; Silva, Biblical Words, 35–51.
32 CHAPTER 1
bias for NT studies.102 Seeking a “robust linguistic paradigm suitable for

examining the function of κτίσις in Rom 8.19–22,”103 Fewster draws on Ruhl’s
monosemic bias to ask how a lexical item possessing a “single . . . abstracted
meaning” is in fact “constrained and specified in particular contexts.”104 Rather
than adopting Ruhl’s pragmatic approach, Fewster wishes to utilize mono-
semy within a Systemic Functional Linguistic (SFL) perspective.105 SFL is the
approach developed by Michael Halliday that views language as a social semi-
otic system, and thus readily lends itself to the methods of corpus linguistics.
Drawing on the work of Matthew Brook O’Donnell, John Sinclair, and Michael
Hoey, Fewster utilizes corpus analysis and SFL’s grammatical metaphor theory
to inquire about metaphorical extension as it relates to the function of κτίσις
in Rom 8:19–22.106
Fewster’s strategy is threefold. First, he claims that within the temporal
range selected for his study “the abstracted semantic value of κτίσις” is “some-
thing that has been brought into existence.”107 Second, he shows that the repeti-
tion of κτίσις in Romans 8 allows it to operate as a central token in the adoption
and redemption metaphors. Finally, Fewster argues that Paul’s use of κτίσις
“reconstrues the readers’ experience of the body at a key point in the book of
Romans”108 because of its participation in the lexicogrammatical metaphor of
the human body (σώμα).
102 Creation Language. See also Fewster’s two forthcoming essays, “Evaluating ‘Root’
Metaphors in Ephesians and Colossians: An Inquiry into Metaphorical Extension from a
Functional Monosemous Perspective,” and “Towards a Model of Functional Monosemy,
with Application to to the Role of Creation Language in Romans,” in Modeling Biblical
Language (ed. Stanley E. Porter and Wally V. Cirafesi, forthcoming).
103 Creation Language, 17.
105 See especially M.A.K. Halliday, Language as Social Semiotic: The Social Interpretation
of Language and Meaning (Baltimore: University Park Press, 1978). For a concise intro-
duction, see Halliday and Christian M.I.M. Matthiessen, An Introduction to Functional
Grammar (London: Arnold, 2004).
106 Fewster adopts Halliday’s grammatical metaphor (GM) theory because it views metaphor
as a “realignment in the realizational relationship between semantics and grammar.” In
contrast to Lakeoff and Johnson’s well-known cognitive metaphor theory (which focuses
on broad conceptual domains), GM “analyses and compares actual lexicogrammati-
cal patterns in texts, thus providing a firmer base in a corpus-driven analysis” (Creation
Language, 76).
107 Creation Language, 17. Fewster later chooses the gloss ‘created thing’ for κτίσις in Romans
8 (Creation Language, 169).
This strategy serves to advance Fewster’s primary thesis that the linguis-
tic evidence firmly supports an anthropological reading of κτίσις (‘created
thing’ as an alternative for σῶμα) over the cosmological reading (‘creation’) in
Rom 8:18–23:
While most scholars simply seek to define the sense (or whatever other
term they use for ‘meaning’) of κτίσις in Romans 8, my concern has been
to approach this question using a wider net: how does κτίσις function
in the meaning-making process in Romans 8, particularly in vv. 18–23.
As such, I have been able to demonstrate that the lexeme is integral in
the cohesive structure of the paragraph. The semantic chain CREATION
interacts with several other semantic chains, aiding in the flow of infor-
mation and the organization of the paragraph. The CREATION chain is
fundamental to the blending of soteriological metaphors attributed to
Paul and his audience.109
Whatever one makes of his conclusions, Fewster’s utilization of corpus-driven

analysis and grammatical metaphor theory should undoubtedly have a claim
to attention within biblical studies as a way forward in linguistic method.110
For the present study, however, there is a difficulty: Fewster’s understanding
of monosemy does not move past Ruhl’s notion of abstraction. Since Fewster
dispenses altogether with Ruhl’s theoretical framework (pragmatics), one
would expect a defense of a semantics-based monosemy, perhaps something
along the lines of the proposals of Patrick Hanks or L. Jonathan Cohen men-
tioned above.111 Like Winger, however, Fewster thinks that “sense, reference,
and denotation do an adequate job of holistically appreciating a lexeme’s

110 While it may succeed as a rationale for adopting ‘created thing’ over ‘creation,’ it is
unlikely that Fewster’s reading “deals a devastating blow to certain theologically oriented
‘spin-off’ readings associated with this passage, i.e., new creation theology and ecological
hermeneutics” (Creation Language, 171). Fewster provides little clue as to how his linguis-
tic analysis might interact with other approaches to reading the passage in its various
contexts (literary, intertextual, theological, etc.).
111 Fewster does interact with an essay by Patrick Hanks on the topic of corpus linguistics and
metaphor, but does not engage Hanks’ engagement with combinable, non-essential com-
ponents; cf. “Metaphoricity is Gradable,” in Corpus-based Approaches to Metaphor and
Metonymy (ed. Anatol Stefanowitsch and Stefan Th. Gries; Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter),
17–34. Hanks’ interest in corpus linguistics, acceptance of componential analysis, and
wariness about imprecision regarding ‘context’ would seem to resonate with Fewster’s
program.
34 CHAPTER 1
semantic content.”112 Fewster asks if a more holistic approach to meaning

than ‘semantic content’ is possible, and then considers and quickly dismisses
in turn cognitive polysemy, the traditional ‘gloss’ approach, theological lexi-
cography (TDNT, etc.), and relevance theory (see further my proposal below).113
Fewster endorses the componential analysis inherent in the approach of Louw
and Nida,114 but argues that monosemy is to be preferred because “the descrip-
tion of some sort of semantic core reveals an admission that lexemes must
have a point of reference from which alternate senses might extend.”115
It is here that Fewster’s analysis of monosemy ceases. As we have seen, Ruhl
provides a comprehensive argument for the way pragmatic forces account
for particular meanings of a radically underspecified semantic meaning. By
contrast, functional linguists Michael Halliday and Christian M. Mattheissen
point out that there is no separate component of pragmatics within their
interpretative frame. They argue that pragmatics deals with “those aspects
of the meaning of a text which depend on specific instances—particulars of
the situation and of the interactants, and inferences drawn from these.” But
since “a systemic theory is a theory of both [system and instantiation], and
necessarily (therefore) of the relationship between them,” they do not wish to
separate system and instantiation in their semantic analysis. Thus for Halliday
and Mattheissen, pragmatics is simply “another name for the semantics of
instances” or “an alternative term for the interpersonal and textual domains of
semantics.”116 Fewster concurs:

113 I will discuss relevance theory (RT) at length below, but here we might note the recent
comments by Billy Clark on the incompatibility of SFL and RT: “Relevance theory is, of
course, radically contextualist since it assumes that semantic representations require
extensive enrichment . . . . Systemic-functional linguistics . . . makes very different foun-
dational assumptions from those of relevance theory. This approach focuses very much
on language as a functional system whose central function is ‘meaning making’. . . . It is
not clear whether a relevance-theoretic and a systemic-functional approach could ever
interact in a meaningful way. No serious attempts in this direction have yet been made”
(Relevance Theory [New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013], 357–59).
114 “Componential Analysis is well-accepted among linguistic semanticists in general and
thus it appears to be a worthwhile resource for biblical linguists” (Creation Language, 32).
116 Halliday, Michael A.K., and Christian M.I.M. Mattheissen. Construing Experience through
Meaning: A Language-based Approach to Cognition (London: Continuum, 1999), 12; cf.
Fewster, Creation Language, 46 n. 117. Relevance theory claims not only that lexemes
require extensive enrichment, but also that some enrichment is not triggered by the pres-
ence of other linguistic material (cf. François Récanati, Direct Reference: From Language
to Thought [Oxford: Blackwell, 1993]; Robyn Carston, “Explicit Communication and ‘Free’
Whereas Ruhl would point to pragmatic extensions of meaning via con-

text, I prefer to employ the notions of realization and instantiation. As
a language user formulates a text, s/he has particular goals to achieve
through the use of language. Consequently, abstract semantic choices
are made and realized concretely through corresponding lexicogram-
matical choices. The resultant text is an instantial representation of the
lexicogrammatically realized semantic choices, thus taking into account
other constraining lexicogrammatical features in the immediate linguis-
tic context.117
In other words, meaning is embedded in the text.

Fewster’s particular way of drawing out this meaning is to declare the
semantic value of Paul’s choices to be monosemic, by which he means an
abstraction that is common to all occurrences. It is not clear, however, how
Fewster has arrived at the particular monosemic value he utilizes in his study.118
This becomes evident when Fewster cites approvingly Stanley Porter’s brief
portrayal of a monosemic account of πνεῦμα: “The monosemic bias would
claim that there is one abstract notion of ‘wind’ modulated in various con-
texts, so as to be a natural wind, or the human wind (breath), or internal wind
(spirit), the wind of God (Spirit), and the like.”119 Like Porter, Fewster proposes
a monosemic meaning that, although paying lip service to Ruhl, fundamen-
tally diverges from Ruhl’s radical underspecification of semantic content in
favor of a readily definable monosemic value. Fewster views this “abstracted
semantic value” as “meaning potential that is realized in the lexicogrammar of
discourse.”120
Yet Fewster has neither endorsed Ruhlian monosemy nor offered an alter-
native semantics-based argument for the monosemic bias. Thus it is difficult
to see how either Porter’s or Fewster’s ‘monosemic account’ has moved us any
Pragmatic Enrichment,” in Explicit Communication: Robyn Carston’s Pragmatics [ed.

Soria Casaverde, María Belén, and Esther Romero; Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave
Macmillan, 2010], 217–85).
118 Fewster simply asserts that “[l]exemes themselves possess residual meaning or abstracted
semantic value. Monosemy asserts that this residual meaning or abstracted semantic
value will be consistent across all occurrences. As such, it is appropriate to call this value
a lexeme’s monoseme” (Creation Language, 71).
119 Porter, “Greek Linguistics,” 35–36; cf. Fewster, Creation Language, 38–39.
120 Fewster’s summary continues: “Systemic functional monosemy thus appreciates lexis as a
feature that contributes to the metafunctions of discourse (ideational, interpersonal, and
textual), as it relates and interacts with other discourse features” (Creation Language, 167).
36 CHAPTER 1
further than other proposals for ‘general meaning,’ such as Turner’s claims
about χάρισμα discussed above. I certainly agree that a monosemic account
is superior to multiple meanings of πνεῦμα (breath, spirit, wind, Spirit, etc.)
or κτίσις (creation, creature, authority system, etc.). Yet by what process does
‘wind’ come to indicate a state of mind (e.g., πνεύματί . . . πραΰτητος; “a spirit of
gentleness”; 1 Cor 4:21; cf. Gal 6:1; Eph 4:23; 1 Pet 3:4)? If “something that has been
brought into existence” is present in all occurrences, how does Fewster account
for instances where the act of creation and not a thing is in view (e.g., ἀπὸ
κτίσεως κόσμου; “from the creation of the world . . .”; Rom 1:20; cf. Pss. Sol. 8.7;
Josephus, J.W. 4.533)? Fewster does not consider such questions before arriving
at his preferred monosemic value for κτίσις.
As we will explore further below, my own proposal diverges from Fewster
in its linguistic framework as well as in its perspective about the location of
meaning. Both of these perspectives are certainly open to debate, but the
question at hand concerns our variant proposals for why and how we should
approach words with a monosemic bias. My approach maintains ties with
Ruhl; Fewster’s does not. Fewster is clear about why he separates himself from
Ruhl’s pragmatic/cognitive approach:
Monosemy is fundamentally a cognitive linguistic theory and in that

regard is primarily concerned with a lexeme’s semantics as it relates to
the conceptual ordering of the mind, and thus shares many of the short-
comings of cognitive polysemy. The theory, therefore, may be unable to
adequately address meaning in terms of social interaction.121
Unfortunately, by dispensing with the way Ruhl understands monosemy actu-

ally to function, Fewster has forfeited any substantive theoretical basis for
holding to a monosemic bias. Fewster believes SFL is better suited for biblical
studies than cognitive approaches like RT because it “appreciates meaning as
a function of a complete utterance (i.e., a discourse) that is framed in terms
of social interaction.”122 He is greatly dissatisfied with ‘semantic minimalism’
and vague notions of ‘context’ that he believes plague cognitive approaches.123
Fewster summarizes his preference for SFL:

123 Creation Language, 33. See, for example, Fewster’s analysis of relevance theory as
employed by Gene Green:
Green argues that, as opposed to other semantic theories, Relevance Theory provides a
robust theory of context that involves the material conditions of author and recipient,
In contrast to cognitive linguistics, SFL views language as a fundamen-

tally social phenomenon. To put it simply, language is a type of social
behaviour. There is a give-and-take relationship between a social context
and the language used in that context. Context informs language use,
while language use in turn forms and reforms the social context. Systemic
linguistics, therefore, posits a direct link between a given context and the
use of language within that context.124
My own proposal concurs with this sentiment, but takes issue on two points.
First, Fewster’s dismissal of cognitive approaches is far too sweeping, since
language-in-use can in fact interact efficiently with a cognitive framework, as
we will see below.125 Second, at least within Fewster’s work, ‘language user’ and
‘a given context’ are not fully defined. Fewster never specifies who ‘the reader’ is
(historical reader? ideal reader?), nor does he define ‘context’ any further than
simply the corpus of Greek texts he has chosen for his study. Halliday claims
that “it is the social context that defines the limits of the options available,”126
but Fewster makes no claims about what that social context is.
He seems to consider his study of the ‘meaning potential’ that can be found
via systemic analysis sufficient to engage in discussions about meaning:
An investigation of the meaning in a particular text consequently requires

an analysis of the system (thus meaning potential) and structure of that
the particular discourse, and the encyclopedic knowledge of the author and recipient.
However . . . Green lacks a thorough description of how this three-fold semantic perspec-
tive interacts with a robust definition of context to imply a specific pragmatic effect in a
given text. That is to say, Green’s description of [an ad hoc concept] ends up being maxi-
malistic, while the ‘context’ is vague and not well-defined. . . . Attempts to subvert such
practices, such as Green’s work in Relevance Theory, end up reflecting many of the short-
comings of other highly polysemous and ‘context-sensitive’ approaches. Furthermore, the
very traditional notion of semantics promotes an over-emphasis on words themselves,
maintaining a maximalist perspective that heads in the direction of theological lexicog-
raphy, which indicates why it prevails in light of Barr’s critique. In addition to this halt in
theoretical progression, a relatively undefined notion of context, together with the gen-
eral short-comings of a cognitive and polysemic view of lexis, calls for a re-modeling of
biblical lexical semantics” (Creation Language, 35–36).
125 Halliday and Mattheissen view their approach as encompassing cognitive models:
“[C]ognition [is] not thinking but meaning: the ‘mental’ map is in fact a semiotic map,
and ‘cognition’ is just a way of talking about language” (Construing, x).
126 Halliday, “Language in a Social Perspective,” Educational Review 23.3 (1971): 59; cited in
Fewster, Creation Language, 41.
38 CHAPTER 1
text; in other words, what were the choices and what constrained those
choices? . . . The interpersonal metafunction is primarily concerned with
the creation and maintenance of social relationships. From this point of
view, language reveals the user’s thoughts, attitudes, and feelings as well
as performing interaction with the other participants. This metafunction
explicitly reveals the social nature of language as messages are arranged
with respect to participants.127
But who are the participants? Fewster rightly balks at historical-critical

searches for authorial intent (“The question is not, how did the author realize
his or her semantic choices? but, what semantic choices does this particular
instantiation realize?”).128 But if meaning is found solely in the text, what does
‘social’ mean?
The difficulty, of course, is that Halliday and other proponents of SFL gen-
erally consider contemporary contexts (and primarily modern English). In
these settings, participants in a language are accessible and the social setting is
defined.129 When SFL is applied to the biblical text, according to Fewster “the
only available objects of measurement are instantiations of the lexicogram-
matical stratum. A lexical semantic analysis of a biblical text is essentially a
bottom-up exercise in which the lexicogrammatical patterning is abstracted
to its semantics. . . . [I]n my specific application to biblical texts . . . the only
measurable data is epigraphic.”130 If this is so, SFL’s social framework and prac-
tical benefits are severely mitigated.131
At bottom, then, Fewster’s goal to establish a theoretical framework that is
“dependent upon language-in-use, thus providing viable and practical insight

129 See, e.g., Halliday and Ruqaiya Hasan’s examination of the way a text’s organization is
closely related to the the value it has in its socio-cultural environment: Language, Context,
and Text: Aspects of Language in a Social-Semiotic Perspective (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1989).
130 Creation Language, 45, 47; cf. Jeffrey T. Reed, A Discourse Analysis of Philippians: Method
and Rhetoric in the Debate Over Literary Integrity (JSNTSup 136; Sheffield: Sheffield
Academic Press, 1997), 57.
131 Discourse analysts are careful not to equate ideational meaning with external real-
ity, though many would suggest that analogies can often be drawn (cf. the ‘principle of
analogy’ in Gillian Brown and George Yule, Discourse Analysis [Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1983], 64–7; cited in Reed, Philippians, 62 n. 70). My question here is with
how Fewster’s analysis proposes to interact with ‘readers’ (see further below).
into the analysis of text”132 is one that I wholeheartedly endorse. The pro-
posal that follows presents an alternative to Fewster’s approach, and perhaps
challenges his claim that a functional paradigm is inherently superior to a
cognitive-based approach for biblical interpretation. This alternative proposal
attempts to provide both a robust theory of monosemy and a way to link such
a theory to exegetical study of the biblical text.
Beyond Ruhl: Relevance Theory and Ad Hoc Construction

of Meaning
The theoretical framework within which my response to the notion of a ‘general’

or ‘abstract’ meaning is situated is the relevance theory (RT) of Deirdre Wilson
and Dan Sperber, which has been further refined and developed by Robyn
Carston.133 The body of literature that has proliferated since the inception of
RT in the late 1980s is vast, though excellent summaries are readily available.134
My reliance upon RT is not entirely novel in biblical studies; already in 1991
Ernst-August Gutt applied RT to biblical texts as part of his endorsement of
RT as a stand-alone translation theory, and in recent years scholars such as
Gene L. Green have strongly advocated the adoption of RT for biblical (and
even theological) study.135 Karen H. Jobes, writing about RT and Bible transla-
tion, summarizes the shift:

133 The standard works are Dan Sperber and Deirdre Wilson, Relevance: Communication
and Cognition (2d ed.; Oxford: Blackwell, 1995 [1986]) and Robyn Carston, Thoughts and
Utterances.
134 In addition to Relevance: Communication and Cognition, see Wilson and Sperber, Meaning
and Relevance (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), and the digest in Wilson
and Sperber, “Relevance Theory,” in The Handbook of Pragmatics (ed. Laurence Robert
Horn and Gregory Ward; Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2004), 607–32. See also the online bib-
liography maintained by Francisco Yus (http://personal.ua.es/francisco.yus/rt.html,
accessed 16 April, 2015).
135 Ernst-August Gutt, Translation and Relevance: Cognition and Context (2d ed.; Manchester:
St. Jerome, 2000 [1991]); Gene L. Green, “Relevance Theory and Biblical Interpretation,”
in The Linguist as Pedagogue: Trends in the Teaching and Linguistic Analysis of the Greek
New Testament (ed. Stanley E. Porter and Matthew Brook O’Donnell; Sheffield: Sheffield
Phoenix Press, 2009), 217–40; “Relevance Theory and Theological Interpretation: Thoughts
on Metarepresentation,” JTI 4, no. 1 (2010): 75–90; and “Lexical Pragmatics and Biblical
Interpretation,” JETS 50, no. 4, (2007): 799–812. For an application of RT to NT exegesis, see
40 CHAPTER 1
Work in the cognitive sciences of the last thirty or forty years has caused a
rethinking of linguistic relativity in recognition that the physiology of the
human brain and its cognitive functions at the neural level are universals
that constitute how language is processed in the mind. This has given rise
to a mediating position that has been congenial to the emergence of a
new theory of how language communicates meaning, relevance theory.136
The preceding discussion of semantics and pragmatics has provided some

background for the reasons I find RT helpful, and it is beyond the scope of this
monograph to offer a defense of RT in its totality.137
A brief sketch is necessary, however, to situate properly my proposal for
monosemy. Against semiotic understandings of communication in which
a speaker’s thoughts are duplicated in the mind of the hearer, RT holds that
Stephen Pattemore, The People of God in the Apocalypse: Discourse, Structure, and Exegesis
(SNTSMS 128; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004).
136 “Relevance Theory and the Translation of Scripture,” JETS 50, no. 4 (2007): 776.
137 Kent Bach has recently offered a concise summary of the primary critiques leveled at
RT. Two critiques among them bear mentioning. First, Bach complains that John Austin’s
distinction between locutionary acts (what a speaker says), illocutionary acts (what a
speaker means), and perlocutionary acts (intentionally producing further effects on the
speaker’s audience) seem to have no place in RT (“Impliciture vs. Explicature: What’s the
Difference?” in Explicit Communication: Robyn Carston’s Pragmatics [ed. Soria Casaverde,
María Belén, and Esther Romero; Houndmills, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010],
133). On this point Bach seems to think that RT, intended primarily as an approach to
utterance comprehension, needs to give further attention to the speaker’s standpoint.
However, given that my interests in this monograph are on texts (specifically Paul’s writ-
ings), and I am convinced that ‘Paul’s intentions’ are irretrievably lost, I am not bothered
by RT’s interest in the audience’s assumptions about the beliefs and attitudes the speaker
is expressing. Second, Bach believes that “relevance theory does not do justice to Grice’s
insight that communication is a kind of game of coordination: the speaker intends the
hearer to figure out what he means partly on the basis that he is intended to do so, and the
hearer, in figuring out what a speaker means, presumes that the speaker intends him to do
so” (“Impliciture vs. Explicature,” 136). Here Bach seems to suggest that I must talk about
Paul as if he is an “applied relevance theorist” who can predict “which interpretation of a
given utterance best satisfies relevance principles.” It is true that when I talk about ‘rhe-
torical strategies’ and such, I speak as if ‘Paul’ deliberately shaped the text in various ways
(i.e., Paul uses the mental images associated with ζῆλος in strategic ways). Again, though,
since ‘Paul’ is knowable only through the text itself, the ‘game’ is something that takes
place between the reader (which I am analyzing according to RT) and the text (which
is knowable as a relatively stable series of words, combined with appropriate informa-
tion gleaned from historical, linguistic, and socio-cultural study; largely intertextual in
nature).
communication involves the modification of the cognitive environment of the

hearer.138 That is, the hearer makes the assumption that the speaker intends
to communicate.139 This sounds rather obvious, but the discredited assump-
tion that speakers simply encode and hearers simply decode remains remark-
ably influential given the advances in semiotic theory over the past decades.
Language is a code, but it is only part of the intended communication, which
the hearer must infer based on a wide range of implicatures (which are the
centerpiece of Gricean pragmatics) or explicatures (which Robyn Carston
argues are more germane).140 Since a speaker’s meaning is linguistically
underdetermined, the fundamental insight of RT is that “[h]uman cognition
tends to be geared to the maximisation of relevance.”141 Specifically, human
138 Robyn Carston writes on the relationship between philosophical and cognitive science
perspectives: “Broadly speaking, there are two perspectives on pragmatics: the ‘philosoph-
ical’ and the ‘cognitive’. From the philosophical perspective, an interest in pragmatics has
been largely motivated by problems and issues in semantics. . . . The advent of cognitive
pragmatics, specifically of the relevance-theoretic approach, has brought a rather differ-
ent orientation: ‘pragmatics’ is a capacity of the mind, a kind of information-processing
system, a system for interpreting a particular phenomenon in the world, namely human
communicative behavior” (“Linguistic Meaning, Communicated Meaning and Cognitive
Pragmatics,” Mind And Language 17, no. 1–2 [2002]: 128–9); cited in Barry C. Smith,
“Meaning, Context, and How Language can Surprise Us,” in Explicit Communication: Robyn
Carston’s Pragmatics (ed. Soria Casaverde, María Belén, and Esther Romero; Houndmills,
Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), 93.
139 As Bach puts it: “in figuring out what a speaker means an addressee presumes that the
speaker intends him to do so” (“Impliciture vs. Explicature,” 130). Bach would suggest
that neo-Griceans like himself view this as a kind of game involving strategic interac-
tion, whereas proponents of RT talk more about this assumption as an ordinary cognitive
process.
140 See especially Grice’s work on meaning and conversation: H. Paul Grice, “Meaning.”
Philosophical Review 66 (1957): 377–88; “Logic and Conversation,” in Syntax and Semantics
3: Speech Acts (ed. P. Cole and J.L. Morgan; New York: Academic Press, 1975), 41–58. Grice is
widely viewed as the most influential proponent of explaining meaning at the pragmatic
level (inference) rather than at the semantic level (disambiguation). As originally devel-
oped by Sperber and Wilson, RT was based on implicatures, but Carston has argued con-
vincingly that cases usually thought of as implicature are better handled as explicatures;
that is, inferential enrichment which contributes to truth-conditional semantics, effec-
tively eliminating any role for ‘what is said’ (Thoughts and Utterances, 116–64; “Relevance
Theory and the Saying/Implicating Distinction,” in The Handbook of Pragmatics [ed.
Laurence Robert Horn and Gregory Ward; Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2004], 633–56). See
also Bach’s recent summary: “implicitures/explicatures go beyond what is said (in a strict
sense) and yet fall short of being implicatures” (“Impliciture vs. Explicature,” 126).
141 Sperber and Wilson, Relevance, 260.
42 CHAPTER 1
cognition occurs as a balance between minimal processing effort and maxi-

mum cognitive effect:
Extent condition 1: An assumption is relevant to an individual to the

extent that the positive cognitive effects achieved when it is optimally
processed are large.
Extent condition 2: An assumption is relevant to an individual to the
extent that the effort required to achieve these positive cognitive effects
is small.142
Within this framework, Sperber and Wilson argue convincingly that very little
of a communicator’s conceptual repertoire is lexicalized.143 Pragmatic enrich-
ment of encoded meaning (semantics) takes place at every level, so that what
is expressed by an utterance (the ‘truth-conditional proposition’) cannot be
obtained by semantic means alone. This is known as ‘semantic underdetermi-
nacy’ and has received wide acceptance from advocates of RT.
Most importantly for our discussion of monosemy, Sperber, Wilson and
Carston claim that, given the phenomenon of semantic underdeterminacy,
concept construction is ad hoc. That is, “[w]ords uttered in a particular context
provide access to concept schemas but, in any and every particular utterance,
the concepts themselves shift and morph.”144 This includes the narrowing or
broadening of concepts, as well as category extension (metaphors).145 So in a
142 Sperber and Wilson, Relevance, 265.

143 Sperber and Wilson, “Mapping,” 185.
144 Green, “Lexical Pragmatics and the Lexicon,” 321; cf. 328–29. Carston herself states that
the term ad hoc concept “is used to refer to concepts that are constructed pragmatically
by a hearer in the process of utterance comprehension. [. . .] The description of such con-
cepts as ‘ad hoc’ reflects the fact that they are not linguistically given, but are constructed
on-line (on the fly) in response to specific expectations of relevance raised in specific
contexts” (Thoughts and Utterances, 322).
145 It should be noted that Carston has recently questioned whether lexical meaning is in
fact conceptual (directly expressible). She writes that such a non-conceptual approach
“has consequences for (relevance-theoretic) pragmatics, in that we can no longer think
in terms of the narrowing or broadening of denotations (or of concept adjustment) as
there is no linguistically-specified denotation to narrow or broaden (and no concept to
adjust)” (“Word Meaning and Concept Expressed,” Linguistic Review 29, no. 4 (2012): 622).
The position adopted in this chapter is that a word can contribute to the meaning of the
discourse with or without the existence of a linguistically-expressible general or abstract
meaning.
given context, the hearer or reader is constantly creating meaning, down to the
level of the very words themselves.146
To understand how this works in practice, we must clarify what exactly the
“lexically-based input to pragmatics” is.147 In our discussion of Ruhl above,
we saw that Ruhl considers this input to be a highly abstract and generalized
semantic meaning that is present in all occurrences. According to RT, there
are two parts to what a word contributes to the process of interpretation. First,
there is a ‘semantic’ part (in a narrow sense) that could be conceived of along
the lines of what Ruhl is suggesting.148 Second, there is a ‘non-semantic’ (or we
might say non-stable) part, an ‘encyclopedia’ of concepts that are associated
with the encoded meaning. As Wilson and Sperber summarize in their seminal
essay on the ‘mental lexicon’: “[G]iven the inferential nature of comprehen-
sion, the words in a language can be used to convey not only the concepts they
encode, but also indefinitely many other related concepts to which they might
point in a given context.”149
The encyclopedic information plays a key role in the process of maximiz-
ing relevance described above, where a reader activates and adjusts various
concepts in response to a word or phrase. Robyn Carston describes the ency-
clopedia as containing “general knowledge and individual beliefs about the
things they denote, cultural knowledge, including stereotypes, which the indi-
vidual may or may not endorse, imagistic representations, and perhaps also
episodic memories.”150
146 My argument is that speakers and hearers are oriented towards real communication
and thus never think in purely semantic terms. Though he disagrees, Tuggy puts it well:
“native speakers will not be conscious of the linguistic meanings of the words they use,
but only of their pragmatically contaminated variants” (“Kīsa,” 344).
147 Carston, “Word Meaning,” 611.
148 For a recent treatment of encoded semantic meaning (specifically, a referentialist
account of the content and an atomistic account of concepts), see Jerry A. Fodor, LOT 2:
The Language of Thought Revisited (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2008). See also Carston’s
discussion of the relevance-theoretic conception of linguistic semantics (Thoughts and
Utterances, 56–57).
149 Sperber and Wilson, “Mapping,” 197.
150 “Word Meaning,” 612; cf. Thoughts and Utterances, 321: “The encyclopaedic entry com-
prises a wide array of different kinds of knowledge, including commonplace assumptions,
scientific information, culture-specific beliefs and personal, idiosyncratic observations
and experiences. Some of this information may be stored as discrete propositional rep-
resentations, some of it may be in the form of integrated scripts or scenarios [. . .] and
some may be represented in an analogue (as opposed to digital) format, perhaps as men-
tal images of some sort.” Adrian Pilkington has recently suggested that if mental images
are included in encyclopaedic entries, then other sensory images and representations
44 CHAPTER 1
More recently, Agustín Rayo has referred to the encyclopedia (which he

believes is the only input to pragmatics) as a ‘grab-bag’ of mental items: “memo-
ries, mental images, pieces of encyclopedic information, pieces of anecdotal
information, mental maps, and so forth.”151 Rayo provides the example of a
color like blue, with which a hearer might associate some particular shades
of blue, the information that blue represents the the sky on a clear day, the
memory of a blue piece of clothing, and so on.
These mental items would not necessarily be shared by all, of course, and
at this point one might object that we have entered a wholly subjective and
speculative arena. As we will see below, the situation may not be as dire as
it first appears. At the very least, within a text the opportunity for identify-
ing more consistency among readers’ grab-bags is available. Without making
any claims for intentionality, the text affords interpreters concrete markers by
which to substantiate claims like “Paul shapes reader’s conceptions of ζῆλος in
such and such a way.” At this point, then, it becomes important to distinguish
the analysis of a term within a text from the short, conversational phrases and
sentences usually considered by relevance theorists.
Relevance Theory and Reading Texts
To address the question of the relationship between the ‘short, spoken

exchange’ usually considered by relevance theorists (what linguists call the
‘canonical situation’; e.g., Peter: I’m tired// Mary: I’ll make the meal) and the liter-
ary text, Keith Green notes that “[i]n place of Mary and Peter we have the text’s
of affective states could also be included (“Metaphor Comprehension: Some Questions

for Current Accounts in Relevance Theory,” in Explicit Communication: Robyn Carston’s
Pragmatics [ed. Soria Casaverde, María Belén, and Esther Romero; Houndmills,
Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010], 164–5). Pilkington cites Antonio Damasio, who
discusses the sensory information associated with VIOLIN, including “representations of
shape, motion, color and texture,” “somatosensory representations . . . relative to the pres-
sure the instrument will have exerted in the perceiver’s body,” and “a range of somatic
states appropriate to one’s experience of a violin, e.g. like or dislike, pleasurable or painful
sensation” (“Concepts in the Brain,” Mind and Language 4 [1989]: 26). Various theories
have been posited to describe how the brain actually organizes this information. Fodor
finds it useful to think of concepts as ‘filenames’ for collections of contingent information
(LOT 2, 95).
151 “A Plea for Semantic Localism,” Noûs 47, no. 4 (2013): 648; cited in Carston, “Word
Meaning,” 620–21. Rayo’s take on semantic content is essentially eliminativist (there is no
semantic input per se).
persona and the reader herself.”152 That is, just as the non-linguistic aspects of
Peter and Mary’s communication (which are specified by theorists) supply a
cognitive environment that guarantees relevance, “[a] reader’s encounter with
a literary text must also carry that guarantee.”153 RT holds that the text influ-
ences the mental encyclopedia by strengthening, contradicting, modifying, or
erasing assumptions and images already held, and that “energy is expended in
this processing effort.”154
The key point here is that “the text itself triggers the processing procedures
in its guarantee of relevance.”155 In other words, close analysis of the text itself
does allow interpreters to say something about the ad hoc construction of
meaning that occurs when readers encounter ζῆλος in Paul’s letters. Just as
spoken communication is processed through a search for a satisfactory range
of cognitive effect (maximum effect at minimum effort), so too the literary text
acts as a frame for creating meaning.
Green recognizes that when applied to texts, ‘relevance’ is roughly synony-
mous with what might be called ‘thematic coherence’ (such as in the inter-
pretation of poetry).156 In fact, many of the elements traditionally associated
with literary criticism (genre, staging, perspective, etc.) are brought to bear on
the meaning-making that occurs even at the level of a single word. Green uses
the example of the word sleep in Robert Frost’s well-known poem Stopping By
Woods on a Snowy Evening. This word might be understood in the metaphori-
cal sense of ‘death,’ depending on the way the poem has shaped the search for
relevance. It is important to remember, though, that RT is not a method that
will tell us what sleep means in Frost’s poem nor what ζῆλος means in 2 Cor
7:7. RT can tell us, however, how these words come to mean what they do in
these contexts. Since the inception of RT, Sperber and Wilson have insisted
that these kinds of ‘poetic effects’ (or we might say literary elements) can be
accounted for within RT as ‘weak’ pragmatic effects.157 When a reader offers
an interpretation of a poem that seems deliberately to open itself to multi-
ple interpretations, she is simply drawing on these weak effects. Often times,
152 “Relevance Theory and the Literary Text: Some Problems and Perspectives,” Journal Of
Literary Semantics 22, no. 3 (1993): 208–9. Green notes that although texts seem to ‘speak’
to a silent reader, it is “unfair to call the reader silent, for she must actively seek contexts
for the understanding of that text.”
153 “Literary Text,” 211.
156 “Literary Text,” 212. Green notes Anglo-American New Criticism in particular.
157 Cf. Wilson and Sperber on rhetoric and relevance (Meaning and Relevance, 84–96).
46 CHAPTER 1
though, not least in the NT, explicit and identifiable (thus ‘strong’) pragmatic
effects are made present by the interpretive process. Interpreters have always
devoted attention to these effects (exegesis), but have not always had a frame-
work within which to articulate the way these effects shape meaning all the
way down to the level of individual words.
Again, it is the ‘search for contexts’ that occurs when a reader encounters
a text that distinguishes this relevance-theoretic account from frameworks
that minimize the role of the reader. As Regina Blass puts it: “[T]he text alone
rarely encodes enough information to determine the intended logical rela-
tions among propositions in a discourse; nor is the role of context simply one
of enabling coherence relations to be established . . . it is relevance relations
between text and context (in the sense of Sperber and Wilson 1986) which are
paramount in successful interpretation.”158
To illustrate, let us take up the rather straightforward example of ζῆλος in
1 Cor 3:3:
ὅπου γὰρ ἐν ὑμῖν ζῆλος καὶ ἔρις, οὐχὶ σαρκικοί ἐστε καὶ κατὰ ἄνθρωπον
περιπατεῖτε;
For in so far as there is ζῆλος and strife among you, are you not of the
flesh, and behaving according to human inclinations?
Borrowing from Green’s examination of the “range and depth of frames and
contexts” associated with the lexical item sleep in Frost’s poem, we might con-
sider the following observations:159
1) The item occurs as a paradigmatic choice, within a range of possible choices.

ζῆλος could be something positive or something negative in 1 Cor 3:3.
Within the argument I am making in this chapter, this choice applies not
to disambiguation but to the construction of ad hoc meaning undertaken
in every occurrence.
158 “Are There Logical Relations in a Text?” Lingua 90, no. 1–2 (1993): 93.
159 “Literary Text,” 213. The ultimate task of Green’s essay is to show that texts, although they
are in a sense ‘disembodied discourse,’ carry a guarantee of relevance no different from
that of the canonical situation. Relevance is foregrounded by an act of the reader, but this
is no less true for the canonical situations considered by relevance theorists (they treat
utterances as stable phenomena, i.e., texts); cf. “Literary Text,” 216.
2) The item occurs in the company of other items in the syntagmatic chain.
In this case, ζῆλος is coupled with ἔρις as the (predicate) nominative.
3) The item occurs subject to pragmatic processing.
This is true of all words in all texts.
4) The item occurs within a text which we take to be poetic.
In this case, the text is an ancient Greek epistolary form.160
5) The immediate context in which the item occurs is the experience of the
majority of the poem.
In this case, ζῆλος occurs within the argument presented in the body of
Paul’s letter.
6) Some aspects of that context might include our knowledge of the speaker,
lexical items having already occurred and other formal constraints such as
the functioning of the genre itself.
These aspects correspond with much of traditional exegesis and will
receive further attention in Chapter Four, but here we may note espe-
cially the way the word group recurs in 12:31 (ζηλόω); 13:4 (ζηλόω); 14:1
(ζηλόω); 14:12 (ζηλωτής); and 14:39 (ζηλόω), and, if the reader chooses a
canonical context, the occurrences in (e.g.) the rest of Paul’s letters (e.g.,
ζῆλος καὶ ἔρις in Rom 13:13; 2 Cor 12:20; and Gal 5:20).
7) The frame of relevance is dependent upon our knowledge and experience of
poetry, and this can affect the contexts chosen.
In this case, our knowledge and experience of ancient Greek letters may
factor in, such as the use of the ζηλ- word group in pathetic persuasion.
8) The immediate situation of the utterance does not act as a context. Any rela-
tion between the situation of the utterance and the receiver, that is, the
reader, can only be glossed from the text itself.
This aspect applies for most exegetical analyses insofar as they make
claims that extend beyond “this is what the text means to me,” though
one might resist this if the text is being read, say, as part of a worship
service (“This is the word of the Lord . . .”).
9) From our experience of the poem we can create a ‘thematic-coherer’—a
context through which frames of relevance are sifted.
10) The thematic coherence transforms the plethora of weak implicatures into a
coherent set of strong ones.
160 On the question of the legitimacy of transferring these observations on a poem to episto-
lary literature, it should be noted that Green’s choice of a poem is for illustrative purposes
only. Important here is the recognition of features that attend whatever genre is being
considered (which of course are different between poetry and letters).
48 CHAPTER 1
Here, the interpreter grants that Paul writes about a real possibility of
ζῆλος καὶ ἔρις for the purpose of correcting certain behaviors and eluci-
dating the importance and significance of the gospel. Within in this
frame, pragmatic effects that might shape the semantics of ζῆλος become
identifiable factors in creating meaning.
Seeking to explain Paul’s combination of ἔρις and ζῆλος, Anthony C. Thiselton

rightly perceives that “[b]oth terms are concerned with advancing the claims
and interests of the self.”161 From a relevance-theoretic perspective, the text
enacts other strong pragmatic effects on the word ζῆλος as well. In 1:11–12,
Paul describes the ἔρις he is deeply concerned about, which revolves around
the correct person to emulate (1:12) and whether these ‘wise’ (σοφός; 1:19–20),
‘powerful’ (δυνατός; 1:26), and ‘noble’ (εὐγενής; 1:26) objects are truly worthy of
emulation (τὸ μωρὸν τοῦ θεοῦ σοφώτερον τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἐστὶν; 1:25). All of this
information shapes the grab-bag for ζῆλος and the particular mental items that
are activated in 3:3.
Therefore the ad hoc meaning of ζῆλος in 3:3 would include information and
images associated with ‘emulation,’ rather than simply the encoded sense of
the polyseme ‘jealousy’ that is accepted by virtually all commentators. These
effects are then reinforced in the following verses (wrongly-directed ζῆλος
belongs to the life believers have left behind [3:4, 16]; and the ‘wisdom’ of emu-
lating a particular person is foolishness to God [3:18–19]; etc.), thereby shaping
the grab-bag that will be activated in the occurrences of ζηλόω in chs. 12–14.
These observations are oriented toward the creation of meaning from the
reader’s perspective, but within RT certain assumptions can be made about
the ‘speaker’ (in this case, what the text supplies). Most important is that the
writer will leave implicit everything the reader can be trusted to supply “with
less effort than would be needed to process an explicit prompt.”162 If certain
information about the meaning of ζῆλος is left unspecified, we may say that
Paul believes a certain degree of mutual understanding exists between him and
his readers. This may seem rather obvious, but again, RT provides a framework
within which to understand the communicative event. So for example, if it can
be shown that Paul assumes a certain familiarity with notions of ‘ζῆλος for the
good’ in Greek literature, it is appropriate for the reader to transform the weak
pragmatic effects into a strong pragmatic effect in the search for relevance.
161 The First Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary on the Greek Text (NIGTC; Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 2000), 293.
162 Green, “Literary Text,” 215.
Relevance Theory and the Location of Meaning
It is clear from the preceding analysis that RT offers no escape from larger ques-
tions about the location of meaning in texts.163 If the search for meaning can
be located within the spectrum of behind-the-text, in-the-text, and in-front-
of-the-text, it is clearly the latter for which RT offers the most help. RT is not a
method to reclaim the notion of authorial intent, nor is it directly compatible
with the text-centered approach of New Criticism.164
163 Pattemore’s remarks summarize the usefulness of RT as a hermeneutical tool: “Treating

the text as, very precisely, a trace of a historical communication event, one that the audi-
ence would have assumed to have optimal relevance, has provided an entry point into
the hermeneutical circle. . . . [T]he category of ‘mutual cognitive environment’ takes into
account every aspect of what is commonly called ‘context’. . . . The use of RT has not elimi-
nated all subjectivity from the process of exegesis. But again, it recognizes this limitation
and seeks to minimize it by means of the assessment of the trade-off between cogni-
tive results and processing effort” (People of God, 214–15). This recognition of the need for
further exegetical work and consideration of readerly location is one of my reasons for
preferring the relevance theoretical framework over Halliday’s SFL approach.
164 Cf. William K. Wimsatt Jr. and Monroe C. Beardsley, “The Intentional Fallacy,” Sewanee
Review 54 (1946): 468–88; “The Affective Fallacy,” Sewanee Review 57 (1949): 31–55. Karen
Jobes’ interest in RT is in part tied to what she calls “its emphasis on the speaker’s or
author’s intention to communicate” which “brings a welcome corrective to the reader-
response hermeneutic that resulted from the over-zealous application of Wimsatt and
Beardsley’s The Intentional Fallacy” (“Translation of Scripture,” 782). I fully agree that
readers approach texts expecting to hear meaningful communication, but this should
be sharply distinguished from viewing RT as a way to recover ‘authorial intent,’ which is
unknowable. Jobes seems to confuse the assumption that texts aim to modify the cog-
nitive environment of the reader with the assumption that we can recover authorial
intent, and the distinction is essential. Ian E. Mackenzie uses RT to make a similar claim
(that interpretation is primarily about the recovery of authorial intent) in his critique of
non-intentionalist deconstruction, which he believes makes language “invariably ironic,
random, arbitrary, irresponsible, mechanical and inhuman” (Paradigms Of Reading:
Relevance Theory And Deconstruction [New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002], 2).
However, within RT (and other pragmatic theories), authorial intentions have no role
in determining meaning. As John Phillips points out, using RT to make a claim for autho-
rial intent “asserts in the guise of the humble claim for relevance theory a kind of totali-
tarianism of reading, which does not happily coexist with but is set up either to explain
or exclude alternative paradigms” (review of Ian E. Mackenzie, Paradigms Of Reading:
Relevance Theory And Deconstruction and Frank Lentricchia and Andrew Dubois (eds.),
Close Reading: The Reader, European Journal of English Studies 8, no. 1 [2004]: 143–4).
Relevance theory uses the language of ‘intention,’ but always deals with what the hearer
50 CHAPTER 1
A lengthy discussion would do little to serve the thesis being advanced in

this chapter. However, in light of the claims made above regarding texts and
the relevance-theoretic ‘search for contexts,’ and more specifically in light of
the claims I will make below about identity formation, some brief comments
about ‘readerly interests’ are appropriate.
The key point is that a study of a word group in Paul’s letters is not a task
that can be completed apart from the reader’s chosen posture in relation to the
text. We have no access to ‘Paul’s intentions’ apart from the text and other
recoverable data associated with the text (knowledge about Greek language
and ancient history, etc.), but we do have access to the reader insofar as we
adopt the position of the reader marked out by the text, whether provision-
ally or in a more absolute sense. By ‘provisional’ I mean something like Wayne
Booth’s notion of ‘ethical criticism,’ which means approaching the text as a
conversation partner who might also become a friend.165 By ‘absolute’ I mean
the sort of approach taken by readers who approach the text as the word of
God in some authoritative and binding sense.
‘Reader,’ though, is a term in need of clarification. An ‘implied reader,’ as
understood by Wolfgang Iser, is a rather wooden figure that is marked out by
the text but makes few choices.166 From the perspective of relevance-theoretic
search for frames and contexts, Iser’s ‘implied reader’ falls short of the kind
of involvement demanded by a text and inherent in Booth’s ‘ethics.’ My own
view, especially in light of my interest in the way Paul shapes the identity of
his readers (in part by shaping the mental encyclopedia of a word like ζῆλος),
is that Umberto Eco’s understanding of a ‘model reader’ is more appropriate.
Eco writes:
To organize a text, its author has to rely upon a series of codes that assign
given contents to the expressions he uses. To make his text communica-
tive, the author has to assume that the ensemble of codes he relies upon
is the same as that shared by his possible reader. The author has to fore-
see a model of the possible reader (hereafter Model Reader) supposedly
thinks the speaker might have intended rather than the actual intentions (cf. Sperber and
Wilson, Relevance, 15–21).
165 Cf. The Company We Keep: An Ethics of Fiction (Berkeley: University of California Press,
1988).
166 Cf. “Readers and the Concept of the Implied Reader,” in The Act of Reading: A Theory of
Aesthetic Response (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978), 27–38.
able to deal interpretively with the expressions in the same way as the
author deals generatively with them.167
Eco’s definition of ‘model reader’ assumes an understanding of pragmatics

much like the one I am arguing for in this chapter. Eco is concerned with lin-
guistic ‘presupposition pools’ that help determine meaning at the level of a
whole text, and to some degree my examination of Paul’s use of the ζηλ- word
group is simply one component that can be used to situate a text within its
literary/historical/linguistic context. Eco’s ‘model reader’ is in fact a real reader
who takes on the character of the author’s ‘implied reader’ (or better, ‘authorial
reader’). In this sense, RT, with its interest in the communicative event, offers
a helpful framework within which to account for the kind of reading Eco pro-
poses. As Adrian Pilkington puts it:
There is a sense . . . in which a potential reader has to decide whether he is

a suitable addressee. As becoming an addressee is an act of choice . . . the
presumption of relevance does not hold in the same way. James Joyce’s
novels could not be accompanied by a presumption of relevance for
readers he did not know. He did write them, however, with the intention
that they be relevant to someone.168
A Preliminary Relevance-Theoretical Reading
If we apply the idea of a mental encyclopedia for lexical items to the reading
of a text, then, the grab-bag for a given lexical item would be shaped by the
preceding discourse and the most relevant bits of information (what would
be activated in the search for relevance) would be to some degree dictated by
what has just been read. Here we might consider Carston’s discussion of the
phrase Boris is a child:
Depending on the wider discourse situation, contextual implications

such as Boris is sweet and innocent, untouched by life experience, may
167 The Role of the Reader: Explorations in the Semiotics of Texts (Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1979), 7. My appreciation for Eco is due to conversations with Joel B.
Green (see, e.g., Seized by Truth: Reading the Bible As Scripture; Nashville: Abingdon Press,
2007, 118).
168 Poetic Effects: A Relevance Theory Perspective (Amsterdam and Philadelphia: John
Benjamins, 2000), 82.
52 CHAPTER 1
be inferred, based on assumptions accessed from the encyclopaedic

entry for CHILD, which, by backwards inference, lead to a particular ad
hoc concept CHILD*. In another utterance situation, different items of
encyclopaedic information about children might be more highly acti-
vated making most accessible such implications as that Boris doesn’t earn
his keep, expects others to look after him, is irresponsible, etc., resulting
in a distinct ad hoc concept CHILD** in the explicature. And there are
other—perhaps indefinitely many—possibilities.169
If the phrase Boris is a child is found within a text that contains numerous
thoughts, perspectives, inferences, and other bits of information about chil-
dren, it is not difficult to imagine the ways that the grab-bag for CHILD would
be modified and the ways the reader would naturally activate certain mental
items upon reading the phrase. In other words, the text becomes the ‘utterance
situation’ that is only hypothetical within Carston’s analysis.
With this example in mind, and with the caveat that RT is a framework for
the understanding of utterances and not a method, it may be helpful to attempt
a preliminary relevance-theoretic account of the communication involved in
reading Paul’s letters. By writing, Paul seeks to modify the cognitive environ-
ment of his reader, and his reader’s interpretive process is constrained by the
search for relevance. Returning to Winger’s treatment of νόμος in Rom 7:21 dis-
cussed above, we might say that Paul has been shaping the mental encyclo-
pedia of the reader by the lengthy discourse involving νόμος in the previous
chapters. When the reader encounters the occurrence in 7:21, various associa-
tions are activated and adjusted until maximal cognitive effects are obtained
with the least mental effort. We need not rule out of hand that Paul’s discourse
would prompt the reader to begin a process of categorization such as Winger
proposes, but RT cautions us to resist the idea that the reader must identify
one of seven (or however many) existing senses of νόμος in order to understand
Paul correctly. More careful exegetical study must be undertaken (which is pre-
cisely the point!), but in this case, the continuation of the discussion of ‘law’ as
a resumption of the earlier treatment of the Mosaic Law (7:7–13) seems likely
to meet the criteria for relevance.
But what is to be gained here? Why not just assume that Paul ‘meant’ some-
thing specific (one of several ‘meanings’), and say that the reader disambigu-
ates between these senses? Importantly, Sperber and Wilson define ‘cognitive
169 “Word Meaning,” 612–13.

effects’ as “changes in the individual’s beliefs.”170 This is a crucial advantage of

RT as applied to studies of key words in biblical texts: as a communicator, Paul
looks to shape his readers’ beliefs about νόμος, and to transform and reorient
their practices. He does this not by way of overt definition, but by way of a
whole set of mental images that have been shaped not only by shared linguis-
tic ‘presupposition pools’ available to his readers, but also by the immediate
discourse (the letter). Even the most exhaustive list of meanings for νόμος can-
not include the particular meaning that Paul’s readers invest it with as they
read. And more importantly, Paul (or we might say ‘the text’) can and does
shape not only words but readers. I will return to the importance of identity-
shaping below, as well as the important distinction between this linguistic
phenomenon and ‘theological lexicography.’
Relevance Theory and Monosemy
We must be clear, however, that linguists and interpreters who have adopted
RT do not automatically endorse a ‘monosemic bias.’ RT moves us in the direc-
tion of an underspecified account of meaning for a given word that relies on
the ad hoc construction of meaning on the part of the reader. This does not
preclude some kind of description of the unique contribution that a given
word can contribute to the text (whether conceptual [Sperber and Wilson] or
non-conceptual [Agustín Rayo]), but it does make context determinative and
it does resist the proliferation of multiple senses (polysemy). Such resistance
to polysemy may already be enough to endorse a monosemic account of ζῆλος
in Paul’s letters (and perhaps also νόμος), but I believe a stronger case for a
monosemic bias can be made. This seems to be the direction Robyn Carston
has moved in a recent article:
I am far from sure that any such distinction [between monosemic and
allegedly polysemic words] should be made: my working hypothesis
is that (open class) words quite generally are susceptible to pragmatic
adjustment in context and that some, a minority, of these (initially
ad hoc) derived senses become routinized or conventionalized to varying
degrees, due to repeated use. What we describe as ‘polysemous words’ are
170 Sperber and Wilson, Relevance, 265. See also the expanded definition in Carston, Thoughts
and Utterances, 377.
54 CHAPTER 1
those whose several senses have crossed some threshold of frequency or

conventionality.171
In light of Carston’s analysis, one might protest that there is very little differ-
ence in the end whether ζῆλος as ‘jealousy’ and ζῆλος as ‘zeal’ are considered
meaning variants (polysemes) or simply conventionalized senses derived from
a univocal lexical item. Paul and his reader, it might be said, simply identify
the correct conventional meaning in context. As discussed above in our dis-
cussion of polysemy, however, it is far from certain that authors and readers
can assume that conventionalized uses are in fact shared or standardized.
Even if this were the case, the crucial question is whether the reader is to keep
these senses (either polysemic or routinized) separate, or, as a monosemic bias
would suggest, whether the adjusted ad hoc meanings are to inform and shape
one another.172
My argument is that multiple occurrences within a text or corpus do in fact
shape one another, and that the appropriate way to account for this (especially
for exegetical study) is to endorse a monosemic bias. For native Greek speak-
ers in the first century, this is a wholly natural phenomenon, but for twenty-
first century readers this (like many other tasks) requires exegetical effort. As
we have seen, Ruhl’s proposal for monosemy moves in the right direction but
falls short because of its reliance on a lowest-common-denominator approach
to ‘general meaning.’ More helpful is the recent proposal for monosemy by
Thorstein Fretheim, who operates within the framework of RT. Fretheim
argues that Grice’s ‘Modified Occam’s Razor’ (senses are not to be multiplied
beyond necessity) should apply and that a monosemic bias is a fitting precept
for RT.
171 “Word Meaning,” 609 n. 2.

172 In her earlier work, Robyn Carston expressed doubts about MOR’s “validity in a cognitive
account of utterance semantics and pragmatics such as relevance theory.” With respect
to “the assumption that a monosemous analysis is always to be preferred to a polysemous
one,” she wondered if “it might well be more economical to retrieve a clutch of stored
senses and choose among them, than to construct an interpretation out of a single sense
and contextual information, guided by principles of rational discourse.” The 2012 excerpt
cited above seems to challenge this earlier position, though even within these earlier
remarks she said “the ‘if at all possible, go pragmatic’ strategy . . . is one that I generally
follow myself, as it makes for much more elegant analyses” (Thoughts and Utterances,
218–19 n. 50). ‘Elegant’ is not ‘proven’ by any means, but for the purposes of establishing a
monosemic bias for NT study (and perhaps even lexicography), Carston’s inclinations are
worthy of consideration.
Specifically, Fretheim offers a “monosemy-based RT-inspired analysis of

four lexical entries, two of them English and two Norwegian, all of which may
initially look like fairly convincing candidates for a lexical analysis in terms of
polysemy.” He argues that “a single parsimonious lexical definition designed to
cover all uses, in combination with massive reliance on contextual enrichment
in actual conversational dialogue, is superior to an account in terms of lexical
polysemy and disambiguation in context.”173
Obviously Fretheim’s notion of a “single parsimonious lexical definition”
could be susceptible to the same problems we have identified in Ruhl, but upon
further investigation Fretheim’s relevance-theoretic account does not depend
on the sort of general meaning critiqued above. This is because Fretheim spe-
cifically examines ‘procedural’ (as opposed to ‘conceptual’) words (e.g., after
all and at least), whose “lexically-based input to pragmatics” are best described
with words.174 NT word studies typically address conceptual words, whose
encyclopedic inputs are far richer (in terms of mental images, perceptions,
etc.) than those of procedural words. Fretheim is not directly concerned (as we
are) with the question of how instances of a single sense shape one another in
a particular discourse context, so he focuses his attention on the properties of
the single lexical definition (we might say the narrower ‘semantic’ component
of the input to pragmatics) itself.
Fretheim’s work is directly relevant, then, since the burden of his analysis
is to show that what is called a separate lexical sense is very often redundant
because it includes information that is already determined by other means
(syntactic positioning, pragmatic effects, etc.).175 This is the basis for an obser-
vation that lies at the heart of this monograph: ζῆλος directed toward an inap-
propriate object is what gives it a negative connotation, and therefore positing
the separate lexical sense jealousy is redundant. For Fretheim, the aim is theo-
retical clarity. For the purposes of NT exegesis, the consequences are higher:
173 “In Defense of Monosemy,” 83–84.

174 For instance, Fretheim’s monosemous account of the encoded lexical meaning of after
all is as follows: “After all instructs the hearer to construe a premise (P)—conclusion (Q)
relation between the proposition expressed by the utterance containing this marker and
a different, contextually recoverable proposition” (“In Defense of Monosemy,” 88).
175 For example, Fretheim shows that the positioning of after all is what indicates that the
proposition is a premise or a conclusion in a process of deductive reasoning. He then
writes: “Does this mean that after all has two different encoded meanings depending
on its syntactic location in the sentence used? Not at all. If the difference in meaning
depends on what information we may derive from the syntactic position of the item, then
we do not also want to duplicate it by including it in the lexical definition of the same
item” (“In Defense of Monosemy,” 86).
56 CHAPTER 1
the aim is to avoid partitioning a word into multiple senses so that interpreters
do not miss the way a concept or term is shaped in a given text.
To summarize my proposal: a definition of ζῆλος might contain some ele-
ments that can be communicated with words, but must be conceived of as a
single grab-bag of mental items (memories, mental images, pieces of encyclo-
pedic and/or anecdotal information). As Fretheim defines it, a monoseme is “a
lexical item with a univocal meaning which will inevitably be modified in con-
text by a process of inferential enrichment of the encoded lexical meaning.”176
The emphasis here is on the inevitability, which is one of the ways Fretheim’s
definition is superior to Ruhl’s. By adopting Fretheim’s approach, we take up
the challenge posed by Joseph DeChicchis’ critique of Ruhl: “[A] case could
be made for mustering extralinguistic considerations in favor of a monosemic
bias, but Ruhl chooses to remain within the domain of linguistics proper, that
is, the domain wherein context can be successfully specified in one or two
sentences.”177
This is precisely what makes a ‘monosemy-based RT-inspired analysis’
appealing: it resists the kind of lowest-common-denominator approach
endorsed by Ruhl, and at the same time encourages (and even requires) care-
ful exegesis of the entire literary context. This is because the lexical definition
(what the word itself contributes) is a mental grab-bag that has itself been
shaped by the discourse. As María Requejo argues, from a cognitive linguis-
tics perspective, “context is not some extra information we turn to when bare
semantics is not enough.”178 Linguistics is exegesis.
Are all words then monosemic? Perhaps not. The shaping of the grab-bag
for (river) bank by its use in a given text should not be seen to influence an
occurrence of (financial) bank that happens to occur in the same text (unless
176 “In Defense of Monosemy,” 80.

177 Review of Charles Ruhl, On Monosemy: A Study in Linguistic Semantics, Language Sciences
14 (1992): 172.
178 “The Role of Context in Word Meaning Construction: A Case Study,” IJES 7, no. 1 (2007):
170. Cognitive linguists generally share the view that polysemy is the norm, but the pro-
posals for monosemy that cognitive linguists engage are no more advanced than Ruhl’s.
Even David Tuggy, who argues for the existence of rampant polysemy (with Ruhl as his
primary target), admits that “[m]onosemists are right . . . in assigning great importance to
context in the matter” because “[c]ontext makes possible the initial learning of different
senses and reinforces them in continuing usage . . . [and] makes it possible for creative
speakers and cooperative hearers to expand meanings to include new senses” (“Kīsa,”
357). Tuggy has polysemy in mind (he also thinks the ‘insulating power’ of context is what
keeps polysemic senses from colliding), but his remarks are well suited to the role of con-
text in ad hoc meaning construction.
some deliberate wordplay is explicitly indicated). This might be an example of

homonymy, whereas polysemy involves senses that are related in some way. As
discussed above, however, homonymy is not wholly distinguishable from poly-
semy; it is a spectrum. It may be that bank is not even polysemous, and that
the two uses do not influence one another because they are highly constrained
by contextual and co-textual features. Even so, the possibility exists that some
words can be deemed polysemous after exhausting the options for monosemy.
Given that one of the primary advantages of a monosemic bias is that it
precludes declarations of polysemy without exhaustive exegetical study, I
am hesitant to suggest examples of polysemic words occurring in the NT. A
possible candidate is the distinction between πρεσβύτερος in the sense of an
authoritative figure in Luke 7:3; 9:22; 20:1; 22:52 (the ‘elders’); and πρεσβύτερος
as simply the older of two sons in Luke 15:25. The argument in this case might
be that although the shaping of the grab-bag invoked by the references to the
Jewish ‘elders’ should be seen to influence the ‘elders’ appointed by Paul and
Barnabas in Acts 14:23, there is little reason to think that the same grab-bag is
at work when the ‘elder brother’ is spoken of in Luke 15:25. Decisively, ‘the elder’
(ὁ πρεσβύτερος) is situated in opposition to ‘the younger’ (ὁ νεώτερος; Luke 15:12).
Even here, though, the starting assumption should be monosemy, since it is
in fact possible that some shaping of the grab-bag for πρεσβύτερος in 15:25 (the
elder brother) does in fact take place by virtue of the other occurrences in the
text (consciously or not).179 At the theoretical level, the arguments presented
in this chapter would in fact opt for a monosemic account of πρεσβύτερος.
Fretheim proposes that a monosemic rather than a polysemic account of lexi-
cal meaning is to be preferred when 1) it is syntax and prosody that cause the
hearer to exclude certain meanings, or 2) there exist contexts that neutralize
the difference between the meaning variants.180 In the case of πρεσβύτερος,
Fretheim would argue for monosemy because at the syntactical/semantic level
it is the appositional relationship to ὁ υἱὸς (Luke 15:25) that excludes the mean-
ing involving authoritative figures.181
179 The argument that such effects can be considered ‘strong’ would have to be made via
thorough exegesis.
180 “In Defense of Monosemy,” 113.
181 The same might be noted for ζῆλος in Gal 5:20 (cf. Rom 13:13; 2 Cor 12:20), which excludes a
positive connotation because of its inclusion in a list of vices (cf. Richard N. Longenecker,
Galatians [WBC 41; Dallas: Word, 1990], 256). Or as Edward Adams claims regarding
ζηλωτὴς ὑπάρχων τῶν πατρικῶν μου παραδόσεων (“being a zealot for the traditions of my
ancestors”) in Gal 1:14, “the negative judgment is encoded in the object phrase (objec-
tive genitive) rather than the verb phrase” (“Ideology and Point of View in Galatians 1–2:
A Critical Linguistic Analysis,” in Diglossia and Other Topics in New Testament Linguistics
58 CHAPTER 1
At the practical level, of course, the exegetical value of this monosemic

account of πρεσβύτερος is not evenly distributed. That is, the monosemic bias
might help interpreters consider the ways the shaping of πρεσβύτεροι [τῶν
Ἰουδαίων] influences the πρεσβύτεροι appointed by Paul and Barnabas in Acts
14:23, but it may not offer a great deal of help with respect to the occurrence
in Luke 15:25. To show that a word is monosemic is not a guarantee of exegeti-
cal payoff. Yet it is important to be clear that my arguments in this chapter are
not intended to designate ζῆλος as a special case in contradistinction to most
other words. That ζῆλος is monosemic is simply what removes the blinders of
semantic overspecification and alerts us to the ways Paul puts this word group
to rhetorical and theological use.
Further Objections and Implications
We have seen that Fretheim’s RT-inspired argument for a monosemic bias

enjoys clear advantages over Ruhl’s approach. Given that many linguists (even
those working within RT) have yet to endorse a monosemic bias, we must
respond to four further objections raised by those who think that a polysemic
bias is more appropriate.
Problems with Parsimony as an Epistemic Virtue

Ben Phillips has recently argued that Grice’s ‘Modified Occam’s Razor’ (MOR),
which forms the foundation of a monosemic bias, is wrong-headed because it
is merely a subjective preference for simplicity. Phillips acknowledges that in
some cases it may be more plausible to retain a single meaning and explain dis-
tinct uses in Gricean terms than to posit an ambiguity, but he insists that “MOR
does not have a decisive role to play in adjudicating these debates” because
“potential justifications of the epistemic import of parsimony in semantic
theorizing fall short.”182 If applied to the present study, Phillips might suggest
that my argument for a monosemic account of the ζηλ- word group is simply
the outcome of an unsubstantiated intuition that ζῆλος has a univocal lexical
meaning for Greek speakers in the first century.
[ed. Stanley E. Porter; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000], 230). It will become clear
in our survey of Greek literature and close exegetical readings in the following chapters
that the ζηλ- word group easily meets Fretheim’s second criterion as well.
182 “Modified Occam’s Razor,” Australasian Journal of Philosophy 90, no. 2 (2012): 372.
I grant Phillip’s point that parsimony is an aesthetic virtue rather than an

epistemic one.183 The question, though, is whether a bias toward parsimony
coheres with what we know about language acquisition and use. Thomas D.
Bontly has examined the learning habits of children, and concludes that
“language acquisition is semantically conservative: children will posit new
meanings for familiar words only when necessary—only when they encounter
utterances that make no sense to them, even though all the words are familiar.”184
Phillips questions whether these language acquisition habits necessarily mean
that theorists should be biased against positing ambiguities,185 but if Bontly’s
findings are accurate, his observations certainly seem sufficient if we are seek-
ing a framework within which to understand the way a word is put to strategic
use in a text.186 Again, my argument is for bias (especially for the study of NT
words), and Phillips’ objection to parsimony as a universal principle does little
to mitigate the arguments for monosemy as a starting assumption.
Semantic Oppositions
Ronald Landheer thinks a monosemic bias is misguided because semantic
oppositions occur that seem to require polysemy. Landheer argues that prag-
matic effects are insufficient to account for oppositions such as the verbs open
and shut: “the difference between [different senses of open] is not only an
experiential (pragmatic) difference, but also a lexical (semantic) one. Discrete
183 This argument is by no means universally accepted. For example, François Récanati
makes much of MOR in his philosophical treatment of truth-conditional pragmatics
(Direct Reference, 234–40).
184 “Modified Occam’s Razor: Parsimony, Pragmatics, and the Acquisition of Word Meaning,”
Mind and Language 20, no. 3 (2005): 293.
185 “Modified Occam’s Razor,” 380. Phillips surmises that a child is “not in a position to know
whether or not a convention is in place for the referential use.”
186 Similarly, Tuggy writes of a Ruhlian monosemic bias: “Undoubtedly, life would be simpler
for semanticians if each linguistic form had only one meaning. The question is ultimately
empirical, however. Do the data support a model which posits only one meaning? If this
particular kind of simplicity can be bought only at the expense of greater, more mysteri-
ous, and less probable complexities elsewhere, it may not be worth the price” (“Kīsa,”
342–3). He continues: “It is tempting to dismiss the ‘monosemic bias’ as pure question-
begging; at best it is a fiat declaration that the burden of proof is heavily on those who
claim (as I do) that particular meanings are not predictable” (“Kīsa,” 343 n. 25). Perhaps for
Ruhl it is an arbitrary declaration, but I am interested in shifting the balance for NT word
studies, not weighing in on the theoretical debate between linguists nor even the more
practical decisions that go into the making of a lexicon.
60 CHAPTER 1
senses are quite often, though mostly unconsciously, based on this kind of lexi-
cal oppositions. They could be the basis of a moderate polysemic bias.”187
As discussed above, RT has no theoretical objection to maintaining a role
for a semantic input, but this challenge would seem to call monosemy into
question because the semantic value of open as opposed to shut (‘open the
door’) appears distinct from open as in unwrap (‘open the present’).188 Debates
about individual instances do little to prove a rule, but satisfactory responses
are available: with Pustejovsky we might attribute the difference to the object
rather than the verb; or better, we might simply argue that the semantic oppo-
sition to shut is in fact present in all cases (some by metaphorical extension).
In any case, semantic oppositions are not justification for “a moderate poly-
semic bias” as Landheer claims. The assumption of polysemy may happen to
be correct in some instances. As we considered above with πρεσβύτερος, it is a
monosemic bias that would allow interpreters to consider the possibility that
a word with a seemingly obvious semantic opposite is in fact best accounted
for by a univocal lexical item. For example, the occurrence of σάρξ in 1 Cor 5:5,
which is semantically opposed to πνεῦμα, may still be seen to shape the ency-
clopedia for instances of σάρξ as in ‘skin’ (e.g., 1 Cor 15:39).
Synonyms
David Tuggy claims that “[t]he fact that different synonyms are available within
the language for certain meanings but not for others makes it clear at least that
speakers can make (and are used to making) distinctions between the con-
cepts involved.”189 This seems to me a weak argument. By the grab-bag model,
the ability of native speakers to make lists is expected, and simply means that
various ad hoc meanings must be described using a variety of terms (often
grasping to express mental images for which no word is available).
A similar phenomenon is visible in translations. The 85 occurrences of the
‫ קנא‬word group in the Hebrew Scriptures are rendered by a number of terms in
the Vulgate: zelare, aemulari, invidere, zelotypia, provocare, conciliare, irritare,
and commotus (we might translate these terms ‘be zealous,’ ‘emulate,’ ‘envy,’
‘jealousy,’ ‘stir up,’ ‘be devoted to,’ ‘incite,’ ‘put in motion’).190 Yet this is no rea-
son to insist that ‫ קנא‬is polysemous. In fact, these same occurrences are almost
187 Review of Ruhl, 214.

188 Cf. Lakoff, Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things, 416; cited in Ruhl, On Monosemy, x.
189 “Kīsa,” 346.
190 See further E. Reuter, “‫קנא‬,” TDOT 13:57.
always translated with the ζηλ- word group in the Septuagint.191 It seems more
likely that the Greek and Hebrew terms have a roughly synonymous univo-
cal meaning than that their multiple meanings just happen to correspond in
nearly every case. This is also true for English, though, tellingly, in the languages
of central Europe, jealousy, envy, and zeal were not clearly distinguished until
after the Middle Ages.192
The Clash of Truth Values

Tuggy’s weightier critique of monosemy, and the one that deserves the closest
attention in light of my theses surrounding Paul’s use of ζῆλος, is his contention
that native speakers confirm that truth values of different senses can clash. He
reports:
Analysts’ or native speakers’ intuitions [that most words are polysemic]

are confirmed by the fact that in many cases the meanings are different
enough that their truth values can clash. The traditional tests for ambigu-
ity and vagueness . . . involving various forms of conjunction and reduc-
tion, rely crucially on such clashes. . . . [I]f native speakers are asked to
explain the meaning of kīsa, they will tend to indicate the prototypical
meaning, either by gesture, by exemplification, by paraphrase, or by
translation, and then if presented with a sentence where another mean-
ing is needed, they will say that is another meaning. If invited to state
191 The LXX uses a form of -ζηλ- to translate ‫ קנא‬in 77 of 85 occurrences. Of those that differ
(Deut 32:16; Ps 106:16; Prov 14:30; Isa 59:17; Ezek 8:3, 5; 35:11; 36:5), only five seem to trans-
late ‫( קנא‬παροξύνω in Deut 32:16; ἐκδίκησις in Isa 59:17; παροργίζω in Ps 106:16; θυμός in
Ezek 36:5; καρδία αἰσθητική in Prov 14:30). There are only six occurrences in which a form
of -ζηλ- does not correspond with an occurrence of ‫( קנא‬Gen 49:22; Lev 18:18; Deut 32:19;
Prov 4:14; 6:6; Isa 11:11). See further Chapter Two.
192 Hildegard Baumgart has traced the words used to express the concepts of jealousy and
zeal in German and English. In German, the Grimm brothers’ German Dictionary (begun
in 1838) informs us that Eifer (‘zeal’) does not appear until the fifteenth century, and
Luther does not distinguish ‘zeal’ from ‘jealousy’ (he uses forms of Eifer to translate ζηλ-/
‫)קנא‬. In fact, it is only in the eighteenth century that the concepts of ‘zeal’ (Eifer) and ‘jeal-
ousy’ (Eifersucht, adding a form of siech ‘sick’) become distinct in regular usage. In French,
the distinction comes somewhat earlier ( jalousie can be found some centuries prior), but
jaloux was used to mean ‘zealous’ in Old French, and only more recently expressed with
zélé, empressé, or fervent. See Baumgart’s insightful treatment in Jealousy: Experiences and
Solutions (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990), 106–13.
62 CHAPTER 1
what different things kīsa means, they can make a list of several. They can
make or enjoy plays on the different meanings.193
On the one hand, this critique could simply be disregarded because I do not
deny that polysemy exists, and it may be the case that Tuggy has provided suffi-
cient evidence that a polysemic account of kīsa is to be preferred. On the other
hand, if the clash of values is what makes wordplay possible, the claim could
be made that the wordplay between multiple senses is exactly what makes
Paul’s rhetoric effective. In a 2012 article that forms the basis for Chapter Three
of the present book, I state my thesis regarding Gal 4:17–18 as follows:
Drawing attention to the way that ζηλόω is defined by its object in Greek
literature, particularly when it is used in contexts involving emulation/
imitation, I will argue that Paul exploits the interplay between “zeal”
and “emulation,” between the behavior that characterizes those who are
fervently dedicated to something (ζῆλος) and the objects of emulation
that are regularly associated with having “ζῆλος for the good” in Greek
literature.194
To speak of ‘interplay’ seems to confirm Tuggy’s argument, thereby demand-

ing a polysemic account of ζῆλος (zeal versus emulation). By this account, Paul
plays with the multiple senses of ζηλόω much like the author of the Fourth
Gospel does with ἄνωθεν (‘again’ or ‘from above’) in John 3:3.
Is Tuggy right, though, that to speak of the interplay between possible
meanings is to admit polysemy? I think not, for two reasons. First, we have
concurred with relevance theorists above that for every instance of a word,
meaning is created ad hoc. As I will argue in a later chapter, various factors
(notably the object of ζηλόω as people or an abstract entity) suggest that ‘emu-
lation’-related information and images would be activated for the occurrence
in v. 17b (‘you emulate them’) more so than for the occurrence in v. 18 (‘zeal for
the good’). Tuggy would label this wordplay enabled by two separate and stable
meanings, but unlike ἄνωθεν in John 3:3, the rhetorical strategies using the ζηλ-
word group that I will uncover in the rest of Galatians and 1–2 Corinthians
span larger swaths of text and therefore seem not to rely on a clever turn of
phrase in the moment. That is, the ‘play’ enters in when the question is raised
as to who or what is worthy of ζῆλος.
193 “Kīsa,” 346.

194 Benjamin J. Lappenga, “Misdirected Emulation and Paradoxical Zeal: Paul’s Redefinition
of ‘The Good’ as Object of ζῆλος in Gal 4:12–20,” JBL 131, no. 4 (2012): 777.
Second, and more importantly, it seems to me that to speak of identity-

making is more appropriate than ‘wordplay’: the term is shaped by the ways
it is employed throughout the letter. Another example of this might be the OT
usage of ‫קנא‬, which is used in the context of the special, exclusive covenant
relationship. It is not ‘wordplay’ to speak of God’s jealousy and the jealousy of
a husband for a wife; rather, it is shaping the term in such a way as to change
the hearer. In 1 Kgs 14:22 God is ‘moved to jealousy’ (MT ‫קנא‬, LXX παραζηλόω) by
Israel’s sins, and in 1 Kgs 19:10, 14 Elijah is ‘zealous’ (MT ‫קנא‬, LXX ζηλόω). There is
‘play’ going on (here a compound form with παρά is used to indicate the transi-
tive) not because ‘jealousy’ and ‘zeal’ are different senses but because ζῆλος is
attributed to God and to a human being. Elijah’s adoption of God’s attitude/
emotion shapes the meaning of ζῆλος (in other words, alters the contents of
the reader’s grab-bag) in a way that shapes the social identity of readers who
identify with Elijah in some way.195
The Advantage of a Monosemic Bias
The claim of this chapter is that we should assume that the ζηλ- word group is
in fact monosemous; the support for this claim in Greek literature will be made
in Chapter Two; and the remaining chapters will show that viewing the occur-
rences together in Paul’s letters brings several rhetorical and identity-shaping
strategies into focus. To conclude our discussion in this chapter, then, it will be
helpful offer a brief look at the way Paul’s usage supports our initial assump-
tion of monosemy.
To return to our example of 1 Corinthians 12–14, if ζηλόω is polysemous,
when Paul’s readers encounter the phrase ζηλοῦτε δὲ τὰ χαρίσματα τὰ μείζονα
(“But ζηλοῦτε the greater gifts”; 12:31), they must disambiguate between mul-
tiple senses. The standard lexicons offer the following entries:
BDAG:
1. be positively and intensely interested in someth., strive, desire, exert
oneself earnestly, be dedicated
195 For more on ‘deliberate ambiguity,’ see Moisés Silva, Biblical Words and Their Meaning: An
Introduction to Lexical Semantics (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1983), 149–51. For a recent
discussion of the role of wordplay in meaning construction, see Akiko Fujii, “Meaning
Construction in Humorous Discourse: Context and Incongruities in Conceptual Blending,”
in Language in the Context of Use: Discourse and Cognitive Approaches to Language (ed.
Andrea Tyler, Yiyoung Kim, and Mari Takada; Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 2008), 183–97.
64 CHAPTER 1
2. to have intense negative feelings over another’s achievements or

success, be filled w. jealousy, envy196
Louw-Nida:
25.76 ζηλόωa: to be deeply committed to something, with the implica-
tion of accompanying desire
25.46 ζηλόωb: to have a deep concern for or devotion to someone or
something
25.21 ζηλόωc: set one’s heart on something that belongs to someone
else—‘to covet’197
LSJ:
I. c. acc. pers., vie with, emulate; c. acc. rei, in bad sense, to be jealous of,
envy; abs., to be jealous; b. c. acc. pers., to be jealous for. 2. esteem or
pronounce happy, admire, praise
II. c. acc. rei, desire emulously, strive after, affect
III. also of persons, pay zealous court to198
Given these options, the logical conclusion is that in 1 Cor 12:31 ζηλόω means
‘strive for’ (BDAG 1, LN ζηλόωa, LSJ ii).199 Then, when the reader encounters
ἡ ἀγάπη οὐ ζηλοῖ (13:4), by the same process (since ‘love is not . . .’), ζηλόω is
determined to mean ‘be jealous’ (BDAG 2, LN ζηλόωc, LSJ I). Understood as a
problem of disambiguation, this example seems to be a rather uncontroversial
instance of multiple senses that happen to be used in close proximity. Therefore
Paul’s use of the same word is irrelevant: σπεύδω would have conveyed essen-
tially the same meaning in 12:31, and φθονέω would fit just as well in 13:4.
If ζῆλος is in fact monosemic, however, other interpretive possibilities pres-
ent themselves. Thinking of Carston’s example involving child (innocent?
immature?), we recall that the immediate discourse can have a profound effect
on the reader’s evaluation of a word’s meaning. Context shapes the contents
that are activated, as well as the grab-bag itself. By this accounting, the reader’s
assessment of ζῆλος as positive or negative is not determined by disambiguation
(“what sense does Paul mean here?”) but by meaning-making (“what is to be
our evaluation of the object of ζῆλος here?”). By repeated use of this particular
196 B DAG, 427.

197 L N, 298, 294, 291.
198 L SJ, 755.
199 For our purposes here, I am setting aside the question of whether ζηλοῦτε is an indicative
or an imperative.
word group (3:3; 10:22; 12:31; 13:4; 14:1, 12, 39), Paul’s readers are prompted to
shape their conception of ζῆλος. In this case, by reshaping ζῆλος, Paul reshapes
the jealous rivalry within the community toward the zealous pursuit of greater
things. The phrase ἡ ἀγάπη . . . οὐ ζηλοῖ (13:4) is a direct reminder of the ζῆλος καὶ
ἔρις of 3:3 and is explicitly contrasted with ζηλοῦτε . . . τὰ χαρίσματα τὰ μείζονα
(12:31) and ζηλοῦτε . . . τὰ πνευματικά (14:1) that bookend the discourse on love
in chapter 13.200 It is the univocal meaning that opens up the opportunity for
ζῆλος to participate in such rhetorical and identity-shaping purposes.
Identity-Making and the Monosemic ζηλ- Word Group
The particular strategies employed in other passages besides 1 Corinthians

12–14 will be treated in subsequent chapters, but in closing this chapter we may
consider more broadly what I mean by ‘identity-making’ in connection with
ζῆλος. At the broad level, identity is “a fragile construction of different facets
of ‘self’ and ‘other’ [drawn] from numerous material and symbolic resources,
including but not limited to language, for continuous substantive and ritual
support.”201 According to R.B. Le Page and Andrée Tabouret-Keller, every
linguistic act is also an act of identity. That is, Paul’s texts project a universe
through the use of words and “invite others to share it.”202
My proposal is that this identity-forming takes place at multiple levels,
including the use of key terms and concepts. As we have seen, when particular
words are used within a text, they are delimited by images “evoked in the tex-
tual world.”203 In light of a monosemic bias and the relevance-theoretic under-
standing of ad hoc meaning construction and put forward in this chapter, my
thesis is that Paul’s use of the ζηλ-word group transforms the meaning of ζῆλος
200 See further Chapter Four.

201 Deborah Schiffrin, “From Linguistic Reference to Social Reality,” in Discourse and Identity
[SIS 23; ed. Anna De Fina, Deborah Schiffrin, and Michael G.W. Bamberg; Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2006], 110; italics mine.
202 R.B. Le Page and Andrée Tabouret-Keller, Acts of Identity: Creole-based Approaches
to Language and Identity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 2; cited in
Anathea E. Portier-Young, “Languages of Identity and Obligation: Daniel as Bilingual
Book,” VT 60, no. 1 (2010): 104. Schiffrin also highlights the “theoretical and analytical con-
nections” between social constructivist perspectives on identity (Erving Goffman, Michel
Foucault, etc.) and “linguistic scholarship on reference that both separates, and unites,
the l anguage-to-world and language-in-text relationships” (“Linguistic Reference,” 105).
203 Schiffrin, “Linguistic Reference,” 113. Schiffrin is speaking here of third person references,
but the same would apply to repeated words/concepts.
66 CHAPTER 1
for his readers, and thereby participates in the creation of an identity for Paul’s
readers. To speak of such identity-making is not an example of ‘theological lex-
icography,’ but is rather an insight gained by taking seriously the way the shap-
ing of a word in a particular text can be part of a significant rhetorical strategy.
Looking Ahead
This book seeks to contribute to the question of how language functioned as

a tool for creating identity in early Christianity, as well as how it continues
to function in that capacity for Paul’s ‘model readers.’ In his sociolinguistic
analysis of Pauline discourse, Jeffrey T. Reed considers how Paul transforms
the standard epistolary greetings (‘Jewish’ and ‘Greco-Roman’) in Philippians
(χάρις ὑμῖν καὶ εἰρήνη; Phil 1:2). Reed goes on to identify a similar modification
of disclosure and requests, and concludes that Paul seems to diverge from both
his ‘Pharisaic dialect’ (e.g., εἰρήνη) and his ‘Hellenistic dialect’ (e.g., χάρις). We
may wish to avoid such oversimplifications, but Reed makes the helpful point
that Paul departs from the standard conventions for ideological purposes:
Although a linguistically sensitive analysis of Paul’s situation would cau-

tion against reading theologically pregnant concepts into what was often
less meaningful to the communicative act—both the Greco-Roman and
Jewish salutation could be used as a simple ‘greeting’—Paul’s undeniable
modification of convention suggests a calculated effort on his part to
communicate something unique at the beginning of his letters.204
Reed concludes that “Paul is attempting to create a standard ‘Christian’ (albeit

his version of ‘Christianity’) . . . dialect.”205
The subsequent chapters will offer particular readings that participate in
this shaping of the ζηλ- word group:
204 “Language of Change,” 137.

205 “Language of Change,” 151. See also the concept of ‘defamiliarization’ as developed by
Roger Fowler. First coined by the Russian formalist Victor Schlovsky, defamiliarization
(in Russian, ostraneniye) is the linguistic activity of uncoding and recoding in order
to “reanalyz[e] people’s theory of the way the world works” (Roger Fowler, Linguistic
Criticism [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996], 55).
mental images associated with Paul’s use of the ζηλ- word group
Hellenistic ‘emulation’
mental images associated with Jewish ‘zeal’
FIGURE 1.2 Paul’s use of the ζηλ- word group.
We will see that Paul weighs in on ‘emulation,’ particularly in 1 Corinthians

and Galatians 4. In addition, the Jewish tradition of Phinehas-like ‘zeal’ plays a
crucial role in Paul’s rhetorical strategies in 2 Corinthians 11 and Romans 9–11.
Throughout these texts, Paul both validates and challenges these cultural con-
ceptions of ζῆλος. As Reed puts it:
If Paul does not at least speak on the fringes of his readers’ dialect by
using similar words and grammar, he risks being rejected as a complete
outsider. . . . To speak solely within his readers’ dialect—complete con-
vergence—would run the risk of not changing his readers’ identity. Such
a strategy would counter the theological motivation for Paul’s missiology
(Rom. 15.15–16; 1 Thess. 2.16).206
At the level of individual letters, the very grab-bag of mental images associated
with ζῆλος has been shaped by Paul in specific ways. Taken together, Paul’s let-
ters may be seen to establish ζῆλος as an identity-marker for followers of Christ.
This marker carries with it the passion and single-mindedness of Jewish ζῆλος,
as well as the imitative and ‘good’-seeking qualities of Hellenistic ζῆλος.
206 “Language of Change,” 152.

CHAPTER 2
The Language of Ζῆλος in Paul’s Literary Milieu
The monosemy-based RT-inspired analysis explored in the last chapter offers a

way to understand how an author can shape the ζηλ- word group for strategic
purposes. My larger task in this book is to demonstrate how and to what effect
this occurs in several of Paul’s letters. As I will argue, the particular theological
and identity-forming interests discernible in Paul’s letters are in some ways
unique. Yet it is not the case that Paul is the only writer to further particular
rhetorical aims by the repeated, strategic, and/or deliberate employment of
the ζηλ- word group. This might be expected of Jewish literature (given the
charged nature of Maccabean and Phinehas-like zeal), but it is also true of
non-Jewish writers during and around the time of Paul.
The primary task of this chapter, then, is to examine the use of the ζηλ- word
group in a few representative texts to demonstrate rhetorical and linguistic
analogues to Paul’s own rhetorical strategies. Although an exhaustive corpus
analysis providing data about various collocates and semantic chains could
be revealing, my interest lies in identifying literary/rhetorical strategies.1 The
identification of such strategies relies less upon quantifiable data points than
upon arguments made on the basis of rhetorical/theological elements that
contribute to larger emphases of a text as identified within a given reading.
Within the linguistic framework outlined in Chapter One, the use of particular
words is best accounted for within a holistic reading of a text, but this read-
ing is not itself objective. Like Roger D. Sell’s description of ambiguity and
deconstructionist exercises, the literary thrust of the readings provided below
“invite[s] readers away from a hunt for certainties towards an engagement
with a writer’s full intelligence and sensitivity as reflected in a text’s felt life.”2
1 For examples, see Jeffrey T. Reed, A Discourse Analysis of Philippians: Method and Rhetoric in
the Debate Over Literary Integrity (JSNTSup 136; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997),
34–123; “The Cohesiveness of Discourse: Towards a Model of Linguistic Criteria for Analyzing
New Testament Discourse,” in Discourse Analysis and the New Testament: Approaches and
Results (ed. Stanley E. Porter and Jeffrey T. Reed; JSNTSup 170; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press, 1999), 28–46; and Gregory P. Fewster, Creation Language in Romans 8: A Study in
Monosemy (LBS 8; Leiden: Brill, 2013), 49–72.
2 Roger D. Sell, Communicational Criticism: Studies in Literature As Dialogue (Amsterdam: John
Benjamins, 2011), 52.

The Language of ΖΗΛΟΣ in Paul ’ s Literary Milieu 69
Consequently, the bulk of this chapter consists of readings of texts that illus-
trate the kinds of rhetorical strategies that make use of ζῆλος and its cross-
linguistic equivalents. Other texts could have been chosen, and no attempt is
made at comprehensiveness. I have selected the texts in this chapter partly
because they have been neglected in previous studies of ζῆλος (Hengel, Bell,
and Ortlund).
Preliminary Considerations
The Relationship between Ζῆλος, Ζηλόω, and Ζηλωτής

I have argued in the last chapter that the ζηλ- word group is monosemic, but
the reasons I have considered the noun, verb, and adjective forms together
deserve further clarification. Why ‘the ζηλ- word group’ and not simply ‘ζῆλος’?
Do these forms use the same grab-bag, or might they better be considered sep-
arately? On the basis of familiar Greek and English forms, it seems appropriate
to assume the former:
Table 2.1 Relationships between noun, adjective, and verbal forms
Substantive Noun Abstract Noun Verb
A ζηλωτής is one who has ζῆλος, which means she ζηλοῖ (ζηλόω).
An ἀγαπητός is one who receives ἀγάπη, which means the lover ἀγαπᾷ (ἀγαπάω).
A δότης is one who provides a δόσις, which means he δίδωσιν (δίδωμι).
A runner is one who engages in running, which means she runs.
A reader is one who engages in reading, which means he reads.
A sympathizer is one who has sympathy, which means she sympathizes.
A fighter is who who engages in fighting, which means he fights.
A hater is one who has hatred, which means she hates.
Although synonyms and conventional titles abound (that is, more specific
words are often used, such as boxer or soldier rather than fighter), we are hard-
pressed to find abstract concepts whose forms represent false cognates. That
is, a luthier may refer to someone who makes guitars, but a maker of lutes
would also appropriately be called a luthier. Thus in the absence of evidence
to the contrary, it is a reasonable working assumption to surmise that ζηλωτής
70 CHAPTER 2
refers to ‘one who has ζῆλος (for . . .),’ just as ζηλόω has the sense, ‘to have ζῆλος
(for . . .).’3 By this account, whatever ‘shaping’ of the grab-bag occurs for ζῆλος
applies to instances of the cognate parts of speech as well.
An exhaustive survey of the uses of ζῆλος, ζηλόω, and ζηλωτής to find excep-
tions would not necessarily be fruitful, since the question at hand is whether
my proposed accounting for these terms holds true in Paul’s letters.4 However,
given the relative paucity of references in Paul, an illustration from a contem-
porary to Paul will be helpful. An appropriate example is Philo’s use of the
ζηλ- word group to express a concept we might call ‘the pursuit of virtue.’ In
De confusione linguarum 52 and elsewhere, Philo uses the abstract noun with
the genitive form of ἀρετή: “as many as have a ζῆλος for knowledge and virtue”
(ὅσοι τὸν ἐπιστήμης καὶ ἀρετῆς ζῆλον ἔσχον; cf. Conf. 57; Leg. 1.34; Post. 46; Agric.
91). In De virtutibus 194, the same concept is expressed using the verb: “the
lives of those persons who [have a ζῆλος] for virtue” (οἱ βίοι τῶν ζηλωσάντων τὴν
ἀρετήν). Likewise, the substantive form is found in places like De praemiis et
poenis 11: “hope of happiness excites [those who have ζῆλος] for virtue” (ἐλπὶς
εὐδαιμονίας . . . τοὺς ἀρετῆς ζηλωτὰς ἐπαίρει; cf. Virt. 176; Spec. 1.30). There is no
evidence in these examples to suggest that Philo conveys a distinct concept
by using the abstract noun, the substantive noun, or the verb.5 In conjunction
3 Linguists generally assume that such relationships exist, the theoretical basis is sometimes
explored by those interested in vocabulary teaching. For example, Laurie Bauer and Paul
Nation have defined a ‘word family’ as “a base word and all its derived and inflected forms
that can be understood by a learner without having to learn each form separately” (“Word
Families,” IJL 6, no. 4 [1993]: 253). Such analysis raises the question of the way derived words
are stored in the brain (i.e., is each word stored separately?). For evidence that only a base
word and word-building rules are stored and thus derived forms are reconstructed ad hoc, see
Andrea Tyler and Nagy William, “Use of Derivational Morphology During Reading,” Cognition
36 (1990): 17–34. Related questions have been raised in connection with corpus analysis. For
example, Fewster considers whether lemmas or words should be the focus of collocational
analysis, concluding that “the wisest course of action is to execute a lemmatized search with
sensitivity to the primings that may be form specific” (Creation Language, 65).
4 I have not found any exceptions, though it might be possible to argue that an author can
grant a ‘technical sense’ to one form and not another. For example, Josephus gives the group
of Jewish rebels the (plural and articular) name ‘the Zealots’ (οἱ ζηλωταί; e.g., J.W. 2:651; 4.160–
201), but never uses the verbal form to mean ‘become a Zealot’ or ‘join the Zealot party’; cf.
Martin Hengel, Die Zeloten: Untersuchungen zur jüdischen Freiheitsbewegung in der Zeit von
Herodes I. bis 70 n. Chr (3d ed.; ed. Roland Deines and Claus-Jürgen Thornton; WUNT 283;
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 66–70.
5 On the usage in Philo, see also Torrey Seland, Establishment Violence in Philo and Luke: A
Study of Nonconformity to the Torah and the Jewish Vigilante Reactions (Leiden: Brill, 1995),
127 n. 166; and Katell Berthelot, “Zeal for God and Divine Law in Philo and the Dead Sea
with the readings that follow, these examples are enough to substantiate the
working assumption that these words should be grouped together.
Evidence for Monosemy outside of Pauline Usage

A related preliminary question is whether the theoretical proposal in Chapter
One is sufficient to substantiate my proposal that the ζηλ- word group is best
viewed as monosemic outside of Pauline usage. In other words, is there further
evidence concerning this particular word group to suggest that monosemy best
describes its usage among writers roughly contemporary to Paul? The readings
that follow will provide additional support, but here it is appropriate to note
some important features.
First, it is readily discernible that the object toward which ζῆλος is directed
indicates whether an instance of ζῆλος is to be commended or scorned. That
is, it is not the case that ‘jealousy’ or ‘envy’ constitutes one sense, and ‘zeal’
another, but rather that one concept (grab-bag) can be put to ends that in
English are best rendered with these various words.6 Aristotle, in a well-known
passage about the emotions, classified ζῆλος as good (‘emulation’ or ‘zeal’)
and φθόνος as bad (‘envy’).7 Aristotle’s rigid distinction may occasionally be
adopted for particular discussions, but in actual ancient parlance, φθόνος and
especially ζῆλος are not value-laden in and of themselves. For example, the
two roots are used as synonyms by Lysias and Epictetus.8 The sixth-century
neoplatonist Simplicius, in his commentary on Epictetus, makes clear that its
evaluation is object-dependent: ὁ δὲ ζῆλος, ὅταν περὶ ἀρετῆς γένηται, ἀγαθὸς,
καὶ συγγενὴς τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ ἔρωτος· ὅταν δὲ περί τι τῶν ἐκτὸς, φαῦλος, καὶ τῷ φθόνῳ
συντεταγμένος (“But ζῆλος, when directed toward virtue, is good and akin to
love of the good; but when toward an external thing is bad and co-ordinate
Scrolls,” Studia Philonica Annual 19 (2007): 125. Josephus uses the noun ζήλωσις in the same
way: πρότερον εἶχον τῆς ἀρετῆς ζήλωσιν (“formerly they had a zeal for virtue . . .”; Ant. 1.72).
6 As Albrecht Stumpff puts it, “Its general character fits it for varied use, and its immediate
sense must be determined either by a directly related gen. or from the context” (“ζῆλος, ζηλόω,
κτλ,” TDNT 2:887). Stumpff rightly points out that Plato includes it in a list of emotions that
are neither wholly good or bad (Phileb. 47e, 50b).
7 διὸ καὶ ἐπιεικές ἐστιν ὁ ζῆλος καὶ ἐπιεικῶν τὸ δὲ φθονεῖν φαῦλον καὶ φαύλων (“Therefore emula-
tion is good and characteristic of the good, whereas envy is bad and characteristic of the
bad”); Rhet. 2.11 [1388a]. Apart from this passage, Aristotle simply lists ζῆλος as one of the
emotions (e.g., Eth. nic. 1105b 23; Mag. mor. 1.7.2 [1186a 13]; cf. Eth. eud. 1229a 38).
8 Lysias, Epit. 2.48: διὰ ζῆλον τῶν γεγενημένων καὶ φθόνον τῶν πεπραγμένων (“through jealousy
of what had come to pass, and envy of what had been achieved”). Epictetus, Ench. 19.2: οὔτε
φθόνος οὔτε ζηλοτυπία χώραν ἔχει (“neither envy nor jealousy has a place”).
72 CHAPTER 2
with φθόνος”).9 In addition, just as one can speak of a ‘bad ζῆλος’ (Gal 4:17),
certain circumstances could allow for the possibility of ‘just envy’ (δικαίως
φθονήσειεν).10 Examples such as these have led Peter Walcot to argue that ‘envy’
(ζῆλος/φθόνος) as an emotion has both good and bad sides: “Man, according
to the Greek, is n aturally envious, envy being part of his basic character and
disposition.”11 Indeed, Hesiod can speak of a personified Ζῆλος as accompany-
ing wretched human beings (Op. 195–96), but elsewhere as an ally and admirer
of Zeus (Theog. 383–85). Philo writes approvingly of “zeal for virtue” (ζῆλον
ἀρετῆς; Leg. 1.34), but scornfully of “women . . . emulating the pursuits of men”
(γυναῖκες . . . ζηλώσαιεν τὰ ἀνδρῶν; Sacr. 100). Thus, as far back as Hesiod and as
close to Paul’s time as Philo, it is the end to which ζῆλος is directed that deter-
mines whether zeal is to be praised or scorned.
This phenomenon also applies to the Greek and Hebrew Scriptures [ζηλ-/
‫]קנא‬. Even a cursory glance at the objects of the verb ζηλόω in the LXX sug-
gests that the object is indeed critical for the determining whether the ζῆλος
is good or bad. Phinehas (Num 25:13), Elijah (1 Kgs 19:10, 14), Jehu (2 Kgs 10:16),
and the Israelites (Jdt 9:4) are among those with a clearly positive ζῆλος for
God, and ζῆλος with regard to the law is also positive (e.g., 1 Macc 2:26–27, 50,
54). By contrast, ζῆλος for “those doing lawlessness” (τοὺς ποιοῦντας τὴν ἀνομίαν;
Ps 36:1) or ζῆλος that desires to have the wife (Num 5:14) or children (Gen 30:1)
of another is clearly negative.12
As discussed in Chapter One, in the LXX, the ζηλ- word group is almost
always used to translate forms of the Hebrew root ‫קנא‬.13 The 85 occurrences of
the verb ‫( קנא‬qnʾ; Piel 30x; Hiphil 4x), the noun ‫( קנאה‬qinʾâ; 43x), and the adjec-
tives ‫( קנא‬qannā‌ʾ; 6x) and ‫( קנוא‬qannôʾ; 2x) all share the notion of “an intense,
energetic state of mind, urging towards an action.”14 But the words themselves
9 Commentarius in Epicteti enchiridion 40.28.

10 Isocrates, Aeginet. 23. Here, the envy is aimed at undeserved prosperity. Suzanne Saïd also
cites Aeginet. 45; Callim. 51; Paneg. 184; Phil. 68; and Ep. 2.21 as instances of such a “surpris-
ing use of φθονεῖν” (“Envy and Emulation in Isocrates,” in Envy, Spite, and Jealousy: The
Rivalrous Emotions in Ancient Greece, ed. David Konstan and N. Keith Rutter [Edinburgh:
Edinburgh University Press, 2003], 225).
11 Envy and the Greeks: A Study of Human Behaviour (Warminster, England: Aris & Phillips,
1978), 11.
12 The bad ζῆλος mentioned in Sir 9:11 is particularly illuminating in light of my reading of
Gal 4:17 in the next chapter: μὴ ζηλώσῃς δόξαν ἁμαρτωλοῦ (“Do not envy the reputation of
a sinner”); see further below.
13 The LXX uses a form of the ζηλ- word group to translate ‫ קנא‬in 77 of 85 occurrences.
14 H.G.L. Peels, “‫קנא‬,” NIDOTTE 3:938. The cause of qinʾâ is often the real or perceived
infringement of rights. E. Reuter (“‫ ”קנא‬TDOT 13:49) describes qinʾâ as “a violent emotion
do not imply a positive or negative evaluation of this state of mind; it is only

the context and/or the object of the ‫ קנאה‬that determines how best to translate.
Only sporadically does the use of a preposition offer guidance: the construc-
tion qnʾ + be usually carries the negative meaning “to express ‫ קנאה‬against”
(and is never used in connection with divine ‫)קנאה‬, whereas qnʾ + le usually
carries the positive meaning “to express ‫ קנאה‬on behalf of, on account of.”15
The situation is only slightly more complicated in Latin. As we have seen,
the Vulgate translates the ‫ קנא‬word group with multiple terms (zelare, aemu-
lari, invidere, zelotypia, provocare, conciliare, irritare, and commotus).16 In the
NT, the late borrowing from Greek zelo (Acts 17:5; Jas 4:2), zelus (John 2:17; Acts
5:17; 13:45; 1 Cor 3:3; Jas 3:14, 16), and zelotes (Luke 6:15; Acts 1:13;) are employed,
and where these derivatives are not used, the term is aemulatio (Acts 21:20;
22:3; Rom 10:2; 13:13; 1 Cor 14:12; 2 Cor 7:7, 11; 9:2; 11:2; 12:20; Gal 1:14; 5:20; Phil 3:6;
Heb 10:27; 1 Pet 3:13) or aemulor (Acts 7:9; 1 Cor 12:31; 13:4; 14:1, 39; 2 Cor 11:2; Gal
4:17 [2x]; 4:18; Rev 3:19).17
With these data in mind, we may consider Hildegard Baumgart’s dia-
chronic survey of the Latinate words used to describe the concept we know
as ‘jealousy.’18 As the above overview of Israel’s Scriptures shows, no appar-
ent distinctions between ‘jealousy’ and ‘zeal’ were made in the ancient world.
Baumgart points out that although late borrowings from the Greek did make
their way into Latin (e.g., zēlotypia from ζηλοτυπία),19 the poets preferred words
with short first syllables. For example, in Ovid’s The Art of Love, the concept of
jealousy is expressed with aemulatio, invidia, and rivalitas.20 As we will see in
aroused by fear of losing a person or object,” and notes that the closeness of this broad
sense of the word to the idea of ownership might be related to its phonological similar-
ity with ‫‘( קנה‬acquire’). The word group used to be thought to come from an Arabic root
meaning ‘to become dark red’ (cf. BDB, 888) but this has since been deemed doubtful (cf.
G. Sauer, “‫ קנאה‬fervor,” TLOT 3:1145).
15 Cf. Baruch A. Levine, Numbers 21–36: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary
(AB 4A; New York: Doubleday, 2000), 289; BDB, 888.
16 See further E. Reuter, “‫ ”קנא‬TDOT 13:57.
17 Titus 2:14 uses sectator (‘follower’).
18 Hildegard Baumgart’s analysis of the concept of jealousy through much of human history
shows that “[f]rom the beginning, there were difficulties in distinguishing jealousy from
other concepts, especially from envy and from zeal” ( Jealousy: Experiences and Solutions
[Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990], 106–13).
19 Cf. Glare, P.G.W., ed., Oxford Latin Dictionary (London: Oxford University Press, 1968),
2.1225.
20 The root aemul- occurs in Ars 2.436; 3.360; invid- in Ars 1.296; and rival- in Ars 2.336, 539,
595; 3.563, 593.
74 CHAPTER 2
our examination of Cicero below, aemulatio is clearly used to express a con-

cept that may be equated with ζῆλος, so Ovid’s use (“when no rival exists” [Ars
2.436 LCL]; “the enemy retraces . . .” [Ars 3.360 LCL]) is another indicator that
the object and context is crucial for evaluation. Remarkably, Baumgart dem-
onstrates that in the languages of central Europe, the concepts ‘jealousy,’ ‘envy,’
and ‘zeal’ were not clearly distinguished until after the Middle Ages.21 From the
ancient period until relatively recently, then, the object toward which ζῆλος is
directed is crucial for its evaluation.
Second, compound forms and a range of related terms are regularly used
when the semantic value is more specific. For example, the notion of a ‘rival’
is expressed by ἀντίζηλος in writers such as Sirach (26:6; 37:11; cf. Lev 18:18
LXX).22 A ‘jealousy’ with a particularly malicious connotation is expressed by
ζηλοτυπία in a range of writers (e.g., Num 5:15, 18, 25, 29 LXX; Philo, Sacr. 20,
Congr. 180; Josephus, Ant. 7.386, Ag. Ap. 2.123).23 We will argue in later chapters
that παραζηλόω is ζηλόω made transitive by the preposition παρά (thus ‘move to
ζῆλος’; Rom 10:19; 11:11, 14; 1 Cor 10:22),24 but the point is that writers had many
options available to them and thus the alleged polysemy of ζῆλος was in no way
demanded by lexical constraints.
What is to be made, then, of characterizations that speak of multiple senses?
Our discussion in the previous chapter speaks to the theoretical underpin-
nings of my disagreement with these older characterizations, but here we may
examine three specific claims more closely. We have already noted Albrecht
Stumpff’s oft-cited TDNT article, which divides ζῆλος and ζηλόω into multiple
senses: “the capacity or state of passionate committal to a person or cause,”
“orientation to a worthy goal,” “a less reputable form” (jealousy), “to admire
or commend someone,” “ ‘to be enthusiastic’ for something,” “ ‘to envy’ in the
more hostile sense of not wanting others to have things,” and “ ‘to be jealous’
in the special sphere of the marital relationship.”25 Taken together as a range
21 This is especially clear in that zelosus is clearly the root of words for jealousy: jaloux,
jalouse (French), geloso (Italian), celose (Spanish). In French-speaking areas of Europe,
according to Baumgart, the Vulgate was the only available text of the Bible until “well
into the twelfth century,” which suggests that the adjective zelotes (used for God’s jeal-
ousy in Exod 20:5; 34:14) exerted its influence on the flexibility of the terms; cf. Baumgart,
Jealousy, 108–9.
22 BDAG, 88; LSJ, 155.
23 BDAG, 427; LSJ, 755.
24 Cf. BDF, 83 (§150).
25 “ζῆλος, ζηλόω, κτλ,” TDNT 2:887–88, 882–83.
of possible ad hoc meanings, Stumpff’s list is helpful, but his analysis contains
multiple statements that encourage division into multiple senses.26
Another example is Martin Hengel’s treatment of the word ζηλωτής. Given
the influence of Hengel’s work, it is telling that Hengel also draws careful dis-
tinctions between senses, particularly between ‘Jewish’ and ‘Greek’ usage. He
rightly notes that the earliest usage of ζηλωτής in Spartan educational contexts
carried the sense “Nacheiferer, Nachahmer, Verehrer” (“emulator, imitator,
admirer”).27 With regard to the ‘religiös-ethischem’ sense found in the Stoic
moral philosophers, Hengel notes that this ζῆλος was applied to God (e.g.,
ζηλωτὴς τοῦ Διός [Musonius, Frag. 8.87]; ὡς θεοῦ . . . ζηλωτήν [Epictetus, Diatr.
2.14.13]). Yet for Hengel (drawing on P. Adalhard Heitmann), the Stoics use the
word in a sense (imitatio Dei) that is entirely foreign to the NT references to
Paul’s zeal (Hengel cites Acts 22:3 and Rom 10:2), which derive from a ζῆλος that
“entspricht . . . alttestamentlich-jüdischer Tradition.”28 The problem here is not
that Hengel thinks Jewish writers cannot speak of ζηλωτής in the same way as
other writers (he says Josephus’ use of ζηλωτής in Life 11 “entspricht . . . durchaus
hellenistischem Sprachgebrauch”), nor that Hengel misses such ‘Hellenistic’
usage in the NT (he cites 1 Cor 14:12; 1 Pet 3:13; Titus 2:14).29 The problem is that
Hengel gives no indication that the very bifurcation into these distinct senses
might be misleading.
A third example is found in the work of Hubert Martin Jr. (with Jane E.
Phillips) on Plutarch’s Consolatio ad uxorem. The passage at hand involves a
reminder to the disconsolate woman that despite her misfortune, others ‘envy’
[ζηλόω] her children and home and life: ἀλλ’ ἐννόει μᾶλλον ὡς ζηλουμένη διατελεῖς
26 E.g., “Paul uses the term most clearly in its specific Jewish sense . . .”; “In all other cases
where it occurs in the NT ζῆλος has the ordinary Gk. sense of ‘zeal’ with no direct reli-
gious associations”; “there is no clear instance of the sense of ‘striving after a moral ideal’ ”;
TDNT 2:880–81.
27 Die Zeloten, 63. This sense is especially clear in Plato, Prot. 343a: οὗτοι πάντες ζηλωταὶ καὶ
ἐρασταὶ καὶ μαθηταὶ ἦσαν τῆς Λακεδαιμονίων παιδείας (“All these [prominent men such as
Solon and Chilon] were zealots, lovers and disciples of the Lacedaemonian culture”).
Hengel also notes the frequent usage in reference to virtues (e.g., Isocrates, Demon. 11;
Epictetus, Diatr. 2.12.25) and regarding the well-being of the Polis (e.g., Aeschines, Fals.
leg. 171).
28 Die Zeloten, 65 n. 296; see further P. Adalhard Heitmann, Imitatio Dei: die ethische
Nachahmung Gottes nach der Väterlehre der zwei ersten Jahrhunderte (Rome: S.A.L.E.R.-
Herder, 1940), 40–44.
29 Die Zeloten, 64.
76 CHAPTER 2
ὑπὸ τούτων ἐπὶ τέκνοις καὶ οἴκῳ καὶ βίῳ.30 Martin comments that “ζηλόω in my
judgment lacks its present sense in ECL [early Christian literature]. The rest of
Plutarch’s statement would be at home in ECL by any criterion, whether it be
that of syntax, semantics, or vocabulary.”31 The point here is not that Martin is
wrong to distinguish a given ad hoc meaning from other uses in a corpus, but
rather that he can so easily restrict a range of meaning despite many points
of compatibility. This is precisely the problem with organizing the ζηλ- word
group into multiple distinct senses.
Given the tendencies found in Stumpff, Hengel, and Martin, it would seem
natural to many that the most recent interpreter of ‘zeal’ in Paul’s letters, Dane C.
Ortlund, would confine his study to the ‘Jewish’ uses in Paul. Indeed, Ortlund’s
interests would seem to require such a distinction. He argues that James D.G.
Dunn has mischaracterized ‘zeal’ as primarily horizontal (separating Jews from
other peoples) when its primary direction is vertical (directed toward God and
God’s Law).32 He writes, “This study will largely bypass Graeco-Roman refer-
ences to ζῆλος, as the Pauline texts with which we are ultimately concerned all
laud zeal as a peculiarly Jewish trait,” and later offers five reasons:
The texts [Rom 10:2; Gal 1:14; Phil 3:6] comprise our focus for five interre-
lated reasons. First, as just intimated, while all three view zeal positively
when considered in itself, each text speaks of zeal as something Paul
left behind in his newfound loyalty to Christ. Second, in each case Paul
notes the way some kind of ‘knowledge’ or ‘revelation’ brought about the
end of ‘zeal’. Third, all three texts speak of zeal as manifesting the exem-
plary Jewish life, setting these passages off from other Pauline references
to zeal more general in nature. Fourth, these texts are at the centre of
current discussions of Paul and the law, including Paul’s relationship to
Judaism. The attention devoted by scholars to the three passages in view
is indicative of their exegetical and theological significance. This sig-
nificance is heightened, fifth, by the overlapping presence of several key
Pauline themes beyond the references to zeal such as νόμος (Rom. 9.31;
10.4, 5; Phil. 3.5, 6, 9), δικαιοσύνη (Rom. 9.30, 31; 10.3; Phil. 3.9), πίστις (Rom.
30 Cons. ux. 611B (“ . . . you must rather bear in mind how enviable you still appear in their
eyes for your children, home, and way of life” [De Lacy, LCL]).
31 Hubert Martin Jr. and Jane E. Phillips, “Consolatio ad Uxorem (Moralia 608A–612B),” in
Plutarch’s Ethical Writings and Early Christian Literature (ed. Hans Dieter Betz; Leiden:
Brill, 1978), 435.
(London: T&T Clark, 2012), 1–5 et passim.
9.30, 32, 33; Phil. 3.9), and ἔθνη (Rom. 9.30; Gal. 1.16). Other linguistic com-
monalities drawing these texts together are the verb διώκω (Rom. 9.30,
31; Gal. 1.13; Phil. 3.6, 12, 14) and the language of ‘attaining’ (καταλαμβάνω
[Rom. 9.30; Phil. 3.12, 13], φθάνω [Rom. 9.31; Phil. 3.16], καταντάω [Phil.
3.11]; cf. προκόπτω [Gal. 1.14]).33
Ortlund’s attention to these passages, then, is well-founded. The problem, as

will become clear in the remainder of this book, is that Ortlund’s examination
of ‘the concept of zeal’ remains too narrow in its scope because it assumes that
the meaning of ‘Jewish ζῆλος’ in Rom 10:2; Gal 1:14; and Phil 3:6 is unaffected by
other occurrences of ζῆλος in Paul’s writing (especially Rom 10:19; 11:11, 14; 13:13;
Gal 4:17–18; 5:20). For example, Ortlund’s only mention of Gal 4:17–18 is found
in a list of occurrences he cites as examples that “Paul often speaks of zeal
in positive terms.”34 What is missing in Ortlund’s choice of focus is attention
to the way this positive ζῆλος (particularly in Galatians 4) shapes and builds
on Paul’s reference to ζῆλος in Galatians 1. This leads him to conclude that “in
Galatians 1 the three options are no zeal; zeal that scrupulously advances in the
traditions of the fathers, though without revelation; and zeal stopped short in
its tracks by revelation of God’s Son.”35
Thus while Ortlund acknowledges the positive role of ζῆλος, my own argu-
ment is that positive ζῆλος is not a passing concession (perhaps to avoid a lack
of fervor among Paul’s addressees) nor simply an acknowledgment that Paul
himself is still a zealous figure. It is, rather, a key marker of identity for Christ-
followers that is carefully and thoughtfully addressed in Paul’s letters. As we
will see in later chapters, I am in agreement with Ortlund’s view that “the
gospel does not remove all zeal, but fundamentally redirects it.”36 Ortlund’s
analysis goes astray, however, when he insists that “[Paul’s] lack of a troubled
conscience was precisely the problem. . . . His zeal blinded him to his sin and
his consequent need for grace.”37 Zeal does not play the role of ‘blinder’ in
the logic of Paul’s argument in Romans: God does (Rom 9:33).38 Especially
33 Zeal Without Knowledge, 62–63 n. 5; 115–16.

34 Zeal Without Knowledge, 171.
37 Zeal Without Knowledge, 172. Ortlund interacts here with the well-known article by Krister
Stendahl (“The Apostle Paul and the Introspective Conscience of the West,” HTR 56 [1963]:
199–215).
38 Paul speaks negatively of Israel’s ‘pursuing’ (διώκω; Rom 9:30–32) and ‘seeking’ (ζητέω;
Rom 10:3), but these should not be equated with Israel’s ζῆλος (as clearly indicated by the
contrastive ἀλλά in Rom 10:2).
78 CHAPTER 2
in light of Paul’s association between zeal and his treatment of the church in
Phil 3:6 (κατὰ ζῆλος διώκων τὴν ἐκκλησίαν), numerous interpreters have spoken
of disobedient lawkeeping in terms of ‘zeal.’39 Yet this portrayal is misleading
if it leaves the impression that “the lostness of [Paul’s] fellow Jews was not
only compatible with but even bound up with their zeal for God, for this zeal
was without knowledge.”40 I will discuss Rom 10:2 in Chapter Five, but here
it is important to note that the reason Ortlund and others are left with this
impression is because they have not taken seriously enough the way ζῆλος is
shaped in these letters.41
The Relevance of Latin and Hebrew Sources

A final preliminary question involves the relevance of Latin and Hebrew texts
within the course of this chapter and in the remaining chapters. Three brief
comments are appropriate. First, my use of Latin and Hebrew texts should not
be seen as an attempt to view the term ζῆλος as the Greek manifestation of
a universal ‘prime.’ Issues concerning cross-linguistic phenomena are most
comprehensively addressed by proponents of Natural Semantic Metalanguage
(NSM), first developed by Anna Wierzbicka. NSM has identified approximately
60 ‘semantic primes,’ which are indefinable expressions that are believed to
make up the terminal elements of all languages.42 Although lexical items
such as ‘tree,’ ‘hot,’ or ‘rock’ are seemingly good candidates, proposals for such
‘non-prime’ lexical items are shown to collapse by a comparison of even a few
languages.43 It is quickly apparent, then, that a complex concept like ‘zeal’ is
not a likely candidate. The semantic contribution of the ζηλ- word group does
not even necessarily exist in other languages, so we certainly may not claim
that it is expressible by a single equivalent term.44 Thus my argument that the
39 E.g., James D.G. Dunn, Beginning from Jerusalem (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 342,
346; Peter Stuhlmacher, Biblische Theologie des Neuen Testaments 1.263, 277–78; see fur-
ther Ortlund, Zeal Without Knowledge, 173–74.
40 Ortlund, Zeal Without Knowledge, 175.
41 See further Chapter Five below on ‘the good’ in Romans 7.
42 A list of proposed semantic primes is found in Anna Wierzbicka, Semantics: Primes
and Universals (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996); see also Cliff Goddard, “Lexico-
Semantic Universals: A Critical Overview,” Linguistic Typology 5, no. 1 (2001): 1–65.
43 Cliff Goddard, “Natural Semantic Metalanguage: The State of the Art,” in Cross-Linguistic
Semantics (ed. Cliff Goddard; Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2008), 11.
44 This claim would likely be affirmed by linguists representing a range of theoretical frame-
works. From the relevance-theoretic framework outlined in the last chapter, this is espe-
cially true given the ad hoc nature of word meaning.
use of the Hebrew and the Latin terms are relevant to my study of the word
group must be viewed as limited and particular to these languages.
Second, then, the compatibility of Latin usage in texts such as Cicero and
of Hebrew texts such as the Dead Sea Scrolls or the Hebrew Scriptures is lim-
ited, in that the word groups ‫ קנא‬and aemul- are not wholly interchangeable
with the ζηλ- word group. They are useful only to the extent that parallels can
be made within the logic of a particular text. On occasion, as is the case with
the Hebrew Scriptures and Sirach and (more speculatively) with Pseudo-Philo,
the existence of translations strengthens the connections between the Greek
words and the Latin/Hebrew terms.
Finally, the analogues are particular in that the overlap does not necessarily
extend to other languages such as English, German, or French. The applicabil-
ity of the texts used in this study owes to the shared socio-cultural environ-
ments of the Hellenized Roman empire (i.e, Latin writers who demonstrate
familiarity with Greek writings and culture) and the Hellenized Jewish (i.e.,
Jewish writers who primarily use Greek but ingest the Hebrew [linguistic] con-
cepts embedded in the Greek translations of the Scriptures).
Selected Readings
The following readings seek to provide some examples of how the ζηλ- word
group contributes to rhetorical strategies in writings from around the time of
Paul. I have no aims to establish literary dependence, and the readings are pre-
sented in accordance with bodies of literature (Greek/Latin, Jewish, Christian)
rather than chronologically. I first examine the strategic use of ‘emulation’ in
Plutarch’s Lycurgus and Numa (with an excursus on Cicero). Second, I will
explore the tradition of ‘Phinehean zeal’ in Pseudo-Philo’s Liber Antiquitatum
Biblicarum (preceded by an excursus on Sirach). Finally, I examine the theme
of ‘rightly-directed zeal’ in Acts (with an excursus on 1 Clement).
Plutarch, Lycurgus and Numa

Plutarch has proven to be a fruitful dialogue partner for studies of Paul’s
letters.45 Plutarch’s moral writings will be of further interest in later chapters,
45 Among readers of Paul and Plutarch are Benjamin Fiore (“Passion in Paul and Plutarch.
1 Corinthians 5–6 and the Polemic against Epicureans,” in Greeks, Romans, and Christians:
Essays in Honor of Abraham J. Malherbe [ed. David L. Balch, Everett Ferguson, and Wayne A.
Meeks; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990], 135–43) and Hans Dieter Betz (ed., Plutarch’s Ethical
Writings and Early Christian Literature [SCHNT 4; Leiden: Brill, 1978]).
80 CHAPTER 2
but here I am interested in the way Plutarch (1) uses language for rhetorical
purposes, and (2) shapes the ζηλ- word group in a piece of writing; specifically,
the Lives of Lycurgus and Numa.
A few introductory remarks will help situate our reading. First, although I
will argue in the next chapter that Paul subverts the notion of ‘ζῆλος for the
good’ that can be found in writers such as Plutarch, no attempt will be made
here to make Plutarch the representative of Greek moral teaching or simply
a foil for Paul’s thinking. As Tim Duff has shown, careful reading of the Lives
reveals that Plutarch’s moralism “is not one which simply affirms the norms of
Plutarch’s society: rather it is complex, exploratory, and challenging,” and in
this way Plutarch and Paul are alike.46 The Lives are, however, something of a
reaction to Roman power, much like the later writings of the ‘Second Sophistic’
(Dion, Lucian, Arrian, etc.). Given Plutarch’s attempt in the Lives to situate
Roman history within the values of the Greek tradition, then, it is appropriate
to locate Plutarch’s thought among that of the classical Greek writers, espe-
cially his purported master, Plato.47
Second, the premise of Plutarch’s entire project is of interest to our
study since the very practice of biography involves ‘emulation’ (ζηλόω/
παραδειγματίζω/μιμέομαι) of figures who are deemed worthy (κάλος/ἀγαθός).
Such language pervades the Lives. For example, in Aemilius Paullus Plutarch
explicitly states that these figures are examples to emulate:
But in my own case, the study of history and the familiarity with it which
my writing produces, enables me, since I always cherish in my soul the
records of the noblest and most estimable characters (τὰς τῶν ἀρίστων καὶ
δοκιμωτάτων μνήμας), to repel and put far from me whatever base, mali-
cious, or ignoble suggestion my enforced associations may intrude upon
me, calmly and dispassionately turning my thoughts away from them to
the fairest of my examples (τὰ κάλλιστα τῶν παραδειγμάτων).48
In How to recognize that one is making progress in virtue, Plutarch addresses the
same topic, this time using the term ζῆλος as the appropriate response to these
virtuous figures:
46 Tim Duff, Plutarch’s Lives: Exploring Virtue and Vice (New York: Oxford University Press,
1999), 9.
47 See further Duff, Plutarch’s Lives, 10. On Plutarch and Plato, see Hugh Liebert, “Plutarch’s
Critique of Plato’s Best Regime,” History of Political Thought 30, no. 2 (2009): 254.
48 Aem. 1.5–6 (Perrin, LCL); cf. Duff, Plutarch’s Lives, 31.
An indication of [putting words into action] is, in the first place, the desire
to emulate what we commend [ὁ πρὸς τὰ ἐπαινούμενα ζῆλος], eagerness to
do what we admire, and, on the other hand, unwillingness to do, or even
to tolerate, what we censure. . . . Indeed a peculiar symptom of true prog-
ress is found in this feeling of love and affection for the disposition shown
by those whose deeds we try to emulate [ὧν ζηλοῦμεν τὰ ἔργα], and in the
fact that our efforts to make ourselves like them are always attended by a
goodwill which accords to them a fair meed of honour. But, on the other
hand, if any man is imbued with a spirit of contentiousness and envy
[φθόνος] towards his betters, let him understand that he is merely chafing
with jealousy [ζηλοτυπίᾳ] at another’s repute or power, but not honour-
ing or even admiring virtue . . . . For an enthusiasm which carries its pos-
sessor to the point where he feels no disquietude, but only admiration
and emulation [ζηλοῦν] of what seems terrible, can never more be turned
aside from what is honourable [τῶν καλῶν].49
This section informs our examination of Lycurgus and Numa below as an indi-
cator of the words Plutarch uses to describe the enterprise of biographical
writing. Moreover, it is relevant in a more particular way, since Plutarch spe-
cifically mentions Lycurgus just a few lines later (“What would Plato have done
in this case? What would Epameinondas have said? How would Lycurgus have
conducted himself, or Agesilaus?”).50 It will not be surprising, then, that the
language of ζῆλος plays an important role in the Lives of Lycurgus and Numa.
Plutarch’s Strategies with Words

Plutarch makes use of key terms for strategic purposes. In the opening chap-
ters of Pericles, Plutarch, just as in the passage from the Moralia cited above,
writes that the study of virtuous deeds “produces both zeal and a certain eager-
ness leading towards imitation [ἃ καὶ ζῆλόν τινα καὶ προθυμίαν ἀγωγὸν εἰς μίμησιν
ἐμποιεῖ].”51 Then, in the next paragraph, Plutarch employs the word ἔργον in two
ways. First, he uses it to refer to a ‘work’ of art (“if the work [τὸ ἔργον] delights
you with its grace, the one who wrought it [τὸν εἰργασμένον] is worthy of your
esteem”); then, he uses ἔργον to refer to the ‘deeds’ of the heroes (“. . . he no
sooner admires the works [τὰ ἔργα] of virtue than he strives to emulate those
who wrought them”).52 Duff notes that Plutarch’s strategy is even more subtle:
49 Virt. prof. 84B–85A (Babbitt, LCL); cf. Cato Min. 9.10.
50 Virt. prof. 85B (Babbitt, LCL).
51 Per. 1.4.
52 Per. 2.1–2 (Perrin, LCL).
82 CHAPTER 2
But a second and more subtle double reference exists alongside this one:
it is through Plutarch’s own literary work that deeds of virtue are brought
to the attention of the observer. Plutarch makes no distinction here
between the virtue of his heroes and his own representation of it; in this
way, he again makes an unspoken claim for the importance and mimetic
qualities of his work, which presents the virtues of the past to the reader
as if directly: his work is the virtue of his subjects.53
A second, related strategy also exists. Just as the word ἔργον serves to merge
a virtuous ‘work’ and the ‘work’ of writing about it, so also Plutarch’s use of
the term μίμησις (‘imitation’) in the passage cited above unites the μίμησις
that the reader should engage in and Plutarch’s own ‘representation’ [μίμησις]
of these deeds.54 I will say more about the relationship between μίμησις and
ζῆλος in Chapter Four,55 but already it is clear that Plutarch’s rhetorical aims
are advanced by the strategic use of key words, particularly those involving the
language of imitation/emulation.
Ζῆλος for Polity in Lycurgus and Numa

Upon reading Plutarch’s parallel accounts of Lycurgus and Numa, two things
are readily apparent. First, for all the attention given to the emulation of a
figure like Lycurgus, Plutarch’s interest lies ultimately in the Spartan state
Lycurgus created.56 Second, in the eyes of Plutarch Lycurgus’s Sparta is clearly
superior to Numa’s Rome. Despite the peacefulness of Numa’s reign, his failure
to institute an educational system that could maintain his policies meant that
Rome fell immediately into wars upon Numa’s death. As Robert Lamberton has
observed, this is an extraordinary critique.57 It comes to clearest expression in
the rhetorical question posed near the end of Numa:
53 Duff, Plutarch’s Lives, 36.

54 D.A. Russell observes that for writers such as Aristotle, μίμησις has two distinct applica-
tions: “The first sort of ‘imitation’ is the principle of many human skills and artefacts
[sic]; ‘art imitates nature’ by planting seeds and letting them grow, and in countless other
ways . . . . The second sort occurs, say, when the painter paints a picture of a shoe, or the
toymaker makes a miniature model; neither model nor picture will keep one’s feet dry”
(Criticism in Antiquity [Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981], 101). Plutarch draws
these two senses together; cf. Duff, Plutarch’s Lives, 40–1.
55 See also, e.g., Cat. Min. 9.10; Ti. C. Gracch. 4.5; Polybius, Hist. 10.21.4.
56 See further Robert Lamberton, Plutarch (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001), 85.
57 Lamberton, Plutarch, 90.
“What, then!” some one will say, “was not Rome advanced and bettered
by her wars?” That is a question which will need a long answer, if I am
to satisfy men who hold that betterment consists in wealth, luxury and
empire, rather than in safety, gentleness, and that independence which is
attended by righteousness. However, it will be thought, I suppose, to favour
the superior claims of Lycurgus, that, whereas the Romans increased in
power as they did after abandoning the institutions of Numa’s time, the
Lacedaemonians, on the other hand, just as soon as they forsook the
precepts of Lycurgus, sank from the highest to the l owest place, lost their
supremacy over the Greeks, and were in danger of utter destruction.58
Thus an important theme in these Lives is that Rome is not better off because
of her wars. What has not been noticed is the extent to which Plutarch utilizes
the language of ζῆλος as he pursues this subtle critique of Rome. The reading
that follows will demonstrate that Plutarch offers examples of who and what to
emulate as he builds this case against the warring ways of Rome.
In Lycurgus, the first occurrence of the ζηλ- word group describes Lycurgus’
journey to Crete to study their forms of government: “Some things he emulated
[ἐζήλωσε], and adopted some of their laws” (Lyc. 4.1).59 Here Lycurgus meets
Thales (both a lyric poet and “one of the mightiest lawgivers”), whose odes had
a remarkable effect on those who listened: they were “softened in their inclina-
tions, and were bound together in ζῆλος for good things [τῷ ζήλῳ τῶν καλῶν]”
(Lyc. 4.2).
Then in chapters 9–10, Plutarch targets wealth as a poor object of emula-
tion. Lycurgus tackles economic inequality and greed by making the coinage
so bulky as to prevent it from being stolen, or, as he puts it, “zealously obtained”
(κεκτῆσθαι ζηλωτόν; Lyc. 9.2). In the very next section, Lycurgus “sets aside
the ζῆλος for wealth” (τὸν ζῆλον ἀφελέσθαι τοῦ πλούτου; Lyc. 10.1), and his
great achievement is to “make wealth an object of no ζῆλος” (τὸ τὸν πλοῦτον
ἄζηλον; Lyc. 10.2; cf. 24.2; 30.1). A few chapters later, Plutarch’s attention is on
58 Comp. Lyc. Num. 4.7–8 (Perrin, LCL). Hugh Liebert likewise comments that “upon [Numa’s]
death Rome reverts almost instantly to its former bellicosity” (“Plutarch’s Critique,” 254).
Building from this feature of this pair of Lives, Liebert has advanced the thesis that the
Lives of Lycurgus and Numa, despite their obvious endorsement of Platonic ideals, repre-
sent Plutarch’s subtle critique of Plato. This critique, Liebert argues, centers around politi-
cal vision: “Political passions—and particularly the love of honour, philotimia—are more
central to [Plutarch’s] project than to that of Plato’s Republic.” Again, this means that one
must “turn away from the Numan philosopher-king and towards the Lycurgan lawgiver”
(“Plutarch’s Critique,” 270–71).
59 All translations my own unless otherwise noted.
84 CHAPTER 2
the education system. The young men are to have great ambition and ζῆλος for
worthy heroes, and the women are to develop habits of simplicity and ζῆλος
for the health and beauty of the body (Lyc. 14.3–4).
In the later chapters, after the assembly of people chose senators by the
loudness of their applause, the victor was followed by “great numbers of
young men, who emulated and exalted him [πολλοὶ νέοι ζηλοῦντες τὸν ἄνδρα
καὶ μεγαλύνοντες], as well as by many women” (Lyc. 26.3). This senator then
chose a woman to share in the victory supper, and “she too was emulated by
the other women” (ζηλουμένην ὑπὸ τῶν ἄλλων . . . γυναικῶν; Lyc. 26.4). Lycurgus
took care of everything in the city: “he blended some commendation of virtue
[ἀρετῆς τινα ζῆλον] or rebuke of vice; and he filled the city full of good exam-
ples [παραδειγμάτων], whose continual presence and society must of necessity
exercise a controlling and moulding influence upon those who were walking
the path of honour” (Lyc. 27.2 [Perrin, LCL]).
Though the ζηλ- word group is used less frequently in Numa and the
Comparison, the references to the word group continue to inform and be
informed by Plutarch’s examination of polity. In chapter 6, Numa has declined
the kingdom, but the Romans are desperately worried about factions and
civil war and beg him to lead. Plutarch repeatedly notes that their task is dif-
ficult because of Numa’s preference for peace and Rome’s warring ways: “It
was, however, no slight task, but one requiring much argument and entreaty,
to persuade and induce a man who had lived in peace and quiet, to accept the
government of a city which owed its existence and growth, in a fashion, to war”
(Num. 5.2 [Perrin, LCL]). Numa’s resistance owes to his “love of peace, of unwar-
like occupations.” He declares, “I should be a laughing-stock if I . . . taught men
to honour justice and hate violence and war, in a city which desires a leader of
its armies rather than a king” (Num. 5.5 [Perrin, LCL]). The interchange that
ultimately leads Numa to change his mind makes use of the ζηλ- word group
twice, once in reference to Numa and once in reference to the people’s ζῆλος
for him:
“Even though,” they said, “thou neither desirest wealth for thyself, because
thou hast enough, nor covetest [ἐζήλωκας] the fame which comes from
authority and power, because thou hast the greater fame which comes
from virtue, yet consider that the work of a true king is a service rendered
to God, who now rouses up and refuses to leave dormant and inactive
the great righteousness which is within thee . . . .” These appeals were
strengthened, we are told, by auspicious omens and by the zealous ardour
of his fellow-citizens [τῶν πολιτῶν καὶ ζῆλος], who, when they learned of
the embassy from Rome, begged him to return with it and assume the
royal power there, in order to unite and blend together the citizens (Num.
6.2, 4 [Perrin, LCL]).
Plutarch again uses the word group to characterize Numa’s death (“They
envied his life as well as his funeral-rites” [ζηλωτὸν δὲ αὐτοῦ καὶ τῷ τάφῳ τὸν
βίον ἐποίησαν]; Num. 22.1), but it is in the final chapter of the Comparison that
the contribution of the ζηλ- word group to Plutarch’s critique of Rome comes
to fullest expression. Building on the emphasis on education developed in
Lycurgus, Plutarch draws a direct comparison between Lycurgus and Numa:
But surely, by his careful attention to boys . . . Lycurgus proves that Numa

was no more than an ordinary lawgiver. For Numa left the bringing up of
youths to the wishes or necessities of their fathers . . . therefore uniting
with the rest for the common good only in times of peril, through fear
of private loss. . . . But when a wise man had consented to be king over a
people newly constituted and pliant to his every wish, what should have
been his first care, unless it was the rearing of boys and the training of
youths . . .? This, indeed was what helped Lycurgus secure, among other
things, the stability and permanence of his laws. The Spartans took oaths
to maintain these laws, it is true, but this would have availed little had
he not, by means of his training and education of the boys, infused his
laws, as it were, into their characters and made the emulous love of his
government [τὸν ζῆλον τῆς πολιτείας] an integral part of their rearing. The
result was that for more than five hundred years the sovereign and fun-
damental features of his legislation remained in force, like a strong and
penetrating dye.60
Immediately following, Plutarch again castigates Numa for leaving a city that
fell into war.
Throughout this pair of Lives, then, Plutarch has regularly utilized this word
group to describe the things and people that are worthy of emulation. In par-
ticular, as he details the shortcomings of Numa’s education system for Rome,
Plutarch offers a critique of the warring culture that has dominated ever since.
His effusive praise for Lycurgus’ Sparta is precisely targeted at the (rightly-
directed) emulation of Lycurgus’ peace-instilling education of Spartan youths.61
60 Comp. Lyc. Num. 4.2–5.

61 Such an emphasis resembles the notion of imitation in Isocrates’ political theory more
than it does Plutarch’s model, Plato. The writings of Isocrates were readily available in
Plutarch’s time, so it is not surprising that Plutarch would be influenced by the e mphasis
86 CHAPTER 2
Plutarch’s biographical pair is thus an example of the way the monosemic

ζηλ- word group can be shaped for strategic rhetorical purposes. There is no
need to speculate about Plutarch’s ‘intent’ or even the degree to which his-
torical and hypothetical readers notice such strategies—the occurrences are
bound up with and participate in a particular element of the rhetorical logic
of Plutarch’s text.
Excursus: Ζῆλος as Emotion in Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations

Before turning to an example from Jewish literature, it will be helpful to sup-
plement Plutarch’s usage with a look at ‘zeal’ in an author who gives attention
to the term as an emotion (enshrined in Greek language and thought by Plato
and Aristotle).62 Unlike many Greek and Roman writers, Cicero is interested in
a definition of the term aemulatio when used with reference to the emotions.
As to the relevance of Cicero’s Latin to the study of Paul, we may note that in
the standard editions of the Vulgate, the aemul- word group translates the word
group in nearly all of the instances in Paul that will be considered in the chapters
that follow.63 Cicero’s usage is prominent in the relevant entries in the stan-
dard Latin lexicons. For example, in the Oxford Latin Dictionary, Tusc. 4.17 is
cited under the noun aemulatio, and Tusc. 1.44 and 3.83 are cited under the
verb aemulor (OLD 1.64). In Lewis-Short, Cicero’s explanation in Tusc. 4.8 is
offered as a way to distinguish aemulatio from other closely related words:
“[aemulatio] denotes rather the mental effort, while imitatio regards more the
mode of action; but rivalitas is a jealous rivalry, and therefore used only in a
bad sense, while aemulatio is employed both in a good and bad sense” (L-S, 55).
on imitation found in Isocrates’ political theory. Just as Isocrates stressed the exem-
plary function of the king, so Plutarch writes of the “moulding influence of the ruler”
(μετακοσμουμένων ὑπὸ τοῦ κρατοῦντος) on the citizens (Num. 6.2; 8.1); cf. Luuk de Blois
and Jeroen A.E. Bons, “Platonic Philosophy and Isocratean Virtues in Plutarch’s Numa,”
Ancient Society 23 (1992): 168. As Isocrates writes to Nicocles: “Emulate [ζήλου], not those
who have most widely extended their dominion, but those who have made best use of
the power they already possess; and believe that you will enjoy the most happiness, not if
you rule over the whole world at the price of fears and dangers and baseness” (Ad Nic. 26
[Norlin, LCL]).
62 Cf. Plato’s list of emotions in Phileb. 47e, 50b and the classic expression in Aristotle, Rhet.
2.11 [1388a].
63 Rom 10:2; 10:19; 11:11, 14; 13:13; 1 Cor 10:22; 12:31; 14:1, 12, 39; 2 Cor 7:7, 11; 9:2; 11:2; 12:20; Gal 1:14;
4:17–18, 5:20; Phil 3:6. The only exception is 1 Cor 3:3 (zelus); cf. Titus 2:14 (sectator). The
edition used in this survey is that edited by Robert Weber, Roger Gryson, and Bonifatius
Fischer (Biblia sacra: iuxta Vulgatam versionem [Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft,
2007]).
In addition, Cicero’s use of aemulatio in his list of ‘species emotions’ cor-

responds to the term ζῆλος (and its definition) in the lists provided in at least
three later Greek writers: Diogenes Laertius (7.111), Stobaeus (Ecl. 2.7.10b–c),
and Pseudo-Andronicus (On Emotions 2–5).64 These same lists also show that
Cicero uses invidentia (‘envying’) for the Greek term φθόνος and obtrectatio
(‘jealousy’) for the term ζηλοτυπία. Furthermore, although Paul does not engage
in a philosophical discussion of the emotional experience of humans, the use
of these terms with reference to the emotions may well play a preliminary role
in shaping the grab-bag for Paul’s readers.65
Cicero uses the aemul- word group outside the Disputations only rarely, in
ways that are generally consistent with the range of ζῆλος seen in Greek writers.66
Even in the twelve occurrences in the Disputations (aemulor in 1.43, 3.83, 4.46,
4.56; aemulatio in 1.43, 4.16–17 [5x], 4.56; aemulus in 4.7), Cicero uses the aemul—
word group outside of the more technical sense as an emotion.67 In Tusc. 4.7,
Cicero uses the adjective form to describe the ‘imitators’ of Epicureanism:
Post Amafinium autem multi eiusdem aemuli rationis multa cum scrip-
sissent, Italiam totam occupaverunt, quodque maximum argumentum
est non dici illa subtiliter, quod et tam facile ediscantur et ab indoctis
probentur, id illi firmamentum esse disciplinae putant.
After Amafinius again there came a number of imitators of the same sys-
tem and by their writings took all Italy by storm: and whereas the chief
proof that their arguments are stated without precision lies in the fact
that their doctrine is so easily grasped and so much to the taste of the
unlearned, they imagine this to be its main support.68
To have aemulatio toward a system is of course neutral; what makes this

aemulatio negative is that it is directed toward a negative object (Epicurean
philosophy).69
64 See further the table provided in Margaret Graver, Cicero on the Emotions: Tusculan
Disputations 3 and 4 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002), 144.
65 In fact, as we will see in Chapter Three below, the emotions play an important role in
Betz’s analysis of Galatians 4.
66 Cicero uses aemulatio in Pis. 39; aemulor in Marcell. 1; Flac. 26; aemulus in Att. 6.3; Fam.
12.13; Cael. 14; Mur. 29; Marcell. 1; Phil. 2.12; Verr. 2.3.78; aemulator in Att. 2.1.
67 In Tusc. 1.43 the emotion seems primarily in view because of its pairing with ‘desire’
(et cupiditatum et aemulationum).
68 King, LCL; cf. Tusc. 1.6, 2.7; Acad. 1.5; Fin. 3.40.
69 See further Graver, Cicero, 132.
88 CHAPTER 2
In 1.43, aemulatio is associated with the emotion cupiditas (‘desire’), but fur-
ther definition is not provided until 3.83 and 4.16.70 Here Cicero includes aem-
ulor in a list of fourteen forms of distress that are like invidere (‘envy’). After
the list provided in 4.16, in 4.17 Cicero overtly defines aemulatio as malleable:
[I]nvidentiam esse dicunt aegritudinem susceptam propter alterius res

secundas, que nihil noceant invidenti . . . . Aemulatio dupliciter illa qui-
dem dicitur, ut et in laude et in vitio nomen hoc sit; nam et imitatio virtu-
tis aemulatio dicitur—sed ea nihil hoc loco utimur; est enim laudis—et
est aemulatio aegritudo, si eo quod concupierit alius potiatur, ipse careat.
Obtrectatio autem est, ea quam intellegi ζηλοτυπίαν volo, aegritudo ex eo,
quod alter quoque potiatur eo quod ipse concupiverit.
[E]nvy [invidentia] they say is distress incurred by reason of a neighbor’s

prosperity, though it does no harm to the envious person. . . . But rivalry
[aemulatio] is for its part used in a twofold way, so that it has both a good
and a bad sense. For one thing, rivalry is used of the imitation of virtue
(but this sense we make no use of here, for it is praiseworthy); and rivalry
is distress, should another be in possession of the object desired and one
has to go without it oneself. Jealousy [obtrectatio] on the other hand is
what I understand to be the meaning of ζηλοτυπία, distress arising from
the fact that the thing one has coveted oneself is in the possession of the
other man as well as one’s own.71
This is an intriguing passage for at least two reasons. First, given that Cicero
here adopts the Stoic position that all passions (Cicero uses perturbatio for
πάθος) are bad (“contra naturam”; Tusc. 4.6), it is strange that aemulatio alone
among the passions is qualified as also having a good sense.72 Perhaps Cicero
finds it necessary to qualify aemulatio given Aristotle’s positive assessment
of ζῆλος (Rhet. 2.9–11), but this is entirely inconsistent with his treatment of
the rest of the list.73 At first glance, this may seem to indicate that Cicero is
clarifying between two polysemes that could be confused in current parlance
70 Graver suggests that the slight difference in the ordering of the two lists is “only for the
sake of euphony”; Cicero, 127.
71 Tusc. 4.16–17 (King, LCL). The final occurrences in 4.46, 56 further develop Cicero’s philo-
sophical musings on aemulatio and rivalitas (‘rivalry’).
72 Cf. the differentiation noted in Stobaeus, Ecl. 2.7.10.
73 Graver rightly notes that Aristotle’s definitions are drawn from earlier discussions and
these may have survived independently (Cicero, 141).
(cf. dupliciter; 4.17). Given that his definition of obstrectatio/ζηλοτυπία is essen-

tially identical to the ‘negative’ sense of aemulatio, however, we must conclude
that Cicero is simply clarifying that the object of aemulatio is determinative for
its assessment (virtus or quod concupierit).
Given this, it seems clear that the grab-bag for aemulatio influences Cicero’s
analysis even when he has overtly given the term a technical sense within a list
of negative passions.74 That is, within Cicero’s text we find evidence that con-
cepts, emotions, and images associated with ‘ζῆλος/aemulatio for virtue’ are
activated even when clearly negative collocates are present. This lends support
to the arguments made in subsequent chapters that occurrences of ζῆλος in
lists of undesirable behaviors (Gal 5:20; 1 Cor 3:3; 13:4; 2 Cor 12:20; Rom 13:13)
should not in fact be partitioned off when considering other uses of the ζηλ-
word group within a text.
Excursus: Ζῆλος in Sirach

Martin Hengel, Torrey Seland, Dane C. Ortlund, and others have surveyed the
concept of ζῆλος in Jewish literature, and there is little need to repeat the exer-
cise here.75 Of the two texts I have chosen as representatives of Jewish litera-
ture, the use of ζῆλος in Sirach has been given far more attention than the use
of in Pseudo-Philo. Thus I will begin with a few brief observations about the
occurrences in Sirach, and then proceed with a longer reading of L.A.B. as an
illustration of the way the word group can be utilized in Jewish writings.
74 Andrew Erskine has argued that “the account of the passions in the Tusculans is so
coloured by Cicero’s own experience [of losing his daughter Tallia] that the two are virtu-
ally inseparable” (“Cicero and the Expression of Grief,” in The Passions in Roman Thought
and Literature [ed. Susanna Morton Braund and Christopher Gill; Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1997], 39). That is, Cicero’s account is best understood not as detached
philosophical reflection but as therapy. This is not unlike Paul’s treatment of ζῆλος, which,
as we will see in Chapter Three on Galatians 4, has frequently been compared with phil-
osophical reflection on the emotions with an inadequate realization that Paul’s letters
shape and exhort more than they enter into philosophical debate.
75 Hengel, Die Zeloten, 150–229; Seland, Establishment Violence, 42–74; “Saul of Tarsus and
Early Zealotism: Reading Gal 1:13–14 in Light of Philo’s Writings,” Biblica 83, no. 4 (2002):
449–71; Ortlund, Zeal Without Knowledge, 24–114. See also the surveys in Berthelot, “Zeal
for God,” 113–29; John J. Collins, “The Zeal of Phinehas: The Bible and the Legitimation
of Violence,” JBL 122, no. 1 (2003): 3–21; Carolyn J. Sharp, “Phinehan Zeal and Rhetorical
Strategy in 4QMMT,” Revue de Qumran 18, no. 2 (1997): 207–22; Vincent M. Smiles, “The
Concept of ‘Zeal’ in Second-Temple Judaism and Paul’s Critique of It in Romans 10:2,” CBQ
64, no. 2 (2002): 282–99.
90 CHAPTER 2
The sapiential content of much of Sirach resists the kind of narrative analy-
sis that will be applied to Pseudo-Philo, but a few remarks about Sirach’s usage
will help situate our readings below. In the Greek version of Sirach,76 there
are twelve occurrences of the ζηλ- word group.77 In the eight occurrences in
chs. 9–20, Sirach echoes warnings about ζῆλος directed at improper objects
that are common in wisdom literature,78 but also intersperses references to
the ζῆλος directed at one who teaches (30.3 [παραζηλόω]) and makes life plans
(37.10), which might be labeled ‘emulation.’79 In ch. 45, Sirach notes the ζῆλος
of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram toward Aaron in 45:18 (cf. Numbers 16), which is
contrasted with famous ζῆλος of Phinehas just a few verses later in 45:23:
Καὶ Φινεες υἱὸς Ελεαζαρ τρίτος εἰς δόξαν ἐν τῷ ζηλῶσαι αὐτὸν ἐν φόβῳ κυρίου
καὶ στῆναι αὐτὸν ἐν τροπῇ λαοῦ ἐν ἀγαθότητι προθυμίας ψυχῆς αὐτοῦ· καὶ
ἐξιλάσατο περὶ τοῦ Ισραηλ.
76 With the exception of Sir 51:18 and the occurrence of ἀντίζηλος in 37:11 (Hebrew ‫;צרר‬
‘enemy’), there is no evidence that the occurrences of the ζηλ- word group in the
Greek version of Sirach translate anything but the ‫ קנא‬word group in Sirach’s original.
According to the critical edition compiled by Pancratius C. Beenrjes, manuscript B uses
‫‘( חשׂב‬devise’ [for good; cf. Gen 50:20 ‫ ;]חשׂבה לטבה‬BDB, 362) instead of the expected
‫ קנאה‬at 51:18. However, in the fragment 11QPsa (the Psalms Scroll from Qumran Cave 11),
‫ קנאה‬is in fact found at 51:18. Thus my treatment here is of the Greek text, but likely applies
to other versions (which are in any case more fragmentary than the Greek manuscripts).
For a description of the manuscripts, see Beenrjes, The Book of Ben Sira in Hebrew: A Text
Edition of All Extent Hebrew Manuscripts and a Synopsis of All Parallel Hebrew Ben Sira
Texts (VTSup 68; Leiden: Brill, 1997), 13–19. See also the recent compilation of articles on
the versions edited by Jean-Sébastien Rey and Jan Joosten (The Texts and Versions of the
Book of Ben Sira: Transmission and Interpretation [JSJSup 150; Leiden: Brill, 2011]).
77 Ortlund locates nine (9:1, 11; 30:24; 37:10; 40:4; 45:18, 23; 48:2; 51:18), leaving off ἀντίζηλος
in 26:6; 37:11 and παραζηλόω in 30:3. Ortlund’s interest is on the last three because they
do not “refer to human envy or jealousy” and “Sirach no longer speaks of envy but of the
zeal of Phinehas, the zeal of Elijah, and a more general zeal for ‘the good’ ” (Zeal Without
Knowledge, 71–2; cf. Richard H. Bell, Provoked to Jealousy: The Origin and Purpose of the
Jealousy Motif in Romans 9–11 [WUNT 2:63; Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1994], 24). This division
into senses (‘envy’ vs. ‘zeal’) has been critiqued at length in Chapter One.
78 E.g., Sirach warns against ζῆλος towards one’s wife in 9.1 (cf. Prov 6:34) and against the
fame of sinners in 9:11 (cf. Ps 37:1; 73:3; Prov 3:31; 23:17; 24:1, 19); cf. 9:26; 30:24; 37:11; 40:4.
79 See further Orlund’s discussion of ‘social’ or ‘relational jealousy’ (Zeal Without Knowledge, 71).
Phinehas son of Eleazar ranks third in glory since he expressed ζῆλος in

the fear of the Lord and stood firm when the people turned away, in the
goodness of the eagerness of his soul; and he made atonement for Israel.80
Then in 48:2, Sirach recounts how the ζῆλος of Elijah (cf. 1 Kings 17–19) made
the people (Israel?) few in number.81
In light of these occurrences throughout the book, the final occurrence in
Sirach is particularly revealing. Sirach’s readers have considered the contexts
and objects to which ζῆλος can be directed, both positively and negatively. At
the close of the book (51:17–18), Sirach labels godly attention to wisdom “ζῆλος
for the good”:
τῷ διδόντι μοι σοφίαν δώσω δόξαν. διενοήθην γὰρ τοῦ ποιῆσαι αὐτὴν καὶ
ἐζήλωσα τὸ ἀγαθὸν καὶ οὐ μὴ αἰσχυνθῶ.
To him who gives me wisdom I will give glory. For I resolved to do it, and
I expressed ζῆλος for the good, and I was never ashamed.
We will consider the Hellenistic moral overtones of ‘ζῆλος for the good’ in later
chapters,82 but it is instructive to consider the way the grab-bag for ζῆλος has
been shaped in the course of Sirach. The language of ζῆλος has been used for a
variety of objects (e.g., ζῆλος towards one’s wife in 9:1), and in 51:18 the language
of ζῆλος participates in Sirach’s efforts to present Wisdom as the worthier lover
80 Cf. Num 25:11–13. Noting Sirach’s attention to Phinehas’ reverence for God and noble
goodness (ἐν φόβῳ κυρίου . . . ἐν ἀγαθότητι προθυμίας ψυχῆς αὐτοῦ), Ortlund argues that
“Sirach commends Phinehas’s personal virtue in a way absent from the Old Testament
account” (Zeal Without Knowledge, 72; cf. “Phinehan Zeal: A Consideration of James
Dunn’s Proposal,” JSP 20, no. 4 [2011]: 304–7). See also Kenneth E. Pomykala’s compari-
son of the Hebrew and Greek versions of ch. 45 (“The Covenant with Phinehas in Ben
Sira [Sirach 45:23–26; 50:22–24],” in Israel in the Wilderness: Interpretations of the Biblical
Narratives in Jewish and Christian Traditions [ed. Kenneth E. Pomykala. Leiden/Boston:
Brill, 2008], 17–36). Pomykala notes many similarities with the descriptions of Phinehas
in 1 Maccabees.
81 Ortlund rightly points out that there is discontinuity between Phinehas’s and Elijah’s
ζῆλος in that Phinehas preserves while Elijah curses. However, this seems more pro-
nounced in Sirach than in Numbers and 1 Kings (cf. Zeal Without Knowledge, 74–75).
82 Based on the other two substantive uses of τὸ ἀγαθόν (18:8; 33:13–14), Ortlund argues
that “ ‘[T]he good’ . . . is placed squarely in the moral or ethical plane” (Zeal Without
Knowledge, 76).
92 CHAPTER 2
(cf. Prov 31:10–31). We will see below that Sirach is not the only writer to ‘play’
with various contributors to the grab-bag, including ideas and images asso-
ciated with Jewish heroes like Phinehas and Elijah, ethical imperatives, and
emulative behavior.83
‘Jewish Zeal’ in Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum

The Rabbis observed long ago that “in their place the words of Torah are poor,
and rich in another place”;84 that is, things that are left out of the immediate
context may be provided elsewhere. Though this phenomenon (‘nachholende
Erzählung’) occurs rarely in the Hebrew Scriptures,85 Pseudo-Philo uses it often
as one of several sophisticated narrative techniques in his Liber Antiquitatum
Biblicarum (L.A.B.).86 Most significant for our interests in this chapter is the
case of Phinehas’ slaying of Zimri87 and the Midianite woman88 (L.A.B. 47.1–3;
83 For consideration of Sirach’s strategies with words, see Eric D. Reymond, “Wordplay in the
Hebrew to Ben Sira,” in The Texts and Versions of the Book of Ben Sira: Transmission and
Interpretation (ed. Jean-Sébastien Rey and Jan Joosten; Leiden: Brill, 2011), 37–53.
84 ‫ ;במקום אחר דבי תורה עניים במקומן ועשירים‬y. Roš Haš. 3.5.16 (58d). In the name of Rabbi
Nehemiah, the Torah is here compared to the “woman of valor” (‫ )אשׁת־חיל‬who “brings
her food from afar” (‫ ;ממרחק תביא לחמה‬Prov 31:14). The specific reference is to the agree-
ment described in Jer 34:17 that is attributed to Exod 6:13; see further Edward A. Goldman,
The Talmud of the Land of Israel: A Preliminary Translation and Explanation, Volume 16
Rosh Hashanah (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988), 90 n. 96.
85 E.g., Balaam is mentioned as having advised the women of Peor to seduce the Israelites in
Num 31:16, but no such thing is recorded in Numbers 22–24.
86 For instance, L.A.B. does not begin with a creation account, but creation is referred
to in speeches by Cenaz (L.A.B. 28.7–9) and David (L.A.B. 60.2–3); the details about
the murder of Abel are provided only later (L.A.B. 16.2, 59.4); Abraham’s covenant is
only described in L.A.B. 23.6; and Jacob’s fight with the angel is only mentioned later
(L.A.B. 18.6). Howard Jacobson notes that one effect of these flashbacks is to integrate
the whole history of God’s activity with the Jewish people (A Commentary on Pseudo-
Philo’s Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum [Leiden: Brill, 1996], 1.240–241; cf. see O. Eissfeldt,
“Zur Kompositionstechnik des pseudo-philonischen Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum,” in
Kleine Schriften, III (Tübingen: Mohr, 1966), 340–53.
87 Lat. Zambri; amended from the obvious corruption Iambri that is found in most manu-
scripts, following Jacobson, Commentary, 2.1045. Zambri occurs at Num 25:14 in the Vulgate,
and there is no reason to doubt that the original Hebrew was ‫ זמרי‬via the Greek Ζαμβρι.
88 Though the editio princeps (edited by Sichardus in 1527; for more information on the
transmission of the text see M.R. James, The Biblical Antiquities of Philo, New York: Ktav,
1971, 14–26) does not name the Midianite woman, the manuscripts grouped as π have et
ingressu intravit ad Midianitan: “and he went in to the Midianite woman”; see Gen 16:4
and 29:23 (the two families of manuscripts, π and Δ, have been designated by Daniel J.
Harrington in J. Cazeaux, Pseudo-Philon: Les antiquités bibliques I: Introduction et text cri-
cf. Num 25:7–8). This story appears only as a ‘flashback’ near the end of the
Judges cycle (L.A.B. 25–48)89 after being left out of its proper context in L.A.B.
18.14 (the account of the Israelites’ fornication with the Midianite women).90
Given the importance of Numbers 25 in other Jewish literature of the period,91
Pseudo-Philo’s placement of the story in the context of L.A.B. 44–47 deserves
careful attention. Our investigation here will demonstrate that the four addi-
tional references to zelo/zelus in L.A.B. 44–47 (44.7, 44.10, 45.6, and 47.7) are
intended to set up a contrast between the misguided and inadequate zeal dem-
onstrated by the idolatrous people and the godly zeal of Phinehas in L.A.B.
47.1–3. Pseudo-Philo has anticipated the appeal to Phinehas’ zealous action
in his “earnest prayer” (attente oraverat; L.A.B. 47.3) through the example of
Moses, and in so doing can be seen to have included the story of Num 25:6–11
as a ‘flashback’ in L.A.B. 47.1–3 in order to bring the galvanizing effect of the
‘zeal of Phinehas’ to bear on his contention that zealous human initiative is an
essential component of efficacious intercessory prayer.
As we have seen in Sirach, Cicero, and Philo, the ad hoc concepts activated
by repeated use of the ‘zeal’ word group are put to rhetorical use by Pseudo-
Philo. Though surviving in Latin, there is every reason to assume that the occur-
rences of zelo/zelus represent ‫קנאה‬/‫ קנא‬in Hebrew and ζήλοω/ζῆλος in Greek.92
Phinehas in the Scriptures and in Later Jewish Literature

Numbers 25 is the defining passage about Phinehas in the Scriptures.93 The
story is familiar: before Moses can carry out God’s order to slay the leaders
tiques [SC 229, Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1976], 20–3). Pirqe R. El. 47 uses this same language:
‫בא בזנות על המדשׁית‬.
89 Judg 20:28 records that the Israelites, after being twice defeated by the Benjamites, inquire
through Phinehas whether they should go to war, and the Benjamites are finally defeated
(Judg 20:35). Phinehas’ role is greatly expanded and revised in L.A.B.; see discussion below.
90 The end of the Balaam episode, L.A.B. 17.2–18.14.
91 This discussion assumes that L.A.B. was written in the late first-century CE, which is the
view accepted by nearly all scholars. It is not of great importance for the thesis of this
chapter whether the date is pre- or post-70.
92 The sections of L.A.B. discussed here show a dependence upon the Hebrew of Numbers 25,
and the consistent translation of ‫קנאה‬/‫ קנא‬with ζήλοω/ζῆλος in all manuscripts of the LXX.
For the evidence that L.A.B. originally existed in Hebrew rather than Aramaic or Greek,
see Daniel J. Harrington, “The Original Language of Pseudo-Philo’s Liber Antiquitatum
Biblicarum,” HTR 63, no. 4 (1970): 503–14; and the excellent discussion in Jacobson,
Commentary, 1:215–24.
93 Aside from the prominent role Phinehas plays in Numbers 25 (after which he accompa-
nies the people into battle in Num 31:6) and his intercession for the people in Judg 20:28,
94 CHAPTER 2
who have allowed their men to fornicate with the Moabite women, Phinehas
slays Zimri and Cozbi through the ‘belly’ (‫ ) ֵק ָבה‬in the ‘tent’ (‫ ) ֻק ָּבה‬which they
had entered in the sight of the whole community (Num 25:6–8). God endorses
Phinehas’ deed and, remarkably, adopts it as God’s own (‫בקנאו את־קנאתי בתוכם‬
“he was zealous with my zeal among them”; Num 25:11). The plague against
the people ceases, and Phinehas is granted the “covenant of the eternal priest-
hood” (Num 25:13).
As we have seen earlier in this chapter, Phinehas is praised for “stand-
ing firm during the turning away of the people” and for “making atonement
[ἐξιλάσκομαι] for Israel” in Sir 45:23. He is cited as receiving the “everlasting
priestly covenant” for his zealous actions “against Zimri” in 1 Macc 2:26, 54;94
and by the time of the writing of 4 Maccabees, the story of Numbers 25 is rec-
ognized by the mere mention of τὸν ζηλωτὴν Φινεες.95 Philo refers to “Phinehas
the son of the high priest”96 only in reference to the Numbers 25 incident and
Phinehas’ “reward of peace.”97 Josephus, too, writes about this episode in each
of the five passages from the Biblical Antiquities in which Phinehas’ name
appears.98
the name ‘Phinehas’ appears in the OT when he is simply cited as the grandson of Aaron
and son of Eleazar in Exod 6:25; 1 Chron 6:4, 50; 9:20; and Ezra 7:5; 8:2, 33; and when
Phinehas is mentioned in various priestly capacities in Josh 22:13, 30, 31, 32 and 24:33. The
only other non-apocryphal reference to Phinehas is Ps 106:30 (see below).
94 1 Macc 2:26: καὶ ἐζήλωσεν τῷ νόμῳ, καθὼς ἐποίησεν Φινεες τῷ Ζαμβρι υἱῷ Σαλωμ; 1 Macc 2:54:
Φινεες ὁ πατὴρ ἡμῶν ἐν τῷ ζηλῶσαι ζῆλον ἔλαβεν διαθήκην ἱερωσύνης αἰωνίας.
95 4 Macc 18:12; properly “the zealot Phinehas,” contra NRSV et al. “the zeal of Phinehas.”
Phinehas is also mentioned in priestly genealogies of 1 Esd 5:5; 8:63; and 2 Esd 1:2.
96 Mos. 1.301.
97 Conf. 57. Philo also refers to Phinehas as “the one recorded in the law who dared to do
this good venture . . . he killed [Zimri] with the woman” (ἀναγέγραπταί τις ἐν τοῖς νόμοις τὸ
καλὸν τοῦτο τόλμημα τολμήσας . . . ἀναιρεῖ σὺν τῇ γυναικί) in Spec. 1.56.
98 Ant. 4.152–262; 5.104–120; 5.159; 7.110; 8.11–12. The last two passages do not refer spe-
cifically to Phinehas’ zealous action, but speak of the lasting priestly lineage given to
Phinehas in Numbers 25. The pattern continues into the period of Rabbinic literature,
as adequately summarized by Max Seligsohn: “Phinehas is highly extolled by the Rabbis
for his promptness and energy in executing the prince of the tribe of Simeon and the
Midianitish woman. While even Moses himself knew not what to do . . . Phinehas alone
was self-possessed and decided” (“Phinehas,” in The Jewish Encyclopedia, Volume X [ed.
Cyrus Adler and Isidore Singer; New York: Funk and Wagnalls, 1905], 18). Seligsohn’s sum-
mary fits the portrayals given in Sifre Num 131; Pirqe R. El. 47; Sanh. 82b; Tanh. Balak 30;
Num. Rab. 20.26; Ber. 6b; and B. Bat. 109b. This portrayal is not opposed to the interpreta-
tions of several other Rabbinic writers which attribute God’s favorable reply to Phinehas
solely to his prayer, because the reference here is to Phinehas’ action in a time of crisis
It may seem strange, then, that the Baal-Peor narrative receives such a
brief and out-of-place mention in L.A.B., given Phinehas’ significant role
in the book:99 Phinehas receives a special blessing at the death of Joshua
(L.A.B. 24.4),100 he is given priority to speak at the death of Cenaz (L.A.B. 28.1–
4), he plays the central role in the retelling of the conflict with the Benjamites
(L.A.B. 44–47; cf. Judges 19–20), he is described in Elijah-like terms at the end
of his life (L.A.B. 48.1–3),101 and is twice mentioned in connection with Eli and
the priesthood (L.A.B. 50.3; 53.6).
However, there is much evidence to show that Pseudo-Philo assumes that
his readers are familiar with the story as told in Numbers 25.102 Phinehas’ long
tenure of priestly activity103 clearly presumes that the reader knows of the eter-
nal covenant granted to Phinehas for his zealous action.104 Just as Tg. Ps.-J. to
and not to the propitiating role that many Rabbis refused to attribute to Phinehas’ human
initiative; see discussion below.
99 Louis H. Feldman has correctly observed that only Moses, Aaron, Abraham, and Jacob
appear in more passages in L.A.B. (“The Portrayal of Phinehas by Philo, Pseudo-Philo, and
Josephus,” JQR 92, no. 3–4 [2002]: 316).
100 Here Phinehas is referred to only as filium Eleazari sacerdotis “the son of Eleazar the
priest.”
101 On L.A.B. as the earliest reference to the identification of Phinehas with Elijah, see Robert
Hayward, “Phinehas-The Same As Elijah: The Origins of a Rabbinic Tradition,” JJS 29,
no. 1 (1978): 22–34; and the connection between Phinehas, Eli, and Abraham discussed
in Abram Spiro, “The Ascension of Phinehas,” Proceedings of the American Academy for
Jewish Research 22 (1953): 99–102.
102 This is not a surprising phenomenon. Referring the strategic reference to Cain in the
story of Korah’s rebellion (L.A.B. 16), Bruce Fisk observes: “It appears that Pseudo-Philo
wrote for biblically literate readers who would instinctively and easily fill in the gaps,
drawing on their knowledge of both scripture and tradition, which enabled them to hear
much more in Pseudo-Philo’s abbreviated account than was actually there”; Bruce Fisk,
“Gaps in the Story, Cracks in the Earth: The Exile of Cain and the Destruction of Korah
in Pseudo-Philo (Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum 16),” in Craig A. Evans, ed., Of Scribes and
Sages: Early Jewish Interpretation and Transmission of Scripture, Vol. 2 Later Versions and
Traditions (New York: T&T Clark International, 2004), 21.
103 Joshua summons Phinehas to serve in a priestly capacity (Ihesus . . . miset et vocavit filium
Eleazari sacerdotis; L.A.B. 24.4); Cenaz asks how anyone could speak before the priest
Phinehas (Numquid aliquis loquitur prior sacerdote qui custodit mandata Domini Dei nos-
tri?; L.A.B. 28.3); Phinehas consults the oracular Urim and Thummim (demonstratio et
veritas) on behalf of the people (Et dixit eis Finees: Offeramus demonstrationem et veri-
tatem; L.A.B. 46.1); and Eli is appointed as priest by Phinehas (Heli . . . quem preposuerat
Finees filius Eleazari sacerdotis; L.A.B. 50.3; cf. 52.2).
104 Pseudo-Philo preserves the incredible longevity of Phinehas’ life, which strengthens the
impression that the biblical episode which defines Phinehas in L.A.B. is Numbers 25.
96 CHAPTER 2
Num 25:12 interprets the everlasting covenant to mean that Phinehas will live
forever,105 Phinehas is sent to dwell on a mountain after he had “passed the 120
years that have been established for every man”106 in L.A.B. 48.1. In L.A.B. 22.1
Pseudo-Philo even replaces Phinehas with Joshua as the head of a concilia-
tory delegation (Josh 22:30–34), very likely because such a pacifying role107
is inconsistent with Pseudo-Philo’s primary portrait of Phinehas: the fiery
zealot of Numbers 25.108
The Ad Hoc Meaning of Zelo/Zelus in L.A.B.

That Pseudo-Philo assumes familiarity with Numbers 25 is further confirmed
by Pseudo-Philo’s strategic shaping of the terms zelo and zelus. The word group
is used 20 times, six of which are clustered in L.A.B. 44–47.109 Pseudo-Philo
uses zelo/zelus with reference to God’s zealous beneficence only in the story
of Amram (L.A.B. 9.6),110 God’s jealousy for his people professed in the sec-
ond commandment (L.A.B. 11.6),111 Moses’ zealous words on behalf of God
(L.A.B. 58.1),112 and Phinehas’ zealousness in L.A.B. 47.1–3.
Pseudo-Philo also employs several negative examples of zealous action in
the earlier chapters of L.A.B. that contribute to the meaning of zelo/zelus. For
example, Balaam speaks of the nations ‘being envious’ (zelabitur) of God’s
‘vine’ Israel in L.A.B. 18.11, and in the very next verses Balaam instigates the
seduction of the Israelites by the Midianite113 women (L.A.B. 18.13) for which
Judges 11:26 indicates that between the episode with the Midianite women (Numbers 25)
and the episode with the Benjamites (Judges 17–20) Israel had been dwelling in the region
of Heshbon for 300 years.
105 ‫“ ;ויחי לעלם למבׂשרא גאולתא בסוף יומיא‬and he will live forever to proclaim redemption at
the end of days.”
106 Transisti centumviginti annos, qui constituti errant omni homini.
107 Despite the fact that Phinehas is granted a covenant of peace (for a violent deed!).
108 See further my discussion of Joshua 22 below. Feldman points to Joshua’s encouragement
of Phinehas to “strengthen yourself” (virtutifica manus tuas; L.A.B. 24.4) to suggest that
the omission in L.A.B. 22.1 is related to Pseudo-Philo’s interest in portraying Phinehas as
the zealous agent of God; Feldman, “Portrayal,” 337, 339.
109 L .A.B. 9.6; 11.6; 18.11; 20.5; 32.1, 2; 39.2; 44.7; 44.10; 45.6; 47.1 (2 occurrences); 47.7; 50.5; 58.1;
59.4; 62.1; 11 (2 occurrences); 64.8.
110 Et quis sciet si pro hoc zelabitur Deus, ut liberet nos de humiliatione nostra? (“And who
knows if God will act zealously on account of this to free us from our humiliation”).
111 Ego sum Dominus Deus tuus, Deus zelans; cf. ‫“( אנכי יהוה אלהיך אל קנא‬I am the Lord your
God, a zealous God”; Deut 5:9; Exod 20:5).
112 Que locutus sum sub zelo meo (“Which he [Moses] spoke with my [God’s] zeal”); see fur-
ther below.
113 In Num 25:1 it is the Moabite women (‫)בנות מואב‬, but Cozbi is identified as a Midianite in
Num 25:6.
he is subsequently doomed to eternal punishment.114 In L.A.B. 16.4, Korah

(Lat. Chore; Num 16:1) rebels against the law and is ‘swallowed up’ (deglutivit;
L.A.B. 16.6), and in L.A.B. 39.10, Jeptha (Lat. Ieptan; cf. Judges 11) makes a rash
vow and subjects his daughter to a cruel death (L.A.B. 40.8). In these last exam-
ples, zelo/zelus is not used, but given the similarities to other actions explicitly
labeled ‘zealous,’ the incidents contribute to the accretion of mental images
associated with zelo/zelus.
Most interesting of these negative examples that may be seen to shape
the grab-bag associated with zelo/zelus is the example of the tribes who set
up the unsanctioned altar ‘around the Jordan’ (circa Iordanem; L.A.B. 22.1; cf.
Josh 22:10). Pseudo-Philo significantly reworks the biblical account, so that in
L.A.B. 22 the “sons of Reuben and Gad and Manasseh” claim that their motiva-
tion was “so they will have zeal for seeking the Lord” (ut sit eis animositas115 ad
exquirendum Dominum; L.A.B. 22.4).116 Before Joshua117 and the people offer a
prayer on the altar-builders’ behalf (L.A.B. 22.7), Pseudo-Philo makes it clear
that such action must be properly directed:
Si in astucia fecistis hanc rem, vindicabitur in vobis . . . si autem . . . fecis-

tis . . . propter filios vestros, misericors erit vobis Deus.
For if you have done this act out of cunning, it will be avenged upon
you . . . but if you have done it . . . on account of your sons, God will be
merciful to you.118
114 Ego autem stridebo dentibus; “I, however, will gnash my teeth”; L.A.B. 18.12.
115 Animositas, occurring only here and in L.A.B. 6.9 (“Until the animositas of the people of
the land ceases . . . ”), may mean ‘boldness’ or ‘wrath,’ but it is properly translated in this
context as ‘zeal,’ ‘ardor,’ or ‘eagerness’ (cf. Aug. Civ. 14.2). Jacobson (2.700) may be correct
that animositas comes here through the Greek θυμός (‘passion, wrath’), but I find it likely
that the original Hebrew was ‫קנאה‬. θυμός is used to translate ‫ חמה‬in the pivotal verse
about zeal, Num 25:11 LXX, and the words also occur together in Prov 6:34; 7:4; Ezek 5:13;
16:38; 16:42; 23:25; and 36:6 (Ezek 16:38 even couples the words together with vav/kai: ‫חמה‬
‫וקנאה‬/θυμοῦ καὶ ζήλου); so it is likely that animositas here is at least subtly connected with
zelo/zelus, if it does not represent an actual occurrence of ‫קנאה‬.
116 In Josh 22:24–25 the tribes claim that their motivation was fear that later generations of
Israelites would cause their descendants to stop fearing the LORD, since they had no altar.
117 Interestingly, in Joshua 22 it is Phinehas who plays the conciliatory role in this story. As
noted above, this role probably did not seem to fit the image of Phinehas that Pseudo-
Philo wishes to portray in the book. This omission is not entirely surprising, since, as will
become clearer below, it would not be fitting for Phinehas to offer the prayer of interces-
sion in a context where the zealous action is suspect.
118 L .A.B. 22.6.
98 CHAPTER 2
Thus in the passages leading up to L.A.B. 44–47, Pseudo-Philo has already

established a pattern of misguided and inadequate actions (sometimes explic-
itly labeled ‘zeal’) that are to be contrasted with Phinehas’ rightly-directed zeal.
The Use of Zelo/Zelus in L.A.B. 44–47

This pattern becomes more explicit in L.A.B. 44–47. Though translators have
largely weakened the impact of the motif of zeal in L.A.B. 44–47 by failing con-
sistently to translate the occurrences of zelo/zelus in L.A.B. 44.7; 44.10; 45.6; and
47.7, the occurrences prepare the reader for the positive example of Phinehas’
zealous action in L.A.B. 47.1–3.
L.A.B. 44.7. In chapter 44, Pseudo-Philo recounts the tale of Micah and his
idols (Judges 17). God expresses anger at Israel for violating each of the ten
commandments, concluding with: Et cum precepissem ies non mechari, zelum
suum mechati sunt. Daniel J. Harrington’s translation properly captures the
connection with zeal: “And though I commanded them not to commit adul-
tery, they have committed adultery with their zeal.”119 The problem is not that
the people have zelus, but that it is directed at the wrong object.
L.A.B. 44.10. Immediately following, God promises to punish not only Micah,
but all the people who “sin against me” (peccant in me), declaring that the
“race of men will know that they were not zealous for me in the inventions
they made” (Et nunc sciet genus hominum quoniam non zelabunt [me] in adin-
ventionibus que faciunt). Dietzfelbinger’s translation, “Wissen, dass sie nicht
eifern,”120 is the only published translation to bring out the sense that the
119 Daniel J. Harrington, “Pseudo-Philo: A New Translation and Introduction by D.J.

Harrington,” in James H. Charlesworth, The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, Volume 2:
Expansions of the “Old Testament” and Legends (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983), 358.
Jacobson is less helpful: “Though I commanded them not to commit adultery, they have
adulterated their devotion” (Commentary, 1.167). Yet despite his translation, Jacobson
astutely conveys the connection with zeal in his commentary. Projecting that the original
was ‫( הנאיפו את קנאתם‬making ‘zeal’ the object of ‘to commit adultery,’ as in the Latin),
Jacobson comments that this phrase “would apparently mean that the zeal that Israel,
as a loyal spouse, should have directed toward God, they directed toward some idols”
(Commentary, 2.1017).
120 Christian Dietzfelbinger, Pseudo-Philo: Antiquitates biblicae (Liber antiquitatum bibli-
carum), Jüdische Schriften aus hellenistisch-römischer Zeit, Lfg. 2 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher
Verlagshaus G. Mohn, 1975), 171. Eifern is an intransitive verb in German, but often uses
gegen or für to indicate being zealous for or against someone or something. This may
explain why Dietzfelbinger follows a variant manuscript (π) and does not translate the
Latin accusative me—his translation thus faithfully renders the Latin (of π) without vio-
lating German grammar.
people were not zealous ( for God) when they made idols instead of rising up
against Micah.121
L.A.B. 45.6. In the next chapter, Pseudo-Philo records the horrific story of
the Levite’s concubine (L.A.B. 45.1–5; Judg 19:1–30), after which Pseudo-Philo
includes a brief Job-like encounter between God and ‘the adversary’ (antecimi-
num). God expresses anger that the ‘foolish people’ (populus insipiens) were
not ‘disturbed’ (conturbatus est) when Micah led them astray with the idols,
but were stirred by what happened with the Levite’s concubine. God says: Et
ideo quia non sunt tunc zelati, propterea sit eorum consilium in vanum et con-
turbabitur cor eorum. Jacobson captures the sense well: “And so, because they
were not zealous then, therefore he let their plan turn out badly and their
heart be confused.”122 This occurrence of zelo is the last reference to zeal before
Pseudo-Philo’s strategic insertion of the Numbers 25 story.
L.A.B. 47.7. Immediately following the pivotal section in L.A.B. 47.1–3,
Pseudo-Philo offers the ‘fable of the lion’ as an analogy for the people’s inade-
quate zeal in their reactions to Micah and to the Levite’s concubine. Just before
God answers Phinehas’ prayer at the conclusion of the fable, God sums up the
central issue: Et nullus zelavit sed omnes seducti estis . . . et tacuistis sicut malus
ille leo. Jacobson’s translation again succeeds: “No one acted zealously but all
of you were led astray . . . and you were silent like that evil lion.”123 The Hebrew
paraphrase of the Latin version of L.A.B. 47.3–12 preserved in the manuscript
of the Chronicles of Jerahmeel (fourteenth century) interprets these texts in
the same way, bringing out the connection with zeal and Numbers 25 that the
Hebrew translator observed in L.A.B. 44–47:
‫וישמע יי בקול פנחס ויאמר הקנאתי קנאו לי בני ישראל בנבלה הזאת ולא‬
‫קנאו לי בפסל מיכה אשר עשה להזנות את בל ישראל אחריו‬
121 Unfortunately, Jacobson mistranslates: “they should not provoke me by their devices that
they devise” (Commentary, 1.168). Harrington likewise translates: “they will not make me
jealous by their inventions that they make” (OTP 2.359). Jacques Cazeaux’s French is simi-
lar: “qu’il ne me rendra pas jaloux avec les trouvailles qu’il fait” (Pseudo-Philon, 305). Each
of these translations erroneously attempts to make it God’s zeal that is spoken of here, but
the Latin is clear that it is the people who were not zealous.
122 Jacobson, Commentary, 1.169. Harrington fails to make clear the connection with zeal:
“And so because they were not provoked to anger then, therefore let their plan be in vain,
and their heart will be so disturbed” (OTP 2.454).
123 Jacobson, Commentary, 1.171. Again, Harrington’s translation masks the word zelo: “and no
one was provoked but all were led astray” (OTP 2.361).
100 CHAPTER 2
And the Lord heard the voice of Phinehas and said, “The sons of Israel
were zealous with zeal for me in regard to this corpse, but they were not
zealous for me in regard to Micah’s idol, which he made to lead astray all
Israel after him.”124
Phinehas’ Prayer in L.A.B. 47.1–3

The explicit reference to Numbers 25 in this context at the end of the Judges
cycle is thus rhetorically significant. Phinehas is in a desperate predicament.
The Israelites had taken Phinehas’ advice to consult the priestly lots and had
received assurance of victory (L.A.B. 46.1; cf. Judg 20:28), but are routed by the
Benjamites (L.A.B. 46.3; cf. Judg 20:21, 25).125 Tearing their clothes and placing
ashes on their heads, the people pleadingly question God about God’s ‘decep-
tion’ (seductio; L.A.B. 46.4).126 Will the people rise up against Phinehas? Will
God finally answer their cries for help? Phinehas prays in L.A.B. 47.1:
Ego enim memor sum in iuventute mea, quando peccavit Zambri in

diebus Moysi famuli tui, et ingressus intravi127 ego et zelatus sum zelum
anime mee, et ambos suspendi in romphea mea.
For I remember in my youth when Zimri sinned in the days of Moses

your servant, and I went in and was zealous with the zeal of my soul, and
hoisted both up on my spear.
124 The construction ‫ הקנאתי קנאו‬seems to imitate the cognate object in Num 25:11 (‫בקנאו‬
‫)את־קנאתי‬. The Hebrew text is reproduced from Daniel J. Harrington, The Hebrew
Fragments of Pseudo-Philo’s Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum Preserved in the Chronicles of
Jerahmeel (Missoula: SBL, 1974), 68. These fragments were once regarded as the original
Hebrew of L.A.B., but have since been proven to be retroversions from the Latin. I cite the
text here as an example of how a Hebrew speaker understood the references to zeal in
L.A.B. 44–47.
125 In Judges 20, the Israelites are twice routed before consulting Phinehas, after which they
are eventually victorious (Judg 20:35). Pseudo-Philo places Phinehas in a predicament
by having him involved before the people are routed, which sets up Phinehas’ pleading
prayer in L.A.B. 47.1–3.
126 Que est seductio hec qua seduxisti nos Domine? (“What is this deception by which you have
deceived us, Lord?”). Pseudo-Philo ironically uses the same root (seduco) to describe the
people being ‘led astray’ by Micah’s idols rather than to be zealous for God (see L.A.B. 47.7,
above). God ‘deceived’ ( fallo) them in L.A.B. 47.8: Propterea fefelli vos et dixi: Tradam vobis
illos (“Therefore I deceived you and said, ‘I will deliver them to you’ ”).
127 The manuscripts grouped as π have et ingressu intravit ad Midianitan: “and he went in
to the Midianite woman”; see Gen 16:4 and 29:23. Pirqe R. El. 47 uses this same language:
‫ ;בא בזנות על המדנית‬cited in Jacobson, Commentary, 1046.
Given the way the zelo/zelus word group has been shaped by the narrative,
and given the literary technique of omitting mention of this significant event
in L.A.B. 18.14, this short paraphrase delivers quite a punch. Phinehas’ famed
act of godly zeal is the rightly-directed zeal that has been missing. This is the
kind of zealous action that prompted God to adopt Phinehas’ zeal as his own
(‫בקנאו את־קנאתי בתוכם‬, “he was zealous with my zeal among them”; Num 25:11),
and, here, to answer Phinehas’ ‘earnest prayer’ (attente oraverat; L.A.B. 47.3).128
Pseudo-Philo adds the detail that the people (of Phinehas’ youth) had wanted
to kill Phinehas for his zeal, but God saved him (L.A.B. 47.1). This confirms and
intensifies the already remarkable statement that God embraces Phinehas’
action as his own.
Phinehas boldly challenges God to answer his prayer and not to let the peo-
ple think that the Urim and Thummim are telling lies (L.A.B. 47.2). Pseudo-
Philo records God’s response:
Et videns Dominus quoniam attente oraverat Finees in conspectu eius,

dixit ad eum: Per me iuravi, dicit Dominus, quoniam si non iurasses
[orasses],129 memor tui non fuissem in eo quod dixisti, neque respondis-
sem vobis hodie.
And the Lord, seeing that Phinehas had prayed earnestly in his sight,
said to him, “I swear by myself, says the Lord: if you had not then prayed,
128 God provides victory for the Israelites in L.A.B. 47.9–10; cf. Judg 20:35.
129 The editio princeps reads iurassem, thus indicating God as the one who ‘swore an oath,’
but all other manuscripts read iurasses (‘you swore’). Most translators accept the reading
of the editio princeps, but in light of the discussion in this paper about the importance
of the efficacy of prayer, it is more likely that Phinehas is indeed the intended subject,
and that iurasses is a corruption of orasses (‘you prayed’). This same confusion occurs in
Ovid Her. 8.117 (Per genus infelix iuro [oro]; “By the unhappy line I swear”), so the emenda-
tion is not without precedent. The idea that God would credit Phinehas’ prayer makes
much more sense in the context than some unmentioned oath sworn by Phinehas or
God. Charles Perrot and P.-M. Bogaert read iurassem and understand it as a reference to
the covenant with Abraham: “mais Pinhas n’a rien juré et les premiers mots de la phrase
rappellent le serment divin de I’alliance de Gen. 22, 16: « Je le jure par moi-même, parole
du Seigneur »” (“But Phinehas has not sworn, and the first words of the sentence recall
the divine oath of the alliance of Gen 22:16: ‘I swear by myself, says the Lord’ ”) (Pseudo-
Philon: Les antiquités bibliques II: Introduction littéraire, commentaire et index, SC 230
[Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1976], 206). But if the word is iurassem, it must certainly refer
to the oath in the previous phrase and not to an unmentioned oath from the past. See
further Jacobson, Commentary, 2.1049.
102 CHAPTER 2
I would not have been mindful of you in what you said, nor would I have
answered you today.” (L.A.B. 47.3)
Taken by itself, God’s favorable answer in L.A.B. 47.3 could be interpreted as

coming in response only to Phinehas’ prayer (cf. Jas 5:16: “the prayer of the
righteous is powerful and effective”). This, in fact, was the interpretation of
Numbers 25 that was held by later writers, who seem troubled that Phinehas’
own zealous initiative constitutes an act of atonement (‫ )כפר‬for the people
(Num 25:13). The rabbis and targumic writers did praise Phinehas’ zeal as a
model for action (e.g., Ps.-J. to Num 25:8: ‫ יזכון כהניא‬. . . ‫ וצלי‬. . . ‫וחולף דאחד רומחא‬
‫“[ לתלת מתנן‬Because he grasped the spear . . . and prayed . . . the priests merit
three gifts . . .”]), but separated that action from its capacity to affect God’s will
(e.g., Sifre Num. 131: ‫‘ “[ לכפר לא נאמר‬To atone’ is not said . . .”]).130 These writers
seem to be reading Numbers 25 through the lens of the ‘softened’ version of the
episode recounted in Ps 106:28–31, which makes no mention of Phinehas’ zeal:
‫ ויעמד פינחס ויפלל ותעצר המגפה‬. . . ‫ ויכעיסו במעלליהם‬. . . ‫ויצמדו לבעל פעור‬

‫ותחׁשב לו לצדקה לדר ודר עד־עולם‬
They joined themselves to the Baal of Peor . . . they provoked [the Lord]

by their deeds . . . and Phinehas stood and prayed, and the plague was
restrained—and it was reckoned to him as righteousness, from genera-
tion to generation forever.
However, in light of all the references to zeal in L.A.B. 44–47 and especially
the ‘flashback’ to Numbers 25 in L.A.B. 47.1, Pseudo-Philo’s telling is clear that
God answers Phinehas’ prayer because of Phinehas’ zeal.131 Because the people
130 As David Bernat summarizes the range of interpretations in Midrashic passages, recen-
sions of the Phinehas-miracle legend, and Sifre Num.: “In the Rabbinic and Targumic
reconstruction of the narrative, Phinehas’ act of violence is fully decoupled from the
reversal of the plague. Thus the priest’s zealotry is completely denuded of its power
to affect God’s will. . . . [O]n the other hand . . . [w]hen Phinehas stood and prayed, he
protected his people from decimation by revealing the mercies of heaven” (“Phinehas’
Intercessory Prayer: A Rabbinic and Targumic Reading of the Baal Peor Narrative,” JJS 58,
no. 2 [2007]: 282).
131 Martin Hengel, who approached L.A.B. with an eye for evidence of Zealotry in the first
century, made a similar observation about L.A.B. 47.1–3: “Es wird . . . zunächst in sehr
positiver Weise vom Eifer des Pinehas gesprochen, auch die strafabwendende Wirkung
des Eifers für Gott setzt man voraus” [“In the first place, attention is drawn in a very
positive way . . . to Phinehas’ zeal. At the same time, the effect of this zeal for God in
“were not zealous then” (L.A.B. 45.6), God ignored their plea for victory over
the Benjamites. Only after Phinehas implores God to remember his previous
zealous action (L.A.B. 47.1–2) does God leave the people with the instructive
fable (L.A.B. 47.4–8) and grant them victory (L.A.B. 47.9–10). Thus Phinehas’
prayer is an offer of his own zeal as a stand-in for the zeal that the people
should have exhibited in the case of Micah’s idols.
Intercessory Prayer and the Parallel with Moses

Once the emphasis on Phinehas’ zeal has been recognized in the story, the
overall presentation of intercessory prayer in L.A.B. becomes more sharply
defined: God responds favorably to prayer accompanied by properly-directed
zealous action.132 Several figures stand out as exemplars. First, Amram responds
to the mistreatment of the Israelites in Egypt by zealously defying the order of
the king (L.A.B. 9.5) at risk of his own life. Amram’s hope is that because of his
action (pro hoc) “God will act zealously to free us from our humiliation” (zelabi-
tur Deus, ut liberet nos de humiliatione nostra; L.A.B. 9.6), and indeed God does.
Second, Cenaz (Lat. Cenez), whose role is greatly expanded in L.A.B.,133 dem-
onstrates Phinehas-like zeal in rooting out the sinners in L.A.B. 25.3–26.5,134
and then ventures into the Amorites’ camp alone (Et descendit Cenez solus et
oravit) before receiving the sign from God that his prayer for deliverance will
turning away punishment is presupposed”] (Die Zeloten: Untersuchungen zur jüdischen

Freiheitsbewegung in der Zeit von Herodes I. bis 70 n. Chr., 3d rev. and enl. ed. [ed. Roland
Deines and Claus-Jürgen Thornton; WUNT 283; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011], 168).
132 Several words are used to describe intercessory prayer in L.A.B. The verb ōro (‘to pray’)
occurs in this sense in some 29 verses in L.A.B. (12.8; 19.3, 8; 22.7; 25.6; 27.7–8; 33.4–5; 39.7,
11; 40.3; 42.2, 5; 43.7; 46.4; 47.3; 49.3, 6; 50.4–8; 51.2; 52.3; 53.12; 55.1); the noun ōrātio (‘prayer’)
in eight (31.5; 32.7; 39.11; 40.3; 44.10; 50.4–7); the verb exclāmo (‘to cry out’) in five (4.5;
10.4, 5; 32.7, 11); the verb rogo (‘to ask’) in four (15.5; 18.7; 21.3; 62.6); the verb exōro (‘to
persuade by entreaty’) in three (13.2; 33.5; 40.3); and the noun petītio (‘petition’) in 53.11.
The italicized verses are directly related to the prayers of Moses, Amram, Cenaz, Jael, and
Phinehas.
133 Cenaz is the younger brother of Caleb and father of Othniel (Josh 15:17; Judg 1:13; 3:9, 11),
but nothing is recorded about him except his name, neither in the Scriptures nor in other
Jewish literature outside of L.A.B.; cf. Josephus Ant. 5.182 (Κενίαζος). Since Pseudo-Philo
devotes a large portion of L.A.B. to the figure of Cenaz (L.A.B. 25–28), his character is
valuable for detecting themes that are important to Pseudo-Philo.
134 Predico autem vobis hodie quoniam, etsi de domo mea aliquis exierit in sortem peccati, non
salvabitur sed igne concremabitur (“I promise to you today that even if someone from my
own household comes out in the lot of sin, he will not be saved but will be burned in the
fire”); L.A.B. 25.3.
104 CHAPTER 2
be answered (L.A.B. 27.6–8).135 Third, Jael (Lat. Iahel; cf. Judg 4:17–24), much
like Cenaz, takes the initiative in plotting to kill Israel’s enemy Sisera before
waiting for God’s favorable answer to her prayer that God ‘remember’ Israel
(L.A.B. 31.3–9).136
The most convincing example of Pseudo-Philo’s efforts to link intercessory
prayer with zealous action, however, is that the chronology of Moses’ smashing
of the tablets (Exod 32:19) has been reworked in L.A.B. 12.4–10 so that it cor-
responds with the example of Phinehas in L.A.B. 47.137 In the biblical account,
Moses pleads for the people (Exod 32:11–13) and God relents (‫ ;וינחם יהוה‬Exod
32:14) before Moses “burned with anger” (‫ )ויחר־אף‬and smashed the tablets
(Exod 32:19). By contrast, Pseudo-Philo tells the story so that: (1) God com-
mands punishment (L.A.B. 12.4), (2) Moses acts (in a zealous manner)138 in
smashing the tablets (L.A.B. 12.5),139 (3) Moses intercedes for the people (L.A.B.
12.8), and (4) God relents (L.A.B. 12.10). The parallels are striking:
135 In the very next chapter, Cenaz summons Phinehas and pays him great respect as the
time of his death draws near (L.A.B. 28.1–5).
136 Ecce nunc memor esto, Domine . . . Hoc autem signum erit quod facies mihi Domine (“Behold,
now remember, Lord . . . This will be the sign that you act for me, Lord”); L.A.B. 31.5.
137 Yonatan Grossman has suggested that Numbers 25 is linked in several ways to Exodus 32:
“In his zeal for God, Moses commanded the people of his tribe to take ‘each man his
sword,’ and to kill all those who had ‘made sport’ with women. Phinehas, overcome with
zeal for God, had simply internalized what ‘his teacher,’ Moses, ‘taught’ when he came
down from Sinai” (“Divine Command and Human Initiative: A Literary View on Numbers
25–31,” Biblical Interpretation 15, no. 1 [2007]: 60). Perhaps these connections in the bibli-
cal account played some role in prompting Pseudo-Philo to connect these episodes in
regard to intercessory prayer.
138 Admittedly, the parallel would be more convincing if Pseudo-Philo had explicitly referred
to Moses’ act as one of zelus. Yet the apparent necessity of a clear linguistic connection
may be a bit misleading for two reasons. First, as we explored in chapter 1, the shaping
of words is not limited to adjacent sentences. Second, this study has worked backward
from Phinehas to Moses, but of course we encounter Moses first on a ‘left to right’ reading
assumed by the narrative. It may be that Pseudo-Philo was more concerned with showing
the importance of zealous action chronologically than linguistically at this point, after
which he could shape the grab-bag invoked by zelo/zelus in preparation for the prime
example of Phinehas. He does, after all, attribute zelus to Moses after having developed
the theme (L.A.B. 58.1), albeit not specifically in reference to the smashing of the tablets.
It is interesting to note that Moses “spoke with my [God’s] zeal” when he demanded that
Amalek’s name be “destroyed from the earth”
(Disperdam nomen Amalech de terra, que locutus sum sub zelo meo), which is reminis-
cent of “my zeal” applied to Phinehas in Num 25:11 (MT: ‫ ;קנאתי‬Vulg.: zelo meo).
139 Bruce Fisk has argued that the reference to the smashing of the tablets in L.A.B. 19.7, in
which God does the smashing (contrivi tabulas testamenti), indicates that “far from being
Table 2.2 Parallels between Phinehas and Moses in L.A.B.
Phinehas Moses
divine command L.A.B. 45.4: “Because they L.A.B. 12.4: “Because

were not zealous then” (quia the people have become
non sunt tunc zelati), the corrupted” (quoniam corruptus
people are to be destroyed. est populus), they must be
destroyed.
zealous action L.A.B. 47.1: And I was L.A.B. 12.5: “And hastily, he
zealous with the zeal of my smashed them to pieces”
soul, and hoisted both up (et festinans confregit eas).
on my spear (et zelatus sum
zelum anime mee, et ambos
suspendi in romphea mea).
intercessory prayer L.A.B. 47.2–3: “Phinehas L.A.B. 12.8: “Moses went up to
prayed earnestly in his the mountain and prayed to
sight”(attente oraverat Finees the Lord” (ascendit Moyses in
in conspectu eius). montem, et oravit Dominum).
divine acceptance L.A.B. 47.3: God was mindful L.A.B. 12.10: “Behold, I have
“of what Phinehas said” (in eo been made merciful by your
quod dixisti). speech” (Ecce misericors factus
sum iuxta sermons tuos).
Conclusion
That the story of Phinehas’ zeal is ‘poor’ in L.A.B. 18.14 does indeed make
L.A.B. 47.1–3 ‘rich.’ The shaping of the reader’s conceptual repertoire for zeal
simply the destructive act of an enraged human being, destroying the tablets was viewed
as an expression of the divine will” (Do You Not Remember? Scripture, Story and Exegesis
in the Rewritten Bible of Pseudo-Philo [Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001], 273). This
seems unlikely since in L.A.B. 12.5 and in Exod 32:19 Moses clearly does the smashing,
so I am inclined to agree with Jacobson that there is a translation error here from the
Hebrew in L.A.B. 19.7, in which ‫‘( שברת‬you smashed’) was misread as ‫‘( שברתי‬I smashed’)
(Commentary, 1.626). If Pseudo-Philo did intend some ambiguity about the agent of the
smashing, one might expect him to employ the language of Num 25:11 (“he was zealous
with my zeal”) in L.A.B. 47, but this language is not explicitly cited. However intriguing,
Fisk’s proposed reading requires an (overly) sophisticated recollection of biblical refer-
ences on the part of Pseudo-Philo’s readers.
106 CHAPTER 2
articipates in the narrative’s insistence that zealous human initiative is an

p
essential component of efficacious intercessory prayer.140 Such a reading car-
ries with it at least three implications. First, future commentaries and transla-
tions of L.A.B. must make a convincing case before failing to render zelo/zelus
in a consistent manner in L.A.B. 44–47. Second, discussions about textual deci-
sions and conjectures about the original Hebrew underlying the Latin may be
illumined by a clearer understanding of the leitmotiv of zeal that runs through
the book. Finally, and most importantly for our purposes in this chapter, we
have seen an example of the way a Jewish writer utilizes ‘zeal’ to advance an
important rhetorical/theological purpose. In this case, both positive and nega-
tive examples of zealous action were employed so that the cluster of occur-
rences of zelo/zelus invoke evaluations of the proper object to which zeal is
directed in L.A.B. 44–47.
Ζῆλος in the Narrative of Acts

Our treatment of Acts and 1 Clement will be somewhat distinct from the
previous readings. This is because these writings explicitly refer to the figure
and writings of Paul himself. It is beyond the scope of this chapter to con-
sider the textual and thematic influence of Paul and his letters on these later
writings; here we are chiefly concerned with these authors’ strategic use of the
ζηλ- word group.
There are seven occurrences of the ζηλ- word group in Acts. In contrast
to Richard H. Bell’s survey of only the occurrences in Acts that he deems
instances of ‘jealousy’ (5:17; 13:45; 17:5; plus episodes that do not use a form
of ζηλ- [9:23–30; 14:1–7; 14:19; 17:13–14; 18:6, 12–17; 19:9]),141 the reading offered
below considers all seven occurrences. These are spaced throughout the nar-
rative in what I will argue is a purposeful manner: ζηλ- shows up in the name
of a disciple of Jesus (1:13), in the context of Peter’s miraculous signs (5:17), in
Stephen’s monumental speech (7:9), in the first of Paul’s travels (13:45), in the
first of Paul’s rejections from the synagogue (17:5), at Paul’s final arrival into
140 The situation of Pseudo-Philo and the book’s first-century readers is not known, but we
could speculate that these first readers had become lackluster in their petitions to God
and needed reminding of Phinehas’ fervent action. Or, like the Israelites in Judges 17–20,
perhaps they possessed a zeal that was viewed as ungodly and misguided.
141 Provoked, 311–28. Bell is interested in the historical question of the jealousy of the Jews in
relation to Paul’s mission. Supporting his larger thesis that Paul develops his view of jeal-
ousy by studying Deuteronomy 32, Bell concludes that “Luke’s view of jealousy . . . does
not correspond to Paul’s in Rom. 9–11” (Provoked, 327). I will deal extensively with Bell’s
thesis in Chapter Five.
Jerusalem (21:20), and in Paul’s autobiographical speech (22:3). In the reading

that follows, I will briefly examine each of these occurrences to demonstrate
the way the ζηλ- word group is shaped for narrative purposes.
Occurrences in Acts 1–21

ζῆλος Introduced: Acts 1:13. The first occurrence is the cognomen of Jesus’ disci-
ple ‘Simon the Zealot’ (Σίμων ὁ ζηλωτής), who is listed as one of the eleven gath-
ered in an upper room to pray as the disciples await the day of Pentecost. This is
the same title that Simon is given in Luke 6:15 (Σίμωνα τὸν καλούμενον ζηλωτήν).142
While Hengel cites these verses in support of his view that “schon zur Zeit Jesu
eine bestimmte Gruppe im Judentum die Bezeichnung “die Eiferer” trug,” even
Hengel himself acknowledges that “Es handelt sich hier um eine auf alttes-
tamentliche Vorbilder zurückgehende ehrenvolle Selbstbezeichnung.”143 Most
scholars today do not take Luke’s usage to suggest that Simon was a member of
a revolutionary group called the Zealots, and think that he was “called Simon
the Patriot (Zealot) to distinguish him from Simon Peter.”144 This may be true.
In light of the subsequent occurrences, however, the zealous identity of one of
Jesus’ followers may be read as a subtle invitation to consider ζῆλος (especially
‘Jewish zeal’) in relation to his narrative about the early church. Two observa-
tions support this reading: 1) the name Σίμων is a prominent ‘Maccabean’ name,
with 74 uses in the Maccabean literature versus just three in the rest of the OT,145
and 2) the setting of Acts 1:13 is one of piety (“all these were persevering in one
accord in prayer”; 1:14), which, as we have seen in Pseudo-Philo, is regularly
associated with Phinehan zeal.146 By this reading, already in the opening chap-
ter, Luke has proposed the appropriate locus for the zealot: awaiting the Spirit
to be equipped as a witness to all the earth (1:8).
Misdirected ζῆλος#1: Acts 5:17. Just a few chapters later, however, Luke
employs the first in a string of five negative examples of ζῆλος. The high priest
142 Parallels in Matt 10:4 and Mark 3:18 have a transliteration of the Aramaic equivalent
ὁ Καναναῖος (‫)קנאן‬. Luke uses the Greek over the Aramaic elsewhere; e.g., Luke 8:54
(cf. Mark 5:41).
143 Die Zeloten, 74, 78–9; cf. F.F. Bruce, The Acts of the Apostles: The Greek Text with Introduction
and Commentary (3d rev. and enl. ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1990), 106.
144 B DAG, 427. For the state of historical debates and the move away from Hengel’s thesis, see
Mark R. Fairchild (“Paul’s Pre-Christian Zealot Associations: A Re-examination of Gal. 1:14
and Acts 22:3,” NTS 45 [1999], 519–26); Seland (“Saul of Tarsus,” 469); and Richard A.
Horsley (“The Zealots: Their Origin, Relationships and Importance in the Jewish Revolt,”
NovT 28 [1986], 190).
145 Cf. J. Massyngberde Ford, “Zealotism and the Lukan Infancy Narratives,” NovT 18 (1976): 291.
146 Num 25:13; L.A.B. 47.
108 CHAPTER 2
and the Sadducees seize Peter and the other apostles and place them in prison
because the Sadducees were ‘filled with jealousy’ (ἐπλήσθησαν ζήλου; 5:17
NRSV). In keeping with the argument of this book, we might resist deciding
between ‘zeal’ and ‘jealousy’ here, but there can be no doubt that Luke offers
a negative evaluation of their ζῆλος. The Sadducees, who control the council
and enjoy a share of power in Jerusalem, are apparently envious of the ‘multi-
tudes’ (πλήθη, 5:14) being added to the church. Politically, they may have feared
that the apostles’ popularity would have dire consequences for public security147
and subsequently for the Sadducees’ own good standing with the Romans. We
might speculate that Luke’s first readers had images associated with the unful-
filled political aspirations of the Zealots of 66–70 CE activated from their grab-
bag for ζῆλος here. At the very least, the narrative evaluates ζῆλος that opposes
the church negatively, and makes clear that such ζῆλος is futile in relation to
the activity that the Lord has in mind for the apostles (cf. 5:19–20). The proper
activity of proclaiming the gospel in the temple courts is set in contradistinction
with the misguided ζῆλος of the Sadducees.
Misdirected ζῆλος#2: Acts 7:9. Two chapters later, Luke reinforces the motif
of misguided ζῆλος in the speech of Stephen: “the patriarchs, ζηλώσαντες τὸν
Ἰωσὴφ, sold him into Egypt” (7:9). Stephen fuses two verses from Genesis
(ἐζήλωσαν . . . Ιωσηφ . . . ὃν ἀπέδοσθε εἰς Αἴγυπτον Gen 37:11; 45:4 LXX) to draw a
parallel between the rejection of Joseph by the patriarchs and the rejection of
Jesus by the Jewish people.148 In ways that distinguish it from other writings,
the content of Stephen’s speech contributes to the motif of ζῆλος in the larger
narrative of Acts. No other ancient summaries of the Joseph story, including
Psalm 105, Joshua 24, Nehemiah 9 (2 Esdras 19), and Judith 5, make reference to
the ζῆλος of the patriarchs.149 This becomes significant toward the end of Acts,
since Stephen’s witness (cf. Στεφάνου τοῦ μάρτυρός; 22:20) foreshadows the wit-
ness (μάρτυς) of Paul in 22:15 and 26:16. Stephen is accused by his opponents of
apostasy against God, the temple, and the law (6:8–15), but significantly these
standards of Jewish ζῆλος, especially the law (e.g., Philo, Spec. 2.253 [ζηλωταὶ
νόμων]), are given a positive emphasis throughout his speech.150 Stephen is
stoned for calling attention to the misdirection and disobedience of the Jews,
147 Cf. Bruce, Acts, 170.

148 See further Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Acts of the Apostles (AB 31; New York: Doubleday,
1998), 373.
149 See further Earl Richard, “The Polemical Character of the Joseph Episode in Acts 7,” JBL
98, no. 2 (1979), 258.
150 This point is also noted by Arland J. Hultgren (“Paul’s Pre-Christian Persecutions of the
Church: Their Purpose, Locale, and Nature,” JBL 95, no. 1 [1976], 98).
but is himself enthusiastic for these markers of Jewish identity. Thus Stephen’s
reference to ζῆλος has a double function as an example of misguided ζῆλος but
also a positive example of the ζῆλος of a Christ-follower.
Misguided ζῆλος#3: Acts 13:45. If the narrative has already established
that misdirected ζῆλος opposes the authentic ζῆλος of Peter and Stephen, in
chapter 13 the attention turns toward the figure who not only dominates the
second half of Acts but will emerge as the exemplar of redirected ζῆλος. In this
sense it is appropriate that the third example of misguided ζῆλος falls at the
beginning of Paul’s missionary travels. Following Paul’s synagogue speech in
Pisidian Antioch (13:13–41), a follow-up speech to the entire city results in a
positive reception to the message about Jesus and a backlash by some in the
Jewish leadership. Acts 13 marks the first time Paul is rejected in the synagogue,
but Luke has already made four references to the Jews’ antagonism towards
Paul in addition to the misdirection inherent in the Sadducee (5:17) and
Stephen (7:9) episodes: 9:22; 9:23; 12:3; 12:11.151
Luke uses the exact wording of 5:17 in 13:45 (ἐπλήσθησαν ζήλου) to express
the ζῆλος of the Jews over the inclusion of Gentiles in the promises rooted in
Judaism (13:46). The presence of the προσηλύτοι (13:43) implies general Jewish
good will toward Gentiles,152 but Paul’s message elicits a negative ζῆλος.153
Once again, misdirected ζῆλος characterizes the Jews who oppose the message
about Jesus, and once again Luke spells out the contrasting activity: Paul and
Barnabas are commanded to be a φῶς ἐθνῶν to bring σωτηρίαν ἕως ἐσχάτου τῆς
γῆς (13:47; Isa 49:6 LXX).
Misguided ζῆλος#4: Acts 17:5. The incident in Pisidian Antioch is repeated in
Thessalonica in Acts 17. The Jews become ‘jealous’ (ζηλώσαντες . . . οἱ Ἰουδαῖοι;
17:5) and incite an entire mob to riot in search of Paul and those who had
housed him (17:5–9).154 Thus the misguided ζῆλος of the Jews in Luke’s narra-
151 Luke uses οἱ Ἰουδαῖοι seventy-seven times in reference to those who oppose Paul versus
just nine times apart from Paul; cf. Luke Timothy Johnson, “Luke-Acts, Book of,” ABD 4.417.
152 See further John J. Kilgallen, “Hostility to Paul in Pisidian Antioch (Acts 13:45): Why?”
Biblica 84 (2003), 12.
153 Darrel L. Bock has noted the same: “[Z]eal for covenant has blinded [the Jews at Pisidian
Antioch] from seeing the breakthrough of God’s promise, with the result that positive
zeal has become negative by cutting short the ultimate promise intended in the law” (Acts
[BECNT; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007], 462–3).
154 Cf. 1 Thess 2:14–16. It is possible that Luke here alludes to the Zealots of 66–70 CE because
of the word θορυβέω (‘stir up’). This verb is connected with the ‘pride of Israel’ (ὕβριν τοῦ
Ισραηλ) in Nah 2:3–4 LXX, and Josephus uses similar wording to Acts 17:5 when he writes
that “the Zealots were stirring up . . . ” (οἱ ζηλωταὶ δ᾿ ἐθορύβουν, J.W. 4.340).
110 CHAPTER 2
tive is firmly established in contrast to the growing success of Paul’s missionary

endeavors (17:4).
Misguided (?) ζῆλος#5: The Jewish Believers of Acts 21:20. As Paul makes his
final entrance into Jerusalem four chapters later, Luke suddenly expands the
paradigm of ζῆλος to include a group of Jewish believers (ἐν τοῖς Ἰουδαίοις τῶν
πεπιστευκότων) who are ζηλωταὶ τοῦ νόμου (21:20).155 These ‘myriads’ of believing
Jews have been formally instructed (κατηχέω; 21:21) that Paul is guilty of teach-
ing “apostasy from Moses.”156 ἀποστασία is used in Num 14:9 LXX and Josh 22:16,
22 LXX to indicate rebellion against God and his law, and Luke’s use in 21:21
echoes the accusations against Stephen in 6:8–15 (βλάσφημα εἰς Μωϋσῆν; 6:11).
Luke’s usage is highly reminiscent of the descriptions of the icons of ‘Jewish
ζῆλος’ in 1 Maccabees: Phinehas (ἐζήλωσεν τῷ νόμῳ; 2:26), Mattathias (ὁ ζηλῶν
τῷ νόμῳ; 2:27; ζηλώσατε τῷ νόμῳ; 2:50), and Elijah (Ηλιας ἐν τῷ ζηλῶσαι ζῆλον
νόμου; 2:58; cf. Num 25:11 [Phinehas]).
What is not clear in this episode is the relationship between the Jews who
have been characterized by ζῆλος (5:17; 13:45; 17:5) and the Jewish believers
who are described the same way in 21:20. That Luke calls them ζηλωταί invites
a comparison with Simon (1:13), and leaves it ambiguous as to whether their
ζῆλος is to be evaluated positively or negatively. Tellingly, this is not the only
element in the episode that is ripe with irony and ambiguity: Paul goes along
with the Jerusalem elders’ plan to appease the believers by participating in a
vow (21:24), but is arrested by the Jews while carrying it out seven days later
(21:27). Perhaps this episode functions as a question for Luke’s readers about
the compatibility of ζῆλος with Paul’s mission, which finds an answer in the
final chapters.
Paul as Exemplar of Redirected Ζῆλος in Acts 22

The invitation to follow Paul’s example is explicitly provided when Luke makes
a connection between the ambiguous ζηλωταί of 21:20 and Paul the ζηλωτής of
22:3.157 In 21:38, the Chiliarch mistakenly interprets the charges against Paul to
155 While many translators and commentators (e.g., NRSV, NIV, KJV, NET) have translated
ζηλωτής (Acts 21:20, 22:3, cf. Gal 1:14) as an adjective (‘zealous’), presumably to dissociate
Paul from the later ‘Zealot movement’ of the war with Rome, it is indeed the noun and
better rendered ‘zealots’ (cf. BDAG, 427). In the LXX, the adjective form of ‫ קנא‬is trans-
lated by ζηλωτής in Exod 20:5; 34:14; Deut 4:24; 5:9; 6:15 (cf. ‫ קנוא‬as ζηλωτής in Nah 1:2); but
this does not thereby make ζηλωτής an adjective.
156 Philo employs very similar phrasing in Spec. 2.253: μυρίοι γὰρ ἔφοροι, ζηλωταὶ νόμων,
φύλακες τῶν πατρίων ἀκριβέστατοι.
157 Cf. Fairchild: “Luke is intentionally uniting James’s assertion with Paul’s claim”
(“Associations,” 531).
mean that he was part of a band of Sicarii revolutionaries (ἄνδρας τῶν σικαρίων),
which prepares the way for the climactic identification of Paul as ζηλωτής in
22:3.158 This final occurrence in the book of Acts leaves little unanswered as
Paul tells his story before the Jerusalem crowd:
I am a Jewish man . . . educated according to the perfect manner of the

patriarchal law, being a zealot for God [ζηλωτὴς ὑπάρχων τοῦ θεοῦ] just as
all of you are today. I persecuted this Way. . . . [S]uddenly from heaven a
great light flashed around me . . . And I fell onto the ground and heard a
voice saying to me, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” But I said,
“What do I do, Lord?”. . . . But a certain Ananias . . . said . . . “you will be his
witness to all the peoples of what you have seen and heard” (Acts 22:3–15).
In this second of three accounts of Paul’s experience (cf. 9:1–22; 26:1–23),

ζηλωτής interrupts the rhythmic pattern of five parallel linguistic units in 22:3,
because ζηλωτής occurs before the participle rather than after it.159 Thus in
Paul’s speech it is Paul’s ζῆλος that initiates a strong affinity with his audience
(22:3), and it is upon this foundation that Paul details his call to be a witness to
the nations (22:6–21).160 In Luke’s narrative, then, the use of the motif of ζῆλος
helps to indicate that Paul’s conversion was not apostasy but an act of obedi-
ence to God.161
Even the principal characters in Luke’s telling of Paul’s story are character-
ized in ways that emphasize their roots in the ζῆλος tradition: Paul himself is
educated in Jerusalem by a respected rabbi (22:3), he prays in the temple and
receives a vision there (22:17), and his activities are well known in Jerusalem
(22:19); God is referred to as ὁ θεὸς τῶν πατέρων ἡμῶν (22:14); and Ananias is
introduced not as a Christian but as a devout Jew (22:12).162 Luke’s Paul invites
158 Cf. Josephus, J.W. 2.254–57; Ant. 20.186.

159 The five parallel units in 22:3 are introduced by (1) ἐγώ εἰμι, (2) γεγεννημένος, (3)
ἀνατεθραμμένος, (4) πεπαιδευμένος, and (5) ζηλωτὴς ὑπάρχων τοῦ θεοῦ. ζηλωτὴς before the
participle draws attention to the noun and gives it special prominence, just as in, e.g.,
προφήτης οὖν ὑπάρχων (Acts 2:30). Andrie B. du Toit cites twelve other examples in the
book of Acts where this foregrounding of the complement serves to give it special promi-
nence (“A Tale of Two Cities: ‘Tarsus or Jerusalem’ Revisited,” NTS 46 [2000], 384).
160 This progression is noted by I. Howard Marshall (The Book of Acts: An Introduction and
Commentary [Downers Grove: IVP, 1980], 354–55) and Bock (Acts, 659).
161 See further du Toit, “Tale,” 386.
162 These features are also noted by Robert C. Tannehill (The Narrative Unity of Luke-Acts:
A Literary Interpretation, Vol. 2: The Acts of the Apostles [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990],
278–79).
112 CHAPTER 2
the Jewish audience to recognize themselves in the story, to act like Ananias
and answer the call of the ‘Righteous One’ (τὸν δίκαιον; 22:14). By extension,
Luke’s narrative invites model readers to recognize themselves in the story, to
redirect their own ζῆλος in the pattern of Peter and Stephen, and now preemi-
nently in the pattern of Paul.163
Conclusion
Paul’s argument that his mission represents the authentic expression of Jewish
ζῆλος is not well received (22:22), but Luke’s story is not quite finished. The
threefold repetition of Paul’s conversion in the narrative of Acts has already
suggested the importance of ‘turning’ (cf. μετανοεῖν καὶ ἐπιστρέφειν ἐπὶ τὸν θεόν;
26:20).164 The final chapters show Paul as the prime model for redirected ζῆλος.
The one who had exhibited violence like Phinehas of old (Acts 22:4; cf. 1 Macc
2:24–26; Josephus, J.W. 2.651) becomes the apostle who “proclaimed the good
news of peace” (10:36)165 to Israel and to the ends of the earth (1:8; 22:21; 28:31).166
Paul represents the validity of hope for the ζηλωτής because Paul is the epit-
ome of Jewish ζῆλος (cf. 22:3–5) and becomes a witness to Jesus’ resurrection
(22:6–8). Thus from the first example of misguided ζῆλος (5:17) to the last words
of Acts, the message about Jesus overcomes misdirected zeal and continues
to spread through the witness of the followers of the Way (κηρύσσων . . . μετὰ
πάσης παρρησίας ἀκωλύτως). The shaping of the occurrences of the ζηλ- word
group have contributed to the narrative’s invitation to join in that witness.
Excursus: Ζῆλος in 1 Clement

To conclude this chapter, it will be useful to consider the use of the ζηλ-word
group in 1 Clement.167 Since the author almost certainly knows 1 Corinthians
163 Bill T. Arnold notes how Luke’s understanding of Heilsgeschichte seems to make Peter,
Stephen, and Paul ideological extensions of the OT story as they participate in and con-
tinue that salvation history (“Luke’s Characterizing Use of the Old Testament in the Book
of Acts,” in History, Literature, and Society in the Book of Acts [ed. Ben Witherington III;
New York: Cambridge University Press, 1996], 320–3).
164 On Luke’s uses of μετάνοια and its cognates, see Guy D. Nave, The Role and Function of
Repentance in Luke-Acts (Atlanta: SBL, 2002).
165 εὐαγγελιζόμενος εἰρήνην are the words of Peter in Acts 10:36, but are certainly consistent
with Luke’s presentation of Paul.
166 Fairchild also suggests that in addition to ‘apostle,’ Luke saw the title ‘zealot’ as a further
defining designation for Paul; “Associations,” 532.
167 I will refer here to the author of this letter as ‘Clement,’ though I make no claims that this
letter was written by a bishop in Rome (though this claim was made as early as Irenaeus
[Haer. 3.3.3]).
(to be discussed in Chapter Four) and probably Romans (Chapter Five),

Clement’s reception of Paul’s passages involving ζῆλος is worthy of attention.168
Our interests here, however, are more limited. The question asked is the same
as that posed to the rest of the texts considered in this chapter: how does the
repeated use of the ζηλ-word group shape the model reader’s mental encyclo-
pedic entry?
Discussions about ζῆλος in 1 Clement have focused almost exclusively on
the concept of ‘jealousy’ as a vice, and not without reason. Hellenistic writers
regularly give attention to ζῆλος in ways we would describe in English using
the words ‘jealousy’ or ‘envy,’ and early Christian writers are no exception.
Matthew W. Dickie’s assessment is typical:
The Fathers of the Church were the products of a culture that was acutely
conscious of envy; they possessed a profound understanding of its nature
and at the same time were convinced that it was an ever-present threat.
In these circumstances it is not surprising that they should have read
their own preoccupations into the Bible. What the Fathers of the Church
were concerned about when they spoke of phthonos, baskania or zēlos,
or if they were writing in Latin, invidia, livor, zelus, or aemulatio, was a
grudging, mean-spirited condition of mind.169
168 The standard discussion remains that of Donald A. Hagner (The Use of the Old and New
Testaments in Clement of Rome [NovTSup 34; Leiden: Brill, 1973]), but for a survey of
more recent treatments, see the helpful essays by Andrew F. Gregory (“1 Clement and the
Writings that later Formed the New Testament,” in The Reception of the New Testament in
the Apostolic Fathers [ed. Andrew F. Gregory and Christopher M. Tuckett; Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2005], 129–57) and Andreas Lindemann (“Paul’s Influence on ‘Clement’
and Ignatius,” in Trajectories through the New Testament and the Apostolic Fathers [ed.
Andrew F. Gregory and Christopher M. Tuckett; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005],
9–24). One example that prompts questions about Clement’s use of ζῆλος is the possible
allusion to 1 Cor 9:24 (εἷς δὲ λαμβάνει τὸ βραβεῖον; “one receives the prize”) in 1 Clem. 5.5:
διὰ ζῆλον καὶ ἔριν Παῦλος ὑπομονῆς βραβεῖον ὑπέδειξεν (“Because of ζῆλος and strife Paul
showed the prize for endurance”); cf. Edward N. O’Neil, “De cupiditate divitiarum (Moralia
523C–528B),” in Plutarch’s Ethical Writings and Early Christian Literature (ed. Hans Dieter
Betz; Leiden: Brill, 1978), 306. Robert M. Grant and Holt H. Graham suggest that Clement
is dependent on Acts for the portrait of Paul and the ζῆλος displayed by the Jews (First and
Second Clement [ApFa 2; New York: Thomas Nelson & Sons, 1965], 23), but more recent
scholarship has raised serious questions about this assumption (e.g., Gregory, “1 Clement,”
140–42, 148).
169 “Envy,” ABD 2.529.
114 CHAPTER 2
Most of the 23 occurrences of the ζηλ- word group in 1 Clement seem to fit
Dickie’s assessment well, and interpreters regularly view the vice ζῆλος (often
with the collocate ἔρις; cf. 1 Clem. 3.2; 5.5; 6.4; 9.1) as the organizing motif of
chs. 4–12.170 There is not space to treat Clement’s usage in a comprehensive
manner.171 It should be noted, however, that in ch. 4 Clement presents seven
instances of the negative effects of ζῆλος from OT history (4.7–13), followed
by seven further statements involving the apostles in chs. 5–6 (5.2–6.4).172
Therefore Clement’s use of the term ζῆλος (in chs. 4–6 and beyond; cf. 9.1; 14.1;
39.7; 43.2; 45.5; 63.2) might be read as part of the rhetoric against negative vices,
but perhaps more so as a description of those who oppose God’s righteous
ones: Cain against Abel (4.6–7), Esau against Jacob (4.8), the brothers against
Joseph (4.9), the people against Moses (4.10) and Aaron and Miriam (4.11),
Dathan and Abiram against Moses (4.12), Saul against David (4.13), the people
against Peter (5.4), the people against Paul (5.5–7), and the persecutors against
Christian women (6.2).
It is somewhat shocking, then, that Clement implores his readers to be ‘zeal-
ots’ in 45.1: Φιλόνεικοί ἐστε, ἀδελφοί, καὶ ζηλωταὶ περὶ τῶν ἀνηκόντων εἰς σωτηρίαν.
The Loeb edition translates, “You should strive hard, brothers, and be zealous
in matters that pertain to salvation.”173 However, recognizing that ζηλωτής is a
170 Cf. Adolf W. Ziegler, Neue Studien zum ersten Klemensbrief (Munich: Manz, 1958), 77.
Timothy Gaden writes, “The chief sin Clement believes he has to combat is that of
jealousy or rivalry . . . and the false claims to knowledge that this engenders” (“ ‘Chosen
as a Peculiar People’: Christian Traditions and Hellenistic Philosophy in 1 Clement,”
Colloquium 34 [2002]: 43). Writing on Plutarch, Hubert Martin Jr. writes, “In ECL, [ζῆλος
and ἔρις] are rather common vices. . . . They are emphatically coordinated by 1 Clement
at 3:2 and 4:7” (“Amatorius [Moralia 748E–771E],” in Plutarch’s Ethical Writings and
Early Christian Literature [ed. Hans Dieter Betz; Leiden: Brill, 1978], 529); and Jackson P.
Hershbell notes that catalogues of vices are “developed with homiletical breadth accord-
ing to ethical catch-words, e.g., the warning against vices and the exhortation to exercise
virtues in 1 Clem is organized about terms such as ζῆλος (chs. 3–6)” (“De virtute morali
[Moralia 440D–452D],” in Plutarch’s Ethical Writings and Early Christian Literature [ed.
Hans Dieter Betz; Leiden: Brill, 1978], 143).
171 Among the features of potential relevance for this study are Clement’s focus on Cain in
ch. 4 (Cain is sometimes etymologically analyzed as ‫ ;קנא‬cf. Pseudo-Clementine, Hom.
3.42.7) and the citation of Deut 32:15 in 1 Clem. 3.2 (παραζηλόω in Deut 32:21 seems to lie
behind Paul’s usage in Romans 10–11 [cf. 1 Cor 10:33]).
172 See further the summary in Grant and Graham, First and Second, 22–3.
173 Ehrman, LCL. The imperative is the preferred reading of J.B. Lightfoot (“Be ye contentious,
brethren, and jealous . . .”; The Apostolic Fathers Part 1: S. Clement, Ignatius, and Polycarp,
Pt. 1, Vol. 2 [London: Macmillan, 1890], 294), Grant and Graham (“Be emulous, brethren,
and in eager rivalry . . .”; First and Second, 74), and Michael W. Holmes (“Be competitive
noun and not an adjective (the adjective form is ζηλωτός),174 the sentence in
45.1 is better translated, “Be desirous, brothers, and zealots for the things that
relate to salvation.” What is clear is that in 45.1 there is a positive assessment
of one who has ζῆλος, which stands in direct contrast with the presentation of
‘zealots’ in Clement’s earlier chapters.
The textual tradition suggests that interpreters have sometimes struggled
to accept this positive assessment. Editors who examined Codex Alexandrinus
(5th century) before Lightfoot’s time supplied the negative μή (rather than
τῶν) in the lacuna before the word ἀνηκόντων. This emendation would then
suggest taking ἐστε as an indicative, yielding the translation, “You are conten-
tious and are zealots, brothers, for the things that do not pertain to salvation.”
The Syriac version (preserved only in a 12th-century manuscript) likewise
takes ἐστε as an indicative and is forced to supply the negative in the latter
part of the sentence.175 Nevertheless, scholars now widely agree on the reading
τῶν ἀνηκόντων, particularly since this is the reading that appears in the well-
respected Codex Hierosolymitanus (11th century).176 The imperative under-
standing of ἐστε also coheres with the series of imperatives that follow (e.g.,
46.4; 47.1; 48.1; 49.1).
Upon closer inspection, Clement’s plea for his readers to be ‘zealots’
(ζηλωταί) is perhaps not as abrupt as some readers have surmised. Just a few
lines later, Clement explicitly qualifies ζῆλος as “vile and unrighteous”:
ἐδιώχθησαν δίκαιοι, ἀλλ᾿ ὑπὸ ἀνόμων· ἐφυλακίσθησαν, ἀλλ᾿ ὑπὸ ἀνοσίων·

ἐλιθάσθησαν ὑπὸ παρανόμων· ἀπεκτάνθησαν ὑπὸ τῶν μιαρὸν καὶ ἄδικον ζῆλον
ἀνειληφότων.
and zealous, brothers, but about the things that relate to salvation”; The Apostolic Fathers:
Greek Texts and English Translations [3d ed.; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007], 105).
Ehrman includes the alternative translation of ἐστε as an indicative (“You are contentious,
brothers, and envious” [LCL]), and Holmes includes the footnote “Or You are competitive”
(Apostolic, 105), but Lightfoot rightly points out that the indicative should be ruled out
without an emendation (Apostolic, 137; see further below).
174 Cf. BDAG, 427; LSJ, 755. Most translators incorrectly translate this noun as an adjective
in Gal 1:14 (e.g., NRSV, NIV, CEB, KJV, Lutherbibel), probably due to the use of ζηλωτής to
translate the adjective form of ‫ קנא‬in Exod 20:5; 34:14; Deut 4:24; 5:9; 6:15; Nah 1:2 (better
‘God the zealot,’ or ‘God the jealous one’). Ortlund uses ‘zealous’ to avoid the impres-
sion that Paul identifies himself with the Zealotic party of 66–70 CE (Zeal Without
Knowledge, 140).
175 Cf. R.H. Kennet and R.L. Bensly, The Epistles of S. Clement to the Corinthians in Syriac
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1899); cited in Lightfoot, Apostolic, 137.
176 See also the similar phrase in Barn. 17.1: τῶν ἀνηκόντων εἰς σωτηρίαν.
116 CHAPTER 2
The righteous were persecuted, but by the lawless; they were imprisoned,
but by the unholy; they were stoned by transgressors; they were killed by
those who had undertaken a vile and unrighteous ζῆλος. (1 Clem. 45.4)
In fact, many of the other 22 occurrences in 1 Clement have a similar qualifica-

tion (ζῆλον ἄδικον καὶ ἀσεβῆ [3.4]; ζῆλον ἄδικον [5.4]; τὸ εἰς θάνατον ἄγον ζῆλος
[9.1]; μυσεροῦ ζήλους [14.1]; τὴν ἀθέμιτον τοῦ ζήλους ὑμῶν ὀργὴν [63.2]); in the
other instances, the object and collocates (ἔρις, φθόνος, etc.) are what provide
the evaluation.
So although the occurrence in 45.1 is unique, it is not accurate to suggest that
for Clement ζῆλος is “a grudging, mean-spirited condition of mind.”177 Though
his translation differs, Lightfoot posits a paraphrase in his commentary that
captures the way the text has shaped the reader’s perceptions about ζῆλος:
“Contend zealously, if you will, but let your zeal be directed to things pertain-
ing to salvation.”178 Given our examination to this point, it is not surprising
that it is the object of ζῆλος that determines its evaluation, and even more, that
Clement uses the question of what rightly-directed ζῆλος looks like to further
his rhetorical aims.179
Summary
In this chapter, I examined the use of the ζηλ- word group in selected texts. In
our reading of Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations, concepts, emotions, and images
associated with ‘ζῆλος/aemulatio for virtue’ were activated even when clearly
negative collocates were present. In Lycurgus and Numa, we observed how
examples of who and what to emulate participate in Plutarch’s case against
the warring ways of Rome. Likewise, in Sirach, Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum,
177 “Envy,” ABD 2.529.

178 Apostolic, 137; cf. Lightfoot’s additional summary of ch. 45: “Your zeal is misplaced, my
brethren . . . ” (Apostolic, 136).
179 In this sense it is not surprising that the other word coordinated by ἐστε in 45.1 must also
be evaluated by its object. Although φιλόνεικος has a negative connotation in 1 Cor 11:16
(εἰ δέ τις δοκεῖ φιλόνεικος εἶναι, ἡμεῖς τοιαύτην συνήθειαν οὐκ ἔχομεν; cf. Philo, Legat. 198
et al.), the concept can also be viewed favorably (cf. BDAG, 1058). Tellingly, Josephus uses
the word positively and negatively in close proximity (Ant. 15.156: φιλόνεικος ὢν ἐκδικῆσαι
τὰς παρανομίας [“being desirous to revenge the wrongdoing”); Ant. 15.166: Υρκανὸς ἐπιεικείᾳ
τρόπου . . . φιλόνεικος δ᾿ ἦν Ἀλεξάνδρα [“Hyrcanus was of a mild temper, but Alexandra was
contentious”]).
Acts, and 1 Clement, the clusters and sequences of occurrences prompted the
question of the objects to which ζῆλος can properly be directed (‘ζῆλος for the
good’). Although far from exhaustive, these readings indicate that the ζηλ- word
group is particularly amenable to rhetorical shaping. In the following chapters,
I will explore the way the patterns we have observed in these rhetorical and lin-
guistic analogues inform our readings of key passages in the Pauline epistles.
CHAPTER 3
Redefining ‘The Good’: Ζῆλος in the Letter to the

Galatians
Having provided the theoretical warrant for considering all occurrences of the
ζηλ-word group together (Chapter One), and having explored several examples
of texts in which the shaping of the ζηλ- word group is utilized for rhetori-
cal purposes (Chapter Two), we now turn to the first text for closer examina-
tion of Paul’s strategies, Gal 4:12–20. This marks a shift in the monograph, from
an exploration of linguistic theory and literary analogues to a specific thesis
concerning the interpretation of Galatians. The chapter includes an excursus
on the importance of ζηλωτής in Gal 1:14 as well as treatment of ζῆλος in 5:20,
but the primary focus of the chapter is the new reading of Gal 4:12–20.
Rightly-Directed Ζῆλος in Galatians 4:12–201
Paul’s personal appeal in Gal 4:12–20 is often read as an emotional excursus

from the main argument of Paul’s letter to the Galatians, an “argument of
the heart”2 nestled between the methodical exegesis concerning inheritance
and descent (3:6–4:7) and the famous allegory of Hagar and Sarah (4:21–31).
Hans Dieter Betz has insisted that when 4:12–20 is read as an argument from
pathos it is “neither inconsistent nor lacking argumentative force,” but even
Betz’s perceptive reading leaves several elements of the passage difficult to
integrate with the letter as a whole.3 Interpreters interested in the concept of
1 An earlier version of this section appeared under the title “Misdirected Emulation and
Paradoxical Zeal: Paul’s Redefinition of ‘The Good’ as Object of ζῆλος in Gal 4:12–20,” JBL 131,
no. 4 (2012): 775–96.
2 “[E]in Argument des Herzens”: Heinrich Schlier, Der Brief an die Galater (KEK 7; Göttingen:
Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1962), 208; cf. Franz Mußner, Der Galaterbrief (HTKNT 9; Freiburg:
Herder, 1974), 304–5; Pierre Bonnard, L‘épitre de Saint Paul aux Galates (Neuchatel: Delachaux
& Niestlé, 1972), 90; Ernest DeWitt Burton, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the
Epistle to the Galatians (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1921), 235.
3 Galatians: A Commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Churches in Galatia (Philadelphia: Fortress,
1979), 221; cf. George A. Kennedy, New Testament Interpretation Through Rhetorical Criticism
(Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1984), 150. Betz argues that 4:12–20 is best
understood as an instance of pathetic persuasion utilizing a string of topoi that distinguish
“‘true’ and ‘false’ friendship.” I am in agreement with Betz about the way Paul uses the

Redefining ‘ The Good ’ : ΖΗΛΟΣ in the letter to the Galatians 119
‘imitation’ in Paul’s letters sometimes recognize Gal 4:12 (γίνεσθε ὡς ἐγώ . . . )

as an instance in which Paul calls for imitation of himself without using the
language of mimēsis employed elsewhere (e.g., 1 Cor 4:16; 11:1; Phil 3:17; 1 Thess
1:6–7; 2 Thess 3:6–13), but the passage as a whole has not been found useful to
these interpreters either and remains a puzzle to most.4
Among the many curiosities within these verses, the phrase καλὸν δὲ
ζηλοῦσθαι ἐν καλῷ (v. 18) continues to leave interpreters “resort[ing] to
guesswork”5 because of three difficulties involving the verb ζηλόω. First, the
options for translating ζηλόω in this context are numerous, including ‘to be
zealous (for),’ ‘to be envious (of),’ ‘to emulate,’ and ‘to court.’6 Second, the infin-
itive ζηλοῦσθαι can be taken as middle (NIV: “It is fine to be zealous, provided
the purpose is good”) or passive (NRSV: “It is good to be made much of for
a good purpose”).7 Third, the subject and object of the verb are unspecified,
which makes it unclear whether Paul speaks of his own ζῆλος for the Galatians
in contrast to that of ‘the Teachers’ or of the Galatians’ ζῆλος for Paul or
another object.8
Recently, Steven Kraftchick and Troy Martin, building on the work of Betz
and George A. Kennedy, have explored Paul’s use of the language of ζῆλος
language of ζῆλος “for the purpose of discrediting his opponents in the eyes of the Galatians”
(Galatians, 230), and indeed I am indebted to Betz’s analysis of his many Greek and Latin
sources. As will become clear throughout this chapter, my point of departure from Betz’s
reading involves the language of ζῆλος in vv. 17–18 and its relationship to Paul’s wider strategy
regarding ζῆλος and ‘the good.’
4 See Chapter Four for a survey of works on imitation in Paul. Brian J. Dodd offers a help-
ful treatment of both Gal 4:12 and relation of imitation to Paul as mother in 4:19, but Dodd
makes no attempt to draw together vv. 12–20 as a whole and makes no mention of vv. 17–18
(Paul’s Paradigmatic “I”: Personal Example As Literary Strategy [JSNTSup 177; Sheffield:
Sheffield Academic, 1999], 161–66).
5 Betz, Galatians, 231.
6 For the reasons specified in Chapter One, I do not translate the ζῆλος/ζηλόω word group
in order to avoid premature application of the English connotations of ‘zeal,’ ‘zealot,’ ‘envy,’
and the like. As addressed in Chapter Two, I am assuming that ζηλόω has the sense ‘to have
ζῆλος (for . . .),’ just as ζηλωτής refers to ‘one who has ζῆλος (for . . . ).’
7 Both options for translating the infinitive are common in German and French transla-
tions as well; e.g., a middle translation is found in the Elberfelder Bible (“Es ist aber gut,
allezeit im Guten zu eifern”) and passive translations are found in Schlier (“Gut ißt es, wenn
man im Guten allezeit umworben wird”; Galater, 208) and Bonnard (“Il est bon d’être recher-
ché”; Galates, 91).
8 Throughout this chapter I adopt J. Louis Martyn’s designation for Paul’s opponents
(Theological Issues in the Letters of Paul [Nashville: Abingdon, 1997], 7–24; Galatians [AB 33A;
New York: Doubleday, 1997], 117–26).
120 CHAPTER 3
within 4:12–20.9 Giving particular attention to Aristotle’s definition of ζῆλος

as a positive emotion (Rhet. 2.11) and to the activity Paul describes in vv. 13–14
(“I first preached to you because of a weakness of the flesh . . . you received
me as an angel of God, as Christ Jesus”), both scholars endorse the idea that
“4:18 corresponds to 4:13–14; the traits to be emulated are those the Galatians
already had before the teachers.”10 In addition, although he does not develop
the idea, Kraftchick suggests in a footnote that “Paul reverses Aristotle’s set
of values. He refers to the earlier reception by the Galatians when they were
zealous for one who did not possess virtue or power.”11 It is my contention
that when Paul’s language in vv. 17–18 is more exhaustively probed in light of
the language of ζῆλος in the Greek tradition, Kraftchick’s conjecture shown to
be correct. It also becomes possible to offer a satisfying contextual sense for
the thrice-repeated ζηλόω in vv. 17–18 that helps explain the frustratingly vague
wording of Paul’s call to imitation in v. 12 (γίνεσθε ὡς ἐγώ ὅτι κἀγὼ ὡς ὑμεῖς;
“Become as I, for I also as you”) and resonates with the themes and purposes of
the letter as a whole.
Drawing attention to the way that ζηλόω is defined by its object in Greek lit-
erature, particularly when it is used in contexts involving emulation/imitation,
I will argue that Paul utilizes the language of ζῆλος to reshape the behavior of
those who are fervently dedicated to something (ζηλωτοί) by subverting the
objects of emulation that are regularly associated with having ‘ζῆλος for the
good’ in Greek literature.12 Specifically, I will show that in place of the ‘good’
object of ζῆλος sought by Paul’s opponents, namely fame and the power to
exclude (4:17), Paul substitutes paradoxical, cruciform weakness as the defi-
nition of ‘the good’ for zealous Christ-followers. After surveying the relevant
history of interpretation of 4:18, examining the concept of ‘ζῆλος for the good’
in Greek literature, and demonstrating the significance of καλὸν δὲ ζηλοῦσθαι
ἐν καλῷ for interpreting 4:12–20, I will conclude this chapter by showing how
this reading resonates with important themes in the letter as a whole as well as
with the language of ζῆλος elsewhere in the Pauline corpus.
9 Steven J. Kraftchick, “Πάθη in Paul: The Emotional Logic of ‘Original Argument,’” in Paul
and Pathos (ed. Thomas H. Olbricht and Jerry L. Sumney; Atlanta: SBL, 2001), 61–63; Troy W.
Martin, “The Voice of Emotion: Paul’s Pathetic Persuasion (Gal 4:12–20),” in Paul and
Pathos (ed. Thomas H. Olbricht and Jerry L. Sumney; Atlanta: SBL, 2001), 182–83.
10 Kraftchick, “Πάθη,” 61; cf. Martin, “Voice,” 194.
11 “Πάθη,” 63 n. 38. Kraftchick does not give attention to the language of ζῆλος outside of
Aristotle’s definition nor to the relationship between the language of ζῆλος and ‘the good.’
Both of these elements will be critical in the argument of this chapter.
12 See also the analysis of this topos in select Latin literature in Chapter Two. Here I will
focus the analysis on Greek sources with more immediate relevance.
Interpreting Galatians 4:18

The earliest ancient commentators are generally agreed that in v. 18 (καλὸν δὲ
ζηλοῦσθαι ἐν καλῷ) Paul exhorts the Galatians toward the zealous pursuit of
good things,13 but most of these ancient interpretations reflect the influence of
two textual corruptions. First, several manuscripts insert the phrase ζηλοῦτε δὲ
τὰ κρείττω χαρίσματα (“be zealous for the greater gifts”) at the beginning of v. 18,
almost certainly reflecting a later conflation with 1 Cor 12:31.14 Second, several
important manuscripts replace the middle/passive infinitive ζηλοῦσθαι in v. 18
with ζηλοῦσθε, which can be taken as an alternate form of the infinitive or as
an imperative.15 The latter reading demands that the Galatians are the sub-
ject, and in fact ancient commentators are in wide agreement on this point.16
But even for Augustine, whose Old Latin text contained the infinitive (“Bonum
est autem aemulari in bono semper”),17 the subject was clearly the Galatians:
“For he wishes that they would imitate him . . . for when he was present and
13 E.g., Marius Victorinus, Gal. 4.17 (PL 8:1183); Ambrosiaster, Gal. 4.18 (PL 17:362c–d).
Additional ancient examples are cited by Martin Meiser (Galater [Novum Testamentum
Patristicum 9; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007], 208).
14 D* F G ar b; Ambrosiaster. The preferred reading of 1 Cor 12:31 in the NA28 is ζηλοῦτε δὲ τὰ
χαρίσματα τὰ μείζονα; several manuscripts replace μείζονα with κρει(ττ)ονα (e.g., D F G Ψ 𝔐
it vgcl bomss).
15 E.g., ‫ א‬B 33. Joseph B. Lightfoot insists that ζηλοῦσθε be taken as an infinitive, and thus
is mistakenly translated in the Vulgate with the imperative aemulamini (The Epistle of
St. Paul to the Galatians: With Introductions, Notes and Dissertations [Grand Rapids:
Zondervan, 1957], 178). The imperative makes the Latin a bit awkward, but bonum autem
aemulamini in bono (as well as καλὸν δὲ ζηλοῦσθε ἐν καλῷ) could be translated “be zealous
for that which is good in a good thing.” Less significantly, D F G 𝔐 include the articular
infinitive τὸ ζηλοῦσθαι, probably as a stylistic feature connecting the infinitive and the
preposition (ἐν); cf. Longenecker, Galatians, 188.
16 E.g., ἐπειδὴ δὲ ἐκεῖνοι οὐδέπω ἦσαν πρὸς τοῦτο τελειότητος ἀφιγμένοι πάντα ποιεῖται ὥστε εἰς
τοῦτο αὐτοὺς ἐμβιβάσαι (“since they [the Galatians] have not yet arrived at this comple-
tion, he [Paul] does everything to guide them to this”); John Chrysostom, Comm. Gal.
(PG 61:660). Similar interpretations are offered in Theodoret of Cyrus, Interpretatio
(PG 82:489b); Jerome, Commentariorum in Epistulam ad Galatas (PL 26:384); and Marius
Victorinus, In Epistulam Pauli ad Galatas libri duo (PL 8:1183).
17 This is the wording quoted by Augustine in Exp. Gal. 37.9. It is identical to the text of the
Freising manuscript as published by Alexander Souter (The Earliest Latin Commentaries
on the Epistles of St. Paul [Oxford: Clarenden, 1927], 174–5). Eric A. Plumer notes that
“[t]here is considerable scholarly agreement that Augustine’s Old Latin version of Paul’s
letters was close to that reflected in the extant fragments of the Freising manuscript”
(Augustine’s Commentary on Galatians [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003], 241).
Aemulari is the present deponent infinitive of aemulor.
122 CHAPTER 3
they were willing to give him their eyes, they were surely trying to imitate him,
whom they loved so much.”18
Although it is likely that the Vulgate’s use of the deponent imperative
aemulamini (‘emulate’) continued to influence the interpretation of v. 18, it is
noteworthy that the renewed interest in the Greek text during the late medi-
eval period did not immediately challenge the ancient consensus that Paul
has the Galatians’ zeal in mind. Luther comments that Paul laudat . . . zelum
Galatarum, and in fact the opening of Luther’s comment on v. 18 anticipates
the view of Kraftchick and Martin that Paul equates ζηλοῦσθαι ἐν καλῷ with the
behavior of the Galatians described in vv. 13–14: “It is as if he says, ‘I commend
you, that you were zealous for me and have loved me eagerly, when I preached
the gospel to you in the feebleness of flesh.’”19 Calvin prognosticates the con-
temporary impasse by declaring that “it is uncertain whether he is speaking of
himself or of the Galatians,” but Calvin, too, prefers to take the phrase as refer-
ring to the Galatians.20 William Perkins also notes the uncertainty, but antici-
pates the majority of twentieth-century interpretations by applying the phrase
“to Paul, that for ielousie he may make an opposition betweene himselfe and
the false teachers . . . he is ielous ouer the Galatians.”21
In the modern period, a few scholars also take the Galatians as the subject of
ζηλοῦσθαι in v. 18. Joseph B. Lightfoot allows for the possibility that Paul means
“it is well that in my absence your interests should be looked after by others,”
in which case it is the Teachers who are exhibiting zeal. In context, however,
Lightfoot prefers the sense “I remember how warm were your feelings towards
me, when I was with you.”22 Hans Lietzmann advocates this latter view, and
sums up the connection between “you received me” (ἐδέξασθέ με; v. 14) and the
sense Paul gives the verb ζηλόω in v. 18 lucidly:
18 Vult enim, ut seipsum imitentur . . . cum enim praesenti oculos suos dare vellent, utique
ipsum conabantur imitari, quem ita diligebant; Exp. Gal. 37.9.
19 Quasi dicat: Laudavi vos fuisse zelosissimos pro me et vehementer amasse me, dum apud
vos praedicavi Evangelium per infirmitatem carnis (In epistolam S. Pauli ad Galatas
Commentarius [D. Martin Luthers Werke 40.1; Weimar: Böhlau, 1911], 648).
20 [I]ncertum est, de sene loquatur, an de Galatis . . . mihi tamen magis placet referri ad Galatas
(Commentarius in Epistolam ad Galatas, in vol. 50 of Ioannis Calvini opera quae super-
sunt omnia [ CR 78; ed. Wilhelm Baum, Eduard Cunitz, and Eduard Reuss; Braunschweig:
Schwetschke, 1893], 234).
21 A Commentary on Galatians (New York: Pilgrim, 1989 [1617]), 290.
22 Galatians, 177. A few decades earlier, James A. Haldane comments that “the Apostle com-
mends the zeal of the Galatians, but glances at their fickleness” (An Exposition of the
Epistle to the Galatians [Springfield, Mo.: Particular Baptist Press, 2002], 188).
Aber das Ende des Satzes mit dem betonten πάντοτε μὴ μόνον weist auf
die Erinnerung an die persönliche Anwesenheit des Pls v. 13–15 hin und
fordert den Sinn: ‘ich wünschte, ihr mühtet euch ebenso herzlich um
mich, wenn ich nicht bei euch bin’. . . . ‘Es ist etwas Schönes um die Liebe
einer Gemeinde zu ihrem Lehrer, wenn sie beständig ist, und nicht bloß
bei seinen Besuchen aufflackert’.23
Unfortunately, this attention to the connection between Paul’s reference to

the Galatians’ ζῆλος in v. 18 and the description of the Galatians’ reception
of Paul in vv. 13–15 came to be widely ignored throughout the twentieth cen-
tury. A great number of commentators insist that καλὸν δὲ ζηλοῦσθαι ἐν καλῷ
refers to Paul’s good zeal for the Galatians (“It is good that I am zealous for you
always”) in contrast to the Teachers’ bad zeal for the Galatians mentioned in
the Gal 4:17 (ζηλοῦσιν ὑμᾶς οὐ καλῶς; “They are zealous for you not in a good
way”).24 This remains the dominant view. Even Steven Kraftchick, despite his
23 An die Galater (HNT 10; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1971 [1921]), 29. In addition to Kraftchick
and Martin, recent interpreters who advocate Paul as the subject include Jan Lambrecht
(“Like A Mother in the Pain of Childbirth Again: A Study of Galatians 4:12–20,” in La Foi
Agissant Par L’amour (Galates 4:12–6:16) [SMBen 13; ed. Albert Vanhoye; Rome: Abbaye
de S. Paul, 1996], 22) and Ronald Y.K. Fung (The Epistle to the Galatians [NICNT; Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988], 202).
24 These commentators include Burton (Commentary, 247), Schlier (Galater, 213), Albrecht
Stumpff (“ζῆλος, ζηλόω, κτλ,” TDNT 2:887), Mußner (Galaterbrief, 311), Daniel C. Arichea
and Eugene Albert Nida (A Translators Handbook on Paul‘s Letter to the Galatians
[Stuttgart: UBS, 1976], 105), F.F. Bruce (Epistle, 211–12), Udo Borse (Der Brief an die
Galater [Regensburg: Pustet, 1984], 156–57), Wilhelm Egger (Galaterbrief, Philipperbrief,
Philemonbrief [Würzburg: Echter, 1985], 32), Frank J. Matera (Galatians [Collegeville,
Minn.: Liturgical, 1992], 166), and Martyn (Galatians, 423). Betz offers a more neutral per-
spective as he ties this phrase to the friendship topos he uncovers throughout the passage
(he calls the phrase in v. 18a “a definition of one of the principles of true friendship”;
Galatians, 231), but Betz (who is followed by Longenecker, Galatians, 194) also empha-
sizes Paul’s attitude toward the Galatians (Paul is their ‘true’ friend). Paul Nadim Tarazi
also casts the relationship between Paul and the Galatians as “something other than a
‘good’ friendship” (Galatians: A Commentary [Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary
Press, 1999], 233–34). Herman N. Ridderbos notes the emphasis upon “the devotion he
[Paul] would like to receive from the Galatians in his absence,” but still insists that the
overall sense is that it is “a good and desirable thing to desire the favor and love of the
churches” (The Epistle of Paul to the Churches of Galatia [NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
1953], 169). Other popular-level commentaries also retained a more ‘ancient’ interpreta-
tion throughout the twentieth century, e.g., Dieter Lührmann, Galatians: A Continental
Commentary (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992), 87.
124 CHAPTER 3
penetrating comment in the footnote (“[Paul] refers to the earlier reception

by the Galatians when they were zealous for one who did not possess virtue or
power”), sums up his interpretation by declaring that “it is Paul, not the mis-
sionaries, who demonstrates true care (ζῆλος) for the Galatians.”25
The staying power of this interpretive shift probably owes something to the
attractiveness of seeing a tidy polarity between οὐ καλῶς (v. 17) and ἐν καλῷ
(v. 18). F.F. Bruce’s comments about the relationship between the occurrences
of ζηλόω at the beginning of vv. 17 and 18 are representative of the scholarly
consensus: “[Paying court] may be done with honourable (καλῶς) or dishon-
ourable intentions. . . . It is always good, [Paul] goes on, to be courted with
honorable intentions . . . but as it is, [Paul tells the Galatians,] no sooner has my
back been turned than you let someone else come and ‘court’ you with dis hon-
ourable intentions.”26 Indeed, Paul is not afraid to make an appeal to his own
worthier intentions (cf. 1:6–10; 6:12–14). But if Paul is simply creating a contrast
between his own ζῆλος and the ζῆλος of his opponents, then vv. 17–18 are rather
self-contained and need not relate to the previous verses.
In addition, we may observe that the object of ζηλοῦσιν in v. 17 is incontest-
ably ὑμᾶς (the Galatians), but in v. 18 there are three options for the object of
ζηλοῦσθαι. First, the object could be unspecified: “It is good to be zealous/emu-
lated in a good way.” Second, it is technically possible to take ἐν as an equiva-
lent for εἰς in the sense ‘for’ or ‘with respect to’ (cf. Thucydides, Hist. 5.59.4),
in which case ζηλοῦσθαι could be taken as middle and its object expressed by
ἐν καλῷ: “It is good to be zealous for a good thing.”27 Third, and in my view best,
καλόν could be understood as the subject of the passive infinitive, in which case
the object of emulation is the abstract concept ‘the good’: “The good is to be
zealously pursued in a good way.”28
25 Kraftchick, “Πάθη,” 63 n. 38. Martin (“Voice,” 194 n. 43), following Lietzmann, tentatively
adopts the translation “It is good [for me] to be emulated in a good way [by you].”
26 Epistle, 211–12; cf. Betz: “This principle [that good courtship must be done in a good way]
is, of course, the opposite of ζηλοῦσιν οὐ καλῶς (‘courting in a bad way’) described in v. 17”
(Galatians, 231).
27 This is somewhat unlikely because in nearly all other instances, the phrase ἐν καλῷ has
the sense ‘in a good way’; e.g., Josephus, J.W. 2.146; Philo, Legat. 338.
28 Betz adopts a similar translation (using ‘good’ rather than my preferred reading, ‘the
good’): “Yet, good is always to be courted in a good way” (Galatians, 231; cf. Longenecker,
Galatians, 194). The presence or absence of the article should not be overemphasized,
however, since my major point of departure from Betz and Longenecker involves the
question of whose ζῆλος is in view (both interpreters take the phrase to refer to Paul’s zeal
for the Galatians). Thus, translating the phrase in v. 18a with the article is less significant
This third option seems unlikely at first glance because in the four other
instances in Paul’s undisputed letters in which an anarthrous καλόν plus an
infinitive occurs without another main verb (Rom 14:21; 1 Cor 7:1; 7:26b; 9:15),
καλόν clearly has the sense “It is good (to . . .).”29 In each of these instances
except Rom 14:21, however, the subject is specified using a noun in the dative
case (“It is good for . . . to . . .”). It is hardly a given, then, that the instance of
καλόν in Gal 4:18 must be translated “it is good,” especially when it is considered
that Paul uses καλόν with the article to refer to ‘the good’ (or, ‘what is good’) in
Gal 6:9 (τὸ δὲ καλὸν ποιοῦντες μὴ ἐγκακῶμεν; “let us not become discouraged
in doing what is good”) as well as in Rom 7:18; 7:21; 2 Cor 13:7; and 1 Thess 5:21.
As to the objection that one would then expect the article in Gal 4:18 if καλός
were to be taken as ‘the good,’ one might consider the phrasing of 1 Cor 5:6
(οὐ καλὸν τὸ καύχημα ὑμῶν; “Your boasting is not a good thing”) and bear in
mind the dictum that “no vital difference was felt between articular and anar-
throus abstract nouns.”30 In addition, Paul often uses an anarthrous noun fol-
lowed by δέ at the beginning of a sentence for emphasis (e.g., Rom 2:10; 3:22;
1 Cor 2:6).
Even if one remains skeptical of translating καλόν as ‘the good’ as the object
of ζηλοῦσθαι in v. 18, it must be admitted that the balanced polarity between
ζηλοῦσιν ὑμᾶς (v. 17a) and καλὸν δὲ ζηλοῦσθαι ἐν καλῷ (v. 18a) is not nearly as
strong as that between ζηλοῦσιν ὑμᾶς (v. 17a) and ἵνα αὐτοὺς ζηλοῦτε (v. 17b). In
v. 17, both instances of ζηλόω are active and have a clearly specified accusative
object (ὑμᾶς/αὐτούς). These two phrases are connected by a strongly adversa-
tive ἀλλά (‘but rather’), whereas the phrase containing ζηλοῦσθαι ἐν καλῷ is
than the point made by translating the καί that begins v. 18b epexegetically (“that is . . .”);
see further below.
29 Graydon F. Snyder suggests that Paul should be included among the NT writers who use
a construction that derives from the ‘better . . . than’ (‫ טוב‬. . . ‫ )מן‬formula found in the
Hebrew scriptures (“The Tobspruch in the New Testament,” NTS 23, no. 1 (1976): 119). Of
the four Pauline Tobsprüche that Snyder lists (Rom 14:21; 1 Cor 7:1; 7:9; 7:26), only 1 Cor 7:9
(using κρεῖττον) contains a protasis and apodosis (but cf. 1 Cor 9:15, which he does not
list). This scant evidence in Paul certainly does not demand that καλόν in Gal 4:18 be taken
as “it is good. . . .” It may also be noted that an anarthrous καλόν occurs in a similar con-
struction with an aorist subjunctive verb (ἐὰν μείνωσιν) in 1 Cor 7:8; see further BDAG, 505.
30 Archibald T. Robertson, A Grammar of the Greek New Testament in the Light of Historical
Research, 4th ed. (New York: Hodder & Stoughton, 1923), 794; cf. Daniel B. Wallace,
The Basics of New Testament Syntax: An Intermediate Greek Grammar (Grand Rapids:
Zondervan, 2000), 249.
126 CHAPTER 3
introduced with the weaker δέ (’whereas really‘).31 The majority of commenta-

tors may be correct that “ζηλοῦσθαι must be passive and not middle,”32 but the
rationale that there is “no occasion for change from active to middle form”33
ignores the fact that even a passive serves to distinguish this phrase from the
preceding pair. The presence of these grammatical indicators strongly suggests
that the phrase καλὸν δὲ ζηλοῦσθαι ἐν καλῷ (v. 18) is not simply the opposite of
ζηλοῦσιν ὑμᾶς οὐ καλῶς (v. 17). To summarize our findings to this point, the fol-
lowing translation may be considered:
ζηλοῦσιν ὑμᾶς They have zeal for you,

οὐ καλῶς but not in a good way;
ἀλλὰ ἐκκλεῖσαι ὑμᾶς θέλουσιν, rather, they wish to exclude you,
ἵνα αὐτοὺς ζηλοῦτε· in order that you might have zeal
for them.
καλὸν δὲ The good, however, is to be
ζηλοῦσθαι ἐν καλῷ πάντοτε zealously pursued in a good way
καὶ μὴ μόνον always, that is, not only
ἐν τῷ παρεῖναί με πρὸς ὑμᾶς. when I am present with you.
The Object of Ζῆλος in Greek Literature

The translations of ζηλόω in the above reading have yet to be defended, and
it is to that task that we now turn. As we have seen in Chapter Two, ζῆλος is
a term that is used to communicate a number of meaningful concepts in the
ancient world,34 not least in the writings of Paul, a first century Jew for whom
ζῆλος (Heb. ‫ )קנא‬is a deep-rooted and significant facet of his very identity
(cf. Gal 1:14; Phil 3:6). Our earlier survey of the significance of ζῆλος in Paul’s
literary milieu revealed that (1) the language of zeal was highly evocative for
first-century Jews (cf. L.A.B. 47.7; Josephus, Ant. 12.271; Philo, Post. 183; 1QS IX,
23; 4Q372 1 XII; Acts 21:20; 22:3) as a defining characteristic of great figures in
the tradition of zeal for the Jewish people and the Torah, including Elijah (1 Kgs
19:10, 14; Sir 48:1–2), Phinehas (Num 25:11–13), and Mattathias (1 Macc 2:23–26),
and (2) Paul clearly identified himself within this tradition (Gal 1:14; Phil 3:6).
31 Cf. Herbert Weir Smyth and Gordon M. Messing, Greek Grammar (Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1984), 644 [§2835].
32 Lightfoot, Galatians, 177; cf. Longenecker, Galatians, 194: “there is no reason to use the
middle.”
33 Burton, Commentary, 247.
34 The wide-ranging glosses of ζῆλος provided in LSJ are indicative: ‘jealousy,’ ‘rivalry,’ ‘emu-
lation,’ ‘desire,’ ‘pride,’ ‘honor,’ ‘glory,’ ‘fervour,’ ‘zeal,’ ‘indignation,’ and ‘spirit’; LSJ, 755.
At first glance, Paul’s use of the word group in Galatians may seem wholly neg-
ative, since it describes Paul’s former life (a “zealot [ζηλωτής] for the ancestral
traditions”; 1:14), is included in a list of negative behaviors (’jealousy‘ [ζῆλος];
5:20), and may even have been a component of the arguments of the Teachers.35
But as examined in the excursus below, the occurrence in 1:14 need not
be perceived as wholly negative, and three occurrences of the verb ζηλόω in
4:17–18 reveal that Paul can employ this term in both a negative and a posi-
tive sense. Whenever ζῆλος appears in a list of negative behaviors in Paul, it is
always coupled with ἔρις (’strife‘; Gal 5:20; Rom 3:13; 1 Cor 3:3; 2 Cor 12:20). In
these contexts, ζῆλος is clearly negative (’jealousy‘) and is used with essentially
the same sense as the occurrences of φθόνος (’envy‘) with ἔρις in Rom 1:29; Phil
1:15; and Gal 5:20–21 (ἔρις, ζῆλος . . . φθόνοι). It is of interest, then, that when-
ever Paul uses the ζηλ-word group outside of these clearly demarcated vice
lists,36 there is a specified or clearly implied object of the zealous activity, and
it is this object that determines whether the ζῆλος is positive or negative. The
35 It is not vital for the thesis of this chapter to demonstrate the likelihood that the lan-
guage of ζῆλος was a component of the teachings of Paul’s opponents. If the presence of
ζῆλος/ζηλόω/ζηλωτής in such a ‘mirror-reading’ was deemed plausible, however, it would
resonate with my argument that Paul redefines ‘the good’ in 4:12–20. Although I reject
the argument that a recognizable Zealot party (οἱ ζηλωταί) was active for decades before
the rebellion in 66 CE (cf. Martin Hengel, Die Zeloten: Untersuchungen zur jüdischen
Freiheitsbewegung in der Zeit von Herodes I. bis 70 n. Chr [3d ed.; ed. Roland Deines and
Claus-Jürgen Thornton; WUNT 283; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011], 66–7, 401–2), I do find it
likely that the language of ζῆλος would have been a part of the kind of ‘nomistic campaign’
that Robert Jewett sees behind Paul’s statements in passages such as 1:14; 4:10; 5:3; and
6:12 (“Agitators and the Galatian Congregation,” NTS 17, no. 2 [1971], 205–6); cf. Richard A.
Horsley, “The Zealots: Their Origin, Relationships and Importance in the Jewish Revolt,”
NovT 28, no. 2 (1986), 190; Morton Smith, “Zealots and Sicarii, Their Origins and Relation,”
HTR 64, no. 1 (1971), 10–11; Mark R. Fairchild, “Paul’s Pre-Christian Zealot Associations:
A Re-examination of Gal. 1:14 and Acts 22:3,” NTS 45, no. 4 (1999), 519–26). John Barclay
similarly suspects that Jewett has “taken these charges too seriously,” but nevertheless
recognizes that Paul’s letter would not wholly misrepresent the opponents’ message and
lists the nomistic element of such teaching in his “Certain or Virtually Certain” category
(“Mirror-Reading a Polemical Letter: Galatians as a Test Case,” JSNT 31 [1987], 75–76, 88).
J. Louis Martyn does not specifically employ ζῆλος/ζηλόω/ζηλωτής in his reconstructions,
but says of Gal 1:14 that “[t]he Galatians will not have failed to see that the picture Paul
paints of himself prior to his call by God is similar to the picture the Teachers are now
presenting of themselves,” and is somewhat sympathetic to Jewett’s view (Galatians, 155,
241–42, 562).
36 I am including ἡ ἀγάπη οὐ ζηλοῖ (“love is not jealous”; 1 Cor 13:4), which occurs in the
unique vice list (using verbs) in 1 Cor 13:4–6 (cf. Chapter One and Chapter Four).
128 CHAPTER 3
Ἰσραηλῖται have a zeal for God (Rom 10:2); the Corinthians demonstrate zeal for
spiritual gifts (1 Cor 12:31; 14:1; 14:39), for Paul (2 Cor 7:7, 11), and for the collection
(implied in 2 Cor 9:2); and Paul himself has zeal for the Corinthians (2 Cor 11:2)
and for the ancestral traditions (Gal 1:14; implied in Phil 3:6).37
We have already seen in Chapter Two that Paul’s use of the object toward
which ζῆλος is directed to indicate whether the behavior (or ‘emotion’) is to be
commended or scorned is not at all unique among Greek writers from as far
back as Hesiod and as close to Paul’s time as Philo. What is curious, then, is
that in Gal 4:17–18 Paul expressly qualifies the ζῆλος as bad (οὐ καλῶς) and good
(ἐν καλῷ). Since Paul does not allow the object of ζηλόω to speak for itself in
just this one case, it is important to determine whether Paul’s use of the quali-
fier ‘good’ would be meaningful for an audience with a basic familiarity with
Greek literature. Since Paul is not drawing the phrase καλὸν δὲ ζηλοῦσθαι ἐν
καλῷ from the Greek Scriptures,38 it will be instructive to examine similar lan-
guage in the wider Greek corpus. Most commentators, satisfied that “ἐν καλῷ
stands in opposition to the preceding οὐ καλῶς in verse 17,” have not pursued
the meaning of this phrase other than simply to speculate that the phrase is
“a rhetorical aphorism,” “simply a general maxim,” or a “bit of tersely phrased
ancient lore.”39 But not only do these approaches fail to appreciate the triple
repetition of both ζηλόω and καλός/καλῶς in vv. 17–18, they also stop short of
recognizing that the phrase is not without parallel in Greek literature. Betz’s
attention to the friendship topos in both Greek and Latin authors is a notable
exception, and it is indeed valid to recognize in Gal 4:12–20 a certain coher-
ence around this theme that could include the language of ζῆλος.40 But if we
cast the net in a slightly different direction as we examine the socio-cultural
37 The object is not specified in 2 Cor 7:11, but ζῆλον clearly refers back to τὸν ὑμῶν ζῆλον ὑπὲρ
ἐμοῦ in 2 Cor 7:7. In 2 Cor 11:2 Paul uses the same second person plural accusative (ὑμᾶς)
as he does in Gal 4:17, but in 2 Cor 11:2 Paul’s zeal is described as the very ‘zeal of God’ (θεοῦ
ζήλῳ) (see Chapter Four). Paul also makes use of φθονέω (‘envy’) with an object (ἀλλήλοις
φθονοῦντες; Gal 5:26).
38 The only passage in Rahlfs’ Septuaginta that connects ‘zeal’ and ‘the good’ in a way that
resembles Gal 4:18 is from a work that likely postdates Paul (4 Macc 13:25); see further
below.
39 Mußner, Galaterbrief, 311 (“ἐν καλῷ oppositionell zum vorausgehenden οὐ καλῶς im V 17
steht”); Martyn, Galatians, 423 (aphorism); Burton, Commentary, 247 (maxim);
Longenecker, Galatians, 194 (ancient lore); cf. Lambrecht, “Mother,” 22: “The sentence
sounds like a general principle.”
40 Betz posits that the language of ζῆλος “is also found in connection with the friendship
theme, where it is used to describe the sincere and deep concern one friend has for
another,” but on this particular point Betz moves immediately to a discussion about the
significance of the language of ζῆλος and ‘the good,’ we observe some patterns
in Greek literature that clarify Paul’s strategy in Gal 4:12–20.41
James R. Harrison, writing about the rivalry motifs at work in the discus-
sion about the Jerusalem collection in 2 Corinthians 8–9, draws attention to
the way the language of ζῆλος is employed in honorific inscriptions to encour-
age the imitation of civic benefactors.42 Though Harrison does not consider
Gal 4:17–18, he astutely draws attention to the frequent presence of language
about having ζῆλος for objects that are characterized as ‘the good’ in inscrip-
tional motifs of rivalry and imitation.43 Harrison supports his observation that
“imitation of meritorious action (τὰ ἀγαθά) is confined to aristocratic models
(οἱ πρῶτοι)”44 with the following inscription from central Greece, written
sometime after 37 CE: πολλοί τε ζηλ[ωταὶ γ]είνων[τ]αι τῶν ἀγαθῶν τῶν εἰς τὴν
πόλιν μαρτυρουμένων τῶν πρώτων (“And many may become emulators of the
good deeds of the foremost, which are testified to in the city”).45 This inscrip-
tion uses the word ἀγαθός to describe the object of emulation, but other
similar inscriptions employ the word καλός or its superlative form κάλλιστος.46
For example, it is not uncommon to discover phrases like “they also became
emulators of the beauty of the earlier age” (γινόμενοι δὲ καὶ ζηλωταὶ τῶν
language of ζῆλος in “the relationship between the teacher and his students” (Galatians,
229) and quickly on to a broader discussion of ‘courtship’ in Cicero (e.g., Nat. d. 1.22).
41 For example, Betz (Galatians, 231–32) helpfully draws attention to the writings of
Plutarch, citing such passages such as Adul. amic. 54C (τοῖς μὲν γὰρ ἀληθῶς φίλοις οὔτε
ζῆλος οὐδείς ἐστι πρὸς ἀλλήλους οὔτε φθόνος [“between true friends there is neither emula-
tion nor envy”]), but his concentration on the friendship topos prevents him from consid-
ering additional passages that utilize language that is closer to that of Gal 4:17–18 (e.g., Lyc.
4.2 [τῷ ζήλῳ τῶν καλῶν]; Pel. 19.5 [λῆλον ἀλλήλοις καλῶν ἔργων]); see further below.
42 Paul’s Language of Grace in Its Graeco-Roman Context (WUNT 172; Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2003), 314–21.
43 Harrison’s contention that “Paul inverts the elitist values of Graeco-Roman society [but
also] employs familiar inscriptional motifs such as imitation and rivalry” (Language, 318)
is certainly in line with the thesis of this chapter. Unfortunately, Harrison downplays the
important connection between Paul’s use of the language of zeal and the very inscrip-
tions he cites in his discussion: “the honorific inscriptions invariably chose ζηλωτής [in
imitation contexts], whereas Paul opts for μιμητής and μιμεἷσθαι” (Language, 319). 2 Cor
9:2 and Gal 4:18 show that this claim is misleading; cf. David J. Downs, The Offering of the
Gentiles: Paul‘s Collection for Jerusalem in Its Chronological, Cultural, and Cultic Contexts
(Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 133.
44 Language, 317.
45 IG VII2 2712. See also SEG XIX 834 (Asia Minor, 2nd-1st cent. BCE): ζηλωταὶ τῶν ἀγαθῶν
γενέσθαι.
46 For examples that use both καλός and ἀγαθός, see IG XII9 236 and 237 (Euboia, ca. 100 BCE).
130 CHAPTER 3
καλλίστων ἐκ τῆς πρώτης ἡλικίας; IG II² 1028 [Athens, 101–100 BCE]), “emula-
tors of the best deeds” (ζηλωτὰς γίνεσθαι τῶν καλλίστων πράξεων; I. Ephesos Ia. 6
[honorary decree for gymnasiarch Diodoros Mentoros]), and “emulators of
the greatest good” (ζηλωταὶ μὲν τῶν καλλίστων γίνωνται; IK Sestos 1 [Thrace,
133–120 BCE.]). Many inscriptions of this sort use the noun ζηλωτής, but
the verb ζηλόω is also employed in such phrases as “having been zealous for
[emulous of] glory and nobleness” (δόξαν καὶ καλοκἀγαθίαν ἐζηλωκότες; SEG
XXXIV 558 [Thessalia, ca. 150 BCE–31 CE]).47
Other types of literary sources also commonly speak of ζῆλος in connection
with specific definitions of ‘the good.’ The evidence is too vast to be covered
here, but a few examples will be instructive.48 Though written at least a cen-
tury after Paul, Alciphron’s Letters of Parasites contains a phrase almost iden-
tical to the wording of Gal 4:18 in reference to the commendable ζῆλος that
a pupil shows for his master (“The boy modeled himself after his teacher to
the smallest detail . . . the pupil emulated the master to perfection [ἐζήλωσεν
ἐν καλῷ]”; Alciphron, Epist. 3.64 [Brenner, LCL]).49 The first-century treatise
known as 4 Maccabees speaks of a “common zeal for nobleness” (ὁμοζηλία
τῆς καλοκἀγαθίας; 4 Macc 13:25) as part of an encomium to seven martyred
brothers. Philo repeatedly employs phrases such as ὁ τοῦ καλοῦ ζῆλος (Sobr.
26; cf.Congr. 315; Ebr. 21; Somn. 2.176, 235; Spec. 2.259) in reference to the imita-
tion of honorable people and the zealous pursuit of lofty ideals. Section 164 of
Philo’s De migratione Abrahami is particularly interesting in light of Gal 4:12–20
because it speaks of “raising a wall of exclusion” (διατειχιεῖ; cf. ἐκκλεῖσαι;
Gal 4:17) against one who ruins the beneficial labors of a lover of wisdom, and
of “receiving” (ἀποδέξεται; cf. Gal 4:14 [ἐδέξασθέ με]) those who demonstrate a
“zeal for the good” (κατὰ τὸν τῶν καλῶν ζῆλον). The reception is carried out “for
the sake of imitation” (ἕνεκα μιμήσεως). Plutarch, too, uses ζῆλος/ζηλόω in con-
nection with καλός and in contexts in which imitation is in view (e.g., Lyc. 4.2;
47 At this point I have begun to make some decisions about how to translate ζῆλος, but in
each of these instances I maintain that ‘zealous admirer’ could replace ‘emulator’ (cf. LSJ,
755) because both the eager pursuit of something and the sense of imitation are sug-
gested by the context.
48 A textual search of the root ζηλ- in close proximity with καλῶν/καλός yields over 1500
references in the TLG database. See also the selective survey in Chapter Two.
49 Bruce W. Winter also notes the extent to which the language of ζῆλος was associated
with the intense loyalty of students to their teacher, particularly among sophistic writers
(After Paul Left Corinth: The Influence of Secular Ethics and Social Change [Grand Rapids,
Eerdmans, 2001], 38–9). Winter cites Dio Chrysostom (Or. 1.38; 4.122) and Philostratus’
account of the zeal of a pupil leading to accidental murder (Vit. soph. 208).
15.6; Pel. 19.5).50 In one passage Plutarch even uses the infinitive form ζηλοῦσθαι
(here, in the middle voice) when the object of the verb is specifically those
who do virtuous deeds: ἀλλ’ ἥ γ’ ἀρετὴ ταῖς πράξεσιν εὐθὺς οὕτω διατίθησιν ὥσθ’
ἅμα θαυμάζεσθαι τὰ ἔργα καὶ ζηλοῦσθαι τοὺς εἰργασμένους (“But virtuous action
immediately so disposes [a man] that as soon as he admires the [virtuous]
works, he also emulates those who performed them”).51
Similarly, the orator Demosthenes writes in Epist. 2.4–5 that his own benefi-
cent actions “on your behalf” (ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν; cf. 2 Cor 9:2) have caused the men of
Athens “to be envied” (ζηλοῦσθαι) by all. Demosthenes also employs this verb
form in Erot. 31 in reference to a man’s family being “envied” because he “far sur-
passes those of [his] own age in excellence” (ζηλοῦσθαι τοσοῦτον ὑπερέχοντος σοῦ
τῶν ἡλικιωτῶν ἀρετῇ). Demosthenes’ language resembles Paul’s self-description
in Gal 1:14: καὶ προέκοπτον ἐν τῷ Ἰουδαϊσμῷ ὑπὲρ πολλοὺς συνηλικιώτας ἐν τῷ γένει
μου, περισσοτέρως ζηλωτὴς ὑπάρχων τῶν πατρικῶν μου παραδόσεων. Just as Paul’s
self-description is commendable with respect to his standing within Judaism,
Demosthenes describes the envied man as ‘good’ (καλόν) because he embodies
such Greek ideals as beauty (κάλλος) and manliness (ἀνδρείαν).52
This sampling of Greek literature and inscriptions already suggests, then,
that Paul’s language about ‘the good’ in Gal 4:18 is (1) not at all unusual in con-
nection with ζηλόω, (2) especially at home in contexts in which ζηλόω refers
to rivalry, imitation, and emulation of a teacher by a pupil, and (3) connected
with Greek values such as virtue, nobility, honor, and power. But before looking
closely at Paul’s text in light of these observations, it is worth examining these
features in a more comprehensive way in the writings of Isocrates, who leaves a
considerable impact upon later Greek thought and takes a strong and personal
interest in analyzing envy and emulation.53 Since the features of ‘ζῆλος for the
good’ explored above are all readily observable in Isocrates, he will make for a
useful conversation partner for our analysis of Paul’s language in Gal 4:17–18.
Just as Aristotle defines ζῆλος as directed toward “highly valuable goods”
such as “wealth, many friends, and positions of office,”54 Isocrates views ζῆλος/
ζηλόω as concomitant with a ‘desire’ (ἐπιθυμέω) for such things as ‘power’
50 Typical among sophistic writers is ζῆλος for δόξα and φιλοτιμία (e.g., Mor. 131A; cf. Dio,
Or. 32.10).
51 Per. 2.2; cf. the emulation (ζηλοῦσιν) of teachers in Virt. mor. 448E, as well as the “good”
(ἀγαθόν) which is to be found in the “zeal and eagerness which leads to imitation” (ζῆλόν
τινα καὶ προθυμίαν ἀγωγὸν εἰς μίμησιν; Per. 1.2).
52 Erot. 30–32; see also Plutarch, Amat. 768A.
53 There are 36 occurrences of the ζηλ- root in Isocrates, spread over 15 of his 31 extant works.
54 ἀγαθῶν ἐντίμων . . . πλοῦτος καὶ πολυφιλία καὶ ἀρχαί; Rhet. 2.11.
132 CHAPTER 3
(ἡγέομαι), ‘good fortune’ (εὐδαιμονία), and ‘fame’ (δόξα).55 When the object of
emulation is “those who speak well” (Antid. 246), Isocrates uses a familiar com-
bination: “They emulate those who can use the word in a good way” (ζηλοῦσι
τοὺς καλῶς χρῆσθαι τῷ λόγῳ δυναμένους). In addition, ζῆλος/ζηλόω is closely
connected with imitation (μίμησις) in Isocrates. For example, Isocrates speaks
of emulating and imitating kings (ζηλῶσαι δὲ καὶ μιμήσασθαι . . . βασιλείας) and
emulating and imitating a father’s virtue (μιμητὴν δὲ καὶ ζηλωτὴν τῆς πατρῴας
ἀρετῆς), and he advises that “if you envy those with fame, imitate their deeds”
(ὧν τὰς δόξας ζηλοῖς μιμοῦ τὰς πράξεις).56
Yet if these examples are representative of Isocrates’ notion of ζῆλος
directed towards an object that is ‘good’ (cf. Gal 4:18), we have yet to consider
whether Isocrates describes a ζῆλος that is οὐ καλῶς (cf. Gal 4:17). It is not sur-
prising to discover that Isocrates utilizes φθόνος (’envy‘) as the opposite of a
ζῆλος directed towards ‘the good.’57 Importantly, however, Isocrates can also
indicate ‘bad ζῆλος’ by using an object that contradicts the strong, powerful,
noble ‘good’ that is the proper object of ζῆλος. An important example is found
in the Helenae encomium, in which Isocrates expresses disgust at the idea of
emulating the wrong kind of people:
Now certain men . . . have the effrontery to write that the life of beggars
and exiles [πτωχευόντων καὶ φευγόντων βίος] is more enviable [ζηλωτότερος]
than that of the rest of mankind, and they use this as a proof that, if they
can speak ably on ignoble subjects [πονηρῶν πραγμάτων], it follows that in
dealing with subjects of real worth [τῶν καλῶν κἀγαθῶν] they would easily
find abundance of arguments. . . . For what sensible man would under-
take to praise misfortunes [συμφοράς]? No, it is obvious that they take
55 Paneg. 159 (“and we, emulating [ζηλοῦντες] the valor of the soldiers, might desire
[ἐπιθυμῶμεν] like deeds”) and Evag. 77 (“so that they, emulating [ζηλοῦντες] those who
are eulogized, may desire [ἐπιθυμῶσιν] to adopt the same pursuits”); cf. Big. 38; Panath.
260; Ad Nic. 38 and Bus. 7–8. Suzanne Saïd cites many of the foregoing texts and summa-
rizes: “emulation is ‘virtuous and noble’ and . . . oriented towards good things . . . and their
possessors” (“Envy and Emulation in Isocrates,” in Envy, Spite, and Jealousy: The Rivalrous
Emotions in Ancient Greece [ed. David Konstan and N. Keith Rutter; Edinburgh: Edinburgh
University Press, 2003], 218). See further Chapter Four for the connection between ζῆλος
for people and ζῆλος for things.
56 De pace 142; Demon. 11; Ad Nic. 38; cf. Nic. 60.
57 E.g., Phil. 68–69: “[Conquering by force] entails envy [φθόνον] and hostility and many
blasphemies . . . [but if you do deeds that increase your reputation] you will not only be
deemed enviable [ζηλωτός] by others, but you will also be happy [μακαριεῖς]”; cf. Panath.
23, 241; Antid. 30, 60, 142, 154, 245, 304.
refuge in such topics because of weakness [δι’ ἀσθένειαν]. Such composi-

tions follow one set road and this road is neither difficult to find, nor to
learn, nor to imitate [μιμήσασθαι].58
I am not contending that Paul or the Galatian converts were familiar with
the Helenae encomium. But in light of the ubiquitous statements about ‘ζῆλος
for the good’ in Greek literature, it is reasonable to propose that the ideology
reflected in Isocrates’ work—an ideology that praised zeal for the powerful
and condemned emulation of the weak—would have been evoked by Paul’s
phrase καλὸν δὲ ζηλοῦσθαι ἐν καλῷ.
Paul’s Redefinition of ‘the Good’ in Galatians 4:12–20

We have seen that Paul describes himself as a ζηλωτής in 1:14 in a way that
raises the question of the object and purpose of ζῆλος, and in 5:20 Paul will out-
line the negative manifestation of ζῆλος. What, then, is Paul saying in Gal 4:18?
As noted above, commentators such as Augustine, Luther, Lightfoot, and
Lietzmann, and more recently Martin and Kraftchick,59 have recognized that
whatever Paul means by καλὸν δὲ ζηλοῦσθαι ἐν καλῷ (v. 18a), it must be identi-
fied with the time when Paul was present with the Galatians (vv. 18b, 20a). Of
course, Paul has just given a rather striking account of this very thing. “You
know [οἴδατε],” writes Paul emphatically,60 “about the time that I first preached
the gospel to you [εὐηγγελισάμην ὑμῖν τὸ πρότερον; v. 13], when you received me
[ἐδέξασθέ με; v. 14].” This reminder, along with the repetition of παρεῖναι πρὸς
ὑμᾶς (“being present with you”) in vv. 18 and 20, strongly suggests that the
description of the Galatians’ initial reception of Paul in vv. 13–14 is precisely
a description of the activity described by the phrase καλὸν δὲ ζηλοῦσθαι ἐν καλῷ.
There is just one glaring problem: the Galatians’ activity that Paul describes in
vv. 13–14 falls dramatically short of ‘ζῆλος for the good,’ if ‘ζῆλος for the good’ is
measured by the emulation of the powerful.
It will be helpful at this point to chart the resemblance between Gal 4:12–20
and some examples of ‘ζῆλος for the good’ in Greek literature that were sur-
veyed above:61
58 Hel. enc. 8–11 (Van Hook, LCL); italics mine. For other examples of ζῆλος for an uncouth
object, see Paneg. 77; Hel. enc. 33; Big. 38; De pace 83; Ep. 6.14.
59 Martin, “Voice,” 60–63; Kraftchick, “Πάθη,” 194–95.
60 οἴδατε is an ‘attention-grabber’ in Paul; cf. 1 Cor 12:2; 1 Thess 2:1, 11; 4:2.
61 For ‘language of imitation,’ cf. 1 Cor 4:16; 11:1; Phil 3:17; 4:9; 1 Thess 1:6; 2:14. Each of these
instances of ‘imitation language’ is connected with the language of the cross.
134 CHAPTER 3
Table 3.1 ‘Ζῆλος for the good’ in Greek literature
Feature Galatians 4:12–20 Greek examples
1. Language of imitation v. 12: γίνεσθε ὡς ἐγώ ὅτι Isocrates, De pace 142

κἀγὼ ὡς ὑμεῖς Plutarch, Per. 1.2; Adul.
v. 17: ζηλοῦσιν ὑμᾶς . . . ἵνα amic. 54C
αὐτοὺς ζηλοῦτε Philo, Migr. 164
(reciprocal imitation[?]) (hierarchical imitation)
2. Emulation of those who v. 17b: ἐκκλεῖσαι ὑμᾶς Isocrates, Big. 38
have the power to exclude θέλουσιν ἵνα αὐτοὺς ζηλοῦτε IG VII2 2712
by those who are inferior (viewed negatively) Plutarch, Per. 2.2
(viewed positively)
3. Language of ‘the good’ v. 18a: καλὸν δὲ ζηλοῦσθαι Isocrates, Antid. 246
used to describe the object ἐν καλῷ Philo, Sobr. 26
of ζῆλος Alciphron, Epist. 3.64
4. ‘The good’ equated (NOT PRESENT) Isocrates, Hel. enc. 8
with such things as fame, Aristotle, Rhet. 2.11
power, physical beauty, Demosthenes, Erot.
manliness 30–31
The implication is striking. Since ζῆλος is a term that Paul has used to describe
fervent desire and action directed toward specific objects (Gal 1:14; cf. Rom
10:2; 1 Cor 12:31; 14:12, 39) as well as emulation and imitation of people (Gal 4:17;
cf. 2 Cor 7:7), Paul capitalizes on the various nuances of ζῆλος to subvert the
Hellenistic assumptions about what is ‘good’ and thereby expose the incom-
patibility of the Teachers’ message with the ‘true’ gospel (ἀληθεύω; Gal 4:16).62
The Galatians, before coming under the influence of the Teachers, had dis-
played exemplary gospel-redirected zeal for an enfeebled Paul: “You know
that it was because of a weakness of the flesh that I first preached the gospel
62 Christopher C. Smith, arguing that Paul’s use of ἐκκλεῖσαι (v. 17) indicates the presence
of the ‘motif of the excluded lover,’ claims that Paul’s use of ζηλόω in vv. 17–18 is best
understood within the framework of such a motif. This explanation, however, like inter-
pretations that view v. 18 as a simple contrast between Paul and the Teachers, limits the
significance of ζηλόω in 4:12–20 by isolating vv. 17–18 from the rest of the pericope and
from the language of ζῆλος in the rest of the Pauline corpus (“Ἐκκλεῖσαι in Galatians
4:17: The Motif of the Excluded Lover as a Metaphor of Manipulation,” CBQ 58, no. 3
[1996], 482).
to you . . . you did not scorn or despise me, but welcomed me as an angel of

God, as Christ Jesus” (vv. 13–14). It is this behavior that Paul provocatively com-
mends (ἐν καλῷ) as the definition of ‘ζῆλος for the good’ for those who are liv-
ing according to the Spirit (5:16).
With this redefinition in view, several elements in the passage come into
focus. First, exclusion for the purpose of fame (4:17) is replaced by a welcoming
inclusion (ἐδέξασθε; v. 14).63 Second, emulation of the strong and powerful is
replaced by zeal for one who is weak (ἀσθένειαν; v. 13). Third, envy of physical
beauty (e.g., ζήλου διὰ τὸ κάλλος; Plutarch, Amat. 768A) is replaced by a self-
sacrificial willingness to gouge out their eyes for one in need (ἐξορύξαντες;
v. 15). And finally, Paul’s image of himself as a mother in childbirth (v. 19) caps
off his subversive portrayal: ζῆλος for ‘manliness’ (ἀνδρεῖος) has become ζῆλος
for a woman suffering birth-pains (ὠδίνω; v. 19).64 With such a sweeping redefi-
nition of what qualifies as ‘the good,’ Paul underscores the marked contrast
between the gospel and the message of the Teachers, reminds the Galatians
of the ‘blessed’ (μακαρισμός; v. 15) behavior they once demonstrated through
the power of the Spirit, and urges them to have this kind of ζῆλος once again
(πάντοτε). In effect, Paul says:
Let’s talk about zeal for a moment. They are ‘zealous’ for you—but what
they have in mind is not ‘good’! They want to exclude you so that you
will bring them fame by making them objects of your emulation. What is
good, as I have just reminded you, is to be zealous for what you yourselves
have shown that ‘the good’ really is—so do this always, not just when
I am present with you.
This reading is propitiously straightforward in context, but in light of the

interpretive difficulties that have plagued these verses, some attention must
63 It is important to emphasize that a ‘good’ object of ζῆλος does not include overt self-
glorification, which was nearly always portrayed as a negative quality in Greek literature
and rhetoric. Paul may be implying, however, that even within the conventional under-
standing of (good) ‘zeal,’ the Teachers are slipping into (bad) ‘envy.’ Saïd has observed that
in Isocrates it is characteristic of those who are envious (φθονέω) that “by depriving the
envied of honour and praise . . . [they] automatically increase the prestige of the envious”
(“Envy,” 226); see, e.g., Antid. 258 (“by slandering them they will increase the honor of their
own”).
64 E.g., Demosthenes (Erot. 30) writes that Castor and Pollux were emulated for being
‘manly’ (ἀνδρεῖος). For a discussion of the imagery of v. 19 within the pericope as a whole,
see Beverly Roberts Gaventa, “The Maternity of Paul: An Exegetical Study of Galatians
4:19,” in The Conversation Continues: Studies in Paul and John in Honor of J. Louis Martyn,
ed. Robert T. Fortna and Beverly R. Gaventa (Nashville: Abingdon, 1990), 189–201.
136 CHAPTER 3
be given to the elements that suggest that Paul is also cautiously pointing to
his own example as one who exhibits redirected zeal. It is intriguing that the
Galatians are addressed as ‘brothers’ (ἀδελφοί; v. 12), and yet are called Paul’s
‘children’ (τέκνα; v. 19); that Paul states that they have done him no wrong
(ἠδικήσατε; v. 12) and yet wonders if he has become their enemy (ἐχθρός; v. 16);
and that Paul wishes to be with (παρεῖναι) them but is ‘at a loss’ (ἀποροῦμαι;
v. 20). Many interpreters take the opening invitation to imitate Paul (γίνεσθε ὡς
ἐγώ ὅτι κἀγὼ ὡς ὑμεῖς; v. 12) to imply that “the Galatians are on the same level
as the Apostle.”65 But having examined the redefinition at work in the pas-
sage as a whole, the phrase could be read as something of a bait-and-switch:
“Become as I am (a zealot for things of real worth; cf. Gal 2:10), for I also became
as you were (zealots for an enfeebled Paul).”66
Zealots in the Way of the Cross: Redirected Ζῆλος in Galatians

It would perhaps be going too far to say that ‘redirected zeal’ is the theme of
Galatians, but it is striking how Paul’s redirection of ζῆλος in 4:12–20 rever-
berates throughout the letter. As Beverly Roberts Gaventa has pointed out,
Paul does not explicitly call upon the Galatians to imitate him in chs. 1–2
because “the relationship between Paul and the Galatian Christians has been
jeopardized.”67 How is it, then, that Paul can include a call to imitation in 4:12?
Gaventa answers that Paul probably assumes that his letter has been some-
what effective at this late point in the letter, but more importantly, what the
Galatians are to imitate is not Paul’s life per se but rather “Paul’s single-minded
65 Paulus Toni Tantiono, Speaking the Truth in Christ: An Exegetico-Theological Study of
Galatians 4, 12–20 and Ephesians 4, 12–16 (Roma: Editrice Pontificia Universita Gregoriana,
2008), 60. Willis P. de Boer contends that the call to imitation in Gal 4:12 is “not sim-
ply to imitate . . . all those who have renounced the law in favor of faith in Christ, [but
specifically Paul].” He rightly emphasizes the uniqueness of Paul’s relationship with the
Galatians, but in vv. 12–20 Paul’s primary exemplar is not himself (The Imitation of Paul:
An Exegetical Study [Kampen, Netherlands: J.H. Kok, 1962], 195).
66 Robert Hamerton-Kelly’s observations about the way that Paul deemphasizes his own
importance even as he encourages the Corinthians to imitate him (2 Cor 12:10) are strik-
ingly applicable to the observations I have made concerning the imitation of Paul in Gal
4:12–20: “Rather than enter into the rivalry by imitating the opponents’ desire for power
and prestige, [Paul] enters ironically by imitating the weakness and humiliation of Christ”
(Sacred Violence: Paul’s Hermeneutic of the Cross [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992], 175).
67 “Galatians 1 and 2: Autobiography as Paradigm,” NovT 28, no. 4 (1986): 321. Gaventa draws
upon Abraham Malherbe’s work on Paul’s imitation language in relationship to Greco-
Roman moral exhortation, including his description of philophronetic exhortation in
which the writer reminds the audience of their past relationship (“Exhortation in First
Thessalonians,” NovT 25 [1983], 241).
response to the gospel that was revealed to him.”68 Paul’s autobiographical

remarks in chs. 1–2 are significant not simply as biography or as a defense of his
apostleship, but as an example of the singularity of the gospel: “Paul employs
events out of his past, events that have to do with the exclusive nature of the
gospel’s claim on his own life, to urge that same exclusive claim on Christians
in Galatia. Simply, Paul presents himself as an example of the working of
the gospel.”69
Gaventa’s observations can be confirmed and clarified by paying close
attention to the language of ζῆλος that connects the two sections of the let-
ter (1:14; 4:17–18). Just as the Galatians are to imitate their own earlier behav-
ior toward Paul when he was in a state that exemplifies what is truly ‘good’
(4:12–20), so too can they look to the example of Paul the ζηλωτής.70 As
explored above, Paul’s single-minded zeal for the law became a steadfast, zeal-
ous pursuit of the gospel mission (chs. 1–2) in the pattern of Elijah’s obedi-
ent response after his sojourn to ‘Arabia.’ In 4:11, Paul speaks of himself as one
who has ‘toiled’ on behalf of others (κεκοπίακα εἰς ὑμᾶς; cf. Rom 16:6, 12; 1 Cor
15:10; Phil 2:16; Col 1:29; 1 Tim 4:10; Acts 20:35). This description is very much in
line with the language Paul has used to describe his post-Damascus missionary
efforts (1:15–24), the idea of ‘not running in vain’ (2:2), and the idea of ‘remem-
bering the poor’ (2:10), all of which may reasonably be described as ‘redirected
zeal’ since they immediately follow Paul’s self-description as a ζηλωτής (1:14).
Paul also anticipates his redefinition of ‘the good’ in 3:1. Just as he does in
4:12–20, Paul reminds the Galatians about the time he was with them (Jesus
was ‘portrayed publicly’ [προγράφω]; cf. 4:13), makes reference to their eyes
(κατ᾿ ὀφθαλμούς; cf. 4:15), and specifically mentions the archetype of paradoxi-
cal ‘good’: the crucified Christ (Ἰησοῦς Χριστός . . . ἐσταυρωμένος; cf. 4:14). Indeed,
just a few verses later (3:13–14) Paul describes how the ‘blessing’ (εὐλογία; cf.
μακαρισμός in 4:15) came not by a display of power but because Christ became
a ‘curse’ (κατάρα).
68 “Autobiography,” 322.

69 “Autobiography,” 313.
70 In Isocrates, a ‘zealot’ (using the substantive adjective form) can be defined as one who
is the object of emulation; e.g., οὐ γὰρ μόνον ὑπὸ τῶν ἄλλων ἔσει ζηλωτὸς ἀλλὰ καὶ σαυτὸν
μακαριεῖς (“For not only will you be the object of emulation of others, but also you will
consider yourself happy”; Phil. 69). Such usage could suggest that the Galatians are to
emulate Paul the ζηλωτής (1:14), but for very different reasons than they would initially
expect in chs. 1–2 (advancing in excellence and all the rest; cf. Phil 3:3–7). In any case, it is
problematic to maintain that Paul no longer views himself as a zealot in light of 4:12–20;
pace Dunn, “Echoes of Intra-Jewish Polemic in Paul’s Letter to the Galatians,” JBL 112, no.
3 (1993), 475–76.
138 CHAPTER 3
Further on in the letter, Paul’s message about redirected ζῆλος is stated in

other terms. We hear in 5:7 that the Galatians had been running ‘well’ (καλῶς),
but now they are being prevented from the ‘truth’ (ἀλήθεια; cf. ἀληθεύω in 4:16).
In 5:11, Paul states that if he is still acting in the old manner (εἰ περιτομὴν ἔτι
κηρύσσω; “if I am still preaching circumcision”), then the scandalous notion
of the way of the cross (τὸ σκάνδαλον τοῦ σταυροῦ) has no meaning at all
(καταργέω). The life of the believing community is life by the Spirit (5:22–24).
It is marked by zeal ἐν καλῷ instead of the kind of zeal that accompanies all
sorts of vices (ἔρις, ζῆλος; 5:20) or has degenerated into conceit, provocation,
and envy (φθονέω; 5:26).71
At the end of the letter, the connection between ‘ζῆλος for the good’ and cru-
ciform existence becomes especially compelling. Just as in 4:17, the Teachers’
behavior is exposed as exclusive and ill-directed: they wish to ‘make a good
showing’ (εὐπροσωπῆσαι; 6:12), ‘not to be persecuted’ (μὴ διώκωνται; 6:12), and
‘to boast’ (καυχήσωνται; 6:13). Paul again contrasts this activity with what is
paradoxically ‘good’; that is, to suffer persecution for the sake of Christ (6:12)
and to boast about nothing but the cross (6:12, 14). Finally, as if to remind the
Galatians once more about what he was like when he was with them and to
correct any misconceptions about what ‘the good’ really looks like, Paul tells
them that he bears the very marks of Jesus on his body (ἐγὼ γὰρ τὰ στίγματα τοῦ
Ἰησοῦ ἐν τῷ σώματί μου βαστάζω; 6:17).
Zealots for ‘the Good’: Redirected Ζῆλος in the Pauline Corpus

Though some of the texts are explored in further detail elsewhere in this mono-
graph, it will be helpful to consider how such an understanding of redirected
zeal in the letter to the Galatians resonates with the way Paul uses the language
of ζῆλος elsewhere. In Philippians, Paul mentions ζῆλος in a way that begs for
an object to determine its appropriateness (‘according to zeal . . .’; 3:6). As in
Gal 4:12–20, he contrasts the zealous pursuit of noble credentials (Ἑβραῖος ἐξ
Ἑβραίων; 3:5) and ‘gains’ (κέρδη; 3:7) with a zealous life of ‘sufferings’ (παθήματα;
3:10), ‘loss’ (ζημία; 3:8), and participation in the cross (συμμορφιζόμενος τῷ
θανάτῳ αὐτοῦ; 3:10; cf. 2:8; 3:18). As we saw in Chapter One, in 1 Corinthians,
Paul speaks of the ‘foolishness’ (μωρία; 1:18, 25) of the cross in contrast to
71 Saïd characterizes Isocrates’ description of one who is envious as a sort of “ζηλωτής
manqué” (“Envy,” 221). Isocrates’ idea of good emulation degenerating into jealous imi-
tation because of unfulfilled desires (cf. Phil. 11; Antid. 244–46) is not quite the same as
Paul’s characterizations in Galatians, but it is intriguing to think of Paul’s descriptions
of bad zeal (4:17; 5:20, 26) as descriptions of a mere ‘ζηλωτής manqué’ (and thus in real-
ity a person exhibiting bad φθόνος) in comparison with the descriptions of a true zealot
(4:13–14, 18).
such emulated qualities as ‘wisdom’ (σοφός), ‘power’ (δυνατός), and ‘noble

birth’ (εὐγενής; 1:26). Later in the letter, Paul repeats the imperative ζηλοῦτε
three times to encourage zeal for spiritual gifts (12:31; 14:1, 39), and refers to
the Corinthians as ‘zealots for spiritual things’ (ζηλωταί ἐστε πνευμάτων; 14:12).
In 2 Corinthians, Paul rejoices at the Corinthians’ zeal for him (τὸν ὑμῶν
ζῆλον ὑπὲρ ἐμοῦ; 7:7) when he was ‘afflicted’ (θλίβω; 7:5), he commends the
Corinthians’ offering for the poor believers in Jerusalem as a model of redi-
rected zeal (τὸ ὑμῶν ζῆλος ἠρέθισεν τοὺς πλείονας; 9:2), and he speaks of his own
ζῆλος for the Corinthians as the very zeal of God (ζηλῶ γὰρ ὑμᾶς θεοῦ ζήλῳ;
11:2).72 Finally, in Romans 9–11, Paul expresses his fervent desire (cf. 9:2) that
the uninformed ‘zeal for God’ demonstrated by his own people will, like Paul’s
own zeal, become redirected (ζῆλον θεοῦ ἔχουσιν ἀλλ᾿ οὐ κατ᾿ ἐπίγνωσιν; 10:2).
Such a Spirit-enacted transformation is only to be accomplished through the
power of God in Christ (cf. 9:1; 10:4; 11:23). In light of such a pattern through-
out Paul’s undisputed letters, the description of the Christ-follower as a ‘zealot
for good deeds’ (ζηλωτὴν καλῶν ἔργων) in Titus 2:14 offers a fitting synopsis of
Paul’s usage.
Conclusion
We have seen that in Gal 4:12–20 Paul cleverly subverts the language of ‘ζῆλος
for the good’ by inserting a radically different example of what ‘the good’
looks like. In sharp contrast to the object of ζῆλος pursued by the Teachers, the
Galatians are reminded of their own initial reception of Paul in his condition
of weakness. This strategy serves to reemphasize Paul’s plea in 4:9: “How can
you turn back again [to the things you think are worth emulating, but are truly
‘weak’ and ‘poor’]?”73 In fact, the language of redirected ζῆλος is just one of the
ways that Paul articulates the transformation that has occurred in the lives of
believers because of their participation in the crucified Christ and the arrival
of the new cosmos. In Galatians this transformation is also called ‘the scandal
of the cross’ (5:11), and in another context Paul describes having ζῆλος for lowly
objects as ‘power in weakness’ (2 Cor 12:9).
In Gal 4:12–20, however, Paul departs from his engagement with Torah, cir-
cumcision, and Jewish ancestors (1:6–4:11) and plays for a moment with the
language of virtue, nobility, and Greek rhetoric:
72 Hamerton-Kelly, working with the assumption that Paul employs the language of ζῆλος
because it was a memorable part of a slogan used by his opponents, takes Paul’s statement
in 2 Cor 11:2 as ironic rather than sincere (Violence, 177). See further Chapter Four.
73 πῶς ἐπιστρέφετε πάλιν; 4:9.
140 CHAPTER 3
Teachers: Certain men have the effrontery to write that the life of beggars
and exiles is more to be emulated [ζηλωτότερος] than . . . subjects of noble
goodness [τῶν καλῶν κἀγαθῶν]! For what sensible man would undertake
to praise misfortunes? No, it is obvious that they take refuge in such
topics because of weakness [δι’ ἀσθένειαν].74
Paul: You know that it was because of a weakness [δι’ ἀσθένειαν] of the
flesh that I first preached the gospel to you . . . yet you welcomed me as
an angel of God, as Christ Jesus. This is ‘the good’ that is to be zealously
pursued [ζηλοῦσθαι] in this good way.75
The interplay in this closing reconstruction captures something of the rhetori-

cal spirit of the reading I have proposed in this chapter. If accepted, this reading
moves us some distance toward a more coherent and integrated understanding
of Gal 4:12–20, and at the same time sheds light upon Paul’s broader utilization
of the motif of ‘redirected ζῆλος.’ The rhetorical effect of Paul’s redefinition of
‘the good’ may have been quite shocking. But that a Jewish ‘zealot’ writing in
an emulation-saturated Hellenistic environment should capitalize upon the
semantic flexibility of the ζῆλος word group to make such a point is decidedly
less so.
Paul the Ζηλωτής in Galatians 1:10–24
A central claim of this book is that compartmentalizing occurrences leads

to a stunted appreciation of Paul’s strategies, so a brief response to previ-
ous readings of Gal 1:14 is appropriate. Dane C. Ortlund’s 2012 monograph
provides a helpful survey of the current state of scholarship surrounding
Paul’s reference to himself as ζηλωτής in Gal 1:14.76 Questions about Paul as a
Pharisee and what it means to be a ζηλωτής for the ‘ancestral traditions’ (τῶν
πατρικῶν . . . παραδόσεων) have dominated scholarly interest in this passage,77
and Ortlund’s own treatment aims to counter James D.G. Dunn’s assertion
that Paul’s reference to zeal is primarily about “an unconditional commit-
ment to maintain Israel’s distinctiveness . . . to defend its religious and national
74 Isocrates, Hel. enc. 8–11; slightly modified from Van Hook, LCL; italics mine.
75 Gal 4:13–14, 18.
(London: T&T Clark, 2012), 137–50.
77 E.g., J.W. Doeve, “Paulus der Pharisäer und Galater 1 13–15,” NovT 6, no. 2/3 (1963): 170–81.
boundaries.”78 These concerns are beyond the scope of this monograph, and
for our purposes it will be helpful to consider just one element from Gal 1:14.79
The question most germane to our reading of Galatians 4 is the sense in
which Paul views his ζῆλος to be ‘redirected,’ and the related question of how
Paul’s autobiographical reference to ζῆλος informs the subsequent references
in the letter. As we have seen, Paul clearly advocates a positive role for ζῆλος in
the lives of the Galatian believers. Here I propose that even within Gal 1:10–24,
ζῆλος need not be viewed in a wholly negative light, given that Paul primarily
identifies with the ζῆλος of Elijah in 1 Kgs 19:8–18, which is then informed by the
calling of the Isaianic servant of Isa 49:1–6.80
There is little question that in Gal 1:10–24 Paul emphasizes the contrast
between his former and present life.81 Crucial, however, is how this division is
perceived. The well-known debate about Galatians 1 as a ‘conversion’ or a ‘call’
is beyond the scope of our concerns here,82 but it is important to ask whether
78 The Theology of Paul the Apostle (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 351. Ortlund argues
that “careful attention to the flow of thought in vv. 11–16 reveals that the reference to
zeal assumes a structurally subordinate place within the broader concern to demon-
strate the divine calling of Paul—that is, to demonstrate a ‘vertical’ point” (Zeal Without
Knowledge, 145).
79 As Martyn has argued, the scriptural allusions in Paul’s autobiographical defense antici-
pate the allegory of Galatians 4 and elucidate the letter’s central antinomy between the
gospel and circumcision (Galatians, 476).
80 This reading supplements that of Ortlund, who notes that discussion of the possible refer-
ences to Jeremiah 1 and Isaiah 49 “is not immediately germane to the present discussion”
(Zeal Without Knowledge, 146 n. 159). My own reading moves away from a stark disjunc-
tion (see below), but within Ortlund’s framework it is perhaps better to say that Paul’s call
and travel narrative in Gal 1:10–24 not only serves to distance him from Jerusalem, but
also establishes that his former ζῆλος (à la Elijah in 1 Kgs 19:8–18) has been redirected (not
eradicated) as a light to the Gentiles (à la the Isaianic servant in Isa 49:1–6).
81 Both ποτέ (1:13) ὅτε δέ (1:15) are temporal markers, and Paul makes judicious use of
several imperfect verbs to emphasize the continuing past state of his former life, which
he sets in contrast with the aorist and present verbs he uses to describe his call and
current mission. He ‘was persecuting’ (ἐδίωκον [1:13]), ‘was destroying’ (ἐπόρθουν [1:13]),
‘was advancing,’ (προέκοπτον [1:14]), and ‘was being unknown’ (ἤμην . . . ἀγνοούμενος
[1:22]), juxtaposed with ‘consented . . . to reveal’ (εὐδόκησεν . . . ἀποκαλύψαι [1:15–16]), ‘did
not go up . . . went away’ (οὐδὲ ἀνῆλθον . . . ἀπῆλθον [1:17]), ‘returned’ (ὑπέστρεψα [1:17]), and
‘proclaims’ (εὐαγγελίζεται [1:23]).
82 The key works remain those of Krister Stendahl (“The Apostle Paul and the Introspective
Conscience of the West,” HTR 56, no. 3 [1963]: 199–215), Seyoon Kim (The Origin of Paul’s
Gospel [WUNT 2.4; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1981]), and Alan F. Segal (Paul the Convert: The
Apostolate and Apostasy of Saul the Pharisee [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990]).
142 CHAPTER 3
Paul’s use of ζηλωτής participates in a negative portrayal of Paul’s past. Ortlund

thinks Krister Stendahl’s influential rebuke of the idea that Paul was troubled
by an ‘introspective conscience’ is right, in a (dramatically) qualified sense:
“Paul the zealous Pharisee did indeed have an untroubled conscience as he
set out on the road to Damascus.” However, Ortlund insists that “this lack of
a troubled conscience was precisely the problem” because “[h]is zeal blinded
him to his sin and his consequent need for grace.”83 This negative portrayal of
Paul’s former zeal permeates Ortlund’s analysis of ζῆλος in Galatians.
Nevertheless, drawing especially upon his exegesis of Rom 10:2, Ortlund
insists that he has “spoken of ‘redirected’ or ‘transformed’ zeal (not ‘eradicated’
zeal),” and makes the claim that Paul identifies three categories (no zeal; zeal
not according to knowledge [Rom 10:2]; and ‘a new kind of zeal’ with appropri-
ate knowledge).84 Still, it is clear that his analysis of Gal 1:14 leaves room only
for negative zeal: “We might say that in Galatians 1 the three options are no
zeal; zeal that scrupulously advances in the traditions of the fathers, though
without revelation; and zeal stopped short in its tracks by revelation of God’s
Son.”85 Our examination of Galatians 4 suggests that Ortlund’s notion of “zeal
stopped short” is problematic, given that Paul speaks positively of ζῆλος later
in the letter. It is worth considering whether Paul provides some indication of
a positive ζῆλος in Galatians 1 itself.
Toward this end, I suggest that in fact in Galatians 1 there is no reason to
assume that Paul’ description of himself as a ζηλωτής is to be understood
pejoratively. To an extent, in ch. 1 Paul’s life and identity in Judaism (1:13–14)
are set in contrast (δέ) to his subsequent call (1:15–16). In this way, Paul seems
to distance himself from Jewish identity (Ἰουδαϊσμός; 1:14),86 though more

86 Though Paul uses Ἰουδαῖος frequently in his letters (Ἰουδαῖος occurs 25 times in Paul’s
undisputed corpus [and once in Col 3:11]; cf. Ἰουδαϊκῶς and ἰουδαΐζω [Gal 2:14]), the term
Ἰουδαϊσμός occurs only in this passage. It is used in connection with Paul’s ‘former lifestyle’
(ἀναστροφήν ποτε, 1:13), and in connection with the word γένος (1:14). Philippians 3:4–6
closely resembles Gal 1:13–14:
Εἴ τις δοκεῖ ἄλλος πεποιθέναι ἐν σαρκί, ἐγὼ μᾶλλον· περιτομῇ ὀκταήμερος, ἐκ γένους
[Ἰσραήλ], φυλῆς Βενιαμίν, Ἑβραῖος ἐξ Ἑβραίων, κατὰ νόμον Φαρισαῖος, κατὰ ζῆλος διώκων
τὴν ἐκκλησίαν, κατὰ δικαιοσύνην τὴν ἐν νόμῳ γενόμενος ἄμεμπτος (Phil 3:4–6).
Ἠκούσατε γὰρ τὴν ἐμὴν ἀναστροφήν ποτε ἐν τῷ [Ἰουδαϊσμῷ], ὅτι καθ᾿ ὑπερβολὴν ἐδίωκον
τὴν ἐκκλησίαν τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ ἐπόρθουν αὐτήν, καὶ προέκοπτον ἐν τῷ [Ἰουδαϊσμῷ] ὑπὲρ
πολλοὺς συνηλικιώτας ἐν τῷ γένει μου, περισσοτέρως ζηλωτὴς ὑπάρχων τῶν πατρικῶν μου
παραδόσεων (Gal 1:13–14).
particularly from the Jerusalem leadership.87 There is little reason to doubt,

then, that (1) the language of zeal was highly evocative for first-century Jews
(cf. L.A.B. 47.7; Josephus, Ant. 12.271; Philo, Post. 183; 1QS IX, 23; 4Q372 1 XII; Acts
21:20; 22:3) as a defining characteristic of great figures in the tradition of zeal
for the Jewish people and the Torah, including Elijah (1 Kgs 19:10, 14; Sir 48:1–2),
Phinehas (Num 25:11–13), and Mattathias (1 Macc 2:23–26), and (2) Paul clearly
identified himself within this tradition (Gal 1:14; Phil 3:6).88 My argument here
is that in Gal 1:14, Paul’s primary model is Elijah.
Paul use of ἐκ γένους Ἰσραήλ raises the question of whether Paul’s two uses of Ἰουδαϊσμός
in Gal 1:13–14 is significant. It is difficult to answer this with certainty, but it is reveal-
ing that within the Greek translations of Israel’s Scriptures known to us, Ἰουδαϊσμός only
occurs in 2 Macc 2:21, 8:1, and 14:38 [2x]; and the term is not found in Josephus or Philo
(cf. 4 Macc 4:26). Given that the occurrences in 2 Maccabees posit Ἰουδαϊσμός as some-
thing of an honorific title, it is possible that Greek-speaking readers familiar with Israel’s
Scriptures would associate the term with ‘Jewish ζῆλος’ as presented in 2 Maccabees. See
also the persecution of the ζηλωτὴν τῶν νόμων (2 Macc 4:2) and ‘emulating the way of life’
(ἐζήλουν τὰς ἀγωγὰς) of the temple priests (2 Macc 4:16). Ἰουδαϊσμός occurs in the follow-
ing contexts: “the appearances that came from heaven to those who fought bravely for
Judaism [τοῖς ὑπὲρ τοῦ Ιουδαϊσμοῦ], so that though few in number they seized the whole
land and pursued the barbarian hordes” (2 Macc 2:21 NRSV); “Meanwhile Judas . . . and his
companions secretly entered the villages and summoned their kindred and enlisted those
who had continued in the Jewish faith” (2 Macc 8:1 NRSV); “In former times, when there
was no mingling with the Gentiles, he had been accused of Judaism, and he had most
zealously risked body and life for Judaism” (2 Macc 14:38 NRSV). ἐκτένεια (’zeal‘ or ‘earnest-
ness’) falls within the semantic domain of ζῆλος. Paul does not use this term (it appears in
the NT only in Acts 26:7, where Paul speaks of the ‘earnest’ worship of the Jews (Ἰουδαῖοι)
on account of the promises made to the ancestors (οἱ πατέρες). There is one occurrence in
Josephus (Ant. 7.231).
87 As the account of his travels confirm, Paul’s authority certainly does not rely on Jewish
leaders like Cephas (1:18) or the other apostles in Jerusalem (1:19). Within Paul’s rhetoric,
Jerusalem (as well as Arabia and Damascus) is more than a point on a map. As Martyn
observes, “Paul never uses the word ‘Jerusalem’ to refer to the Jewish religion, [Jerusalem
is] nothing other than the locale of the Jerusalem church” (Galatians, 458). Since the
explicit references in 1:17–18 and 2:1 are the only other occurrences in Galatians, the
Jerusalem church may be metonymically inferred in Paul’s allegory of 4:25–26. Paul only
uses the name ‘Jerusalem’ in two other places in his undisputed letters (Rom 15:19, 25, 26,
31 and 1 Cor 16:3). These uses refer to Jerusalem as a geographic location, but all except
Rom 15:19 seem to have the Jerusalem church in view.
88 See further Torrey Seland, “Saul of Tarsus and Early Zealotism: Reading Gal 1:13–14 in Light
of Philo’s Writings,” Biblica 83, no. 4 (2002): 449–71.
144 CHAPTER 3
1 Kings 19 is cited by Paul in Rom 11:2–3, the only place Paul explicitly men-
tions Elijah in his writings.89 In fact, in the first part of the verse Paul cites
(1 Kgs 19:10), Elijah declares, “Being zealous, I have been zealous for the Lord
Almighty” (ζηλῶν ἐζήλωκα τῷ κυρίῳ παντοκράτορι). That Paul thinks of Elijah’s
ζῆλος also in Galatians 1 is borne out by several story elements and vocabulary
choices that appear in both 1 Kings 19 and Gal 1:10–24. First, then, the ζηλ-word
group appears in both 1 Kgs 19:10 and 19:14, and Elijah’s use of the word in refer-
ence to killing the prophets of Baal (cf. 1 Kgs 18:40) bears resemblance to Paul’s
persecution of τὴν ἐκκλησίαν τοῦ θεοῦ (Gal 1:13; cf. Acts 8:3).90
Second, the word διαθήκη is prominent in both the Elijah narrative (τὴν
διαθήκην, 1 Kgs 19:14 LXX) and in Galatians. It appears in Paul’s discussion of
Abraham and the Sinaitic law in Galatians 3, as well as in the famous allegory
involving δύο διαθῆκαι in ch. 4, where Paul refers to Hagar as being “from Mount
Sinai . . . in Arabia” (ἀπὸ ὄρους Σινᾶ . . . ἐν τῇ Ἀραβίᾳ; 4:24–25). 1 Kgs 19:8 recounts
Elijah’s time at Mount Sinai/Choreb (LXX ὄρος Χωρηβ). Arabia, of course, is
mentioned only elsewhere in Gal 1:17 (ἀπῆλθον εἰς Ἀραβίαν). Most interpret-
ers offer little explanation for why Paul mentions Arabia, other than that it is
not Jerusalem.91 The parallels with 1 Kings 19 are fitting for Paul’s discussion in
Galatians 1. On this reading, Paul mentions his time in Arabia as a time of com-
munion with God in the pattern of Elijah in 1 Kgs 19:8.92
Third, the task given to Elijah in 1 Kings 19 is to ‘anoint’ a new king (χρίω,
1 Kgs 19:15 LXX), which is similar to Paul’s task of heralding the new ‘anointed
one’ (Χριστός) in Gal 1:10–24.93
Finally, and most significantly, Paul’s journey in 1:17 is matched in 1 Kgs 19:15:
not only does Elijah travel to Arabia/Sinai, but en route to this anointing work
he goes to Damascus. Paul’s mention of Damascus, then, is more than simply a
corroboration of Luke’s account of Paul’s itinerary in Acts 9. Paul returns again
89 Paul’s quotation of 1 Kgs 19:10 in Rom 11:3 (τοὺς προφήτας σου ἀπέκτειναν, τὰ θυσιαστήριά
σου κατέσκαψαν, κἀγὼ ὑπελείφθην μόνος καὶ ζητοῦσιν τὴν ψυχήν μου) more closely resembles
the Masoretic Text (‫את־מזבחתיך הרסו ואת־נביאיך הרגו בחרב ואותר אני לבדי ויבקׁשו‬
‫)את־נפׁשי לקחתה‬, but this does not mitigate the compelling parallels that emerge in a
comparison of Galatians 1 with the LXX.
90 That is, from Paul’s earlier perspective, ἐκκλησία τοῦ θεοῦ might be taken as a parallel to
the prophets of Baal.
91 E.g., Martyn, Galatians, 169–70; Longenecker, Galatians, 34.
92 This reading contrasts with Bruce’s speculation that “. . . the primary purpose of his
Arabian visit appears to have been . . . to preach” (Epistle, 96).
93 This observation is made by N.T. Wright, “Paul, Arabia, and Elijah (Galatians 1:17),” JBL 115,
no. 4 (1996), 687.
εἰς Δαμασκόν (Gal 1:17) just as Elijah followed God’s leading εἰς τὴν ὁδὸν ἐρήμου
Δαμασκοῦ (1 Kgs 19:15 LXX).
If a contrast is set up (ποτέ [1:13] and ὅτε δέ [1:15]) and Paul identifies his
former ζῆλος with that of Elijah, it is worth considering whether there is evi-
dence in the text to support a similar exemplar for what follows Paul’s call-
ing. Interpreters regularly point out that Paul alludes to the prophetic call of
either Jeremiah or Isaiah, and some resist the need to choose between them.94
Allusions lend themselves to ambiguity, and indeed both are appropriate to
Paul’s concerns. The reference to ὁ ἀφορίσας με ἐκ κοιλίας μητρός μου in Gal 1:15
finds resonance in Jer 1:5 LXX (πρὸ τοῦ με πλάσαι σε ἐν κοιλίᾳ), and Paul’s calling
to preach to the nations (εὐαγγελίζωμαι αὐτὸν ἐν τοῖς ἔθνεσιν; Gal 1:16) echoes
Jeremiah as προφήτην εἰς ἔθνη (Jer 1:5 LXX). Yet ἐκ κοιλίας μητρός μου (Isa 49:1
LXX) is the exact wording Paul uses in Gal 1:15. Further, Paul speaks of ‘hearing’
(ἠκούσατε; Gal 1:13; cf. ἀκούοντες in 1:23) just as the opening word of Isa 49:1 LXX
(ἀκούσατε). Paul makes use of ἰδού (Gal 1:20) just like Isa 49:6 (LXX). The word
γένος (Gal 1:14) also appears at Isa 49:6 LXX. The concept of ‘glorification’ is
found in Gal 1:24 (ἐδόξαζον ἐν ἐμοί) and Isa 49:3 LXX (ἐν σοὶ δοξασθήσομαι). There
is an element of ‘hiddenness’ in both passages: Paul ‘goes away’ (ἀνῆλθον) in
Gal 1:17 and the servant is ‘hidden’ (ἔκρυψέν) in Isa 49:2 LXX. In addition, Paul
refers to himself as a Χριστοῦ δοῦλος (Gal 1:10) in the pattern of δοῦλός μου (Isa
49:3 LXX). This is an important phrase, given Paul’s use of δοῦλος throughout
Galatians (‘slave nor free’ [3:28], ‘enslaved under the elements of the world’
[4:3], ‘no longer a slave but . . . an heir’ [4:7], ‘Hagar . . . serves as a slave’ [4:25],
and ‘the yoke of slavery’ [5:1]).95 It is true that Paul sometimes interpreted the
Isaianic servant christologically, but this need not mean that Paul does not
understand the Isaianic servant to prefigure his own slavery to Christ.96
94 For an argument for the influence of Jer 1:5 on this passage, see especially Roy E. Ciampa,
The Presence and Function of Scripture in Galatians 1 and 2 (WUNT 2.102; Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 1998), 111–18. For an argument for Isa 42:1–9 as the primary allusion, see Seyoon
Kim, Paul and the New Perspective: Second Thoughts on The Origin of Paul’s Gospel (WUNT
140; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 101–6.
95 See also Gal 5:13 (δουλεύετε ἀλλήλοις).
96 See, e.g., the parallels between Rom 5:19 and Isa 53:11, and Rom 4:25 and Isa 53:4–5. Colin G.
Kruse claims that “Paul never, in his own writings, identifies himself explicitly with the
Isaianic Servant of the Lord” (“Servant, Service,” in Dictionary of Paul and His Letters
[ed. Gerald F. Hawthorne and Ralph P. Martin; Downers Grove: IVP, 1993], 870), but Paul
quotes the servant’s words in Isa 49:4 and 52:15 while speaking of himself in Phil 2:16 and
Rom 15:21, respectively. See also Luke’s portrayal of Paul and Barnabas quoting Isa 49:6 in
reference to their own mission in Acts 13:47.
146 CHAPTER 3
These connections are not surprising, of course, given that the majority of
Paul’s scriptural citations are from Isaiah.97 Paul’s letters mention Isaiah five
times by name, which puts Isaiah in the company of named prophets in Paul
with only Moses (9x) and, appropriately, Elijah (Rom 11:2).98 The concept of a
‘light to the Gentiles’ (Isa 49:6) is a significant Isaianic theme (cf. 42:6; 51:4),
at least as read by early Christian interpreters. Paul connects Gal 1:10–24 to
Isa 49:6 with the phrase ἐν τοῖς ἔθνεσιν (Gal 1:16), a concept that defines Paul’s
entire ministry (Gal 2:7; cf. Eph 3:8, 1 Tim 1:11; 2:7; Acts 9:15; 15:12).
What conclusion can be reached about Gal 1:10–24 in light of the details
presented? In the process of distinguishing the source of his gospel from the
‘human’ Jerusalem apostles, Paul personifies his former and post-revelation
lives: his Elijah-like zeal (1 Kgs 19:14–18) has been redirected in light of his call-
ing as an Isaianic servant-like apostle to the Gentiles (Isa 49:1–6). The ζηλωτής
for the ancestral traditions is now the bearer of the good news for the nations.99
To recognize such redirection, though, is not the same thing as “zeal stopped
short in its tracks.”100 It is crucial to recognize that when Paul frames his call
with reference to Elijah, he does not rebuke Elijah’s ζῆλος. The same is true of
the presentation of Elijah in 1 Kings.
In fact, it is striking that despite the tendency to dwell on Paul’s understand-
ing of his vocation, in both 1 Kings 19 and Galatians 1 it is God’s instructions
that are primary. In 1 Kings 19, God twice asks, “Why are you here, Elijah?”
(‫מה־לך פה אליהו‬/τί σὺ ἐνταῦθα Ηλιου [1 Kgs 19:9, 13]). Both times, Elijah responds
by speaking of his ζῆλος:
Ζηλῶν ἐζήλωκα τῷ κυρίῳ παντοκράτορι, ὅτι ἐγκατέλιπον τὴν διαθήκην σου οἱ

υἱοὶ Ισραηλ· τὰ θυσιαστήριά σου καθεῖλαν καὶ τοὺς προφήτας σου ἀπέκτειναν
ἐν ῥομφαίᾳ, καὶ ὑπολέλειμμαι ἐγὼ μονώτατος, καὶ ζητοῦσι τὴν ψυχήν μου
λαβεῖν αὐτήν.
97 According to Moisés Silva, 27 out of Paul’s 37 citations are from Isaiah (“Old Testament in
Paul,” in Dictionary of Paul and His Letters [ed. Gerald F. Hawthorne and Ralph P. Martin;
Downers Grove: IVP, 1993], 631); cf. John F.A. Sawyer, The Fifth Gospel: Isaiah in the History
of Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 22.
98 Ἠσαΐας appears in Rom 9:27, 29; 10:16, 20; 15:12; cf. Sawyer, Fifth Gospel, 21.
99 Paul provides a preliminary answer to the question of what follows the beginning of faith
(ἐναρξάμενοι . . . ἐπιτελεῖσθε; Gal 3:3): for Paul it is not the law (2:21); it is apostleship to the
Gentiles (1:16), proclaiming the faith in Syria and Cilicia (1:21–23).
100 Ortlund, Zeal Without Knowledge, 171.
Being zealous, I have been zealous for the Lord Almighty, for the sons of
Israel abandoned your covenant; they tore down your altars and killed
your prophets with a sword, and I alone am left remaining, and they seek
my life, to take it (1 Kgs 19:10, 14).
There is no condemnation of Elijah’s ζῆλος by God within the narrative, nor by

the narrator.101 God simply responds the first time with the comforting words
about God’s presence in the still voice (vv. 11–13), and the second time with
the instructions for Elijah to anoint Hazael, Jehu, and Elisha (vv. 15–18). The
only ‘correction’ of Elijah’s response is that God denies that Elijah is the only
remnant (‫ואותר אני לבדי‬/ὑπολέλειμμαι ἐγὼ μονώτατος [1 Kgs 19:10, 14]); God (or
Elijah in the LXX) will leave seven thousand who remain faithful (‫הׁשארתי‬/
καταλείψεις [1 Kgs 19:18]). Given the way Paul encourages the Galatians to fol-
low his example (Gal 4:12), Paul’s understanding of his call means that he is no
longer to be the only ζηλωτής.
101 Pace Richard H. Bell: “After his conversion, [Paul] was probably critical of the zeal of
Phinehas and Elijah” (Provoked to Jealousy: The Origin and Purpose of the Jealousy Motif in
Romans 9–11 [WUNT 2:63; Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1994], 310). Bell suggests that Rom 11:2–4
could be read as an “indirect criticism of Elijah,” but Paul’s reference to Elijah’s mistaken
thought that he alone remained of God’s faithful is a hopeful statement and hardly evi-
dence that Paul viewed Elijah in a negative light. In fact, Rom 11:2–4 only strengthens the
reading of Galatians 1 offered here, in that Paul overtly draws a parallel between Elijah’s
situation and his own; see further the treatment of Elijah in the discussion of 2 Cor 11:2 in
Chapter Four.
CHAPTER 4
Imitation and the Manifestation of God’s Ζῆλος in

Weakness: Ζῆλος in the Corinthian
Correspondence
In Chapter One, a preliminary consideration of the use of the ζηλ- word

group in 1 Corinthians illustrated the usefulness of a monosemic account in
Paul’s letters. In this chapter, I first examine the ‘shaping’ of the word group in
1 Corinthians (especially chs. 12–14) as it relates to previous interpretive solu-
tions. Next I propose that the language of ζῆλος be considered in future studies
of ‘imitation’ in Paul’s letters, given the clear linguistic and rhetorical/theologi-
cal connections between overt references to mimēsis (μιμέομαι/μιμητής) in Paul
(especially 1 Cor 4:16; 11:1) and Paul’s call to ‘emulate’ (ζηλόω) both himself and
worthy pursuits (e.g., 1 Cor 12:31; 14:1, 12, 39; 2 Cor 7:7; 9:2). Finally, building upon
these findings, I examine the implications of Paul’s reference to divine ζῆλος in
the ‘bride of Christ’ metaphor in 2 Cor 11:1–4.
Paul’s Use of the ζηλ- Word Group in 1 Corinthians
There are seven occurrences of the ζηλ- word group in 1 Corinthians. My inter-
est in what follows is not to provide a comprehensive treatment of all the
issues that attend the interpretation of these verses, but to reiterate the useful-
ness of a monosemic reading and to draw attention to some neglected aspects
of Paul’s rhetoric. The analysis is divided into three sections (3:3; 10:22; and
12:31–14:39).
1 Cor 3:3
In ch. 3, Paul addresses the quarreling and disputes that persist among the
Corinthians:
ὅπου γὰρ ἐν ὑμῖν ζῆλος καὶ ἔρις, οὐχὶ σαρκικοί ἐστε καὶ κατὰ ἄνθρωπον
περιπατεῖτε;
For in so far as there is ζῆλος and strife among you, are you not of the flesh
and living according to human inclinations? (3:3)

Imitation and the Manifestation of God ’ s ΖΗΛΟΣ in Weakness 149
As we saw in Chapter One, Paul is here dealing with the claims and interests of
the self, and the term ζῆλος participates in Paul’s indictment of the Corinthians’
behavior. Commentators have long noted the potent collocation of ζῆλος and
ἔρις in four places in Paul’s letters (Rom 13:13; 1 Cor 3:3; 2 Cor 12:20; Gal 5:20;
cf. Phil 1:15 [φθόνον καὶ ἔριν]), in Greco-Roman literature (e.g., Aristotle, Rhet.
3.19.3),1 and in later Christian literature (e.g., 1 Clem. 5.5; 6.4; 9.1).2 Similar lists
in Greek and Roman literature,3 sophistic usage of ζῆλος and ἔρις,4 and the con-
cept of ‘envy’ in the ancient world5 are undeniably useful for understanding
1 Cor 3:3. As we have already seen in Galatians, however, interpreters too swiftly
partition the occurrences of ζῆλος in Paul’s lists of negative behavior from the
other uses within a given letter.6
From a relevance theoretic perspective, the text enacts certain ‘strong’
pragmatic effects on the word ζῆλος, in part by way of its collocation with
ἔρις. In 1:11–12, Paul describes the ἔρις he is deeply concerned about, which
1 See further LSJ, 689, and the texts listed by Margaret M. Mitchell, who stresses the political
connotations of the word ἔρις in Greek literature (Paul and the Rhetoric of Reconciliation: An
Exegetical Investigation of the Language and Composition of 1 Corinthians [Louisville: WJK,
1993], 81–2).
2 See further Chapter Two on 1 Clement.
3 E.g., Isocrates, Ep. 9.8; Sophocles, Oed. col. 1234; Aristophanes, Thesm. 788; cf. Jas 3:16 (ζῆλος
καὶ ἐριθεία). This is not to claim that Paul’s usage should be identified with a particular literary
form such as ‘vice catalogue.’
4 One of Bruce W. Winter’s central claims in his work on Paul and the sophists is that the
language of ζῆλος and ἔρις in 1 Cor 3:3 is “clearly related to the sophistic movement” (Philo
and Paul Among the Sophists: Alexandrian and Corinthian Responses to a Julio-Claudian
Movement [2d ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002], 13; cf. 123–40; After Paul Left Corinth: The
Influence of Secular Ethics and Social Change [Grand Rapids, Eerdmans, 2001], 160). See also
Eng Hock Ng, who endorses Winter’s view for his thesis that sophistic influence is at work
also in the later chapters of 1 Corinthians (“Sophistic Influence: The Key to Interpreting
1 Corinthians 12–14” [PhD diss., Fuller Theological Seminary, 2012], 143), and Mark T. Finney’s
survey of the intense rivalries within sophistic circles (Honour and Conflict in the Ancient
World: 1 Corinthians in Its Greco-Roman Social Setting [London: T&T Clark, 2012], 82–3).
5 See, e.g., Finney, Honour, 31–2; Peter Walcot, Envy and the Greeks: A Study of Human Behaviour
(Warminster, England: Aris and Phillips, 1978).
6 Commenting on 1 Cor 3:3, Joseph B. Lightfoot writes: “It is instructive to observe how ζῆλος
has been degraded in Christian ethics from the high position which it holds in classical Greek
as a noble emulation (ἐπιεικές ἐστιν ὁ ζῆλος καὶ ἐπιεικῶν Arist. Rhet. ii.11), so that it is most
frequently used in a bad sense of quarrelsome opposition” (Notes on Epistles of St. Paul from
Unpublished Commentaries [London: Macmillan, 1895], 186). Similarly, although Finney’s
careful work on ζῆλος in 3:3 includes acknowledgment of Dio Chrysostom’s definition of a
disciple as a ζηλωτής (Or. 55.4; cf. 1 Cor 14:12), this connection is not considered in his treat-
ment of 1 Corinthians 12–14 (cf. Honour, 82–3, 187–93).
150 CHAPTER 4
revolves around the correct person to emulate (1:12) and whether these ‘wise’
(σοφός; 1:19–20), ‘powerful’ (δυνατός; 1:26), and ‘noble’ (εὐγενής; 1:26) objects are
truly worthy of emulation (τὸ μωρὸν τοῦ θεοῦ σοφώτερον τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἐστὶν;
1:25). All of this information shapes the grab-bag for ζῆλος and the particular
mental items that are activated in 3:3.
In other words, the ad hoc meaning of ζῆλος in 3:3 includes information and
images associated with ‘emulation,’ rather than simply the encoded sense of
the polyseme ‘jealousy’ that is accepted by virtually all commentators.7 These
effects are then reinforced in the following verses (wrongly-directed ζῆλος
belongs to the life believers have left behind [3:4, 16]; and the ‘wisdom’ of emu-
lating a particular person is foolishness to God [3:18–19]; etc.), thereby shaping
the grab-bag that will be activated in subsequent occurrences of the ζηλ-
word group.
1 Cor 10:22
Interpreters also separate the occurrence of παραζηλόω in 10:22 from the occur-
rences of the ζηλ- word group that follow in chs. 12–14,8 but again there is rea-
son to resist such separation. In the conclusion to his warnings against idolatry
in 10:14–22, Paul invokes Deuteronomy 32:
ἢ παραζηλοῦμεν τὸν κύριον; μὴ ἰσχυρότεροι αὐτοῦ ἐσμεν;
Or are we provoking the Lord to jealousy? Are we stronger than he?

(1 Cor 10:22)
αὐτοὶ παρεζήλωσάν με ἐπ᾿ οὐ θεῷ, παρώργισάν με ἐν τοῖς εἰδώλοις αὐτῶν·

κἀγὼ παραζηλώσω αὐτοὺς ἐπ᾿ οὐκ ἔθνει, ἐπ᾿ ἔθνει ἀσυνέτῳ παροργιῶ αὐτούς.
They made me jealous with what is no god, making me angry with their
idols. And I will make them jealous with what is no nation, provoke them
with a nation lacking understanding (Deut 32:21 LXX)
We will consider Paul’s use of the motif of ‘jealousy’ in Deuteronomy 32 more

closely in Chapter Five (cf. Rom 10:19; 11:11, 14), but here we may note two
important observations. First, this negative example of (moving God to) ζῆλος,
just like the occurrence in 3:3 (and 13:4; see further below), reinforces Paul’s
7 As discussed in Chapter One, this claim is to be sharply distinguished from ‘theological lexi-
cography,’ but does allow that pragmatic effects shape the semantic content.
8 E.g., Joseph A. Fitzmyer, First Corinthians (AB 32; New York: Doubleday, 2008), 394.
warnings against division and misplaced fellowship (‘grumble’ [γογγύζω; 10:10];

being ‘partners’ [κοινωνοί] in the altar [10:18] and with demons [10:20]). In addi-
tion, just two verses later (10:24), these warnings against rivalries are reiterated:
μηδεὶς τὸ ἑαυτοῦ ζητείτω ἀλλὰ τὸ τοῦ ἑτέρου (“Do not seek what concerns your-
self, but that of the other”).
Second, it is clear that the Corinthians are to ‘consider’ the Israelites and
learn from them (βλέπετε τὸν Ἰσραὴλ κατὰ σάρκα [10:18]), which aligns the
occurrence in 10:22 with both the imitative thrust that follows the discussion
of ζῆλος in 3:3 (μιμηταί μου γίνεσθε [4:16]) and the motif of imitation we will
explore in connection with ch. 13 below. The ancestors (οἱ πατέρες ἡμῶν; 10:1)
are twice referred to as ‘examples’ for the Corinthians (τύπος [10:6]; τυπικῶς
[10:11]), and Paul again calls them to imitate his own behavior in the verses that
follow (μιμηταί μου γίνεσθε [11:1]), again following a reference to seeking one’s
own advantage [ζητῶν τὸ ἐμαυτοῦ 10:33]).9 In addition, the notion of recipro-
cal ζῆλος is present in Deut 32:21 (αὐτοὶ παρεζήλωσάν με . . . κἀγὼ παραζηλώσω
αὐτοὺς), and is a fitting counterpoint to Paul’s call for mutual love and commu-
nity-building throughout the letter, and especially in ch. 13 (οὐ ζηλοῖ [13:4]; see
further below).
In sum, then, there is evidence to suggest that Paul’s choice of this phrase
from Deuteronomy 32 is not arbitrary. Craig S. Keener has suggested that in 10:22
Paul alludes to Bar 4:7 (“For you provoked [παρωξύνατε] the one who made you
by sacrificing to demons and not to God”]).10 This text echoes Deuteronomy 32,
of course, but Keener’s remarks are typical of interpreters who would read
1 Cor 10:22 no differently if Paul had cited Deut 32:16 LXX (παρώξυνάν με ἐπ᾿
ἀλλοτρίοις; MT ‫ )יקנאהו בזרים‬or Bar 4:7. If we resist the urge to partition this
occurrence because it is part of a scriptural citation, we recognize that Paul’s
rhetorical aims are furthered by the ‘shaping’ of ζῆλος via its collocation with
the language of imitation and quarrelsomeness.11 Paul’s immediate concern
in 10:14–22 is idolatry, which is regularly associated with God’s ζῆλος/‫ קנא‬in
the OT (e.g., Exod 20:5; 34:14; Deut 4:23–24; 5:9; 6:14–15). Yet Paul’s response to
matters involving idols is directly related to his concerns about right relation-
9 It is important to recognize that I am not claiming that παραζηλόω means ‘emulation’ in
10:22 (Barr’s ‘illegitimate totality transfer’), but that mental images associated with emula-
tion are activated by the immediate context.
10 1–2 Corinthians (NCBC; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 88.
11 Richard H. Bell recognizes the close connection between παραζηλόω and ζῆλος/ζηλόω in
Romans, but his treatment of 1 Cor 10:22 does not give consideration to the wider usage in
1 Corinthians (Provoked to Jealousy: The Origin and Purpose of the Jealousy Motif in Romans
9–11 [WUNT 2:63; Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1994], 251–5). See further Chapter Five.
152 CHAPTER 4
ships in the community (οὐ πάντα οἰκοδομεῖ [10:23]; cf. 10:28). The language of
ζῆλος appropriately recalls the passionate reaction of God against idols and
reinforces Paul’s wider rhetorical aims that will be clarified in chs. 12–14.12
1 Cor 12:31–14:39
The remaining five occurrences, clustered in chs. 12–14, have received much
more attention. The passage about ἀγάπη in ch. 13 is ‘bookended’ by references
to having ζῆλος for πνευματικά/χαρίσματα, and in between lies a seemingly con-
tradictory warning:
12:31: ζηλοῦτε δὲ τὰ χαρίσματα τὰ μείζονα καὶ ἔτι καθ᾿ ὑπερβολὴν ὁδὸν ὑμῖν
δείκνυμι.
Have ζῆλος for the greater gifts, and I show you a still more excellent way.
13:4: ἡ ἀγάπη μακροθυμεῖ, χρηστεύεται ἡ ἀγάπη, οὐ ζηλοῖ, ἡ ἀγάπη οὐ

περπερεύεται, οὐ φυσιοῦται.
Love is patient, love is kind, it does not have ζῆλος, it does not boast, it
does not show arrogance.
14:1: διώκετε τὴν ἀγάπην, ζηλοῦτε δὲ τὰ πνευματικά, μᾶλλον δὲ ἵνα προφητεύητε.
Pursue love, have ζῆλος for the spiritual things, and especially that you
might prophesy.
Twice more in chapter 14, Paul uses the language of ζῆλος:
14:12: οὕτως καὶ ὑμεῖς, ἐπεὶ ζηλωταί ἐστε πνευμάτων, πρὸς τὴν οἰκοδομὴν τῆς
ἐκκλησίας ζητεῖτε ἵνα περισσεύητε.
Thus also you, since you are ζηλωταί for the spirits, strive to excel in them
for building up the church.
12 In addition, this may explain the somewhat surprising possibility that Gentile believers
could ‘provoke’ God, which is never said elsewhere in the NT. Anthony T. Hanson rightly
points out the difference between ‘tempting’ God (ἐκπειράζω; cf. 1 Cor 10:9) and moving/
provoking God to jealousy (The Wrath of the Lamb [London: S.P.C.K., 1957], 77).
14:39: Ὥστε, ἀδελφοί μου, ζηλοῦτε τὸ προφητεύειν.
So, my brothers, have ζῆλος for speaking prophecy.
For the sake of space I will not engage all of the issues surrounding these verses,
but it will be helpful to consider the usual solutions to the difficulties before
showing the helpfulness of a monosemic framework in reading these chapters.
First, questions have been raised about the contextual integrity of ch. 13.13
For those questioning the placement or origin of ch. 13 on the basis of the
absence of ἀγάπη in chs. 12 and 14 or the more lyrical style, the phrase ἡ ἀγάπη
οὐ ζηλοῖ in 13:4 seems to provide further evidence, since Paul uses ζηλόω posi-
tively in 12:31 and 14:1. However, there is a growing consensus, with which I
concur, that ch. 13 is in fact integral to the logic of the letter, likely ordinates
from Paul’s own hand, and should not be viewed as a digression.14
Therefore interpreters are thus left with something of a conundrum: “That
within such a small compass ‘zeal’ is at first recommended and then discour-
aged is contradictory and confusing. . . . Paul contradicts himself here in a pro-
voking manner.”15 It is true that despite being verb, this occurrence falls within
something like a vice-list (there are eight negatives in 13:4b–6a), and on that
basis might be explained away. That this should not happen is of course is one
of the central claims I make in Chapter One, but even for those who would opt
for a polysemic or ‘lexical choice’ approach, the close proximity to the occur-
rence in 12:31 makes this separation difficult.
One possible solution is to argue that ζηλοῦτε in 12:31 is not an impera-
tive but an indicative, and thus can be taken as a negative assessment of the
Corinthians’ behavior and is therefore fully compatible with the occurrence in
13:4. Gerhard Iber argues for the indicative as an indictment of the Corinthian
tendencies that Paul has just countered with his portrayal of gifts in the body
throughout ch. 12: “Der Vers charakterisiert dann die Haltung der korinth-
ischen Gemeinde und spricht damit in knapper Formulierung noch einmal an,
13 E.g., Johannes Weiss argues that the chapter belongs with 8:1–13 (Der erste Korintherbrief
[2d rev. ed.; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 1910, repr. 1977], 309–16); see further
the discussion in Anthony C. Thiselton, The First Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary
on the Greek Text (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 1027–8.
14 See especially Joseph F.M. Smit, “Argument and Genre of 1 Corinthians 12–14,” in Rhetoric
and the New Testament: Essays from the 1992 Heidelberg Conference (JSNTSup 90; Sheffield:
Sheffield Academic, 1993), 211–30.
15 Smit, “Two Puzzles: 1 Cor 12:31 and 13:3: Rhetorical Solution,” NTS 39 (1993): 250.
154 CHAPTER 4
was die Kritik des Apostels (vv. 14–27) herausgefordert hatte: das ζηλοῦν um
die »größeren« Geistesgaben.”16 Arnold Bittlinger also adopts the indicative,
and in his translation brings out the superiority of what Paul will say about
attaining gifts in love in ch. 13: “You are striving after the greatest gifts . . . let me
show you an even more excellent way.”17
The problem with this solution, however, is that no interpreters seriously
propose that ζηλοῦτε is indicative in 14:1 (διώκετε τὴν ἀγάπην, ζηλοῦτε δὲ τὰ
πνευματικά).18 In light of this, Johannes P. Louw suggests a solution based on
the discourse structure of chs. 12–14, which he views as “a very valuable tool
to establish a framework that may function as a mode of restricting lexical,
grammatical and syntactic choices.”19 Louw shows that the discourse struc-
ture of 12:4–30 “is a continuous piling up of items illustrating the notion of
ONE versus MANY, almost in a linear fashion.” On this basis, he argues that
ζηλοῦτε is indicative in 12:31 and imperative in 14:1, and that “[a]s a speech act
Paul’s initial implied criticism is changed to an implied concession.”20 While
Louw’s analysis helps illumine the repeated movement away from a hierarchy
of gifts within the text, it is not clear that he has provided sufficient linguis-
tic grounds for restricting ζηλοῦτε to the indicative. He simply states of 12:31,
“Within such a context of reasoning [the repeated one/many in ch. 12] it would
be unwarranted for Paul to command (imperative) the Corinthians to strive for
better or higher gifts.”21
A more promising solution is to understand ζηλοῦτε in 12:31 as an ironic
imperative. In an influential 1993 article, Joseph Smit argues that in 12:31 Paul
16 “The verse characterizes the attitude of the Corinthian community and speaks in concise
formulation what invited the apostle’s rebuke: that they were striving after the ‘greatest’
gifts”; “Zum Verständnis von I Cor 12,31,” ZNW 54 (1963): 49.
17 Gifts and Graces: A Commentary on I Corinthians 12–14. London: Hodder & Stoughton,
1967.
18 Cf. José Enrique Aguilar Chiu, 1 Cor 12–14: Literary Structure and Theology (Roma: Pontificio
Istituto Biblico, 2007), 323.
19 “The Function of Discourse in a Sociosemiotic Theory of Translation Illustrated by the
Translation of zēloute in 1 Corinthians 12.31,” BT 39 (1988): 331.
20 “Function,” 335.
21 “Function,” 334. There is much to commend in Louw’s approach (especially his apprecia-
tion for the ‘stylistic play’ on the term ζηλοῦτε), but as explored in Chapter One, the notion
of ‘lexical choices’ (necessitated by the needs of translation, rather than understanding
the Greek per se) leads Louw to offer a definitive decision (indicative, not imperative).
We will see below that within a monosemic framework, an either/or decision on this
matter is required to appreciate the conceptual shaping that occurs upon reading these
chapters. It may also be that Louw allows the discourse structure to restrict without rec-
ognizing also its potential to expand semantic content.
employs the irony of false advice: “[Paul] mocks the Corinthians’ immoderate
zeal for the charismata by exaggerating it excessively.”22 For Smit, this explains
the negative occurrence in 13:4 (much like the indicative solution did), and
Smit argues that “[t]he very same zeal for the gifts . . . is condemned in 13.4–7
by denying that ambition, ostentation, swollen pride and excessiveness are
characteristics of love.”23
However, Smit has trouble explaining how readers are to know that Paul
is being ironic in 12:31 but that in ch. 14 Paul “employs other means to curb
[the Corinithians’ ambition].” Smit rightly observes that in 14:1 ζηλοῦτε δὲ τὰ
πνευματικά is subordinate to διώκετε τὴν ἀγάπην, and that the ζῆλος in 14:12 is
for building the community (πρὸς τὴν οἰκοδομὴν τῆς ἐκκλησίας) and in 14:39
is for community-edifying prophecy. However, these features alone do not ade-
quately account for the proposed discontinuation of irony. In any case, Smit
seems to waver on whether these instances in ch. 14 are in fact sincere or ironic.
He concludes, “The sharp irony of the first exhortation in 12.31 is lacking in
later instances, though mild mockery remains. . . . By using this term Paul con-
tinues to teasingly stimulate the ambition of the Corinthians.”24
Anthony Thiselton endorses Smit’s reading, but Thiselton’s paraphrase of
Smit moves much closer to the reading suggested by a monosemic approach
than Smit’s analysis itself: “Do not stop being zealously concerned about the
‘greatest’ gifts, provided that you follow me in transposing and subverting your
understanding of what counts as ‘the greatest.’”25 We have already seen the
way Paul uses the ζηλ- word group to endorse a paradoxical, rightly-directed
ζῆλος in Galatians (Chapter Three), and my proposal is that Thiselton’s instinct
that Paul is “transposing and subverting” is substantiated if proper attention is
given to the way the text shapes the grab-bag for ζῆλος in 1 Corinthians.
Two observations support my claim. First, the occurrence of (negative)
ζῆλος in 13:4 specifically recalls the negative examples of jealous rivalry in
22 “Two Puzzles,” 263. David E. Garland objects to the idea that ch. 13 could be introduced
with mockery (1 Corinthians [BECNT; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2003], 601), but
given Paul’s use of terms like καυχάομαι (13:3; cf. οὐ καλὸν τὸ καύχημα ὑμῶν [5:6]), rever-
ence for the majesty of ch. 13 is not enough to refute Smit’s analysis.
23 Smit, “Two Puzzles,” 254.
24 Smit more helpfully continues, “. . . while at the same time directing their zeal at a useful
gift, which reaps little glory” (“Two Puzzles,” 254–55). Despite his glowing endorsement of
Smit’s reading, Thiselton rightly has “strong hesitations about the supposed continuation
of irony into ch. 13” (First Epistle, 1026 n. 169).
25 Thiselton, First Epistle, 1024, emphasis mine; cf. Roy E. Ciampa and Brian S. Rosner
(The First Letter to the Corinthians [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010], 616).
156 CHAPTER 4
3:3 and 10:22.26 From a relevance theoretical perspective, rivalrous mental

associations have been activated in the ad hoc meaning-making for ζῆλος in
12:31 and 13:4, thereby posing the question of the proper use/object of ζῆλος
in the search for relevance.
Second, it is often noticed that a change happens in the way Paul speaks to
the Corinthians after ch. 13, and it is demonstrable that the language of ζῆλος is
one of the rhetorical tools Paul uses to enact this transformation. José Enrique
Aguilar Chiu, after detailed study of the structure of chs. 12–14, attributes the
change in terminology from χαρίσματα (12:31) to πνευματικά (14:1) to its its loca-
tion “precisely after the treatment of ἀγάπη in chap. 13.”27 Or as Carl R. Holladay
puts it, ch. 14 is “a discussion of what the corporate life of the Corinthians
would be were they to ‘pursue love,’ as he has done.”28 From a monosemic per-
spective, it is not coincidental that the language of ζῆλος occurs at each of the
critical moments in this transformation enacted by Paul’s discourse on ἀγάπη.
In other words, if we take into account the pattern of occurrences of the lan-
guage of ζῆλος (especially the ‘bookending’ of the discourse on love), we see
that Paul uses these occurrences as sign-posts to illustrate properly-directed
ζῆλος. To have ζῆλος for the ‘greater’ gifts is to purse ἀγάπη and the edification
of the community, rather than to cause rivalry and strife (ζῆλος καὶ ἔρις in 1 Cor
3:3; cf. 13:4; 2 Cor 12:20).
What, then, of ‘subversion’? A reading that inquires about the object
of ζῆλος (and thus the identity forming that takes place even at the level of
words) mitigates the importance of deciding whether ζηλοῦτε in 12:31 is ironic
or not. Paul may be deliberately ambiguous, and letting the ‘shaping’ of ζῆλος
accomplish his rhetorical aims. Whereas in 12:31 it is not clear whether “having
ζῆλος for the greater gifts” is superseded by the “most excellent way” of love,
by the time we reach 14:1 it is clear that “to pursue ἀγάπη” and “to have ζῆλος
for the spiritual things” are part of the same package. On this reading, ‘greater’
(μείζονα)29 in 12:31 is clarified by the occurrence of μείζων in 14:5 to mean gifts
that are put to the right use: building up the church (“one who prophesies is
26 This is frequently noted by interpreters, e.g., Carl R. Holladay (“1 Corinthians 13: Paul as
Apostolic Paradigm,” in Greeks, Romans, and Christians: Essays in Honor of Abraham J.
Malherbe [ed. David L. Balch, Everett Ferguson, and Wayne A. Meeks; Minneapolis:
Fortress, 1990], 95); Thiselton (First Epistle, 1029, 1048); Keener (1–2 Corinthians, 109); and
Ng (“Sophistic,” 163).
27 Structure, 279; cf. 247–50 for an excellent discussion of the way Paul enlarges the
Corinthians’ view of gifts in chs. 12–14.
28 “Paradigm,” 98.
29 Thiselton takes μείζονα as a superlative (‘greatest’), but confusingly translates ἔτι καθ᾿
ὑπερβολὴν as “even greater” because “it seems best to refer back to the point of the com-
parison (μείζονα)” (First Epistle, 1026).
greater [μείζων] than one who speaks in tongues, unless one should interpret,
so that the church may be built up [οἰκοδομήν]”). In 14:12 Paul says that because
(ἐπεὶ) the Corinthians are ζηλωταί . . . πνευμάτων, they should strive to build up
[οἰκοδομήν] the church,30 and in 14:39 Paul recapitulates the transformation of
the Corinthians’ ζῆλος that Paul has enacted in chs. 12–14: ὣστε, ἀδελφοί μου,
ζηλοῦτε τὸ προφητεύειν καὶ τὸ λαλεῖν μὴ κωλύετε γλώσσαις.
Within a monosemic framework that recognizes the capacity of words to
shape the identity of the reader, then, Thiselton’s instincts that the text ‘trans-
poses’ and ‘subverts’ the Corinthians’ ζῆλος are readily confirmed.31 Paul’s aim is
to move the Corinthians from status distinctions brought about by the misuse
of tongues toward community-edifying gifts like prophecy practiced in love.32
Paul’s usage in 1 Corinthians exhibits the characteristics we have observed in
Gal 4:12–20: 1) Paul groups together varying uses of ζῆλος in a deliberate fash-
ion, and 2) Paul’s interest is in promoting rightly-directed ζῆλος, rather than
eradicating ζῆλος.
Ζῆλος and ‘Imitation’ in the Corinthian Correspondence
The Language of Ζῆλος as a Lacuna in Studies of ‘Imitation’ in Paul

Before illustrating the usefulness of the monosemic approach with a new read-
ing of 2 Cor 11:2, it will be useful to show that the language of ζῆλος and the con-
cept of ‘imitation’ (mimēsis)33 are closely related in Paul’s letters, particularly
30 Hans Conzelmann calls οἰκοδομή the ‘critical principle,’ but ‘rightly-directed ζῆλος’ might
be more appropriate given its appearance at key moments in the structure of chs. 12–14
(cf. 1 Corinthians: A Commentary on the First Epistle to the Corinthians [Hermeneia;
Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975], 237). For further discussion on the structure and the disputes
about the relationship between χαρίσματα and πνευματικά, see especially Aguilar Chiu,
Structure, 182, 247.
31 See also Ciampa and Rosner, First Letter, 685.
32 Finney rightly notes that prophecy undermines status distinctions brought about by
the elevation of tongues (cf. Honour, 195). See also Conzelmann, 1 Corinthians, 215: “up
to [12:31] Paul had spoken of the gifts in terms of criticism and reduction. . . . His criti-
cism was directed not at the gifts, but at the Corinthians’ self-understanding. Now he
directs their attention to higher gifts, ones that allow of no self-development and no self-
contemplation on the pneumatic’s part.” To this assessment I would add my agreement
with Ng that this redirection is cast in terms of ζῆλος: “For Paul, the problem does not lie in
being zealous per se; he does not condemn ζηλόω but the way in which one engages his or
her zealousness.” However, it is not as clear that Paul’s use of ζῆλος in chs. 12–14 is chosen
primarily to promote “an anti-sophistic lifestyle” (“Sophistic,” 172).
33 With Jo-Ann A. Brant, it is important to acknowledge that “[t]he English word ‘imita-
tion’ is not synonymous with mimēsis,” since for the ancients mimēsis is “a process with
158 CHAPTER 4
in 1–2 Corinthians. It is striking that despite widespread acknowledgement

that ‘emulation’ is expressed by the ζηλ- word group in classical and Hellenistic
writings, there are no studies of ‘imitation’ in Paul that include consideration
of Paul’s language of ζῆλος.34 A few studies hint in this direction,35 but Bruce W.
pedagogic and ethical possibilities” (“The Place of Mimēsis in Paul’s Thought,” SR 22

[1993]: 300).
34 For example, Willis P. de Boer gives almost exclusive attention to μιμητής as “Paul’s
word for imitation” (the title of his first chapter), even as he cites several examples from
writers such as Isocrates (Demon. [Or. 1] 11), Dio Chrysostom (Hom. Socr. [Or. 55] 4–5),
and Epictetus (Diatr. 2.14) that employ the language of ζῆλος (The Imitation of Paul: An
Exegetical Study [Kampen, Netherlands: J.H. Kok, 1962], 6–7, 28). De Boer’s treatment sets
the tone for virtually all subsequent studies. Elizabeth A. Castelli dismisses Gal 4:12–20
because it lacks “the technical term itself” (Imitating Paul: A Discourse of Power [Louisville:
Westminster John Knox, 1991], 115). Ernest Best mentions Gal 4:12 and cites writers such
as Isocrates and Dio who speak frequently of ζῆλος in didactic and moral contexts, but he
never mentions the word. Best also speaks of the discussion about tongues in 1 Corinthians
14 as the “one other point in the letter [besides chs. 4 and 11] where Paul points to his
own behavior as a guide to the Corinthians,” but never connects this with the language of
ζῆλος that permeates the chapter (Paul and His Converts [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1988], 66;
cf. bibliography, 71 n. 1). The study on discipleship by Richard N. Longenecker gives
attention to the language of μιμητής, τύπος, ἀκόλουθος, μαθητής, etc., but not ζῆλος
(“Introduction,” in Patterns of Discipleship in the New Testament [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
1996], 5; cf. Finney, Honour, 83). Jin Ki Hwang even notes interchangeability of μιμητής
and ζηλωτής in Greek writers, and still neglects the occurrences in Paul (Mimesis and
Apostolic Parousia in 1 Corinthians 4 and 5: An Apologetic-Mimetic Interpretation [Lewiston:
Edwin Mellen Press, 2010], 34 n. 8; cf. 38, 51–4). Peter J. Dybvad likewise leaves out con-
sideration of ζῆλος, even though his study would be enhanced by noting the parallels
in Paul’s use of ζῆλος in Gal 4:12–20 that support his attention on suffering/weakness in
1 Corinthians (“Imitation and Gospel in First Corinthians,” PhD diss., Trinity International
University, 2000). Additional otherwise-helpful studies that neglect ζῆλος in their treat-
ment include those of Hans Dieter Betz (Nachfolge und Nachahmung Jesu Christi im
Neuen Testament [Tübingen: Mohr, 1967]), Brandt (“Mimēsis”), Brian J. Dodd (Paul’s
Paradigmatic “I”: Personal Example As Literary Strategy [JSNTSup 177; Sheffield: Sheffield
Academic, 1999); “Paul’s Paradigmatic ‘I’ and 1 Corinthians 6.12,” JSNT 59 (1995): 39–58),
Linda Belleville, “ ‘Imitate Me, Just as I Imitate Christ’: Discipleship in the Corinthian
Correspondence,” in Patterns of Discipleship in the New Testament [ed. Richard N.
Longenecker; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996], 120–42); Andrew D. Clarke, “Be Imitators
of Me: Paul’s Model of Leadership,” TynBul 49 [1998]: 329–60); and Dustin W. Ellington,
“Imitating Paul’s Relationship to the Gospel: 1 Corinthians 8.1–11.1,” JSNT 33, no. 3 (2011):
303–15.
35 E.g., Ernest Best cites Philostratus’ description of Demosthenes as ζηλωτής of Isocrates
(Ep. 4.11; Best, Converts, 61), but moves quickly past the language in his survey of ‘imita-
tion’ in Paul’s letters.
Winter’s works (which are not primarily studies of imitation) illustrate the
linguistic assumptions that seem to prevent such consideration. In a section
dealing with 1 Cor 3:3, Winter writes:
Paul sometimes uses ζῆλος positively, but when combined with ἔρις, neg-
ative connotations predominate. He denounces any proper ‘emulation’
of himself by which anyone on his behalf is ‘puffed up’ against a sup-
porter of Apollos (1 Cor. 4.6c). The terms thus connote ‘strife’ (between
contending groups) and ‘emula-tion’ in the sophistic sense of the word.
Philo’s choice of ἐριστός and ἔρις and Dio’s use of ζηλωτής convey a con-
cern remarkably similar to Paul’s.36
Two related difficulties are apparent. First, although collocates like ἔρις are
powerful factors for shaping the ad hoc meaning of ζῆλος, we have argued
throughout this monograph these collocates should not necessarily be
seen to limit Paul’s word- and identity-shaping strategies. Second, Winter’s
desire to identify Paul’s use here as “‘emulation’ in the sophistic sense of the
word,” while rightly recognizing the semantic connection to the concept
of emulation (rather than simply making the lexical choice ‘jealousy’), runs
counter to the argument I have made against unnecessary sense restric-
tions in Chapter One.37 That Winter can devote such significant attention
to ζῆλος as ‘emulation’ in 1 Cor 3:3 without even mentioning the later occur-
rences of the ζηλ- word group in 1 Corinthians (especially ζηλωταί in 14:12)
illustrates the importance of the monosemic approach advanced in this
monograph.38 Future works on Paul and imitation would be remiss to exclude
discussion of the language of ζῆλος in Gal 4:17–18 (as we saw in Chapter Three),
and it seems rather obvious to extend this to at least 2 Corinthians 7–11 as well
(see below). In the following section, I will build on the above analysis to make
the case for extending the list of passages for understanding Paul’s strategies
involving ‘imitation’ to 1 Corinthians 12–14.
36 Sophists, 176, cf. Philo, Det. 36, 45, Dio, Or. 1.38, 4.122.
37 See also Jerome Murphy-O’Connor’s objection that ζῆλος and ἔρις were by no means
limited to sophistic circles in antiquity (review of Winter, Philo and Paul among the
Sophists, RB 110 [2003]: 428–33).
38 Winter’s list of ‘positive’ occurrences only includes those in 2 Corinthians (7:7, 11; 9:2; 11:2)
(Sophists, 176 n. 165). Elsewhere Winter’s concern to establish ζηλωτής as a pejorative term
in the sophistic tradition prevents him from exploring Paul’s usage in the sense of ‘emula-
tion’ even where imitatio and ζηλωτής are mentioned together (cf. After, 33) and where he
gives attention to ζηλωτής as shorthand for expressing the loyalty of a pupil to a teacher
(After, 39; cf. Sophists, 172 n. 150).
160 CHAPTER 4
Ζῆλος for People and Ζῆλος for Worthwhile Things in 1 Corinthians

As we saw in Chapters 2–3, the object of ζῆλος is determinative for its evalua-
tion in Paul and in wider usage. In the Corinthian correspondence, other than
the occurrences within vice lists (1 Cor 3:3; 13:4; 2 Cor 12:20) and the Lord’s ζῆλος
for idols in 10:22, the objects are as follows:
Table 4.1 The subject and object of ζῆλος in 1–2 Corinthians
Reference Subject Object
1 Cor 12:31 the Corinthians τὰ χαρίσματα τὰ μείζονα

1 Cor 14:1 the Corinthians τὰ πνευματικά
1 Cor 14:12 the Corinthians πνευμάτων
1 Cor 14:39 the Corinthians τὸ προφητεύειν
2 Cor 7:7 the Corinthians Paul
2 Cor 7:11 the Corinthians Paul [?]
2 Cor 9:2 the Corinthians the collection, stirring Macedonians
2 Cor 11:2 Paul the Corinthians
Too seldom are the passages in 2 Corinthians discussed in relation to ‘imita-

tion’ in Paul (see above), but the case is easily made that ζῆλος conveys some-
thing we would call ‘emulation,’ since it concerns people as the object. When
he was ‘afflicted’ (θλίβω [7:5]) in Macedonia, Paul rejoices at Titus’ report
to him about the Corinthians’ ζῆλος for him (τὸν ὑμῶν ζῆλον ὑπὲρ ἐμοῦ [7:7;
cf. 7:11).39 He also commends the Corinthians’ ζῆλος regarding the offering
for the poor believers in Jerusalem as a model that has ‘stirred’ (ἐρεθίζω)40 the
Macedonians to action (τὸ ὑμῶν ζῆλος ἠρέθισεν τοὺς πλείονας [9:2]).41 Toward
the end of the letter Paul worries that when he visits he may find them
39 In 2 Cor 7:11, the object is not specifically specified, but the most apparent object is Paul.
As Philip E. Hughes puts it: “Zeal—(again as in v. 7) for Paul, for the honoring of his apos-
tolic authority and the repudiation of those intruders who had sought to usurp his author-
ity, and for the imitation of his example in assiduously applying themselves to the cause
of Christ” (Paul’s Second Epistle to the Corinthians: The English Text with Introduction,
Exposition and Notes [NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1962], 274–75).
40 ἐρεθίζω is often used to express an encouraging example, e.g., Aelius Aristides, Or. 28;
Appian, Bell. civ. 26; cf. BDAG, 391; LSJ, 684.
41 For further discussion of the Macedonians in relation to ‘imi-tation’ in Paul, see Belleville
(“Imitate,” 133, 138–39) and Clarke (“Imitators,” 347–8).
sliding back into rivalrous ζῆλος rather than the exemplary ζῆλος he com-
mended in ch. 9 (φοβοῦμαι . . . μή πως ἔρις, ζῆλος, θυμοί, ἐριθείαι . . . [12:20]). In
sum, few would take issue with the claim that emulation/imitation is involved
in these dynamics in 2 Corinthians.42
As the chart illustrates, ζῆλος for people is not present in 1 Corinthians,
so the question is legitimately raised as to whether the language of ζῆλος in
1 Corinthians is in fact relevant to studies of ‘imitation.’ Resisting the urge to
choose between two separate ‘lexical choices,’ the issue is whether Paul’s dis-
course can reasonably be said to activate mental images regarding ‘emulation’
in these occurrences.
As we saw above, the ad hoc meanings of ζῆλος in 3:3 and (to a lesser extent)
παραζηλόω in 10:22 can be seen to include information and images associated
with ‘emu-lation.’ Here we can add the rather obvious point that this lan-
guage occurs in close proximity to the well-known passages about imitation in
1 Corinthians 4 and 11 (ἐν ὑμῖν ζῆλος καὶ ἔρις . . . ἐγὼ μέν εἰμι Παύλου, ἕτερος δέ
ἐγὼ Ἀπολλῶ [3:3–4]; ἢ παραζηλοῦμεν τὸν κύριον . . . μιμηταί μου γίνεσθε [10:22–
11:1]). As discussed above, ‘rivalry’ is the key question leading into 4:8–16. Paul’s
description of himself in 1 Cor 4:10–17 (ἔσχατος [4:9], μωρός [4:10], ἀσθενής
[4:10], λοιδορέω [4:12], περικάθαρμα [4:13], etc.) is an example (cf. μιμηταί μου
γίνεσθε [4:16; 11:1]) that stands in stark contrast to the rivalrous scrambling for
honor Paul has described in 3:1–9 and 10:23–11:1 (τὸ ἑαυτοῦ ζητείτω [10:24, 33]).
In addition, the widespread use of the ζηλ- word group to describe the relation-
ship of a father to children also sheds light on Paul’s use in chs. 4 and 11 as well
as in chs. 12–14.43
42 This is not to deny other connotations, such as zeal for what was lost or zealous repen-
tance (e.g., Diogenes Laertius, Lives 4.16 [Polemo], 5.66); cf. Keener, 1–2 Corinthians, 199.
43 As David M. Stanley notes: “When in the present paragraph [1 Cor 4:14–17] he calls him-
self ‘father,’ he points to a relationship he considers more than moral, one issuing from
his role as founder of Christian Corinth” (“Imitation in Paul’s Letters: Its Significance
for his Relationship to Jesus and to His Own Christian Foundations,” in From Jesus to
Paul: Studies in Honour of Francis Wright Beare [ed. Peter Richardson and John Coolidge
Hurd; Waterloo, Ontario: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1984], 139); see further
O. Larry Yarbrough (“Parents and Children in the Letters of Paul,” in The Social World
of the First Christians: Essays in Honor of Wayne A. Meeks [ed. L. Michael White and
O. Larry Yarbrough; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995], 131–4). Paul’s role as parent/father forms
the basis for nearly every call to imitation in Paul’s letters (cf. 2 Cor 6:13; 12:14; 1 Tim 1:2,
18; 2 Tim 1:2, 2:1, Titus 1:4, Phlm 10); cf. Robert L. Plummer, “Imitation of Paul and the
Church’s Missionary Role in 1 Corinthians,” JETS 44 (2001): 230; cf. de Boer, Imitation, 145.
In Philippians 2–3 where Paul is a father to Timothy (ὡς πατρὶ τέκνον; Phil 2:22), Paul’s life
is characterized by ζῆλος (Phil 3:6) and Paul calls the believers to imitate him (συμμιμηταί
μου γίνεσθε; Phil 3:17). As we saw in Chapter Three, Paul’s strategies with the imitative
162 CHAPTER 4
More important than these proximal connections, however, strong argu-

ments have been made that Paul serves as exemplar in ch. 13, and the case can
be made that the calls to ζῆλος in 12:31; 13:4; and 14:1 participate in and enhance
the rhetorical aims of Paul as example.44 This is seen most clearly if, rather
than reading ch. 13 as an abstract discourse on ἀγάπη, with Carl Holladay
and others we understand Paul’s first person in ch. 13 to refer primarily to
himself.45 While the ‘fenceposts’ of ζῆλος that surround ch. 13 apply most
immediately to πνευματικά/χαρίσματα, the images attending the concepts of
‘eager pursuit’ and ‘emulation’ enhance the exhortation to emulate Paul, who
does not direct his ζῆλος toward the things the Corinthians are doing (13:4),
but exhibits ἀγάπη. In other words, to speak of having ζῆλος for πνευματικά/
χαρίσματα is also to say that the Corinthians are to be like Paul and avoid
expressions of ζῆλος (13:4) like those that characterize their present behavior.46
In response to the obvious question of why Paul does not simply say “emu-
late me in the way of ἀγάπη” in 1 Corinthians 12–14, two related observations
can be made. First, Paul seems to capitalize on the blurred lines regarding the
properties of ζῆλος are clearest in Gal 4:17–18, these verses are situated in a context in
which the call to reciprocal imitation (γίνεσθε ὡς ἐγώ, ὅτι κἀγὼ ὡς ὑμεῖς; Gal 4:12) is once
again accompanied by a metaphor of Paul as parent, this time as mother (τέκνα μου, οὓς
πάλιν ὠδίνω; Gal 4:19). For additional studies on the relationship between Paul as par-
ent and ‘imitation,’ see Best, (Converts, 29–58), Mitchell (Reconciliation, 56–7), Belleville
(“Imitate,” 121), Pedro Gutiérrez (La Paternité spirituelle selon Saint Paul [Paris: J. Gabalda
et Cie, 1968]), and Beverly Roberts Gaventa (Our Mother Saint Paul [Louisville: WJK, 2007],
3–75).
44 From a structural perspective, it is noteworthy that Paul’s discourse in chs. 8–10 is
restated in the section concluding with 11:1 (μιμηταί μου γίνεσθε), and that the discourse
in chs. 12–14 is restated in the section ending in 14:39–40 (ζηλοῦτε τὸ προφητεύειν); cf.
Wolfgang Schräge, Der erste Brief an die Korinther, Teilbd. 2 (EKKNT; Neukirchen-Vluyn:
Neukirchener Verl, 1995), 461.
45 As Mitchell notes, “scholars have neglected how much Paul talks about himself in this
chapter” (Reconciliation, 58; cf. Oda Wischmeyer, Der höchste Weg: Das 13. Kapitel des
1. Korintherbriefes [SNT 13; Gütersloh: Mohn, 1981], 90–1, 129, 219, 233; Dodd, Paradigmatic,
116–17; Hwang, Mimesis, 20–22). Holladay shows that Paul often moves from a moral
imperative to self-referential language (“Paradigm,” 83), e.g., 1 Cor 7:5–7; 10:31–11:1; Phil
3:12–17. Holladay also notes that 13:1–3 fits nicely within the parenetic tradition in which
a father gives advice to his children (“Paradigm,” 93; cf. Benjamin Fiore, The Function of
Personal Example in the Socratic and Pastoral Epistles [Rome: Biblical Institute, 1986], 35,
64). This is especially apparent in Isocrates, who encourages Demonicus to “become an
imitator and emulator if your father’s virtue” (μιμητὴν δὲ καὶ ζηλωτὴν τῆς πατρῴας ἀρετῆς
γιγνόμενον), since he was among other things a “lover of beauty” (φιλόκαλος) (Dem. 10–11).
46 Finney also notes the long tradition of seeing Paul as a charismatic leader, and more spe-
cifically as “the role-model in exhibiting the gift of tongues” (Honour, 193).
object of ζῆλος. Throughout our study, we have seen that ζῆλος for things is not
easily distinguished from ζῆλος for the person who displays such qualities or
has such possessions. For example, in Isocrates ζῆλος is “oriented towards good
things . . . and their possessors.”47 This strategy seems to cohere with Paul’s
often indirect rhetorical strategies (‘covert allusion,’ etc.).48
If so, it may also be that in chs. 12–14 we witness a phase in Paul’s progression
from using the language of mimēsis to using other forms. Stanley has observed
that the language of mimēsis in Paul’s earlier letters give way to συν-words in
later letters, so that he might “express what he meant by declaring himself to be
an imitator of Christ by being united with him in the twofold event proclaimed
by the gospel, death and resurrection.”49 Given that the language of ζῆλος is also
lacking in letters usually assumed to be earlier (e.g., 1–2 Thessalonians), but is
found in letters that are likely later (Galatians, 1–2 Corinthians, Romans), it may
also be that Paul has theological reasons for expressing imitation in terms of
ζῆλος. The ability to draw the attention away from people (at least overtly) and
toward right qualities/behaviors, which naturally suits the language of ζῆλος
more than μιμητής/μιμέομαι,50 would seem to cohere with Paul’s portrayal of
weakness and insignificance we saw in Galatians 4 and 1 Corinthians 4. Yes,
they need to look to Paul, but only inasmuch as Paul provides the model for
right qualities (e.g., behaviors and gifts that build up the community).51 This
also coheres with Paul’s willingness to point his addressees to the right exam-
ple of others (e.g., 1 Thess 1:5–7; 1 Cor 9:5; 2 Cor 8:1–5; 9:2; Phil 3:17).52
47 Suzanne Saïd, “Envy and Emulation in Isocrates,” in Envy, Spite, and Jealousy: The
Rivalrous Emotions in Ancient Greece (ed. David Konstan and N. Keith Rutter; Edinburgh:
Edinburgh University Press, 2003), 218. See, e.g., Antid. 246 (“They emulate [ζηλοῦσι]
those who can use the word in a good way”; Paneg. 159 (“and we, emulating [ζηλοῦντες] the
valor of the soldiers, might desire [ἐπιθυμῶμεν] like deeds”); Evag. 77 (“so that they, emu-
lating [ζηλοῦντες] those who are eulogized, may desire [ἐπιθυμῶσιν] to adopt the same
pursuits”).
48 Cf. Benjamin Fiore, “‘Covert Allusion’ in 1 Corinthians 1–4,” CBQ 47 (1985): 88–90; Winter,
Sophists, 196–7.
49 “Imitation,” 132. These words include συζάω (2 Cor 7:3; Rom 6:8), συζωοποιέω (Col 2:13),
συμπάσχω (Rom 8:17), συναποθνῄσκω (2 Cor 7:3), συνδοξάζω (Rom 8:17), συνθάπτω (Rom
6:4; Col 2:12), συσταυρόω (Gal 2:19; Rom 6:6); see also συμμιμητής in Phil 3:17.
50 Cf. Wilhelm Michaelis, “μιμέομαι, μιμητής, συμμιμητής,” TDNT 4:666–74.
51 Paul’s strategy also seems related to his ‘defense’ (ἀπολογία) of his personal character and
apostolic integrity (cf. 1 Cor 9:3).
52 As Best observes of passages like, “Paul . . . sees imitation as more than imitation of him-
self alone” (Converts, 70; cf. 63). This shift to the language of accomplishes much of the
same thing Bruce Winter shows Paul does in ch. 4 with his mingling of irony with the
rhetorical device of ‘covert allusion’: “Paul ironically summons the Corinthians with their
sophistic orientation to an altogether different form of imitation. They must not, like the
164 CHAPTER 4
As we saw in Chapter Three, Paul enacts a similar transferral from emulating

people to emulating specific behavior. He subtly moves the discussion from
ζῆλος for people toward ζῆλος for ‘the good’:
Table 4.2 The subject and object of ζῆλος in Galatians
Reference Subject Object
Gal 1:14 Paul τῶν πατρικῶν μου παραδόσεων

Gal 4:17a the Teachers the Galatians
Gal 4:17b the Galatians the Teachers
Gal 4:18 the Galatians ‘the good’ (καλόν)
As in Galatians, then, where the language of ζῆλος allowed Paul to redefine

what should be the object of their emulation (’the good‘), so in 1 Corinthians
Paul uses the language of ζῆλος to clarify the nature of the Corinthians’ imita-
tion of him in chs. 4 and 11.
Test Case: ‘Foolish’ Ζῆλος in 2 Corinthians 11:2
In the remainder of this chapter, it will be useful to pursue further the rhe-
torical and theological implications of Paul’s strategies with ζῆλος. Specifically,
I will offer a new reading of Paul’s language of divine ‘jealousy’ [ζῆλος] in the
‘bride of Christ’ metaphor in 2 Cor 11:1–4. I will show that in its literary context,
specific qualities of Paul’s imagery in 11:1–4 suggest that it is appropriate to
apply this rhetorical metaphor to Paul’s deeper theological concerns.
In a 1993 essay, Beverly Roberts Gaventa laments that the issue of the theo-
logical connection between apostle and church is “neglected . . . by much
recent study of 2 Corinthians.”53 For her, the issue is ‘theological,’ rather than
disciples of a sophist, model themselves on their teacher’s mannerisms and techniques

of rhetoric. Instead they ought to emulate the apostles of the crucified Messiah with their
low status and suffering—and the ignominy which that brings before the sophistic milieu
of Corinth” (Sophists, 200; also cited in Hwang, Mimesis, 132).
53 “Apostle and Church in 2 Corinthians: A Response to David M. Hay and Steven J. Kraftchick,”
in Pauline Theology Volume II: 1 & 2 Corinthians (ed. David M. Hay; Minneapolis: Fortress,
1993), 182. Gaventa’s starting point is Steven J. Kraftchick’s argument that Paul transfers
merely strategic and rhetorical, as evidenced by Paul’s similar assertions in

letters where the relationship is not so endangered.54 Much depends upon
how we define ‘theological,’ of course, but if Gaventa is right that Paul’s state-
ments in 2 Corinthians are less pragmatic than we might expect, we may
assume that ‘theological’ refers to a dimension of Paul’s reflection that tran-
scends his immediate rhetorical purposes.55 Gaventa’s essay traces the evi-
dence that “among the important convictions that shape Paul’s reflections in
2 Corinthians is his understanding that God has, in the gospel of Jesus Christ,
irretrievably bound together the apostle and the church.”56 Included among
this evidence are Paul’s references to love between himself and the Corinthians
(e.g., 2:4; 7:3, 7; 11:11; 12:15), Paul’s call for reconciliation not only with God but
with Paul (6:11–12; 7:2–3), Paul’s self-description as a slave not only of Christ
the ‘generative metaphor’ of death and resurrection first to Paul’s ministry (4:7–15) and
then to the lives of believers, specifically “to the matter of the collection [chs. 8–9]”
(“Death in Us, Life in You: The Apostolic Medium,” in Pauline Theology Volume II: 1 & 2
Corinthians [ed. David M. Hay; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993], 178).
54 “Apostle and Church,” 194, 199. Here Gaventa is not specific, but one thinks of instances
where Paul conceives of his relationship to his churches in a theological and almost mys-
tical way: “to remain in the flesh is more necessary for you . . . for your progress and joy in
faith” (Phil 1:24–25); “yearning for you in this way, we are pleased to share with you not
only the gospel of God but also our own selves” (1 Thess 2:8).
55 It is not the intent of the present chapter to critique scholarship on 2 Corinthians for being
insufficiently ‘theological.’ Yet Gaventa’s lament may ring true with respect to the familial
language to be discussed below. For example, Yarbrough primarily gives attention to the
‘moral force’ of parent-child imagery in Paul (“Parents,” 138). Likewise, there are several
studies of ‘reconciliation’ as a major emphasis in 2 Corinthians, but these devote nearly
all of their attention to the rhetorical and strategic dimensions of this relationship (e.g.,
Ivar Vegge, 2 Corinthians, a Letter About Reconciliation: A Psychagogical, Epistolographical,
and Rhetorical Analysis (WUNT 2: 239; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008). On the other hand,
Reimund Bieringer and others have noted that “Paul did not perceive these relationships
as purely human realities, but saw their foundation in the sharing of the gospel of Jesus
Christ” (“Paul’s Divine Jealousy: The Apostle and His Communities in Relationship,” in
Studies on 2 Corinthians [ed. Reimund Bieringer and Jan Lambrecht; Leuven, Belgium:
Leuven University Press, 1994], 253). And for a recent analysis along the lines of Gaventa’s
concerns, see Dustin W. Ellington’s defense of the imitative component of Paul’s language
in 2 Corinthains 10–13: “[S]cholars tend to focus on Paul’s self-defense and on those who
oppose him. They typically miss clues in the text that reveal his other concerns” (“Not
Applicable to Believers? The Aims and Basis of Paul’s ‘I’ in 2 Corinthians 10–13,” JBL 131,
no. 2 [2012]): 326).
56 “Apostle and Church,” 194. James D.G. Dunn similarly draws attention to the particular-
ity of Paul’s theological understanding of his apostolic authority: “Paul could address
the Corinthians so forthrightly precisely [and only] because he was their apostle” (The
Theology of Paul the Apostle [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998], 578).
166 CHAPTER 4
but also of the Corinthians (4:5), Paul’s portrayal of mutual boasting (e.g., 1:12–
14; 5:12; 7:4; 8:24; 9:23), and Paul’s depiction of the Corinthians as his ‘letter of
recommendation’ (3:1–3).
Gaventa’s final piece of evidence—the familial language Paul employs—
is the starting point for our investigation in the remainder of this chapter.
Paul speaks ‘as to children’ (ὡς τέκνοις) in 6:13 (cf. 1 Cor 4:14, 17; Gal 4:19; Phil
2:22; 1 Thess 2:11; Phlm 10); he compares his responsibilities to the Corinthians
to that of ‘parents to children’ (οἱ γονεῖς τοῖς τέκνοις) in 12:14; and in 11:2 Paul
declares: ζηλῶ γὰρ ὑμᾶς θεοῦ ζήλῳ, ἡρμοσάμην γὰρ ὑμᾶς ἑνὶ ἀνδρὶ παρθένον ἁγνὴν
παραστῆσαι τῷ Χριστῷ (“For I am zealous for you with God’s zeal, for I promised
you to one husband, to present you as a pure virgin to Christ”). Here Gaventa
sides with the majority of interpreters who view Paul’s role as that of father,
rather than the father’s agent, the groomsman, or friend of the bride.57 As we
will see in the course of this chapter, there is reason to assume that Paul does
indeed imply that he is like a father to the Corinthians, but for now we may
simply affirm with Gaventa that the imagery in 2 Cor 11:2 is part of a larger
network of images that may tell us something about Paul’s perspective on his
relationship with the Corinthians.58
While few would contest Gaventa’s claim that Paul’s contingent metaphor
of marriage informs (or is informed by) an underlying conviction, it is my con-
tention that the significance of the language of ζῆλος for illuminating Paul’s
‘theologizing’ on this matter has been under-appreciated. In what follows
I examine how Paul’s use of the words ζῆλος and ζηλόω in 2 Cor 11:2, when con-
sidered alongside Paul’s use of this language elsewhere in the letter (7:7, 11; 9:2;
cf. 1 Cor 12:31; 14:1, 12, 39; σπουδή in 2 Cor 7:11–12; 8:7–22), informs our under-
standing of the theological connection Paul perceives between himself and
the Corinthians. By identifying specific verbal and thematic cues, I show that
Paul’s use of ζῆλος in 11:2 points not to an unattached theological conviction
(“Paul views himself as having a divine jealousy for his churches”), but rather
to a conviction that is integrated with 2 Corinthians as a whole: Paul uses the
57 “Just as custom makes the Jewish father responsible for his daughter’s virginity until
the finalization of the marriage, Paul understands himself to be responsible for the
Corinthians” (“Apostle and Church,” 195). For a recent survey of proposals regarding how
Paul sees his role in the betrothal of the Corinthians to Christ, see Murray J. Harris, The
Second Epistle to the Corinthians (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), 736–38.
58 My interest, then, is not so much in proving Gaventa’s point in toto as it is in taking up her
challenge to 1) deal less “hastily with a number of texts” and 2) provide further evidence
against “those who would place this relationship in the theological margins because it
serves strategic purposes” (“Apostle and Church,” 199). Gaventa admits that she may be
“flailing away at a straw opponent,” but even so, the task is worth pursuing for its contribu-
tion to our understanding of Paul’s theologizing in 2 Corinthians.
concept of ζῆλος (‘zeal’/‘emulation’) as shorthand for the exclusive, imitative,

and hortatory aspects of his relationship with the Corinthians.59 First, I argue
that in 11:2a Paul alludes to Phinehas (Num 25:11–13; 1 Macc 2:54) and thereby
frames his role in the Corinthians’ reconciliation with Christ not only as that of
‘father’ but also as that of a priestly, Phinehas-like figure whose ζῆλος uniquely
enables reconciliation. Second, given that the allusion to Phinehas’ ζῆλος in
11:2 neatly encapsulates Paul’s fundamental conviction that divine power is
revealed in human weakness (cf. 11:1–2, 30), I will propose that it is appropriate
to link Paul’s language in 11:2 with the language of ζῆλος in chs. 7–9. Specifically,
Paul’s ζῆλος reciprocates the Corinthians’ paradoxical ζῆλος for him (7:7), is
reflected by Titus’ zeal (σπουδή) for the Corinthians (τὴν αὐτὴν σπουδὴν ὑπὲρ
ὑμῶν; 8:16), and characterizes the kind of exemplary behavior the Corinthians
had and must regain (9:2).
“Phinehas Our Father”

Reading ζηλῶ . . . θεοῦ ζήλῳ as an Allusion to Phinehas
With respect to 2 Cor 11:2a (ζηλῶ γὰρ ὑμᾶς θεοῦ ζήλῳ), the vast majority of inter-
preters have been content to cite texts from Scripture that feature Yhwh’s
‘jealousy’ (e.g., Deut 4:24; Exod 34:14), especially in connection with a husband-
wife metaphor (Ezekiel 16; cf. Isaiah 50, 54; Jeremiah 3; Hosea 1–3).60 This is
59 Annette Merz has shown how the immediate rhetorical purpose of Paul’s imagery of mar-
riage in 2 Cor 11:2 (to encourage fidelity to Paul’s teaching) becomes wholly displaced
in texts such as Eph 5:22–33, showing that Paul’s fecund imagery is easily borrowed for
discrete ethical/theological purposes (“Why Did the Pure Bride of Christ [2 Cor. 11.2]
Become a Wedded Wife [Eph. 5.22–33]? Theses About the Intertextual Transformation
of an Ecclesiological Metaphor,” JSNT 23, no. 79 [2000]: 131–47). I am not suggesting that
a similar transfer of imagery is happening within 2 Corinthians; rather, it is the specific
language Paul uses within the marriage metaphor that invites application to a theological
theme that has implications elsewhere in the letter (especially 7:7, 11; 9:2).
60 See especially Herbert M. Gale (The Use of Analogy in the Letters of Paul [Philadelphia:
Westminster Press, 1964], 164–67); Nelly Stienstra (Yhwh is the Husband of His People:
Analysis of a Biblical Metaphor with Special Reference to Translation [Kampen, Netherlands:
Kok Pharos, 1993], 226–30); and Raymond C. Ortlund, Jr. (God’s Unfaithful Wife: A Biblical
Theology of Spiritual Adultery [Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2002], 147–52). Most ancient inter-
pretation also dwells exclusively on the metaphor of marriage. Chrysostom, however, is
one of few ancient or modern interpreters to pause on the word ‘zeal’ to reflect on the rela-
tionship between Paul and the Corinthians before moving immediately to the marriage
metaphor: “Paul uses a word here which is far stronger than mere love. Jealous souls burn
ardently for those whom they love, and jealousy presupposes a strong affection. Then, in
order that they should not think that Paul is after power, wealth or honor, he adds that his
jealousy is ‘divine.’ For God is said to be jealous, not in a human way but so that everyone
may know that he claims sovereign rights over those whom he loves and does what he
168 CHAPTER 4
certainly understandable, since in 2 Cor 11:2b Paul describes his role in joining
the Corinthians in marriage to Christ (ἡρμοσάμην γὰρ ὑμᾶς ἑνὶ ἀνδρὶ παρθένον
ἁγνὴν παραστῆσαι τῷ Χριστῷ). The metaphor is well-known and need not be
treated in depth here, except to note that Paul does not seem to promote a
simple analogy between God vis-à-vis Israel (the relationship that gives rise to
Yhwh’s ‘jealousy’) and Paul vis-à-vis the Corinthian believers. The latter rela-
tionship is complicated by a third party, Christ. Thus, however one conceives
of Paul’s role in the analogy (father of the bride, father’s agent, etc.), Paul dem-
onstrates God’s ζῆλος or acts as the agent of God’s ζῆλος, but is not, in fact, God.61
With this in mind, it is appropriate to ask whether it is meaningful that
Paul’s ζῆλος is described in terms that echo the ‘zeal’ of Elijah and Phinehas
more closely than God’s ‘jealousy’:
Elijah in 1 Kgs 19:10 LXX: ζηλῶν ἐζήλωκα τῷ κυρίῳ62

Yhwh about Phinehas in ἐν τῷ ζηλῶσαί μου τὸν ζῆλον ἐν
Num 25:11 LXX: αὐτοῖς63
Paul in 2 Cor 11:2: ζηλῶ γὰρ ὑμᾶς θεοῦ ζήλῳ
It would seem that the similarities warrant consideration of whether an allu-

sion to Phinehas/Elijah can be supported within the context of 2 Corinthians.
Yet only a handful of interpreters make mention of Elijah or Phinehas at all,
and those who do merely offer a passing nod to Phinehas as an ‘old-covenant’
does for their exclusive benefit. Human jealousy is basically selfish, but divine jealousy is
both intense and pure” (Homilies on the Epistles of Paul to the Corinthians 23.1; translation
adapted from A Select Library of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church,
Series 1 [ed. P. Schaff et al.; Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature, 1887–1894; repr. Edinburgh, T.
& T. Clark; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1952–1956], 12:383). See also Margaret E. Thrall’s men-
tion of Paul’s “jealous concern” being potentially displaced by a “rival commitment” (A
Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Second Epistle to the Corinthians in Two Volumes;
vol. 2: Commentary on II Corinthians VIII–XIII [ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000], 660),
which echoes Robert H. Strachan’s mention of the “sectarian zeal of his opponents” (The
Second Epistle of Paul to the Corinthians [New York: Harper & Brothers, 1936], 17).
61 As Richard A. Batey puts it, Paul “appropriates the betrothal figure to illumine the inter-
relationships between God, Christ, himself, and the Corinthian Church” (“Paul’s Bride
Image: A Symbol of Realistic Eschatology,” Interpretation 17 [1963]: 176).
62 MT ‫ ;קנא קנאתי ליהוה‬cf. 1 Kgs 19:14.
63 MT ‫ ;בקנאו את־קנאתי בתוכם‬cf. Num 25:13.
exemplar of ζῆλος.64 But should this be so? Must this curious construction sim-
ply be absorbed into the primary marriage metaphor, or does Paul’s wording
reveal something more?65
The question cannot be answered on grammatical grounds alone, but
the particulars will be instructive. Interpreters usually take ζήλῳ as a dative
of reference,66 but less often do they observe that the dative with a cognate
verb (ζηλῶ) imitates the Hebrew absolute infinitive (an infinitive combined
with a cognate [usually verbal] form).67 Granted, Walter Bujard has observed
some 17 instances in the Pauline corpus where two words of the same root are
used together.68 On this basis one might argue that “being zealous with zeal”
simply represents the influence of the Hebrew or Greek Scriptures on Paul’s
rhetorical style (e.g., “May you be strong with all strength” [ἐν πάσῃ δυνάμει
δυναμούμενοι; Col 1:11]; “in the calling in which you were called” [ἐν τῇ κλήσει
64 To my knowledge the only recent commentators that mention Phinehas in this context are
Paul Barnett (The Second Epistle to the Corinthians [NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997],
500); James M. Scott (2 Corinthians [NIBC 8; Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1998], 204); and R.
Kent Hughes (2 Corinthians: Power in Weakness [Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books, 2006], 194).
Hughes is representative of the under-explored reference to Phinehas in these commen-
taries: “And like the heroic Phinehas of the old covenant, Paul would do anything that was
necessary to protect the church’s purity (cf. Numbers 25:1–13)—even loathsome boasting.”
65 It might be argued that the γάρ in 11:2b does restrict the construction in 11:2a to the mar-
riage metaphor. But γάρ often occurs twice to introduce two arguments for the same
assertion (e.g., 1 Cor 16:7; 2 Cor 11:19–20; cf. BDAG, 189). In this case, the assertion is Paul’s
desire for the Corinthians to “bear with me in a little foolishness” (ἀνείχεσθέ μου μικρόν τι
ἀφροσύνης; 11:1).
66 E.g., “with divine jealousy” (Thrall, Second Epistle, 2:656); cf. “mit göttlichem Eifer” (Hans
Lietzmann, An die Korinther I, II [Tübingen: Mohr (Siebeck), 1969], 144). For mention of
the cognate construction (but no reference to Phinehas), see Ernest B. Allo (Saint Paul,
seconde épître aux Corinthiens [EBib; Paris: Lecoffre, 1956], 275), C.K. Barrett (The Second
Epistle to the Corinthians [HNTC; New York: Harper & Row, 1973], 271–72), and Ralph P.
Martin (2 Corinthians [WBC 40; Waco: Word, 1986], 332).
67 Cf. BDF §198 and §422; Harris, Second Epistle, 734; Scott N. Callaham, Modality and the
Biblical Hebrew Infinitive Absolute (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2010), 2–4; and especially
Emanuel Tov, “Renderings of Combinations of the Infinitive Absolute and Finite Verbs in
the LXX—Their Nature and Distribution,” in Studien zur Septuaginta—Robert Hanhart
zu Ehren: Aus Anlaß seines 65. Geburtstages (ed. Detlef Fraenkel, Udo Quast, and John
William Wevers; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1990), 64.
68 Stilanalytische Untersuchungen zum Kolosserbrief als Beitrag zur Methodik von
Sprachvergleichen (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht, 1973), 157. Bujard’s list
includes Col 1:11, 29; 2:11, 19; 1 Cor 7:20; 10:16; 11:2; 15:1; 16:10; 2 Cor 1:4, 6; 7:7; 8:24; 11:2; Gal 1:11;
5:1; 1 Thess 3:9.
170 CHAPTER 4
ᾗ ἐκλήθη; 1 Cor 7:20]; “for freedom Christ has set us free” [τῇ ἐλευθερίᾳ ἡμᾶς
Χριστὸς ἠλευθέρωσεν; Gal 5:1]). Yet upon closer examination, we find that the
formulation in 2 Cor 11:2 is unique. It is the only Pauline construction formu-
lated in the way a Hebrew infinitive absolute construction is most often ren-
dered in the Septuagint: a finite verb with a cognate noun in the dative case
(ζηλῶ . . . ζήλῳ).69 This, combined with the fact that the cognate construction
in 2 Cor 11:2 echoes not just the typical form but an actual cognate expres-
sion in the Hebrew Scriptures (Num 25:11; 1 Kgs 19:10), strengthens the case
that Paul’s reference in 11:2 is more specific than the broad portrait of ‘Yhwh’s
jealousy’ usually cited by interpreters.70
Further support can be found in connection with the genitive θεοῦ, which is
usually taken to indicate quality or origin. Indeed, it is difficult to make a clear
argument for or against such possibilities as “divine,” “God’s own,” or even “wie
er Gottes Willen entspricht.”71 Of more consequence is that in the course of
arguing for one use of the genitive or another, interpreters too quickly jump
to the passages that refer to God’s ‘jealousy’ for Israel (e.g., Deut 4:24; Exod
34:14). In so doing, interpreters miss or minimize the unusual fact that, unlike
any of the passages they cite, this ζῆλος θεοῦ is applied to Paul, a human being.
69 In Greek literature outside of the Septuagint, cognate expressions more commonly use
the accusative case (cf. Smyth §1576), but in the Septuagint the Hebrew absolute infini-
tive is most often translated with the dative (e.g., Isa 6:9; Ezek 26:16). Tov’s exhaustive
study of the absolute infinitive with a finite verb presents all the ways the Greek transla-
tors rendered the Hebrew (with an infinitive, with an adverb [cognate or non-cognate],
with a noun in the dative [only once with a preposition], with a noun in the accusative,
with a participle, with an adjective [very rare], and with a finite verb only; “Renderings,”
64–70). The other 16 cognate expressions found in the Pauline corpus do not conform to
any of the categories listed by Tov.
70 Interestingly, the only other cognate construction that comes close to 2 Cor 11:2 in terms of
similarity of wording to a passage in the Septuagint is found in 2 Cor 7:7 (ἐν τῇ παρακλήσει
ᾗ παρεκλήθη ἐφ᾿ ὑμῖν; cf. 2 Cor 1:4, 6; 8:24; Isa 40:1; 66:13 LXX). Not only is the relationship
between the Corinthians and Paul (whether direct or via their treatment of Paul’s envoy,
Titus) illuminated by allusions to God’s maternal ‘comfort’ in Isaiah (e.g., ὡς εἴ τινα μήτηρ
παρακαλέσει, οὕτως καὶ ἐγὼ παρακαλέσω ὑμᾶς; 66:13 LXX), but 2 Cor 7:7 is precisely the
passage we will turn to below as we explore further instances of Paul’s language of ζῆλος.
I am not arguing for some kind of sophisticated cleverness on Paul’s part; rather, the con-
nection is likely coincidental but nevertheless illustrative of the way Scripture informs
Paul’s theological understanding of apostle and church throughout 2 Corinthians.
71 Rudolf Bultmann, Der zweite Brief an die Korinther (KEK; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck &
Ruprecht, 1976), 202. Interestingly, these options are seldom considered for the genitive in
Rom 10:2 (μαρτυρῶ γὰρ αὐτοῖς ὅτι ζῆλον θεοῦ ἔχουσιν ἀλλ᾿ οὐ κατ᾿ ἐπίγνωσιν).
In the Scriptures, the only figure who is credited with God’s own ζῆλος/‫ קנאה‬is
Phinehas (Num 25:11).
It is true that other figures demonstrate ζῆλος for God. There are 12 occur-
rences in the canonical Hebrew Scriptures that refer to the positive ‫קנאה‬
(in these instances best translated ‘zeal,’ as opposed to a negative ‘envy’ or ‘jeal-
ousy’) of a human being.72 But the two figures most prominently characterized
by ‘zeal’ are unquestionably Phinehas and Elijah.73 The Baal Peor episode in
Numbers 25 is remarkable, not only because Phinehas ‘makes atonement’ (‫)כפר‬
by his zealous execution (25:13), but because Phinehas’ ‫ קנאה‬causes Yhwh to
withhold his own ‫ קנאה‬that was to consume the Israelites.74 In a similar (but
not identical) pattern, after Elijah slaughters the prophets of Baal (1 Kgs 18:40),
he twice declares to Yhwh that he has been ‘very zealous for Yhwh’ (1 Kgs
19:10 ‫ ;קנא קנאתי ליהוה‬cf. 1 Kgs 19:14). It may not be entirely surprising, then,
that Phinehas and Elijah became identified with one another in later Jewish
writings (e.g., Ps.-J. to Exod 6:18, Num 25:12, and Deut 30:4; L.A.B. 48.1–2; Num.
Rab. 21.3; cf. Origen, Comm. Jo. 6.7).75 Yet while the Hebrew absolute infini-
tive in 1 Kings 19 would make for the strongest grammatical parallel (at least if
Paul is reading the Hebrew and formulates his Greek like the translators of the
72 These include Saul’s zeal for the people (2 Sam 21:2), Jehu’s ‘zeal for Yhwh’ (2 Kgs 10:16),
the psalmists’ zeal (Ps 69:9; 119:139), and Joshua’s well-intended zeal on behalf of Moses
(Num 11:29). The other occurrences all refer to Phinehas (Num 25:11 [2x], 13) and Elijah
(1 Kgs 19:10 [2x], 14 [2x]).
73 In light of our discussion below, it is especially noteworthy that the Testament of Asher
refers positively to the killing of the wicked because “it imitates the Lord . . . for [those
who punish] walk in zeal for the Lord”: (μιμεῖται κύριον . . . ὅτι ἐν ζήλῳ θεοῦ πορεύονται;
T.Ash. 4.3–5).
74 The phrasing applied to Phinehas closely resembles the description of Yhwh’s zeal in
Zech 8:2: ἐζήλωσα . . . τὴν Σιων ζῆλον μέγαν/‫קנאתי לציון קנאה גדולה‬. This connection is also
observed by Levine (Numbers 21–36, 289).
75 Cf. Martin Hengel (Die Zeloten: Untersuchungen zur jüdischen Freiheitsbewegung in der
Zeit von Herodes I. bis 70 n. Chr., 3d rev. and enl. ed. [ed. Roland Deines and Claus-Jürgen
Thornton; WUNT 283; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011], 171–3); Louis H. Feldman (“The
Portrayal of Phinehas by Philo, Pseudo-Philo, and Josephus,” JQR 92, no. 3–4 [2002]: 333–
35); William R. Farmer (“The Patriarch Phineas: A Note on ‘It was Reckoned to Him as
Righteousness,’” AThR 34 [1952]: 26–30); and especially Robert Hayward (“Phinehas—The
Same Is Elijah: The Origins of a Rabbinic Tradition,” JJS 29, no. 1 [1978]: 22–34). If Paul,
like many of his fellow Jewish interpreters, conflated the zeal of Elijah and Phinehas,
the ‘problem’ that 1 Kgs 19:10 contains a true infinitive absolute (finite verb plus cognate
infinitive) and Num 25:11 only a cognate construction (infinitive plus cognate noun) is
mitigated. However much we wish it were otherwise, Paul rarely seems concerned about
such scruples.
172 CHAPTER 4
Septuagint!), Elijah’s ‫ קנאה‬for (‫ )ל‬Yhwh is not quite the same thing as being
credited with Yhwh’s own ‫( קנאה‬cf. LXX: μου τὸν ζῆλον).76 Although Phinehas,
too, is said to be zealous for God in LXX Num 25:13 (ἐζήλωσεν τῷ θεῷ αὐτοῦ), only
in Num 25:11 is a human being said to be zealous with ‘my [God’s] zeal’ (or a
zeal that originates from God).
Since Paul is not God in the marriage metaphor, since he claims to have a
zeal that comes from God, and since he does so using language that is most like
that applied to Phinehas, we have moved some distance toward making a plau-
sible case that Paul has Phinehas in mind in 2 Cor 11:2a, or at least that Paul’s
choice of words lends itself to such a reading. The case is strengthened when
we consider Phinehas’ legacy in Jewish literature from the Hebrew Scriptures
through the first century and beyond (Psalms, Sirach, 1 Maccabees, L.A.B.,
4QMMT, Philo, Josephus, etc.).77 It is true that ‘Phinehan zeal’ is regularly asso-
ciated with the violence of the Maccabees (e.g., 1 Macc 2:24), the Zealots of
66–70 AD (e.g., Josephus, B.J. 2.651), and even Paul’s own life as a persecutor
(Gal 1:14; Phil 3:5). Yet already in Ps 106:30, where the violent ‘zeal’ is not even
mentioned (Phinehas only ‘adjudicates’ [‫ פלל‬in the piel]), Phinehas is remem-
bered primarily for something else: he acts as a priest (ἐξιλάσκομαι; Ps 105:30
LXX).78 My suggestion is that two features of Phinehas’ legacy may contribute
76 Though some translations attempt to attenuate Phinehas’ expression of God’s zeal (NIV:
“he was as zealous as I am for my honor among them”), Levine correctly translates the
Hebrew “by zealously enacting my zeal” and comments, “Phinehas expressed God’s own
zeal; he acted on his behalf” (Numbers 21–36, 289). Some manuscripts considered by the
editors of the Göttingen Septuagint do contain the reading με in Num 25:11, which would
leave the first person pronoun as the accusative subject of the articular infinitive (thus
NETS: “when I was jealous with jealousy among them”). Such a variant may be evidence of
the difficulty some interpreters had with such a unique claim, but the preferred reading is
μου. It is important to observe how slavishly the LXX follows the MT at Num 25:11:
‫בקנאו את־קנאתי בתוכם‬
ἐν τῷ ζηλῶσαί μου τὸν ζῆλον ἐν αὐτοῖς
In the MT, the direct object particle makes it clear that ‘zeal’ is the object (‫)את־קנאתי‬.
The MT also makes it clear that it is ‘my zeal,’ which is accounted for by the μου in the
LXX. Thus we should translate the phrase something like “when he was zealous with
my zeal” or “by zealously enacting my zeal.” There is no third person pronound (‘he’)
in the Greek (cf. ἐν τῷ ζηλῶσαι αὐτὸν in Sir 45:23–34), but the subject of the sentence is
Phinehas and it would seem that the word με would be required to shift the subject to the
first person.
77 See also 4 Macc 18:12 (τὸν ζηλωτὴν Φινεες); Hel. Syn. Pr. 8:4–5 (“Phinehas the priest”).
78 It is true that the NRSV misleads by translating ‫ פלל‬in the piel as “intercede” (cf. BDB 813;
HALOT 933; David A. Bernat, “Phinehas’ Intercessory Prayer: A Rabbinic and Targumic
Reading of the Baal Peor Narrative,” JJS 58, no. 2 [2007]: 266 n. 9), but even without the
interpretation of Ps 105:30 LXX (ἐξιλάσκομαι ‘appease’), Ps 106:31 (‫)לדר ודר עד־עולם‬
to our investigation of the theological underpinnings of Paul’s words in 2 Cor

11:2a: Phinehas’ status as priest and father.
Phinehas and Priesthood

Because of his ζῆλος, in Num 25:13 Phinehas is bestowed with the ‘cov-
enant of priesthood forever’ (‫ ;ברית כהנת עולם‬LXX διαθήκη ἱερατείας αἰωνία).
This priestly status was taken seriously by later interpreters, starting in the
Scriptures themselves (Ps 106:30; Jdg 20:28; 1 Chr 6:4, 50; Ezra 7:5) and continu-
ing into rabbinic times.79 Despite the violence of Phinehas’ deed, in Num 25:12
the covenant that Yhwh grants Phinehas is a ‘covenant of peace’ [διαθήκην
εἰρήνης; MT ‫]בריתי ׁשלום‬. For Philo, these rewards of peace and priesthood are
bound together:
But Phinehas the priest [was] zealous with the zeal that is on behalf
of God [Φινεὲς δὲ ὁ ἱερεὺς ὁ ζηλώσας τὸν ὑπὲρ θεοῦ ζῆλον] . . . , on account of
which—since foolishness [ἀφροσύνη; cf. 2 Cor 11:1] has been cut off—the
soul receives a double prize and inheritance: peace and the priesthood
(εἰρήνην καὶ ἱερωσύνην), kindred and sisterly virtues.80
Likewise, Sirach provides no details of Phinehas’ violent actions, but credits

his ζῆλος with making atonement for Israel and earning the covenant of peace:
Phinehas son of Eleazar ranks third in glory because he was zealous [ἐν τῷ
ζηλῶσαι αὐτὸν] in the fear of the Lord, and standing firm when the people
turned away, in the noble readiness of his soul; and he made atonement
[ἐξιλάσατο] for Israel. Therefore a covenant of peace [διαθήκη εἰρήνης]
was established with him, that he should be leader of the sanctuary and
clearly echoes the language of the ‘covenant of priesthood forever’ in Num 25:13 (‫ברית‬
‫)כהנת עולם‬. The Writings targum renders Ps 106:30 with ‫ צלה‬in the Pael (‘pray’). As
Bernat shows, many Rabbinic sources take ‫‘( ויפלל‬he adjudicated’) as if it read ‫ויתפלל‬
(‘he prayed’), and certainly made use of Ps 106:30 as the scriptural underpinning of the
Phinehas-prayer tradition (“Intercessory,” 266 n. 9).
79 E.g., Sifre Deut. 165; see further below. As Nils Martola rightly observes, “For posterity this
was the whole point of the text” (Capture and Liberation: A Study in the Composition of the
First Book of Maccabees [Åbo: Åbo Akademi, 1984], 211).
80 Leg. 3.242; cf. Post. 183: ζηλώσας τὸν θεοῦ . . . ζῆλον, ἄθλων τοῖς μεγίστοις δυσὶ τετίμηται
καὶ κατέστεπται, εἰρήνῃ καὶ ἱερωσύνῃ· τῇ μέν, ὅτι ἀδελφόν ἐστιν εἰρήνῃ καὶ ὄνομα καὶ ἔργον
(“zealous with the zeal of God, he was honored and crowned with the two most valuable
of all prizes, peace and the priesthood; the one, because both his name and his deed are
peace”).
174 CHAPTER 4
of his people, that he and his descendants should have the dignity of the
priesthood [ἱερωσύνης] forever.81
Thus Philo and Sirach agree that ζῆλος (especially ‘to be zealous with zeal’) is
the mark of Phinehas, and that Phinehas is the priest whose actions atone for
the people and who is granted a covenant of peace.
A number of other sources reveal a second component of Phinehas’
priestly legacy: his intercession. That Phinehas’ primary role is that of inter-
cessor is especially noticeable in rabbinic literature. For example, we read in
Sifre Deuteronomy, “he saw that there was not among them a human to beg
for mercy for them like Phinehas, as it says, ‘And Phinehas stood and prayed
[‫ פלל‬in the hitpael].’”82 As we have seen in Chapter Two, already in the first cen-
tury, Pseudo-Philo considered Phinehas’ role as intercessor to be the primary
feature of his legacy.83 There we saw that God’s favorable answer in L.A.B. 47.3
is tied to Phinehas’ zeal, but comes in response to Phinehas’ prayer.
Phinehas as Father
It remains to be seen whether this priestly legacy of Phinehas sheds light on
Paul’s thinking in 2 Corinthians, but a final dimension of Phinehas’ legacy is
especially tantalizing given the placement of Paul’s words within the mar-
riage metaphor. Recalling that in 2 Cor 11:2 Paul puts himself in the Phinehas-
like role of conveying God’s ζῆλος and then portrays himself as a father to
the Corinthians, we turn now to the portrayal of Mattathias in 1 Maccabees.
81 Sir 45:23–24. On the question of whether Sirach leaves out the violent details because this
deed would be unfitting for a priest, cf. Kenneth Pomykala’s remarks: “Ben Sira’s appeal to
Num 25:6–13 appears to presume knowledge of Phinehas’s actions described there. . . . In
any event, Ben Sira’s characterization of Phinehas as interceding for Israel to turn away
the Lord’s anger captures his priestly role and supports the portrait of Phinehas Ben Sira
sought to draw” (“The Covenant with Phinehas in Ben Sira [Sirach 45:23–26; 50:22–24],”
in Israel in the Wilderness: Interpretations of the Biblical Narratives in Jewish and Christian
Traditions [ed. Kenneth Pomykala; Leiden: Brill, 2008], 22). As Feldman argues, Josephus’
Roman audience led him to downplay the importance of Phinehas because Phinehas
takes the law into his own hands. Earlier writers (including Paul) had no such problems
with ‘Phinehan zeal’ (“Portrayal,” 331).
82 Sifre Deut. 326; translated by Bernat, “Intercessory,” 269; cf. Sifre Num. 131; Num. Rab. 20:25.
Bernat points out that the equation of prayer with the plea for mercy is fully explicit in
texts such as bBer. 26a, and considers these and a range of other rabbinic examples to be
“an illustration of a larger post-Biblical inclination to count intercessory prayer among
the key Priestly functions” (“Intercessory,” 275).
83 It is true that Pseudo-Philo says nothing about God rewarding Phinehas with a covenant
or the high priesthood, but he clearly functions as priest and commits the high priesthood
to Eli at Shiloh (L.A.B. 50:3; cf. 48:2).
There are differences between Paul and Mattathias, to be sure (Mattathias’

violent actions earn him the comparison with Phinehas, whereas Paul places
his violence in the past [Phil 3:6; Gal 1:14]), but the similarities are striking.84 In
particular, Mattathias’ zeal for the purity of the temple manifests itself in sac-
rificial action (just as the priesthood is central in Sirach and Philo).85 But even
more intriguing is the follow-up description of Phinehas several verses later in
1 Macc 2:54. In addition to the references to the priesthood and to ζῆλος (again
with a cognate construction), Phinehas alone of all the ‘fathers’ mentioned
(Abraham, Joseph, Joshua, Caleb, David, Elijah, Hananiah, Azariah, Mishael,
and Daniel; 1 Macc 2:51–60) is singled out as our father:
Φινεες ὁ πατὴρ ἡμῶν ἐν τῷ ζηλῶσαι ζῆλον ἔλαβεν διαθήκην ἱερωσύνης αἰωνίας.
Phinehas our father, when he was zealous with zeal, received the cov-
enant of everlasting priesthood.86
84 “And Mattathias answered and said with a loud voice, ‘If all the nations which are in the
realm of the king obey him so as to apostatize, each one from the religion of their fathers,
and adopt his commandments, both I and my sons and my brothers will walk in the cov-
enant of our fathers [ἐν διαθήκῃ πατέρων ἡμῶν] . . . ’. And Mattathias saw [a man’s apos-
tasy], and he became zealous [ἐζήλωσεν], and his kidneys trembled, and his anger arose
in judgment; and running, he slaughtered [ἔσφαξεν] him on the altar and killed the agent
of the king, who was forcing them to sacrifice at that time, and tore down the altar. And
he became zealous for the law [ἐζήλωσεν τῷ νόμῳ] as Phinehas had done against Zambri
son of Salom. And Mattathias cried out in the city with a loud voice, saying, ‘Let everyone
who is zealous for the law [ὁ ζηλῶν τῷ νόμῳ] and is upholding the covenant follow after
me’” (1 Macc 2:19–27).
85 σφάζω is a sacrificial term (e.g., Num 11:22; Isa 14:21). As Martola argues, “the word has been
chosen with care and that the author quite seriously regards Mattathias’ deed as a cult
act . . . an act of expiation” (Capture and Liberation, 218–221). For an examination of the
similarities between Greek Sirach and 1 Maccabees, see Pomykala, “Covenant,” 33.
86 Scholars such as Thomas Hieke note the unique exemplary position granted to Phinehas:
“the covenant [is] specified with Phineas, who is venerated as forefather and patron
(ὁ πατὴρ ἡμῶν), as the covenant (pact) of priesthood for all times. . . . [The description in
1 Macc 2:54] lifts Phineas’ deed to an exemplary level: The issue is not about killing but
about zeal for God’s sake” (“The Role of ‘Scripture’ in the Last Words of Mattathais [1 Macc
2:49–70],” in The Books of the Maccabees: History, Theology, Ideology [ed. Géza G. Xeravits
and József Zsengellér; Leiden: Brill, 2007], 66–67). Martola similarly writes that “2,54 is
the only verse in praise of the fathers in which a direct relationship with the speaker and
his age is established. When Mattathias says of Pinhas that he is ‘our father’, he breaks out
the statement on Pinhas and relates it to what is told in the main course of events. The
statement is ambiguous, probably intentionally so. It can mean both: ‘Pinhas, our father,
176 CHAPTER 4
Obviously we would be remiss to cite this one reference in 1 Maccabees

as ‘proof’ that Paul refers to Phinehas and thus thinks of himself as father
to the Corinthians in 2 Cor 11:2.87 It is true that every new reading, espe-
cially one with little modern or ancient precedent, will at first seem sug-
gestive more than convincing.88 And indeed my reading of 2 Cor 11:2a will
remain more suggestive than certain. Yet this reading has the advantage that
the reason it has not been explored is clear: interpreters insist that the lan-
guage of divine ζῆλος must refer to ‘jealousy’ in the context of the marriage
metaphor.89 And clearly it does. My argument is simply that we not restrict the
use of this language to the marriage metaphor,90 and that we consider how
received by his ardent zeal an eternal covenant . . . ’, and: ‘Pinhas, our father in ardent zeal,
received an eternal covenant . . . ’. That the statement can probably be regarded as inten-
tionally ambiguous is to be seen from the fact that the relationship with Pinhas is estab-
lished in both ways in the preceding account; on the one hand genealogically in 2,1, on
the other hand with respect to the act in 2,15–28” (Capture and Liberation, 220). This point
is also emphasized by Friedrich V. Reiterer (“Die Vergangenheit als Basis für die Zukunft
Mattatias’ Lehre für seine Söhne aus der Geschichte in 1 Makk 2:52–60,” in The Books of the
Maccabees: History, Theology, Ideology [ed. Géza G. Xeravits and József Zsengellér; Leiden:
Brill, 2007], 89); cf. Dane C. Ortlund (“Phinehan Zeal: A Consideration of James Dunn’s
Proposal,” JSP 20 [2011]: 313).
87 Paul would not be the only Jewish writer to combine the role of priest and father in speak-
ing of his pastoral role. For instance, we read in the Damascus Document, “[The Priest]
shall love them as a father loves his children [‫( ”]עליהם כאב לבניו‬CD 13.9).
88 Another problem that attends readings of this kind is the question of whether a group
of largely Gentile believers in Corinth are likely to be familiar enough with the writings
of Philo, Sirach, 1 Maccabees, or even Numbers 25 to catch the allusion to Phinehas.
This, again, is a persistent problem in intertextual studies that can not be fully addressed
here. However much we can or cannot prove that Paul instructed his Gentile converts in
the Scriptures, it is at least clear that Paul is not averse to employing complex scriptural
allusions and echoes that seem (to us at least) very likely to be lost on his first readers. In
fact, I would suggest that ζῆλος is far less foreign to Paul’s readers than many other scrip-
tural terms that he employs.
89 E.g., Jan Lambrecht insists that “‘[j]ealousy’ is meant here rather than ‘zeal’” because
“[t]he term pertains to the marriage imagery that is clearly dominant in the remainder
of v. 2” (Second Corinthians [SP 8; Collegeville: Michael Glazier, 1999], 172–73).
90 The question of the reach of metaphors in general is beyond the scope of this monograph,
but here it will suffice to note that 1) metaphors are by their very nature multivalent and
2) metaphorical terms and concepts are frequently employed precisely because they
accomplish multiple purposes. As Dominika A. Kurek-Chomycz notes: “The imagery of
2 Cor. 11:2–3, including the biblical reference, is not as simple as it could seem at first sight
and the verse may be subject to different interpretations” (“Sincerity and Chastity for
Christ: A Textual Problem in 2 Cor 11:3 Reconsidered,” NovT 49, no. 1 [2007]: 55). Likewise,
well reading Paul’s words as an allusion to Phinehas in 11:2a fits the logic of
2 Corinthians. This is because the priestly, fatherly zealot Phinehas captures
something of the role Paul envisions for himself in relation to the Corinthians.
We may consider at least four factors that strengthen the case.
First, there are other instances in which Paul alludes to a scriptural figure or
theme without being specific about the name, such as Paul’s allusion to the pro-
phetic call of Isaiah (or Jeremiah) in Galatians 1. One could argue that an allu-
sion to the ‘prophetic call genre’ is more commonly utilized than a reference to
Phinehas (cf. Luke 3:1–20) and is perhaps better supported by Paul’s frequent
use of Isaiah. But if ἐκ κοιλίας μητρός μου (Gal 1:15; Isa 49:1 LXX; cf. Jer 1:5) is
enough to suggest that Paul “thought of his apostleship . . . in terms of Israelite
prophetology,”91 perhaps ζηλῶ γὰρ ὑμᾶς θεοῦ ζήλῳ (2 Cor 11:2; cf. Num 25:11) can
be read as an indicator of Paul’s Phinehas-like understanding of his role in
reconciling the Corinthians to Christ.
Second, for Jews in the first century (including those writing to a non-Jewish
audience) Phinehas is clearly not an obscure figure whose importance pales
compared with that of Abraham, Moses, or the prophets. Philo deals with
the deed of Phinehas in eight of his essays (Leg. 3.86–87, Post. 54.182–185, Ebr.
17–18, Conf. 57, Mut. 18.108, Mos. 1.55.301–304, Spec. 1.10.56–57, and Virt. 7.41).92
Josephus goes to great length to minimize the vigilante aspect of Phinehas,
but nevertheless deals extensively with him in Ant. 4.152–53 and spills a great
deal of ink on the topic of ζῆλος and the Zealots.93 In addition, as we saw in
Chapter Two, Pseudo-Philo mentions Phinehas in seven passages (L.A.B. 24.4;
28.1–3; 46.1–47.10; 48.1–2; 50.3; 52.2; 53.6) as a “kind of lietmotif, a symbol of the
work of the priesthood and of the importance of loyalty to God.”94 The only
J. Paul Sampley rightly says of 2 Cor 11:2: “This is a very compact, laconic statement
which presupposes on the part of the readers a background of knowledge arising out of
Paul’s earlier relationship with them” (“And the Two Shall Become One Flesh”: A Study of
Traditions in Ephesians 5:21–33 [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971], 81), and
Aida B. Spencer notes that Paul “packed meaning in metaphor, irony, parallelism and the
careful use of images . . . [and t]oday Paul’s irony and indirectness may appear to cloud
his message for readers” (“The Wise Fool [and the Foolish Wise]: A Study of Irony in Paul,”
NovT 23, no. 4 [1981]: 360).
91 Richard N. Longenecker, Galatians (WBC 41; Dallas: Word, 1990), 30. There are, of course,
further instances in which Paul speaks of his call (e.g., Rom 1:1; 1 Cor 1:1), but the point
here is that the allusion to Isaiah/Jeremiah is accomplished by a similarly (perhaps decep-
tively) terse phrase.
92 This list of passages agrees with that provided by Feldman (“Portrayal,” 316).
93 Cf. Hengel, Die Zeloten.
94 Feldman, “Portrayal,” 316.
178 CHAPTER 4
figures mentioned this many or more times in L.A.B. are Moses, Aaron,
Abraham, and Jacob.
Third, Paul’s references to his own ζῆλος elsewhere are also reminiscent
of Phinehas. As we have seen in Chapter Three, Paul famously character-
izes himself as a “ζηλωτής for the traditions of my forefathers [πατρικῶν]” in
Gal 1:14, and in Phil 3:6 his zeal is defined by his persecution of those perceived
as flouting the law (κατὰ ζῆλος διώκων τὴν ἐκκλησίαν). Thus the brief allusion
in 2 Cor 11:2 is the not the only evidence we have that Paul thinks of himself in
Phinehas-like terms.95
Finally, Paul would not be the only writer of his time to utilize Phinehas as
a rhetorical trope without naming him. Carolyn J. Sharp argues that although
“the name Phinehas occurs nowhere in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” allusions to
Phinehas in several sections of 4QMMT make it “certain that the tradition of
Phinehas provided the writers of MMT with a powerful Biblical precedent for
a call to active resistance of the pervasive Hellenizing of their time.”96 That
Paul draws upon different Phinehan attributes than the writers of 4QMMT is
hardly surprising. Nor is it surprising, in light of Phinehas’ prominent position
in Jewish consciousness, that neither Paul nor the authors of 4QMMT need
mention Phinehas’ name to draw upon his legacy.
‘Foolish’ Zeal in 2 Corinthians 7–12

But why Phinehas? We have already seen that Phinehas came to be known for
his priestly intercession, but it is not entirely clear how this feature relates to
Paul’s strategy in 11:2 (other than Phinehas’ title as ‘father’). Perhaps the uncom-
promising fervor of Phinehas could be seen as a useful counter against the
charges of ‘vacillation’ (ἐλαφρία; 1:17) or Paul’s weak bodily presence (10:10), but
if so, the allusion seems to conflict with the self-deprecating tone of the rest of
chs. 11–12. Instead, my proposal is that the allusion allows Paul to describe him-
self as a ‘fool’ who plays a crucial, exclusive role in reconciling the Corinthians
with Christ (just as Phinehas plays a decisive role in reconciling the people to
God), and at the same time allows Paul to remind the Corinthians of what it
95 In his treatment of Gal 1:14 and Phil 3:6, Terence L. Donaldson rightly centralizes the aton-
ing dimension of Phinehas’s action, noting that “the most significant theological motiva-
tion for zealous activity was the belief that, as in the case of Phinehas, zeal had atoning
value” (Paul and the Gentiles: Remapping the Apostle’s Convictional World [Minneapolis:
Fortress, 1997], 286; cf. “Zealot and Convert: The Origin of Paul’s Christ-Torah Antithesis,”
CBQ 51 [1989], 673–74).
96 “Phinehan Zeal and Rhetorical Strategy in 4QMMT,” RevQ 18, no. 2 (1997): 210, 221. Sharp
offers a compelling analysis of the allusion to Ps 106:31 (Section C, lines C 31f), the sus-
tained Phinehas-like Deuteronomic polemic against apostasy (Section C lines C 4, 14f, 18,
20), and several other passages.
means to demonstrate ζῆλος in light of the cross. That is, when Paul emphasizes
his Phinehas-like ζῆλος at the outset of the ‘fool’s speech,’ he invites reflection
on his earlier descriptions of ζῆλος in chs. 7–9. In what follows, I will briefly
examine how the language of ζῆλος functions as shorthand for the exclusive,
imitative, and hortative aspects of his relationship with the Corinthians.
‘Zeal’ and ‘Emulation’ in the Mental Grab-Bag for Ζῆλος

In our investigation of Paul’s use of ζῆλος in Chapters 1–2, we saw that Paul’s
uses of ζῆλος resist tidy classification as ‘zeal’ or ‘emulation.’ That is, when Paul
describes his ζῆλος for the Corinthians (ζηλῶ . . . ὑμᾶς; 11:2) and the Corinthians’
ζῆλος for him (ζῆλον ὑπὲρ ἐμοῦ; 7:7),97 this reciprocity can involve both a deep
concern for the other (‘zeal’) and imitation of the other (‘emulation’)—we
need not chose between these, since the grab-bag includes both, and both
are activated in this context.98 Paul’s text ‘shapes’ the word group, thereby
prompting mental images associated with both a Phinehan ‘zeal’ (for the
protection of the purity of the law/temple/covenant) and the familiar
Hellenistic concept of ‘emulation’ of a person or quality. One can imagine
Paul thinking not only of Phinehan ‘zeal’ as it comes to expression in Jewish
literature, but also of ‘emulation’ as it comes to expression in writers like
Isocrates and Epictetus:
If you will but remember your father’s principles [τὰς τοῦ πατρὸς
προαιρέσεις], you will have from your house a good example [παράδειγμα]
of what I am saying to you . . . for he prized more those who were
devoted to him [σπουδάκοινὸς] than those who were his kin by blood. . . .
97 As Harris notes regarding 7:7: “With the repeated ὑμῶν and its delicate placement each
time between article and noun, we have a hint of a splendid new complementarity: what
previously had been true of Paul in his dealings with the Corinthians—longing, mourn-
ing, enthusiasm—had now become true of the Corinthians themselves in their relation
to their spiritual father” (Second Epistle, 531).
98 Bieringer speaks of the kind of relationship between the passages using the language of
ζῆλος that I am proposing in his remarks about about 2 Cor 11:2 and mutuality: “Paul is
also filled with God’s zeal (jealousy) for the Corinthians (ζηλῶ γὰρ ὑμᾶς θεοῦ ζήλῳ in 11,2a),
while the key terms to acknowledge their change of attitude toward him in 7,5–16 are zeal
(ζῆλος in 7,7.11) and earnestness/zeal (σπουδή in 7,11.12). At least partially the community
seems to reciprocate his zeal for them with their zeal for him. It is thus obvious that the
good news of the change of attitude at Corinth included for Paul that the community
treated him as he treated them. At least in some respects they now acted toward Paul as
he acted toward them. Statements about realized mutuality can, however, only be found
in 1,1–2,13 + 7,5–16. In 5,11–7,4 and chapters 8–9 we encounter . . . passionate appeals to
normalize the relationship by reciprocating” (“Divine Jealousy,” 250).
180 CHAPTER 4
[You should] pattern your life after his example [παράδειγμα], regard-
ing his conduct as your law and becoming an imitator and emula-
tor of your father’s virtue [μιμητὴν δὲ καὶ ζηλωτὴν τῆς πατρῴας ἀρετῆς
γιγνόμενον] . . . for it is a shame for children [παῖδας] not to imitate the
noble zealots [σπουδαίους] among their ancestors.99
The man who is going to please and obey [the gods] must endeavor as
best he can to resemble them. If the deity is faithful, he also must be
faithful [εἰ πιστόν ἐστι τὸ θεῖον, καὶ τοῦτον εἶναι πιστόν] . . . in everything he
does, he must act therefore as an emulator of God [ὡς θεοῦ τοίνυν
ζηλωτὴν].100
Paul’s ζῆλος for the Corinthians’ singular devotion to Christ (like Phinehas’
ζῆλος for the exclusive relationship between God and the people) derives from
God’s own ζῆλος, and the Corinthians reciprocate by ‘emulating’ Paul:
[H]e told us of your longing, your mourning, your zeal for me [τὸν ὑμῶν
ζῆλον ὑπὲρ ἐμοῦ], so that I rejoiced still more. . . . So although I wrote to
you, it was not on account of the one who did wrong, nor on account of
the one who was wronged, but in order that your zeal for us [τὴν σπουδὴν
ὑμῶν τὴν ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν] might be revealed to you before God (2 Cor 7:7–12).101
As discussed above, Paul’s ‘imitation’ language must be extended to include

the language of ζῆλος, including reciprocal ζῆλος, especially in connection
with Paul’s role as a parent. The cluster of images in 2 Corinthians 11–12 (Paul
as father, strength in weakness, Paul’s reputation as one who is foolish, weak,
and dishonorable) share a host of features with passages that are typically dis-
cussed when thinking of imitation, not least 1 Cor 4:8–16 (e.g., ‘fools’ [μωρός;
1 Cor 4:10; ἄφρων/ἀφροσύνη; 2 Cor 11:1, 16–17, 19, 21]; ‘weak’ [ἀσθενής/ἀσθενέω;
1 Cor 4:10; 2 Cor 10:10; 11:21, 29; 12:10; 13:4, 9]; and ‘father’ [1 Cor 4:15; cf. 2 Cor 11:2]).102
99 Isocrates, Demon. 11.

100 Epictetus, Diatr. 2.14.
101 On the issue of Paul’s shift to the word σπουδή, I agree with Vegge that in this context
“In 7:7–12 σπουδή is used synonymously with ζῆλος (zeal) . . . [and since σπουδή is a key
word in 8:7–8] the Corinthians’ participation in this collection functions as a practi-
cal test of their willingness to be reconciled with Paul” (Reconciliation, 234); cf. Furnish
(II Corinthians, 387); Barrett (Second Epistle, 211); Thrall, Second Epistle, 1:544–7.
102 Several commentators have noted the similarities between 2 Cor 11:2; 1 Cor 4:14–16;
and Gal 4:12–20; cf. Jan Lambrecht, “Like a Mother in the Pain of Childbirth Again:
A Study of Gal 4,12–20,” in Collected Studies on Pauline Literature and on the Book of
Revelation (AnBib 147; Rome: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 2001), 194; David E.
Paul’s Idea of ‘Emulation’ Defies Cultural Expectations

It is appropriate, then, to allow the ‘shaping’ of the ζηλ- word group in chs. 7–9
influence our reading of the language of ζῆλος in 11:2. But what exactly does
this ‘emulation’ look like in chs. 7–9, and how is it related to Paul’s allusion to
Phinehas in 11:2? The key point is that against cultural expectations,103 Paul calls
for the Corinthians to have ζῆλος for people (Paul in 7:7; cf. the Macedonians in
8:1–7) and pursuits (the collection for the poor in Jerusalem in 9:2 [σπουδή])104
that are ‘weak’ and ‘afflicted.’105 The literary and epigraphical record is clear
that one ‘emulates’ noble people or qualities, and certainly not people or quali-
ties that are viewed as lowly or weak.106 But this is precisely what Paul beckons
the Corinthians to do: they are to emulate the weak, foolish, mad zealot Paul
(characteristics that are emphasized both in chs. 11–12 and in chs. 7–9), and
they are to demonstrate their zeal in ways that defy cultural expectations.
Garland, 2 Corinthians (NAC 29; Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 1999), 481; Victor
Paul Furnish, II Corinthians (AB 32A; Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1984), 486. Craig S.
Keener also rightly draws our attention to the sacrificial tone of 1 Cor 4:6–21: “Here Paul
offers himself as an example of genuine sacrificial service . . . by listing his sufferings”
(1–2 Corinthians, 45).
103 Laurence L. Welborn has observed that the appeal to ζῆλος is consistently found in letters
of reconciliation (“Paul’s Appeal to the Emotions in 2 Corinthians 1.1–2.13; 7.5–16,” JSNT
82 [2001]: 56). Welborn cites the example of Demosthenes, who appeals to the Athenians’
zeal for honor to impel them to enact his restoration: “The record upon which I passed
scrutiny as your servant was of such a kind as to make you envied (ζηλοῦσθαι) by all
because of it” (Epist. 2.5 [trans. Welborn]).
104 We might also include as ‘pursuits’ grieving (τὸ κατὰ θεὸν λυπηθῆναι) and ‘punishment’
(ἐκδίκησις) in 7:11. As Frank J. Matera observes, in the Corinthians are zealous in their
efforts to rectify the situation by punishing the offender (ἀλλὰ ζῆλον, ἀλλὰ ἐκδίκησιν; 7:11),
but the zeal is on Paul’s behalf (ὑπὲρ ἐμοῦ; 7:7) (II Corinthians: A Commentary [Louisville:
Westminster John Knox, 2003], 174). This is again an illustration of how Paul’s use implies
both zeal and emulation.
105 Cf. ἀσθενής/ἀσθενέω in 1 Cor 2:3; 4:10; 9:22; 2 Cor 10:10; 11:21, 29–30; 12:5, 9–10; 13:4, 9; and
θλῖψις in 2 Cor 7:4; 8:2, 13; cf. 1:4, 8; 2:4; 4:17; 6:4; 8:13.
106 Among many examples, we might consider the following inscription from central Greece,
written sometime after 37 CE: πολλοί τε ζηλ[ωταὶ γ]είνων[τ]αι τῶν ἀγαθῶν τῶν εἰς τὴν πόλιν
μαρτυρουμένων τῶν πρώτων (“And many may become emulators of the good deeds of the
foremost, which are testified to in the city”; IG VII2 2712). Likewise, Isocrates speaks of
emulating and imitating kings (ζηλῶσαι δὲ καὶ μιμήσασθαι . . . βασιλείας; De pace 142) and
emulating and imitating a father’s virtue (μιμητὴν δὲ καὶ ζηλωτὴν τῆς πατρῴας ἀρετῆς;
Demon. 11), and he advises that “if you envy those with fame, imitate their deeds” (ὧν τὰς
δόξας ζηλοῖς μιμοῦ τὰς πράξεις; Ad Nic. 38).
182 CHAPTER 4
The specific outworking of this paradoxical and redirected ζῆλος is their par-
ticipation in the collection for the saints.107 Not unlike Paul’s redirection of the
Corinthian’s rivalrous and disruptive zeal toward a zeal characterized by ἀγάπη
in 1 Cor 12:31–14:1, in 2 Corinthians 7–9 Paul calls for the Corinthians to “[direct]
their zeal at a useful gift, which reaps little glory.”108 Here again, the context
in which Paul uses the language of zeal is that of mutual emulation—the
Macedonians imitate the ζῆλος of the Corinthians (τὸ ὑμῶν ζῆλος ἠρέθισεν τοὺς
πλείονας; 9:2), and now the Corinthians are to reciprocate (cf. 9:3–15). Clearly
there is a rhetorical strategy in play. Paul implies that his opponents ‘corrupt’
and ‘take advantage’ (οὐδένα ἐφθείραμεν, οὐδένα ἐπλεονεκτήσαμεν; 7:2), whereas
the Corinthians will be known for their generosity (ἁπλότης; 9:11, 13). But here
again, by framing the issue as that of ‘zeal’ (9:2),109 Paul transforms and redi-
rects the rivalry between the provinces into loving zealous action.110
By referring to the Corinthian’s earlier emulation of him in ch. 7, then tying
this ζῆλος for him with the Corinthians’ ζῆλος that stirs the Macedonians toward
participation in the collection for the poor in chs. 8–9, Paul is in a position to
define his own ζῆλος for the Corinthians.111 Aware of the outrageousness of the
claim to have the very ζῆλος of God, Paul intentionally depicts his relationship
with the Corinthians using a cognate expression that conjures up thoughts of
Phinehas in 11:2a. Yes, Paul is like a father who is responsible for ensuring that
his daughter be pure as she waits to be united with her husband. But more
107 As Keener writes, “Paul is counting on the Corinthians’ zeal for him (7:7) translating into
continued zeal for the collection (9:2)” (1–2 Corinthians, 211).
108 Smit, “Two Puzzles,” 255; cf. Spencer, “Wise Fool,” 360.
109 Pace Harris, who thinks ζῆλος in 9:2 is “simply a more intense form of προθυμία” (Second
Epistle, 621)—the context shows that Paul selects ζῆλος to imply imitation. As seen in the
inscriptions cited in this chapter as well as in Chapter Three, the ζῆλος word group was
commonly used in honorific inscriptions to encourage benefactors to imitate the giving
of those who came before (see further David J. Downs, The Offering of the Gentiles: Paul’s
Collection for Jerusalem in Its Chronological, Cultural, and Cultic Contexts [Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2008], 133).
110 Matera also notes Paul’s ‘play’ on the rivalry between the Corinthians and the Macedonians
(II Corinthians, 201).
111 Obviously my phrasing here assumes the literary integrity of 2 Corinthians. It is beyond
the scope of this monograph to consider the ramifications of my thesis for and in light of
various partition theories, but if my thesis regarding the coherence and interconnectiv-
ity between the occurrences of ζῆλος in 2 Corinthians is plausible, it might be viewed as
evidence in favor of unity.
specifically, Paul is ‘our father Phinehas,’ who appropriates of the very zeal of
God and whose actions uniquely ensure the Corinthians’ reconciliation.112
Synthesis and Conclusion

We have seen that reading ζηλῶ γὰρ ὑμᾶς θεοῦ ζήλῳ in 2 Cor 11:2a as an allusion
to Phinehas prompts us to take seriously Paul’s use of the concept of ζῆλος
(‘zeal’/‘emulation’) in 2 Corinthians as shorthand for the exclusive and imita-
tive aspects of his relationship with the Corinthians. By alluding to Phinehas’
ζῆλος at the outset of the ‘fool’s speech,’ Paul reciprocates the Corinthians’
paradoxical ζῆλος for him (7:7) and simultaneously associates ζῆλος with
his fundamental conviction that divine power is revealed in human weakness
(cf. 11:1–2, 30). Paul’s ‘foolish’ ζῆλος is reflected by Titus’ zeal (σπουδή) for the
Corinthians (τὴν αὐτὴν σπουδὴν ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν; 8:16), and characterizes the kind of
exemplary behavior the Corinthians had and must regain (9:2).
Joseph Zmijewski, in his stylistic analysis of Paul’s Narrenrede (2 Cor 11:1–
12:10), lists among the situational factors that most affected Paul’s style 1) Paul’s
relationship to the Corinthians and to Paul’s opponents active within it, and
2) Paul’s objective to defend himself against the charges of his critics, to explain
his apostleship, and to restore his congregation to its proper role as the ‘bride
of Christ.’113 We have seen that as Paul puts language of ζῆλος to good rhetorical
use, he also works out his wider theological convictions. For Paul, the gospel
message redefines what is worthy of emulation and zealous pursuit, and it is
this ‘foolishness’ that lies at the heart of Paul’s theological perspective on the
connection between apostle and church.
112 Given the cultic metaphors that Paul uses in connection with the collection for the poor
in chs. 8–9, it is plausible to think that Paul views his role as that of priest. As Downs notes
about the collection for the saints in Romans, “the ‘offering of the Gentiles’ in Rom 15:16
has been entirely entrusted to the priestly service of Paul, and through him it becomes
acceptable” (Offering, 153).
113 Der Stil der paulinischen “Narrenrede”: Analyse der Sprachgestaltung in 2 Kor 11,1–12,10 als
Beitrag zur Methodik von Stiluntersuchungen neutestamentlicher Texte (BBB 52; Köln:
Hanstein, 1978), 412–24.
CHAPTER 5
“I Myself am an Israelite”: Ζῆλος in the Letter to

the Romans
Paul famously introduces Romans 11 by stressing the inextricable bond between

himself and Israel: “I ask, then, has God rejected his people? μὴ γένοιτο! I myself
am an Israelite, from the seed of Abraham, of the tribe of Benjamin” (Rom
11:1). This statement is straddled by several references to Israel’s ζῆλος in chap-
ters 10–11, prompting a closer look at the connection between Paul’s emphatic
claim about his identity as an Israelite and the motif of ζῆλος. Richard H. Bell
and Dane C. Ortlund have produced monographs devoted to the ζηλ- word
group in Romans, and this chapter will not engage all of the concerns rep-
resented in those book-length treatments. Rather, I ask how the linguistic
framework and exegetical findings of this monograph contribute to our under-
standing of Paul’s use of ζῆλος in Rom 10:2; 13:13 and παραζηλόω in Rom 10:19;
11:11, 14. After addressing Ortlund’s treatment of Rom 10:2 and Bell’s reading
of Rom 10:19–11:14, I expand on Bell’s suggestion that 10:2 and 10:19 should
be viewed together. In light of these findings, I highlight the significance of
the language of ζῆλος for Paul’s reflections on Israel; specifically, that Paul
makes use of ζῆλος because it connects the language of Deuteronomy 32, Paul’s
own experience, and the experience of Israel with Paul’s emphasis on the unity
of Christ-followers.
“Zeal Without Knowledge”: Dane C. Ortlund and Romans 10:2
I have addressed Ortlund’s thesis in Chapters 1–2 above, noting my dissatis-

faction with Ortlund’s decision to treat only the instances he deems ‘Jewish
zeal’ (Rom 10:2; Gal 1:14; Phil 3:6) in his exploration of ‘the concept of zeal’ in
Paul. In Chapter Three, we saw that Paul’s approach to ζῆλος in Galatians is
incomplete if Gal 4:17–18 is not considered alongside Gal 1:14. In this chapter,
I address a similar difficulty relating to Romans: Ortlund scarcely mentions
the occurrences of παραζηλόω that follow the instance of ζῆλος in Rom 10:2.1
1 In Ortlund’s entire monograph, Rom 10:19; 11:11, 14 are mentioned only twice. The first is a
passing reference to Bell’s monograph (“Whereas our specific focus is 9.30–10.3, [Bell’s] is
mainly 11.11–14”); the second is in a footnote in Ortlund’s survey of Second Temple texts, where

“ I Myself am an Israelite ” : ΖΗΛΟΣ in the Letter to the Romans 185
Ortlund does not disagree with the assessment of Bell and others that the
παρα- prefix simply makes ζηλόω transitive (‘move to ζῆλος’).2 Rather, he omits
these passages because he assumes that they have no bearing on his reading of
‘zeal without knowledge’ (ζῆλον . . . οὐ κατ᾿ ἐπίγνωσιν) in Rom 10:2.3
This is a costly omission, even given the parameters of Ortlund’s thesis.
His central aim is to combat what he views as an overemphasis on the ‘eth-
nic dimension’ of Israel’s zeal in 10:2, a position most rigorously defended by
James D.G. Dunn. “The trouble with Israel’s zeal,” writes Dunn, “was that it was
too nationalistically centered, too much concerned to defend national prerog-
ative as the people of (the one) God.”4 Ortlund is concerned that by focusing
too sharply on this ethnic dimension (a key feature of Dunn’s understanding
of the ‘New Perspective’), Dunn “throws Paul’s core concern out of balance.”
For Ortlund, this means making zeal in Rom 10:2 too particular:
Whereas Dunn and others see zeal in Paul as earnest devotion to God, the
God of Israel, it is more accurate to emphasize that zeal in Paul is earnest
devotion to God, the God of Israel. Zeal in Rom. 10.2 includes but ought
not be limited to nationalistic concerns. It is, in short, a zeal to obey. This
accords with what we have observed in the way zeal is spoken of in the
Old Testament and Second Temple Judaism.5
My interest is not primarily to adjudicate the debate between Dunn and

Ortlund, but to expand the conversation to include the other occur-
rences of the ζηλ- word group in Romans, especially in chs. 10–11. Given the
methodological framework established in Chapter One, rather than asking
παραζήλωσις is viewed as “a more general zeal” in T. Zeb. 9.8 (Zeal Without Knowledge: The
Concept of Zeal in Romans 10, Galatians 1, and Philippians 3 [London: T&T Clark, 2012], 4, 89).
2 Provoked to Jealousy: The Origin and Purpose of the Jealousy Motif in Romans 9–11 (WUNT
2:63; Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1994), 27–43; cf. BDF, 83 (§150). See also Robert Jewett, who
believes that “Bell is justified in placing the use of παραζηλοῦν in relation to ζῆλος” (review of
Richard H. Bell, Provoked to Jealousy, CRBQ 8 [1995]: 172; cf. Romans: A Commentary
[Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007], 645). It should also be noted that in the Patristic
period the verb is also taken in an intransitive sense (e.g., John Chrysostom, Hom. Col. [PG
62:363], citing Ps 36:1).
3 Zeal Without Knowledge, 62–63 n. 5; 115–16; cf. my treatment of Ortlund’s rationale in Chapter
Two. Ortlund overtly excludes παραζηλόω in a previous article (“ ‘Zeal Without Knowledge’:
For What Did Paul Criticize his Fellow Jews in Romans 10:2–3?” WTJ 73, no. 1 [2011]: 23 n. 2).
4 Romans (WBC 38; Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2003), 2.595; cited in Ortlund, Zeal Without
Knowledge, 134.
5 Zeal Without Knowledge, 135; italics original.
186 CHAPTER 5
only “what ζῆλος means in 10:2,” we should ask “how does the shaping of ζῆλος
throughout Romans 9–11 participate in identity-forming?” Rather than asking,
“What is wrong with Israel’s ζῆλος,”6 we should ask “what is it about ζῆλος that
enhances the rhetorical thrust of Paul’s reflections on Israel in Romans 9–11?”
First, though, it will be helpful briefly to summarize Ortlund’s reading of
Rom 9:30–10:3. Ortlund’s exegesis gives surprisingly little attention to ζῆλος
itself, presumably because Ortlund has devoted the first chapters of his mono-
graph to defending the claim that Jewish zeal is primarily a zeal to obey. He
begins by locating the crucial moment of chs. 9–11 in 9:6a, in which Paul affirms
that God’s word to Israel has not failed. After considering ch. 9 as a whole,
Ortlund makes several comments about the crucial phrase ζῆλον θεοῦ ἔχουσιν
ἀλλ᾿ οὐ κατ᾿ ἐπίγνωσιν (10:2), which he translates “they have a zeal for God but
not according to knowledge.”7 Among these comments, he notes that zeal for
God stands in continuity with the presentation of zeal in the OT, though he
admits that in Second Temple literature zeal is more often directed toward the
law (an ethnically specific object). In addition, Ortlund makes much of the
parallel between 9:31–32 and 10:2–3, which I translate here along the lines of
Ortlund’s analysis:
Ἰσραὴλ δὲ διώκων νόμον δικαιοσύνης εἰς νόμον οὐκ ἔφθασεν . . . ὅτι οὐκ ἐκ

πίστεως ἀλλ᾿ ὡς ἐξ ἔργων.
Israel, pursuing a law of righteousness, did not succeed in fulfilling

that law . . . because [they pursued it] not from faith, but as from works
(9:31–32).8
ζῆλον θεοῦ ἔχουσιν ἀλλ᾿ οὐ κατ᾿ ἐπίγνωσιν· ἀγνοοῦντες γὰρ τὴν τοῦ θεοῦ
δικαιοσύνην καὶ τὴν ἰδίαν ζητοῦντες στῆσαι . . .
They have a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge. For, being
ignorant of the righteousness of God,9 and seeking to establish their
own . . . (10:2–3).
6 The subtitle of Ortlund’s above-cited article (“For What Did Paul Criticize his Fellow Jews in
Romans 10:2–3?”) puts the focus on Israel’s fault; see further below.
8 Ortlund takes ἔργα in 9:32 to be a “cipher for general obedience to Torah” (Zeal Without
Knowledge, 122).
9 Ortlund thinks “it makes most sense to see the main denotation of δικαιοσύνη θεοῦ in
10.3 as the gift of right standing before God, accessed by faith in Christ” (Zeal Without
Knowledge, 131).
Ortlund notes: “Each clause speaks of Israel’s earnest devotion as not only
undeniable but even commendable, yet undertaken in the wrong manner,”
and says each is rendered defective “due to its being undertaken ‘as of works’ ”
(9:32) and “due to its lack of knowledge” (10:2).10 Finally, Ortlund rightly notes
that the zeal itself is not defective, though his affirmation of the positive thrust
of ζῆλος is something of a trojan horse. He defines ζῆλος in 10:2 as “Jewish
ardency to discharge the injunctions of Torah holistically conceived, with an
eye towards God,” and then concludes that “Paul’s articulation of Israel’s fault
in 9.30–10.3 is concerned not with their failure to discharge the law but with
their success.”11 By this Ortlund means that Israel’s zeal was successful within
its (mistaken) frame of understanding.12
Ortlund also examines the related question of what Paul means by οὐ κατ᾿
ἐπίγνωσιν (10:2). Noting the occurrences of ἐπίγνωσις in Rom 1:28 and 3:20 and
rightly minimizing the difference between ἐπίγνωσις and γνῶσις (cf. Rom 2:20;
11:33; 15:14),13 Ortlund attempts to refute Dunn’s nationally-centered explana-
tion of the meaning of ‘zeal without knowledge.’ Dunn’s analysis stands in
need of clarification,14 but unfortunately Ortlund does little more than state
his disagreement with the theological implications of Dunn’s reading. Ortlund
takes ἐπίγνωσις in Rom 1:28 and 3:20 to have a “strong moral dimension,”15 but
makes too little of the fact that these occurrences are situated within Paul’s
critical statements about the equal standing that Jews and Gentiles have before
10 Zeal Without Knowledge, 126. Most interpreters agree that there is a parallel, but to see a
parallel between ‘pursuing’ and ‘zeal’ is not to say that these terms are used synonymously
or interchangeably in the logic of Paul’s argument; see further below. In any case, ‘works’
and ‘seeking to establish’ are not necessarily the same thing.
11 Zeal Without Knowledge, 134–35.
12 The notion of zeal as positive yet fundamentally flawed is a common reading; see, e.g.,
C.E.B. Cranfield, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans (ICC;
Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1975, 1979), 2.514–15.
13 It is unclear, however, why Ortlund does not discuss the occurrences of γνωστός (1:19) and
γινώσκω (especially 10:19; cf. 1:21; 2:18; 3:17; 6:6; 7:1, 7, 15; 11:34).
14 Unless he means to imply that ‘knowledge’ means ‘extreme,’ Dunn is inconsistent in that
he claims that “Paul does honor to his fellow Jews for the fervor of their devotion to God
and his law” while at the same surmising that “zeal can go to the extreme, in this case par-
ticularly, to a nationalistic extreme . . . [a]nd it was presumably this to which Paul referred
when he added the qualification ‘but not in accordance with knowledge’” (Romans,
2:594–95). In view of the findings of this monograph, Dunn need not associate ζῆλος
exclusively with Paul’s former persecution of the church (cf. Phil 3:6; Gal 1:14) in order
to defend his view that Paul’s primary target is not works-righteousness but nationalistic
tendencies that retreat from the world-shattering implications of the gospel (cf. Gal 6:15;
Rom 10:12).
188 CHAPTER 5
God (Gentiles fail to acknowledge God in 1:28; Jews ignore the ‘embodiment of
knowledge’ [τὴν μόρφωσιν τῆς γνώσεως] in the law in 2:20; and Paul’s descrip-
tion of the unified church in Rome as ‘filled with all knowledge’ [πεπληρωμένοι
πάσης γνώσεως] in 15:14).16
Ortlund concludes that ἐπίγνωσις in 10:2 “appears to be the spiritual percep-
tion, superlatively clarified in light of the salvation-historical shift inaugurated
with the Christ event, that right standing with God is freely given, appropriated
through trust in the ‘stone’, Christ, and thus requiring personal divestment of all
self-resourced contribution to that standing.”17 It is not clear that Ortlund has
sufficiently corroborated such a reading,18 and it is here that Ortlund’s com-
mitment to a traditional understanding of works-righteousness most comes
to the fore.19 However important such theological commitments might be, if
we refrain from importing such a definition into the meaning of ἐπίγνωσις in
16 See further below on Hos 4:1, 6.

17 Zeal Without Knowledge, 133–34; italics mine. Ortlund concludes this section: “In brief, the
zeal of Rom. 10.2 is a Jewish ardency to keep Torah which, when divorced from knowledge
of the gift nature of God’s righteousness, funnels into the misplaced attempt to estab-
lish one’s own righteousness” (136). Vincent M. Smiles offers perhaps a more nuanced
assessment of Dunn: “Paul’s primary target was not ‘nationalism’ but ‘activism’ [in the
sense that it depends on anything other than God’s grace]” (“The Concept of ‘Zeal’ in
Second-Temple Judaism and Paul’s Critique of it in Romans 10:2,” CBQ 64, no. 2 [2002]:
297). Ortlund and Smiles are not too far apart here, but whereas Smiles rightly shifts the
meaning to the larger question of what Paul means by ‘works of the law,’ Ortlund brings
in language that seems somewhat premature (“personal divestment of all self-resourced
contribution to that standing”).
18 On this point Ortlund cites Douglas J. Moo’s observation that μὴ εἴπῃς ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ σου in
Rom 10:6 is drawn from Deut 9:4 LXX, which he claims “goes on to speak of a self-achieved
righteousness” (Zeal Without Knowledge, 133; cf. Moo, The Epistle to the Romans [NICNT;
Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996], 650–1). This ‘individualization’ of the Deuteronomist’s
words is difficult to sustain, since Deut 9:8–29 shows that the emphasis in this sec-
tion is clearly on Israel as a nation. This is not the place to address Ortlund’s reading of
δικαιοσύνη τοῦ θεοῦ in 10:3 as a ‘status,’ but as N.T. Wright observes, one would ‘receive’ a
status, not ‘submit’ (ὑποτάσσω) to it. Wright takes δικαιοσύνη τοῦ θεοῦ as shorthand for
the covenantally loyal actions of God, and translates 10:3 as follows: “For, being ignorant
of God’s righteousness, and seeking to establish a righteousness of their own, they did
not submit to God’s righteousness” (“Romans,” in New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. X [Nashville:
Abingdon, 2002], 654–55).
19 Ortlund commendably wishes to “receive what is valid in, and yet move critically beyond,
the New Perspective” (Zeal Without Knowledge, 176), but it is clear enough that he views
works-righteousness as a principal target of Paul’s words about the law. N.T. Wright like-
wise characterizes Ortlund’s monograph as an attempt to reinstate an ‘old perspective’
reading (Paul and the Faithfulness of God [Minneapolis: Fortress, 2013], 1169 n. 495).
10:2, we are bidden to read further, since questions remain about why Paul has
chosen to invoke Israel’s ζῆλος as he unpacks what is lacking among his people.
“Provoked to Jealousy”: Richard H. Bell and Romans 10:19–11:14
Since Ortlund gives no attention to the remainder of chs. 10–11, we now turn
to Richard H. Bell’s comprehensive treatment of the motif of ‘jealousy’ in
Romans 9–11. Bell’s monograph argues that Paul’s reading of the Song of Moses
in Deuteronomy 32 is the primary contributor to Paul’s reflection upon Israel
in Romans 9–11 (rather than Paul’s experience of jealousy or some mystical
revelation).20 Although Bell’s interests are somewhat different than our own,21
at the heart of Bell’s argument is a rigorous examination of “what the word
παραζηλοῦν actually means.”22 After a brief consideration of Bell’s linguistic
method, I will engage Bell’s claim about the connection between the occur-
rences of παραζηλόω and the occurrence of ζῆλος in 10:2. Then, in conversation
with Robert Jewett’s criticism of Bell’s linguistic methodology, I will summarize
and offer a qualified defense of Bell’s argument that the meaning of παραζηλόω
in 10:19 is not the same as that in 11:11, 14.
Bell offers an exhaustive survey of the ‫ קנא‬word field in the OT, Qumran,
and Rabbinic literature and the use of the ζηλ- word field in the LXX, classical
literature, and the NT, as well as consideration of ζῆλος in the Pseudepigrapha,
Philo, and Patristic literature.23 He offers no explicit description, however, of
the linguistic theory underpinning his analysis. Representative of his approach
is the list of twelve (!) ‘possibilities’ for the meaning of the verb παραζηλοῦν in
Patristic literature: (to provoke, to be envious, to become envious, to be jealous,
to become jealous, to provoke to jealousy, to provoke to jealous anger, to provoke
to jealousy [used in a good sense], to emulate, to excel, to be jealous/envious
[middle voice], rivalry [noun form]).24 As we noted in Chapter One, a list of
possibilities can be a helpful guide to account for various ad hoc meanings, but
20 It is not necessary here to critique Bell’s larger thesis, but one wonders if in his careful
argument for the pervasiveness of Deuteronomy 32 in Paul’s thinking Bell downplays the
importance of Paul’s general perception of God’s faithfulness.
21 Among other things, Bell weighs in on the ultimate fate of Israel (they will all be saved at
the parousia) and the question of evangelism (the church must to continue to exercise a
mission towards the Jews). See also Bell’s second monograph The Irrevocable Call of God:
An Inquiry into Paul’s Theology of Israel (WUNT 184; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005).
22 Provoked, 3.
23 Provoked, 5–43.
24 Provoked, 35–38.
190 CHAPTER 5
Bell, like many others, relies too heavily on pinning down a specific polyseme
(or at least ‘option’) rather than acknowledging the monosemic value of the
term and then giving attention to its shaping within a discourse.
In his exegesis, however, Bell shows an admirable (and uncommon) willing-
ness to view the occurrences of the ζηλ-word group together.25 The key discus-
sion comes in the midst of his chapter on the exegesis of Rom 10:14–21. After
reiterating his claim that in 10:19 παραζηλόω takes the meaning of “provoke to
jealous anger ” (an unnecessary particularity in light of a monosemic reading
of the ζηλ-word group), Bell concludes his discussion of 10:19 by noting the
‘striking’ fact that the words ζῆλος and ἐπίγνωσις appear in both 10:2 (μαρτυρῶ
γὰρ αὐτοῖς ὅτι ζῆλον θεοῦ ἔχουσιν ἀλλ᾿ οὐ κατ᾿ ἐπίγνωσιν) and in 10:19 (ἀλλὰ λέγω,
μὴ Ἰσραὴλ οὐκ ἔγνω; πρῶτος Μωϋσῆς λέγει· ἐγὼ παραζηλώσω ὑμᾶς ἐπ᾿ οὐκ ἔθνει,
ἐπ᾿ ἔθνει ἀσυνέτῳ παροργιῶ ὑμᾶς). His comments are worth citing in full:
Is this a simple coincidence? I deal first with the ἐπίγνωσις/γινώσκειν rela-

tionship. The knowing theme in 10.2 and 10.19 is connected in the follow-
ing way. In 10.19 the question is: “Has Israel not understood/known, that
the gospel was to go to the Gentiles?” The answer is: “Yes they did know
(for Moses said that God was to provoke Israel to jealousy through the
Gentiles)”. This answer is, however, somewhat ironic. If Israel really did
know that the gospel and the salvation the gospel brings was to go to
the Gentiles, would this not imply that Israel had understood the gospel
and that Israel had believed the gospel? The answer Paul gives in 10.19 is
therefore entirely consonant with 10.2: Israel has not understood—she
has a zeal for God οὐ κατ᾿ ἐπίγνωσιν. Concerning the word play ζῆλος/
παραζηλοῦν, the following can be said. Israel has a zeal for God (or a jeal-
ousy for God, ζῆλος θεοῦ) but not according to knowledge (10.2). Israel
will not be saved through zeal based on ignorance but through being pro-
voked to jealousy, which, as Rom. 11 suggests, means being provoked to
emulation. Israel sees that God has a closer relationship to the Church
and therefore emulates the Church. In order to bring Israel back to the
right sort of ζῆλος, it is necessary to go through παραζήλωσις. To emulate
25 Bell does not consider the occurrence in 10:2 an integral part of his examination of the
influence of Deuteronomy 32 in Paul’s reflections, but he refers to the verse some eight
times in the monograph, including in a list of linguistic similarities between Deuteronomy
32 and Romans 9–11 (Provoked, 279; cf. 25, 53, 98, 103–4, 189, 309–10, 360).
(Nacheifern) is an indirect way back to God. To be zealous (Eifern) was,

according to the non-Christian Jew, a direct way to God.26
In light of the present study, we can speak more confidently than Bell about
this connection (Bell calls it a “possible word play”), but whatever one makes
of Bell’s claims about the implications, his instinct about the linguistic connec-
tion is exactly correct. On the one hand, this is true simply because the grab-
bag for ζῆλος has been shaped by its repetition in such close proximity and by
the collocate ἐπίγνωσις. On the other hand, it is remarkable how closely tied
these ‘suggestive’ remarks are to Bell’s central thesis.
Three comments are in order. First, Bell’s willingness to examine ‘knowl-
edge’ in 10:2 in light of 10:19 exposes the difficulty with Ortlund’s exclusion
of the other occurrences of the ζηλ- word group in Romans. ‘Knowledge’ has
to do with what God has revealed in Christ, of course, but more precision is
needed.27 Ortlund takes the explanation (γάρ) in 10:3 as determinative, and
defines ‘knowledge’ as assent to the claim that right standing with God requires
“personal divestment of all self-resourced contribution to that standing.”28 Bell,
on the other hand, looks to 10:19 and recognizes that ‘knowledge’ has to do with
acknowledging God’s plan to bring salvation to the Gentiles. Although Bell
does not say so, one implication of his reading of ‘knowledge’ is that ‘seeking to
establish their own’ in 10:3 is better read in nationalistic terms than in terms of
works-righteousness.29 That Paul next refers to ‘everyone who believes’ (παντὶ
τῷ πιστεύοντι; 10:4) is consonant with Paul’s efforts throughout Romans to unite
Jew and Gentile. As we will see below, these efforts include rhetorical strategies
involving the language of ζῆλος.
Second, Bell has hit upon a critical point with his contention that Paul aims
to “bring Israel back to the right sort of ζῆλος.” We will return to this in the read-
ing below, but again, what is missing in Ortlund’s exegesis is the recognition
that ζῆλος plays a key role in Paul’s answer to the perplexing question of how
God plans to resolve Israel’s unbelief.
26 Provoked, 103–4. Robert Jewett also follows Bell in linking 10:2 and 10:19 (Romans: A
Commentary [Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007], 644–45).
27 As Moo puts it, “what is involved is a discernment of the plan of God that enables one to
recognize what God is doing in the world and to respond accordingly” (Epistle, 632).
29 In this sense, I agree with Wright that τὴν ἰδίαν “does not refer to a status that they might
have achieved by moral effort, by climbing up a ladder called ‘works,’ but to a status that
would be theirs and theirs only” (“Romans,” 655); contra Moo (Epistle, 632 n. 10).
192 CHAPTER 5
Third, although he does not develop the idea, Bell’s ‘suggestive’ comments
about the connection between 10:2 and 10:19 actually solve a criticism that
has been lodged at the heart of his thesis. Bell’s crucial interpretive move is to
claim that in 10:19 ζῆλος is manifested as jealous anger (as in Deut 32:21, Israel
is moved to a ζῆλος that is expressed as anger [παροργίζω]),30 but in 11:11, 14
ζῆλος is manifested as emulation (unlike Deut 32:21, this provocation to ζῆλος
results in Israel’s salvation).31 Bell’s language moves in the opposite direction
from the monosemic approach I endorse (“In the present work on the jealousy
motif, these two meanings of παραζηλοῦν must be clearly distinguished”),32 yet
because he is willing to view these occurrences together (unlike Ortlund), the
end result is remarkably similar to what I have described as ‘shaping’ in Paul’s
other letters.33 Bell is wrong about multiple senses, but exactly right about the
strategic use of these terms in the flow of Romans 9–11.
This distinction between the meanings in 10:19 and 11:11, 14 is precisely the
point at which Robert Jewett accuses Bell of violating Barr’s dictums. Jewett
agrees with Bell that in Deut 32:21 LXX and Rom 10:19 παραζηλοῦν means ‘pro-
voke to jealous anger,’ but takes issue with Bell’s claims about 11:11, 14:
Unfortunately, there are significant difficulties with the translation of

παραζηλοῦν as “emulation” in Romans. Both the Hebrew root anq and the
Greek stem ζηλ are used in the Old Testament to depict zeal or jealousy,
but not emulation. In mounting an elaborate argument that the entirety
of Deut 32:1–43 was in Paul᾽s mind while quoting it in Rom 10:19 (pp. 200–
84), and that this passage was ῾the primary source for his theology of jeal-
ousy᾽ (p. 285), Bell is unable to detect a single hint that ‘emulation’ was
implicit in Deuteronomy’s use of the term . . . . Bell’s exegesis of Romans
finds no clues in the Greek text that Paul wished to shift the meaning
of the term from 10:19 to 11:11, 14; indeed with regard to the latter two
instances, Bell maintains that ‘Paul clearly picks up ἔθνος and παραζηλοῦν
from Rom. 10.19’ (p. 108). The entire case rests on the broad implication of
Paul’s argument rather than the semantic connotation of the word itself:
30 Bell notes the parallel between παραζηλόω and παροργίζω (Provoked, 39 n. 183).
31 Rom 11:14: εἴ πως παραζηλώσω μου τὴν σάρκα καὶ σώσω τινὰς ἐξ αὐτῶν; cf. Bell, Provoked, 113.
32 Provoked, 43. Earlier Bell echoes the ‘mean-ing/use’ distinction we examined in Chapter
One: “The basic meaning of is therefore the same, but the jealousy is manifested in differ-
ent ways” (Provoked, 40–41).
33 E.g., the positive and negative instances grouped together in 1 Cor 12:31–14:39 (cf. Chapter
Four).
since Israel’s jealousy results in her following the Gentiles into salvation,
παραζηλοῦν must mean ‘emulation’ of them in 11:11, 14.34
Jewett does not deny that in other texts παραζηλοῦν can be shown to take on
the sense of ‘emulation.’35 Rather, appealing to James Barr,36 Jewett seems to
think that because Paul cites from Deuteronomy the meaning is restricted
to its semantic value in Deuteronomy: “This is an instance in which the
implications of Paul’s argument are allowed to redefine the semantic range
of the term itself, as if ‘emulation’ were an inherent translation option for a
word drawn from Deuteronomy.”37 In light of the methodological proposals in
Chapter One, Jewett is misguided to think that Paul’s argument cannot shape
the semantics of the word itself.
This is not to deny that Jewett might be correct to critique the implications
Bell draws from his analysis, and in fact we will see below that Jewett is right
that Bell focuses too heavily on ζῆλος as ‘a way to God’ (which Jewett thinks is
language better suited to contemporary evangelicalism than ancient Judaism).
It is better, says Jewett, to raise the question of whether Israel’s ζῆλος “can be
transformed by the gospel so as to fulfill the divine promise of mercy to all.”38
Yet Jewett still has difficulty accounting for the meaning of παραζηλόω in 11:11
and 14. In response to Bell, Jewett wants to maintain the sense ‘provoke to jeal-
ous anger’ in 11:11, 14 because that is the connotation it assumes in 10:19 (and
Deut 32:21). In so doing, Jewett’s exegesis remains unclear and strangely non-
committal (“However one chooses to translate παραζηλόω . . . ”).39
34 Review of Bell, 171; cf. Jewett, Romans: A Commentary, 675: “Bell has a hard time explain-
ing how ‘jealous anger,’ his preferred translation for 10:19, could have been thought to shift
into the positive desire to emulate the behavior of the previously hated Gentiles.”
35 Cf. Philo, Praem. 89 (φιλοδεσπότου τῇ παραζηλώσει).
36 The Semantics of Biblical Language (London: Oxford University Press, 1961).
37 Review of Bell, 171. Jewett also claims “[t]here is in fact no basis to claim that ‘emulation’
is inherently within the semantic range of the root anq in Rabbinic usage.”
38 Review of Bell, 172; cf. Jewett’s reflections on the political dimension of Israel’s zeal in “The
Basic Human Dilemma: Weakness or Zealous Violence? Romans 7:7–25 and 10:1–18,” Ex
Auditu 13 (1997): 96–109.
39 Romans: A Commentary, 680. It is not clear that Jewett is consistent about the negative
meaning of παραζηλόω since he writes that Deut 32:21 is Paul’s “charter . . . to serve God’s
intention . . . to save Israel” (though he notes that Paul’s “provocation . . . leaves the effec-
tuation up to God”).
194 CHAPTER 5
Paul the Ζηλωτής and God’s Plan for Israel
We are now poised to offer a reading of ζῆλος in Romans that incorporates

the insights of Ortlund, Dunn, Jewett, and Bell but also points to additional
ways the language of ζῆλος participates in Paul’s larger argument. Interpreters
(including Ortlund) regularly connect Paul’s own ζῆλος (Gal 1:14; Phil 3:6) with
the ζῆλος he attributes to Israel in Rom 10:2. The suggestion that Paul’s own
experience informs his reflections on Israel in Romans 9–11 is hardly novel,40
despite the fact that Paul does not speak of his own ζῆλος in Romans in the
overt way he does in Galatians, Philippians, and 2 Corinthians. Jewett’s com-
ments about Bell’s thesis are especially intriguing in this regard:
Bell has a hard time explaining how ‘jealous anger,’ his preferred transla-
tion for 10:19, could have been thought to shift into the positive desire
to emulate the behavior of the previously hated Gentiles . . . . Perhaps
he has the model of his own conversion in mind, namely, that when his
zeal reached its violent climax in the persecution of the believers in
Damascus, the risen Christ was revealed to him and his desire to destroy
alleged evildoers turned into its opposite, a desire for coexistence with
those whom the Messiah had chosen to accept. Zeal to exclude hated
Gentiles turned into a comparable zeal to include them as part of the
people of God. It appears that Paul hoped for a similar process of conver-
sion for current Jewish critics of the gospel.41
Given our examination of ‘redirected zeal’ in the earlier chapters of this book,
Jewett’s remarks can be seen to move in the right direction. Unfortunately
we cannot speak with any certainty about what is happening in Paul’s mind,
so for Jewett this remains simply a conjecture—Paul does not speak of his
own ζῆλος in Romans in the overt way he does in Galatians, Philippians, and
2 Corinthians. By contrast, in what follows, I will show that we can support the
rhetorical use of Paul’s own experience by examining the language of ζῆλος.
I propose that Paul’s experience, in a different sense than that excluded by
Bell, is bound up with Paul’s reflection on Israel. By ‘Paul’s experience’ Bell
means the question of whether “the pre-Christian Paul . . . was secretly jeal-
40 Bell speaks of the “autobiographical nature of Rom. 9–11” and of ζῆλος in 10:2 as “a jeal-
ousy which Paul also had before his conversion” (Provoked, 309–10); cf. Dunn, Romans
2:595; Wright, “Romans,” 653; Klaus Haacker, The Theology of Paul’s Letter to the Romans
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 85.
41 Romans: A Commentary, 675; italics added.
ous of these very Christians he persecuted” or whether Paul “experienced such

jealousy among Jews in his mission” (Bell answers both in the negative).42 By
contrast, I mean to ask whether ‘Paul’s experience’ (in the sense of the “para-
digmatic ‘I’ ”)43 plays a rhetorical role in Romans as a way of communicating
effectively Paul’s intimate convictions about his own people.44
Romans 7:7–25
To solidify the claim that Paul draws on his own experience as a rhetorical
device, it will be useful briefly to consider Rom 7:7–25 before turning our atten-
tion to the primary passages in Romans 9–11. Much ink has been spilled over
the question of the identity of the ‘I’ in Romans 7, and there is no need to sur-
vey the debate here.45 In recent years some alternative ways of examining this
passage have appeared. For example, Paul W. Meyer argues that at the heart of
Romans 7 is not the ‘I’ (nor even the law) but rather Paul’s portrayal of Sin as
a power that corrupts even God’s good law (7:12).46 Meyer’s proposal rightly
draws attention to the apocalyptic nature of Paul’s theologizing in Romans,
and, importantly for our interests here, helpfully respects the ambiguity of
Paul’s words in Romans 7. If the need for precision in identifying the “I” is miti-
gated, as Meyer suggests, we are prompted to consider further the rhetorical
effect of Paul’s use of the first person.
Along these lines, N.T. Wright has defended the position that ‘I’ represents
the Jewish people, or more properly Israel in various stages of its biblical
history.47 Whether or not one agrees with all of Wright’s conclusions, most
will concur that ‘I’ is not a reference to Paul’s personal experience in the
42 Provoked, 288, 286.

43 Cf. Brian J. Dodd, Paul’s Paradigmatic “I”: Personal Example As Literary Strategy (JSNTSup
177; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1999).
44 Wright hints in this direction (“this passage [10:2] has the strong tinge of autobiography
about it, as the reference to ‘zeal for God’ makes clear”), though Wright like most oth-
ers focuses on Paul’s ‘former self’ (Faithfulness, 1169; cf. Wright, “Paul, Arabia, and Elijah
[Galatians 1:17],” JBL 115, no. 4 [1996]).
45 For a recent summary, see Arland J. Hultgren, Paul’s Letter to the Romans: A Commentary
(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011), 681–91.
46 “The Worm at the Core of the Apple: Exegetical Reflections on Romans 7,” in The
Conversation Continues: Studies in Paul and John in Honor of J. Louis Martyn (ed. Robert T.
Fortna and Beverly R. Gaventa; Nashville: Abingdon, 1990), 62–97.
47 The Climax of the Covenant: Christ and the Law in Pauline Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress,
1991), 197–98. Wright argues that ‘I’ is principally referring to Israel in the same way Paul
uses it in Gal 2:19–20.
196 CHAPTER 5
autobiographical pattern of Galatians 1 or Philippians 3,48 and that the ambi-

guity at least implicitly links Paul’s experience with Israel’s as a whole.49
Brian J. Dodd has shown that this kind of rhetorical connection is common
in Paul’s writing. As Dodd has argued of Romans 7 specifically and Paul’s let-
ters more broadly, “Paul’s literary self-portrayal serves as a vivid example for his
readers to picture the main point of his argument . . . . His ‘I’ models the main
contention of his argument.”50 Although Paul does not introduce the language
of ζῆλος in Romans 7, Wright argues that Paul does in fact tacitly introduce the
concept of ‘zeal’ (‫ )קנא‬in Romans 7 by alluding to Cain (‫)קין‬.51 Perhaps Wright’s
reading (however tantalizing) is too speculative or subtle, but Paul’s use of
the ‘I’ in Romans 7 has paved the way for Paul’s own experience to inform the
reflections that will follow.52
48 Cf. Werner Georg Kümmel, Römer 7 und Das Bild des Menschen im Neuen Testament: Zwei
Studien (München: C. Kaiser, 1974), 118.
49 Dunn notes a continuation of the ‘I’ that was used in reference to Adam in the previ-
ous verses, but observes the (deliberate?) ambiguity caused by Paul’s use of ‘we’ in 7:14
(Romans, 1:404–5). Dodd argues that despite certain elements that seem to fit Adam
better than Paul, “there still remains a personal aspect to this passage, an ‘I’ in which
Paul expresses either himself or feelings he believes are common to the human experi-
ence of keeping the law. Thus Paul creates a composite character whom he labels ‘I’ ”
(Paradigmatic, 226). Dodd also claims that Rom 7:14–25 “has the most affinity with Paul’s
use of self-characterization in 1 Corinthians 1–4” (Paradigmatic, 233).
50 Paradigmatic, 234.
51 Wright argues that if Rom 7:13–20 is about Israel continuing to live under the law, then the
figure of Cain stands out as a likely allusion that gives depth to Paul’s argument (Climax,
227). This connection is made because of the parallel between Gen 4:7 (“And if you do not
do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it” [NRSV])
and Rom 7:18–19, and because Cain’s very name [‫ ]קין‬was sometimes connected etymo-
logically with ‘zeal’ (‫( )קנא‬e.g., Pseudo-Clementine, Homilies 3.42.7). Wright’s argument
is conjectural but intriguing, especially given that “I do not understand my own actions”
(ὃ γὰρ κατεργάζομαι οὐ γινώσκω; Rom 7:15) is reminiscent of Cain (οὐ γινώσκω; Gen 4:9
LXX) and anticipates Israel’s lack of knowledge in Rom 10:2–3 (οὐ κατ᾿ ἐπίγνωσιν).
52 As Beverly Roberts Gaventa has noted in relationship to the ‘I’ in Romans 7, first- and
second-person pronouns are peculiar in that they only have a point of reference within
a particular discourse; cf. Kaja Silverman, The Subject of Semiotics (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1984), 43–53, 194–201; cited in Gaventa, “The Shape of the ‘I’: The Psalter,
the Gospel, and the Speaker in Romans 7,” in Apocalyptic Paul: Cosmos and Anthropos in
Romans 5–8 (ed. Beverly Roberts Gaventa; Waco: Baylor University Press, 2013), 79.
Romans 9:1–5
Paul introduces Romans 9–11 by expressing his desire for the Israelites to accept
their Messiah, and the language he uses is profoundly personal (ἀλήθειαν
λέγω ἐν Χριστῷ, οὐ ψεύδομαι [9:1]) and passionate (λύπη μοί ἐστιν μεγάλη καὶ
ἀδιάλειπτος ὀδύνη τῇ καρδίᾳ μου [9:2]). Paul is so intimately bound up with
‘his own flesh’ (to whom belong the adoption, covenants, promises, law, wor-
ship, glory, patriarchs, and Messiah [9:4–5]) that he would take their place as
accursed and separated from Christ (ηὐχόμην γὰρ ἀνάθεμα εἶναι αὐτὸς ἐγὼ ἀπὸ
τοῦ Χριστοῦ ὑπὲρ τῶν ἀδελφῶν μου τῶν συγγενῶν μου κατὰ σάρκα; 9:3). The effect
of these statements is to blur the distinction between Paul and Israel.
In addition, interpreters have not given sufficient attention to the Scripture
Paul seems to draw from in Rom 9:1–5. While there are no direct quotes in
these verses, in 10:13 Paul quotes Joel 2:32 [3:5 LXX] (πᾶς γὰρ ὃς ἂν ἐπικαλέσηται
τὸ ὄνομα κυρίου σωθήσεται). If this is taken as a clue to the texts that resonate
throughout Paul’s discourse in Romans 9, it is striking how similar Paul’s
passion for his people is to God’s passion for his people in Joel 2:18 LXX (καὶ
ἐζήλωσεν κύριος τὴν γῆν αὐτοῦ καὶ ἐφείσατο τοῦ λαοῦ αὐτοῦ).53 Paul does not use
the word ζῆλος until the next chapter, but the emotion he expresses can rea-
sonably be understood in the pattern of God’s own ζῆλος for Israel.54
Romans 9:30–10:4
Returning to the passage examined in conversation with Ortlund above, in
Rom 9:30–31 Paul asserts that the Gentiles who did not pursue (διώκω) righ-
teousness reached it by faith (9:30), but Israel who pursued it did not (9:31).
Paul uses διώκω alongside ζῆλος in both Gal 1:13–14 and Phil 3:6 (cf. 1 Cor 14:1;
15:9; Josephus Ant. 6.343), so there is little question that Paul’s language used
to describe Israel mirrors language he has used elsewhere to describe himself.
As Paul writes of the two-purposed ‘stumbling stone’ placed by God as both a
‘rock of scandal’ and the source of salvation (9:33), his rhetoric remains both
sharply personal and connected with Israel (εὐδοκία τῆς ἐμῆς καρδίας καὶ ἡ
δέησις πρὸς τὸν θεὸν ὑπὲρ αὐτῶνεἰς σωτηρίαν [10:1]).
This brings us to the pivotal phrase in 10:2. As we saw in Chapter Four, the
only other time Paul uses the phrase ζῆλος θεοῦ references his own ζῆλος in
2 Cor 11:2 (ζηλῶ γὰρ ὑμᾶς θεοῦ ζήλῳ; cf. Rom 10:2: μαρτυρῶ γὰρ αὐτοῖς ὅτι
53 Cf. Zech 1:14; 8:2, Ezek 36:6; 39:25.

54 There are many surveys of ζῆλος/‫ קנא‬as an essential aspect of God’s divine character, e.g.,
Smiles, “Concept,” 286; Ortlund, Zeal Without Knowledge, 30–36; Bernard Renaud, Je suis
un Dieu jaloux: Évolution sémantique et signification théologique de qin’ah (Paris: Éditions
du Cerf, 1963).
198 CHAPTER 5
ζῆλον θεοῦ ἔχουσιν ἀλλ᾿ οὐ κατ᾿ ἐπίγνωσιν). This is perhaps a reason to favor the
subjective genitive (“they have God’s zeal”),55 but more importantly is entirely
in keeping with the pattern we have seen of Paul blurring the lines between his
own experience and his rhetoric concerning Israel. That is, Paul uses an expres-
sion (ζῆλος θεοῦ) to attribute to unbelieving Israel a designation that coheres
with Paul’s rhetorical presentation of himself in Romans as a figure like Elijah/
Phinehas (as we will consider below on Rom 11:1–6).
Romans 10:5–21
This fusing of Paul and Israel continues in the cluster of references to ζῆλος that
follow, starting with the occurrence of in παραζηλόω in 10:19 that foreshadows
the resolution to come (11:11–16). We have surveyed Bell’s reading above, which
is captured in Dunn’s assessment of 10:19: “What is still more significant about
Deut 32:21 for Paul is that it also provides him with a clear indication of how
God intends to resolve the so distressing riddle of Israel’s failure to believe:
he will provoke them to jealousy.”56 Here we can make two further observa-
tions. First, within these verses leading up to the occurrence of παραζηλόω in
10:19, Paul stresses in the strongest possible terms that “there is no difference
between Jew and Greek” (they all call on the Lord).57 Second, Paul draws atten-
tion to the proclamation of the good news (10:15), concluding that Israel has
in fact heard the message (10:18). The citation from Ps 19:4 (“Their voice has
gone out to all the earth, and their words to the ends of the world”) in Rom
10:18 recalls Paul’s own apostleship, even if the mission to the diaspora is the
primary referent.58 Paul understands his ministry as specific to Gentiles (Gal
55 Nearly all interpreters and translations take θεοῦ as an objective genitive (zeal for God/
Eifer für Gott). In light of the discussion of Joel 2:32 above and my reading of Paul’s iden-
tification with Phinehas’ ζῆλος in 2 Cor 11:2 in Chapter Four, however, the case for the
subjective reading is worthy of careful attention; cf. Ulrich Wilckens, who notes that ζῆλος
in 10:2 means that Israel “kompromißlos-eindeutige Engagement haben, das demjenigen
Gottes entspricht” (Der Brief an die Römer [EKKNT 6; Zürich: Benziger, 1978], 2:219).
56 Romans, 2:633. Cf. Wright on 10:19: “[Paul] will in the next chapter use this key category of
‘jealousy’ as the fulcrum around which to turn his crucial argument” (“Romans,” 669).
57 There is no reason to reduce the ‘reasons for Romans’ to one, but the arguments of this
chapter support the view that countering divisions between Jewish and Gentile believers
is a significant concern; cf. 11:17–25; 12:3, 16; 14:3. This reading is defended by, among oth-
ers, Johan Christiaan Beker (Paul the Apostle: The Triumph of God in Life and Thought [Phi-
ladelphia: Fortress, 1980], 69–74); cf. the recent survey in Carl N. Toney, Paul’s Inclusive
Ethic: Resolving Community Conflicts and Promoting Mission in Romans 14–15 (WUNT 252;
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 1–39.
58 Cf. Dunn, Romans 2:628.
1:15–16; Rom 1:5), but above all, especially in Romans, Paul’s ministry involves
the proclamation of the good news (Rom 1:1; cf. 1 Cor 15:8–11). Already here,
then, Paul connects the salvation of Israel with his own ministry.
Romans 11:1–6
Immediately following, in perhaps the most autobiographical verses of the
entire letter, Paul insists that God has not rejected his people because he him-
self is ‘an Israelite’ (11:1).59 In 11:3 Paul quotes from the story of Elijah in 1 Kgs
19:14–18 to speak of the remnant (λεῖμμα) that God has preserved (11:5).60 We
have already seen in Chapter Three that Paul compares himself with Elijah
in Galatians 1, but here it is important to reiterate my argument that Paul’s
Elijah-like ζῆλος should not be relegated to the status of a negative foil.61 As
Moo points out, Paul utilizes this passage from 1 Kings 19 because of its testi-
mony to the “contrast between the apparent hopeless state of Israel and God’s
assurance of his continuing care for the people through his preservation of a
remnant of true believers.”62 Given the language of ζῆλος that follows in 11:11, 14,
the particular passage Paul cites from 1 Kings 19 strongly supports the reading
that Paul also chooses this passage because it posits a parallel between Israel’s
famous zealot Elijah and himself.63
59 Paul’s words here are highly reminiscent of Gal 1:14 and Phil 3:6, both of which refer
to Paul’s ζῆλος.
60 Paul’s citation more closely follows the MT than the LXX. Other prophetic passages also
speak of God’s ζῆλος for the remnant. For example, in Isa 11:11 LXX God is ‘zealous for the
remnant’ (ζηλῶσαι τὸ καταλειφθὲν), and Isa 37:32 LXX speaks of the ‘remnant’ saved by
the ‘zeal’ of the Lord (οἱ καταλελειμμένοι . . . ὁ ζῆλος). The passage about Sodom and
Gomorrah in Isa 1:9 LXX, which Paul just quoted in Rom 9:29, also speaks of ‘leaving’
(ἐγκαταλείπω) offspring.
61 The impulse to view Paul’s former ζῆλος in negative terms is pervasive. We have discussed
Ortlund’s reading of Galatians 1 and Rom 10:2 above, and Bell writes, “Only through Paul’s
sudden conversion did he see that his jealousy was mistaken and οὐ κατ᾿ ἐπίγνωσιν. After
his conversion, he was probably critical of the zeal of Phinehas and Elijah” (Provoked, 310).
Even Dunn insists (referring specifically to Phil 3:6) that “[f]or Paul the Christian, this
former ‘zeal’ was something he could now only regret” (Beginning From Jerusalem [Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009], 342).
62 Romans, 677.
63 This reading is endorsed by many interpreters, and Christian Müller even proposes that
the Elijah redivivus myth lies behind the reference in 11:2–3 (Gottes Gerechtigkeit und
Gottes Volk: Eine Untersuchung zu Römer 9–11 [FRLANT 86; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck &
Ruprecht, 1964], 44–45).
200 CHAPTER 5
Romans 11:7–36
This further connection between Paul’s ζῆλος and the ζῆλος of Israel leads
directly into the occurrences of παραζηλόω we have considered in Bell’s read-
ing above. Bell takes pains to argue that ‘provoke to jealous anger’ in 10:19 gives
way to ‘provoke to emulation’ in 11:11, 14, but a monosemic reading of ζῆλος
offers a more convincing explanation of Paul’s strategy.64 Yes, Deuteronomy 32
shapes Paul’s reflections here, and Wright is exactly right that “Paul’s aim is to
exploit the ‘jealousy’ of which Deuteronomy 32 had spoken.”65 The step Bell
and Wright do not take is to recognize that Paul’s way of ‘exploiting’ the motif
is to shape carefully the language of ζῆλος from 10:2 through 11:14. Bell connects
10:2 and 10:19, but ultimately leaves us with three distinct meanings of ζῆλος
in Romans 9–11 (‘Jewish zeal’ in 10:2; ‘jealous anger’ in 10:19; and ‘emulation’
in 11:11, 14). More precision is possible, however, when we take note that Paul’s
rhetorical ‘I’ once again collapses with his reflections on the destiny of Israel.
This is important for two reasons. First, by allowing Paul’s discourse (rather
than the constraints of Deuteronomy 32 or a list of possible ‘meanings’) to
shape the ad hoc meaning of ζῆλος, we realize that Bell is exactly right that
“[i]n order to bring Israel back to the right sort of ζῆλος, it is necessary to go
through παραζήλωσις.” In light of our investigation, we can push for more preci-
sion about what this means. The crucial passage is 11:13–14. When Paul declares,
“Inasmuch as I am an apostle to the Gentiles, I glorify my ministry in order to
make my own people jealous” (NRSV), he leaves no room to doubt that it is Paul
himself who will move ‘his own flesh’ to ζῆλος. Whatever we might speculate
about Paul’s intentions and expectations, within the logic of the text we have
here the culmination of the blending of the stories of Israel and Paul. It is Paul’s
ministry that ‘moves Israel to ζῆλος.’66
64 Wright also endorses Bell’s view that “whereas in Deut 32:21, and its quotation in 10:19, this
‘jealousy’ appeared purely negative, it is turned to positive effect in v. 14” (“Romans,” 680);
cf. David Lincicum’s discussion of the positive sense in 11:11, 14 (Paul and the Early Jewish
Encounter with Deuteronomy [WUNT 2:284.; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010], 164–65).
65 “Romans,” 682.
66 Mark D. Nanos’ emphasis on the unquestionably positive connotations of Israel’s zeal
in Rom 10:2 is admirable, but of 11:14 Nanos thinks the Jews are not jealous of the salva-
tion of the Gentiles but rather are jealous of Paul’s ministry (The Mystery of Romans: The
Jewish Context of Paul’s Letter [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996], 113, 249–50). Jewett is correct
to point out that Nanos’ reading of 11:14 is highly problematic given the evidence of vio-
lent reactions to the gospel (Romans: A Commmentary, 646 n. 116), but more importantly
Nanos’ suggestion that “a kind of positive competitive jealousy seems to be in view” runs
directly counter to Paul’s consistent warnings against rivalrous expressions of ζῆλος.
Second, we can return to ζῆλον θεοῦ ἔχουσιν ἀλλ᾿ οὐ κατ᾿ ἐπίγνωσιν in 10:2 with
further clarity about the question of what Paul means by ‘knowledge.’ If we
extend Bell’s connection between 10:2 and 10:19 all the way through to 11:11, 14,
we do in fact have a plausible explanation of οὐ κατ᾿ ἐπίγνωσιν. Bell sees here a
system with two possible ways to God, a direct way (having ζῆλος θεοῦ; 10:2) and
an indirect way (his calling as apostle to the Gentiles will move Israel to emu-
late the Gentile Christians; 11:14).67 It is not clear how Bell then understands οὐ
κατ᾿ ἐπίγνωσιν, since presumably a direct way to God would be preferable to
the indirect way, and in any case no indirect way seems necessary. Part of the
problem, as discussed above, is that the question concerns not so much ‘a way
to God’ as the divine promise.68
More importantly, however, if we notice the way the language of ζῆλος con-
nects 10:2 with the reflections in ch. 11, οὐ κατ᾿ ἐπίγνωσιν should be equated
with Israel’s ‘hardness’ (11:7 [πωρόω], 25 [πώρωσις]) that Paul thinks needs no
explanation (9:18 [σκληρύνω]). What is ‘wrong’ with regard to ζῆλος, then, is not
some moral failing, but that God has chosen to harden Israel.69 For Paul, ζῆλος
enlightened by the gospel and delivered via his own ministry is the means by
which Israel will be saved (11:14). Paul’s ministry, insofar as it is bound up with
Paul’s own encounter with the risen Christ, moves Israel to have the gospel-
transformed ζῆλος that is the mark of the Christ-believer.
Romans 13:13 and Conclusion

We have seen that Paul aligns his reflections on Israel with his own experience
so that, just as in his own life, ‘Jewish ζῆλος’ may be seen as reinterpreted by
the gospel (now in part, but later in full) and thus common to both Jewish and
Gentile believers. To summarize: Israel’s ζῆλος is not according to knowledge
(10:2), and by knowledge Paul means recognition of the restructuring of the
categories of the world in light of the Christ event, particularly the boundaries
that separate Jew and Gentile. Paul himself experienced the implications of
this apocalyptic gospel (Gal 1:14; Phil 3:6), and sees his experience as paradig-
matic for Israel. Paul also understands that his own ministry, as an extension of
his calling, is bound with moving Israel to rightly-directed ζῆλος (Rom 11:13–14).
To conclude, I must address a potential problem: if Paul makes so much of
ζῆλος as an ongoing identity-marker for Christ-believing Jews, why would he
conclude the letter with a wholly negative reference to ζῆλος in 13:13? On the
67 Provoked, 104.

68 Cf. Jewett, Review of Bell, 171.
69 This is not to imply, of course, that Paul would not critique certain expressions of ζῆλος
(cf. Smiles, “Concept”).
202 CHAPTER 5
one hand this may not be problematic, since we have seen that this is some-
thing of a pattern in Paul’s letters: the final references to ζῆλος in Galatians and
2 Corinthians are negative (Gal 5:20; 2 Cor 12:20), and the positive references to
ζῆλος in 1 Corinthians are preceded and intertwined with references to nega-
tive manifestations (1 Cor 3:3; 13:4). On the other hand, the significance of this
reference in Romans highlights a key observation made above. That is, Paul’s
warnings about rivalrous ζῆλος in 13:13 are not at all out of place if we take
chs. 9–11 as directed toward correcting the relations between Jews and Gentiles
in the church in Rome (cf. 1:16; 3:22 [“there is no distinction . . . ”]). Just as Paul
calls Gentile believers to a rightly-directed ζῆλος that has been transformed in
light of the cross (Gal 4:17–18; 1 Cor 12:31; 14:1, 12, 39; 2 Cor 7:7, 11; 9:2), so Paul’s
ministry will move Israel to (gospel-transformed) ζῆλος (11:11, 14). At present,
however, ζῆλος is overpowered by Sin and Death. Whether manifested as a lack
of acceptance (10:2, 19) or as bitter envy (cf. φθόνος in 1:29),70 for all, Jew and
Gentile, wrongly-directed ζῆλος (13:13) is indicative of life in the “night,” in the
time of “flesh,” and “not according to knowledge.”
70 In this sense, ζῆλος is not unlike the law, good and holy (Rom 7:12; cf. 10:2a; 11:11, 14) but
corrupted by Sin (e.g., Rom 2:15; cf. 10:2b; 10:19). Intriguing in this respect is Meyer’s obser-
vation that after Rom 7:12 the law becomes ‘the good’ (τὸ ἀγαθόν in 7:13 [2x], 18, 19; τὸ καλόν
in 7:16, 18, 21); cf. Meyer, “Worm,” 78. Since Paul relates ζῆλος with ‘the good’ in Gal 4:18,
perhaps a parallel could be made between the competing ‘laws’ in Rom 7:21–25 (which
immediately follow the substitution of ‘the good’ in vv. 13–24) and the competing mani-
festations of ζῆλος in Gal 4:17–18.
Conclusion
Summary
In this book I have investigated the conceptual range indicated by the ζηλ-
word group in Paul’s letters, with the goal of understanding the significance
of this language for Paul’s rhetoric concerning Christian identity and practice.
Chapter One set out the linguistic framework within which the study operates.
Although ‘theological lexicography’ and other linguistic fallacies are a danger
in studies that concentrate on a particular word group, I argued that a ‘mono-
semic bias’ is a helpful corrective to the impulse to separate occurrences that
seem to have disparate meanings. Within the framework of relevance theory,
I made the case that it is important to approach together all instances of the
ζηλ- word group because the shaping of a word’s grab-bag can influence dis-
course meaning in profound ways. In Chapter Two, I examined strategies
involving the ζηλ- word group in several non-Pauline texts. These readings
demonstrated that the ζηλ- word group is in fact well-suited for strategic use,
and the selected examples offered rhetorical and linguistic analogues to Paul’s
own usage.
Chapter Three comprised the exegetical heart of the monograph. This is
so because Gal 4:12–20 has received little attention in previous studies, and
because Paul’s redefinition of ‘the good’ as object of ζῆλος draws together many
of the concerns at work in the rest of Paul’s letters (e.g., rightly-directed ζῆλος,
the reversal of cultural expectations in the light of the cross, and the connec-
tion between zealous behavior and the emulation of proper objects). Chapter
Four accounted for Paul’s shaping of the ζηλ- word group in 1–2 Corinthians,
including the ‘framing’ of Paul’s discourse on love (1 Corinthians 13) by the
language of ζῆλος and Paul’s call for the Corinthians to imitate godly zeal by
exhibiting cruciform weakness (2 Cor 11:1–4). Many of the emphases explored
in Galatians were also found in 1–2 Corinthians, and Paul’s efforts to transform
rivalrous behavior were particularly salient.
Finally, Chapter Five considered previous attempts by Richard H. Bell
and Dane C. Ortlund to account for Paul’s language of ζῆλος in Romans 9–11.
I argued that Bell’s suggestion that the occurrence in Rom 10:2 belongs with the
language of ‘provoking to jealousy’ in 10:19 and 11:11, 14 warrants further atten-
tion. Viewing the occurrences together allows us to recognize the connection
that exists between Paul’s experience and the ζῆλος of Israel. I concluded that
the effect of Paul’s alignment of his reflections on Israel with his own experi-
ence is that ‘Jewish ζῆλος,’ just as in Paul’s own life, is seen to be reinterpreted

204 Conclusion
by the gospel (now in part, but later in full). In light of this reinterpretation, it
is a ζῆλος that is common to both Jewish and Gentile believers.
Implications
The results of these chapters have bearing on a number of topics of interest

to students of Paul’s letters. Among these are four important aspects of Paul’s
thought. First, studies of Paul’s ‘former life’ (characterized by ζῆλος in Gal 1:14;
Phil 3:6; cf. Rom 10:2) will benefit from taking seriously the wider scope of
Paul’s use of the language of ζῆλος, particularly as explored in Chapter Five.
Scholarship that seeks to illumine the role of zeal in Paul’s theologizing about
the Jewish people’s standing before God (Ortlund) or the role of ζῆλος as a
marker of the ethnic ‘set-apartness’ of the Jewish people (Dunn) will be incom-
plete without consideration of Paul’s language of zeal elsewhere.
Second, the study informs the theme of ‘power in weakness’ in Paul’s let-
ters (2 Cor 12:10; cf. 1:8; 4:7–10; 13:3–4; Phil 3:10; 4:13; 2 Tim 1:8). Particularly in
Chapters 3–4, it became clear that the language of ζῆλος participates in Paul’s
discourse about the inversion of cultural values in light of the cross. Most
important in this regard is my contention that in Gal 4:12–20 Paul urges the
Galatians to make ‘weak’ things and people (ἀσθένεια; Gal 4:13) the object of
their ζῆλος.
Third, the monograph contributes to the study of imitation in Paul’s letters
(e.g., 1 Cor 4:16; 11:1; Phil 3:17; 1 Thess 1:6; 2:14; 2 Thess 3:7–9) by illuminating the
connection between ζῆλος and μιμητής. Of most importance here is my read-
ing of Paul’s use of the language of ζῆλος in the Corinthian correspondence
(Chapter Four). In light of this monograph, future studies of imitation in Paul
should include Paul’s language of ζῆλος.
Finally, the study has implications for the topic of Christian identity as set
forth by Paul and taken up by later generations of believers.1 ζῆλος is for Paul
an important marker of Jewish identity (Gal 1:14; Phil 3:6; Rom 10:2) as well as
a defining trait for (predominantly Gentile) followers of Christ (Gal 4:18; 1 Cor
12:31; 14:1, 12, 39; 2 Cor 7:7, 11; 9:2). Beginning with our consideration of the way
words are used to shape beliefs and practices (Chapter One) and continuing
throughout the monograph, we have seen that Christian identity and practice
is informed by Paul’s shaping of the ζηλ- word group (e.g., eagerness for the col-
1 For a wider discussion of this topic, cf. William S. Campbell, Paul and the Creation of Christian
Identity (London/New York: T&T Clark, 2006).
Conclusion 205
lection in 2 Cor 9:2; emulation of ‘weak’ people and things in Gal 4:17–18; the
pursuit of community-building gifts in 1 Corinthians 12–14; and the avoidance
of jealous rivalry in 1 Cor 3:3 and Rom 13:13).2
Final Synthesis: Christ-Followers as “Zealots for Good Works”

(Titus 2:14)
To conclude, we may ask if a further synthetic reading of ζῆλος in Paul is pos-

sible. I do not venture to propose a ‘biblical theology of zeal,’ since this sort of
work moves beyond parameters of this study.3 Yet from a canonical perspec-
tive not far removed from the Paul of the undisputed letters,4 an intriguing
and under-appreciated phrase in Titus 2:14 is worthy of consideration as an
encapsulation of the rhetorical/theological emphases explored in the preced-
ing chapters.5
We have already identified in Romans, Galatians, and the Corinthian cor-
respondence a cluster of concerns that can be summarized under the rubric
‘rightly-directed ζῆλος,’ and, taken together, these concerns may be seen to
establish ζῆλος as an identity-marker for followers of Christ. This marker car-
ries with it the passion and single-mindedness of Jewish ζῆλος, as well as the
imitative and ‘good’-seeking qualities of Hellenistic ζῆλος. Yet in the course
2 The topic of zeal and Christian identity also extends into larger ethical questions, not least
of which is the topic of zealous violence. This important subject is beyond the scope of the
current project; cf. Robert Hamerton-Kelly, Sacred Violence: Paul’s Hermeneutic of the Cross
(Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992); Torrey Seland, Establishment Violence in Philo and Luke: A Study
of Nonconformity to the Torah and the Jewish Vigilante Reactions (Leiden: Brill, 1995); Robert
Jewett, “The Basic Human Dilemma: Weakness or Zealous Violence? Romans 7:7–25 and
10:1–18,” Ex Auditu 13 (1997): 96–109.
3 See the Introduction and Chapter One for my methodology. Examples of ‘biblical theology’
include the dissertation by K. Erik Thoennes (“A Biblical Theology of Godly Human Jealousy,”
PhD diss., Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, 2001) and, in a different way, Peter T. O’Brien’s
monograph on Paul’s passion and contemporary missions and evangelism (Consumed by
Passion: Paul and the Dynamic of the Gospel [Homebrush West, NSW: Lancer Books, 1993]).
4 The topic of the authorship of Titus is beyond the scope of this monograph. For an approach
to Titus as part of the Pauline witness of the NT (regardless of actual authorship), see
Robert W. Wall and Richard B. Steele, 1 and 2 Timothy and Titus (THNTC; Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 2012), 1–45.
5 I have explored this text in detail in a recent journal article: “‘Zealots for Good Works’: The
Polemical Repercussions of the Word ζηλωτής in Titus 2:14,” CBQ 75, no. 4 (2013): 704–18.
206 Conclusion
of Paul’s letters, both of these are transformed, and a new concept emerges
(‘rightly-directed ζῆλος’). This transformation is echoed in Titus 2:14, though
it is not a definition of ζῆλος that emerges, but rather a kind of title for Christ-
followers. The author writes of Christ
ὃς ἔδωκεν ἑαυτὸν ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν ἵνα λυτρώσηται ἡμᾶς ἀπὸ πάσης ἀνομίας καὶ
καθαρίσῃ ἑαυτῷ λαὸν περιούσιον ζηλωτὴν καλῶν ἔργων.
who gave himself for us in order that he might redeem us from all law-
lessness and purify for himself a special people who are zealots for good
works.6
Three related observations are in order. First, closer scrutiny of Titus 2:14 shows
that the textually and culturally grounded effect of the word ζηλωτής is to dis-
tinguish the identity of Christ-followers from the opponents on Crete, and that
this effect is delivered in conversation with Greek notions of ‘emulation’ as
well as Jewish understandings of ‘zeal.’7 Second, the emphasis on ‘good works’
coheres with the emphasis on specific behavior in Paul’s injunctions against
rivalrous ζῆλος (Rom 13:13; 1 Cor 3:3; 13:4; 2 Cor 12:20; Gal 5:20) and promptings
toward zealous actions (2 Cor 7:7, 11; 9:2). In other words, in both Titus and the
undisputed letters, Christian ζῆλος includes right belief/knowledge (cf. Rom
10:2), but more immediately right behavior.8
Finally, if the appellation in Titus 2:14 coheres with the findings regarding
ζῆλος in Paul’s undisputed letters, Ortlund’s conclusions about the place of
ζῆλος among Paul’s fellow Christ-followers today stand in need of modifica-
tion. Ortlund writes:
“There is nothing that belongs to Christian experience that is more lia-

ble to a corrupt mixture than zeal,” wrote Jonathan Edwards.9 Mature
Christian self- awareness understands the universal human proclivity to
6 Titus 2:14.
7 Cf. Lappenga, “Zealots,” 712–17. The article argues that the language is chosen to reinforce the
polemic against the opponents that is more explicitly stated in Titus 1:10–16 and 3:3, 9–11.
8 The five other instances of ‘good works’ (Titus 1:16; 2:7; 3:1, 8, 14) are one of the author’s pri-
mary points of contrast between the opponents and the believers on Crete; cf. Lappenga,
“Zealots,” 710–11.
9 “Some Thoughts Concerning the Revival,” in The Works of Jonathan Edwards (ed. C.C. Goen;
New Haven: Yale University Press [1972]), 4.460.
Conclusion 207
be tempted to find emotional and psychological security, in subtle and

even self-deceiving ways, in personal obedience to a religious norm.
Such a norm might be self-imposed, a construct of conscience. Or it may
be adherence to an externally imposed ethical norm. Yet, as such zeal
emerges from a fleshly heart, a heart not transformed by the Spirit, such
zealous rule-keeping will be opposed to, not evincing of, the gospel of
Christ. Zeal did not, after all, find its way onto the Apostle’s list of what
he described as the “fruit of the Spirit” (Gal 5:22–23) but it was described
instead as a “work of the flesh” (5:19–20). Paul had come to see, as Schlatter
puts it, “the way in which zeal for works [Eifer für das Werk] regularly was
the death of faith and how trivialization of divine grace resulted from
reliance on one’s own achievements.”10 As Paul looked around at his fel-
low Jews, he saw much of the same blindness (cf. 2 Cor 4:4–6) to which
he himself had been subject before the Damascus Road—a blindness to
God’s gracious provision in Christ’s work, the personal appropriation of
which requires nothing but the faith that lays down the subtle though
resilient efforts to self-resource partial mitigation of one’s moral inad-
equacy, and looks to Christ.11
Ortlund and Edwards are certainly correct about the potential for misdirected
zeal, since Paul is deeply concerned about rivalrous ζῆλος καὶ ἔρις. Ortlund is
also right that transformation by the Spirit lies at the heart of Paul’s theology.
Yet for the author of Titus, ‘zeal for works’ is not the ‘death of faith’ but
rather an apt description of people of God. In light of the findings of this
book about Paul’s use of the language of ζῆλος, it is problematic to argue that
‘good works’ in the sense developed in Titus is of a different sort than a ‘works-
righteousness’ that allegedly lies at the heart of Paul’s critique of (Jewish)
ζῆλος. For Paul, ζῆλος is shaped by tradition, Scripture, and expectations about
the qualities and people that are worthy of emulation, but all of these are
10 Adolf Schlatter, The Theology of the Apostles (trans. Andreas J. Köstenberger; Grand
Rapids: Baker, 1998), 102.
11 “‘Zeal Without Knowledge’: For What Did Paul Criticize his Fellow Jews in Romans
10:2–3?” WTJ 73, no. 1 (2011): 37; cf. Zeal Without Knowledge, 174. Ortlund similarly faults
Karl Barth for applying Israel’s zeal to the church because it “misses the concrete ethnic
circumscription of this zeal” (“Zeal,” 35 n. 56; cf. Barth, The Epistle to the Romans [trans.
Edwyn C. Hoskyns; London: Oxford University Press, 1933], 371–372).
208 Conclusion
“powerfully reshaped by the Christ event.”12 For Paul, this cosmic event results
in re-readings of Israel’s Scripture, a reconfiguring of Hellenistic cultural val-
ues, and a reshaping of the behavior of Christ-followers.
Paul is still a ζηλωτής (Gal 1:14), the Jewish people still have the ζῆλος of God
(Rom 10:2), and the Gentiles still have ζῆλος for ‘the good’ (Gal 4:18). The blind-
ness (or ‘lack of knowledge,’ or ‘misdirected ζῆλος’) that Paul writes to correct
in both Jews and Gentiles is not a proclivity to works-righteousness, but a fail-
ure to apprehend the transformation that has occurred in the lives of believers
because of their participation in the crucified Christ and the arrival of the new
cosmos.
12 Beverly Roberts Gaventa, “The Shape of the ‘I’: The Psalter, the Gospel, and the Speaker in
Romans 7,” in Apocalyptic Paul: Cosmos and Anthropos in Romans 5–8 (ed. Beverly Roberts
Gaventa; Waco: Baylor University Press, 2013), 87.
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Index of Authors
Adams, Edward 57n181 Booth, Wayne 50

Adler, Cyrus 94n98 Bons, Jeroen A. E. 86n61
Aguilar Chiu, José Enrique 154n18, 156, Borse, Udo 123n24
157n30 Blutner, Reinhard 25
Allo, Ernest Bernard 169n66 Brant, Jo-Ann A. 157n33
Arichea, Daniel C. 123n24 Briscoe, Ted 18n50
Arnold, Bill T. 112n163 Brown, Gillian 38n131
Asher, Nicholas 18 Bruce, F. F. 107n143, 108n147, 123n24, 124,
144n92
Bach, Kent 15, 15n40, 40n137, 41n139 Bujard, Walter 169
Barclay, John M. G. 127n35 Bultmann, Rudolf 170n71
Barrett, C. K. 169n66, 180n101 Burton, Ernest DeWitt 118n2, 123n24,
Barnett, Paul 169n64 126n33, 128n39
Barr, James 5n1, 6, 8n8, 14n37, 31, 37n123,
151n9, 192–93 Callaham, Scott N. 169n67
Barth, Karl 207n11 Calvin, John 122
Batey, Richard A. 168n61 Campbell, William S. 204n
Batsch, Christophe 2n2 Carston, Robyn 15n40, 17n48, 19n52, 25n77,
Bauer, Laurie 70n3 26n80, 26n81, 34–35n116, 39, 40n137, 41,
Baumgart, Hildegard 61n192, 73–74 41–43, 44n151, 51–53, 53n170, 54, 54n172,
Beardsley, Monroe C. 49n164 64
Beentjes, Pancratius C. 90n76 Castelli, Elizabeth A. 3n7, 158n34
Beket, Johan Christiaan 198n57 Cazeaux, Jacques 92n88, 99n121
Bell, Richard H. 2–3, 14n37, 69, 90n77, 106, Ciampa, Roy E. 145n94, 155n25, 157n31
147n101, 151n11, 184–85, 189–95, 198, Cirafesi, Wally V. 32n102
199n61, 200–201, 203 Clark, Billy 34n113
Belleville, Linda 158n34, 160n41, 162n43 Clarke, Andrew D. 158n34, 160n41
Bensly, R. L. 115n175 Cohen, L. Jonathan. 25n77, 33
Bernat, David A. 102n130, 172–73n78, 174n82 Collins, John J. 2n2, 89n75
Berthelot, Katell 70n5, 89n75 Conzelmann, Hans 157n30, 157n31
Best, Ernest 158n34, 158n35, 162n43, 163n52 Copestake, Ann 18n50
Betz, Hans Dieter 3n6, 76n31, 79n45, 87n65, Cotterell, Peter 10n16, 16n42
113n168, 114n170, 118–19, 123n24, 124n26, Cranfield, C. E. B. 187n12
124n28, 128, 129n41, 158n34 Croft, William 20n56, 27n85
Bieringer, Reimund 165n55, 179n98 Cruse, David A. 9n12, 16n44, 20n54
Bittlinger, Arnold 153–54
Blass, Regina 46 Deane, Paul D. 23n68, 26n81, 27n86
Blois, Luuk de 86n61 DeChicchis, Joseph 56
Blois, Reinier de 5n2, 26 Dietzfelbinger, Christian 98–99
Bock, Darrell L. 109n153, 111n160 Dolezal, Fredric T. 28n87
Bockmuehl, Markus 31n100 Damasio, Antonio 44n150
Boer, Willis P. de 3n7, 136n65, 158n34 Dodd, Brian J. 119n4, 158n34, 162n45, 195n43,
Bogaert, Pierre 101n129 196
Bonnard, Pierre 118n2, 119n7 Doeve, J. W. 140n77
Bontly, Thomas D. 59 Donaldson, Terence L. 178n95
234 Index Of Authors
Downs, David J. 129n43, 182n109, 183n112 Grant, Robert M. 113n168, 114nn172–73

Ducrot, Oswald 11n21 Graver, Margaret 87n64, 87n69, 88n70,
Duff, Tim 80–82 88n73
Dunn, James D. G. 2, 7n7, 76, 78n39, 91n80, Green, Gene L. 5n2, 12n28, 16n45, 26n82,
137n70, 140, 165n56, 176n86, 185, 187–88, 36–37n123, 39, 42
194, 196n49, 198, 199n61, 204 Green, Joel B. 3n8, 8n11, 15n41, 51n167
Du Toit, Andrie B. 111n159, 111n161 Green, Keith 44–48
Dybvad, Peter John 158n34 Gregory, Andrew F. 113n168
Grice, H. Paul 8, 13n33, 25n77, 26, 40n137, 41,
Eco, Umberto 50–51 54, 58
Edwards, Jonathan 206–7 Grossman, Yonatan 104n137
Egger, Wilhelm 123n24 Gryson, Roger 86n63
Eissfeldt, O. 92n86 Gutiérrez, Pedro 162n43
Ellington, Dustin W. 158n34 Gutt, Ernst-August 17n47, 39
Erskine, Andrew 89n74
Evans, Craig A. 95n102 Haacker, Klaus 194n40
Evans, Vyvyan 23n65 Hagner, Donald A. 113n168
Haldane, J. A. 122n22
Fairchild, Mark R. 107n144, 110n157, 112n166, Halliday, Michael A. K. 8n11, 32, 34, 37–38,
127 49n163
Farmer, William R. 2n2, 171n75 Hamerton-Kelly, Robert 136n66, 139n72,
Fauconnier, Gilles 27n83 205
Feldman, Louis H. 95n99, 96n108, 171n75, Hanks, Patrick 21n57
174n81, 177, 177n92 Hanson, Anthony T. 152n12
Fewster, Gregory P. 16n44, 21n59, 27n83, Harris, Murray J. 166n57, 169n67, 179n97,
30–39 182n109
Finney, Mark T. 149nn4–6, 157n32, 158n34, Harrington, Daniel J. 92n88, 93n92, 98,
162n46 99nn121–23, 100n124
Fiore, Benjamin 79n45, 162n45, 163n48 Harrison, James R. 129
Fischer, Bonifatius 86n63 Hasan, Ruqaiya 38n129
Fisk, Bruce 95n102, 104–5n139 Hayward, Robert 95n101, 171n75
Fitzmyer, Joseph A. 108n148, 150n8 Heck, Richard 14n34
Fodor, Jerry A. 16n44, 22n61, 23n67, 25n76, Heitmann, P. Adalhard 75
43n148, 44n150 Hengel, Martin 1, 2n2, 3, 69, 70n4, 75–76, 89,
Ford, J. Massyngberde 107n145 102n131, 107, 127n35, 171, 177
Fowler, Roger 66n205 Hershbell, Jackson P. 114n170
Fretheim, Thorstein 7n6, 54–58 Hieke, Thomas 175n86
Fujii, Akiko 63n195 Holladay, Carl R. 156n26, 156, 162
Fung, Ronald Y. K. 123n23 Holmes, Michael W. 114–15n173
Furnish, Victor Paul 180n101, 181n102 Horsley, Richard A. 2n2, 107n144, 127n35
Hughes, Philip E. 160n39
Gaden, Timothy 114n170 Hughes, R. Kent 169n64
Gale, Herbert M. 167n60 Hultgren, Arland J. 108n150, 195n45
Garland, David E. 155n22, 181n102 Hwang, Jin Ki 158n34, 162n45, 164n52
Gaventa, Beverly Roberts 135n64, 136–37,
162, 164–66, 195n46, 196n52, 208 Iber, Gerhard 153
Goddard, Cliff 78nn42–43 Iglesias, Manuel Hernández 19n52
Graham, Holt H. 113n168, 114nn172–73 Iser, Wolfgang 50
Index Of Authors 235
Jacobson, Howard 92nn86–87, 93n92, Lührmann, Dieter 123n24

97n115, 98n119, 99, 100n127, 101n129, Luther, Martin 61n192, 122, 133
105n Lyons, John 10n16, 26n81, 28
Jackendoff, Ray 27n83
James, M. R. 92n88 Mackenzie, Ian E. 49n164
Jewett, Robert 14n37, 127n35, 185n2, 189, Malherbe, Abraham J. 136n67
191n26, 192–94, 200n66, 201n68, 205 Marshall, I. Howard 111n160
Jobes, Karen H. 39–40, 49n164 Martin, Hubert Jr. 75–76, 114n170
Joosten, Jan 90n76, 92n83 Martin, Ralph P. 145n96, 146n97, 169n66
Martin, Troy W. 119–20, 122, 123n23, 124n25,
Katz, Jerrold J. 22 133
Keener, Craig S. 151, 156n26, 161n42, 181n102, Martola, Nils 173n79, 175nn85–86
182n107 Martyn, J. Louis 119n8, 123n24, 127n35,
Kennedy, George A. 118n3, 119 128n39, 141n79, 143n87, 144n91
Kennet, R. H. 115n175 Matera, Frank J. 123n24, 181n104, 182n110
Kilgallen, John J. 109n152 Matthiessen, Christian M. I. M. 32n105
Kim, Seyoon 2, 141n82, 145n94 Meiser, Martin 121n13
King, Jeffrey C. 13–15 Merz, Annette 167n59
Kraftchick, Steven J. 119–20, 122–24, 133, Messing, Gordon M. 126n31
164n53 Meyer, Paul W. 4n10, 195, 202n70
Kruse, Colin G. 145n96 Mézange, Christophe 2n2
Kümmel, Werner Georg 196n48 Mitchell, Margaret M. 149n1, 162n43,
Kurek-Chomycz, Dominika A. 176n90 162n45
Moo, Douglas J. 188n18, 191n27, 191n29, 199
Lakoff, George 26–27n83, 60n188 Morris, Charles 13
Lamberton, Robert 82 Müller, Christian 199n63
Lambrecht, Jan 123n23, 128n39, 165n55, Murphy-O’Connor, Jerome 159n37
176n89, 180n102 Mußner, Franz 118n2, 123n24, 128n39
Landheer, Ronald 29n94, 30n96, 59–60
Langacker, Ronald W. 21 Nanos, Mark D. 200n66
Lappenga, Benjamin J. 62, 118n1, 205n5, Nation, Paul 70n3
206n7 Nave, Guy D. 112n164
Lascarides, Alex 18 Neale, Stephen 8n10
Le Page, R. B. 65 Ng, Eng Hock 149n4, 156n26, 157n32
Lee, John A. L. 21n59 Nida, Eugene A. 5, 6n3, 10, 22n62, 26n82, 34,
Lepore, Ernie 16n44, 23n67, 25n76 64, 123n24
Levine, Baruch A. 73n15, 171n74, 172n76 Nunberg, Geoffrey 12n26, 13n29, 20n55,
Levinson, Stephen C. 12n27, 13 23n65, 24–25
Liebert, Hugh 80n47, 83n58
Lietzmann, Hans 122–23, 124n25, 133, 169n66 O’Brien, Peter T. 205n3
Lightfoot, Joseph Barber 114–15n173, 115–16, O’Donnell, Matthew Brook 5n1, 8n11, 32,
121n15, 122, 126, 133, 149n6 39n135
Lincicum, David 200n64 O’Neil, Edward N. 113n168
Lindemann, Andreas 113n168 Ortlund, Dane C. 2, 7n7, 31n100, 69, 76–78,
Longenecker, Richard N. 57n181, 121n15, 89, 90n77, 91nn80–82, 115n174, 140,
123n24, 124n28, 126n32, 128n39, 144n91, 141n78, 141n80, 142, 146, 176n86,
158n34, 177n91 184–89, 191–92, 194, 197, 199n61,
Louw, Johannes P. 5, 6n3, 10n16, 22n63, 203–4, 206–7
26n82, 32, 64, 154 Ortlund, Raymond C. Jr. 167n60
236 Index Of Authors
Palmer, Michael W. 8n9 Scott, James M. 169n64

Papi, Marcella Bertuccelli 16n43 Segal, Alan F. 141n82
Pattemore, Stephen 39–40n135, 49n163 Seland, Torrey 70n5, 89, 107n144, 143n88,
Perkins, William 122 205n2
Perrot, Charles 101n129 Sell, Roger D. 68
Pethö, Gergely 18n50, 20–21, 24n68, 25n78 Seuren, Pieter A. M. 26n80
Phillips, Ben 58–59 Shannon, Claude E. 13n30
Phillips, Jane E. 75–76 Sharp, Carolyn J. 89n75, 178
Phillips, John 49n164 Silva, Moisés 15n38, 31nn100–101, 63n195,
Pilkington, Adrian 43–44n150, 51 146n97
Plumer, Eric A. 121n17 Singer, Isidore 94n98
Plummer, Robert L. 161n43 Smiles, Vincent M. 89n75, 188n17, 197n54,
Pomykala, Kenneth E. 91n80, 174n81, 175n85 201n69
Porter, Stanley E. 5n2, 8n11, 30, 35–36 Smit, Joseph F. M. 153nn14–15, 154–55,
Portier-Young, Anathea E. 65n202 182n108
Pustejovsky, James 18n50, 23–25, 60 Smith, Barry C. 41n138
Smith, Christopher C. 134n62
Rayo, Agustín 44, 53 Smith, Morton 127n35
Reed, Jeffrey T. 9n14, 38nn130–131, 66–67, Smyth, Herbert Weir 126n31, 170n69
68n1 Snyder, Graydon F. 125n29
Reiterer, Friedrich V. 176n86 Soria, Belén 17n48
Renaud, Bernard 197n54 Souter, Alexander 121n17
Requejo, María Dolores Porto 56 Spencer, Aida B. 177n90, 182n108
Récanati, François 34n116, 59n183 Sperber, Dan 22n62, 23n65, 39, 41–43,
Rey, Jean-Sébastien 90n76, 92n83 45–46, 50n164, 52–53
Reymond, Eric D. 92n83 Spiro, Abram 95n101
Richard, Earl 108n149 Stanley, David M. 161n43, 163
Ridderbos, Herman N. 123n24 Stanley, Jason 13–15
Robertson, A. T. 125n30 Steele, Richard B. 205n4
Romero, Esther 15n40, 17n48, 19n52, 35n116, Stendahl, Krister 77n37, 141n82, 142
40n137, 41n138, 44n150 Stienstra, Nelly 167n60
Rosner, Brian S. 155n25, 157n31 Strachan, Robert Harvey 168n60
Ruhl, Charles 27–36, 39, 43, 54–56, 58, Stuhlmacher, Peter 78n39
59n186, 60, 60n188 Sweetser, Eve 18n51, 26–27
Russell, D. A. 82n54
Tabouret-Keller, Andrée 65
Saïd, Suzanne 72n10, 132n55, 135n63, 138n71, Tannehill, Robert C. 111n162
163n47 Tantiono, Paulus Toni 136
Salmon, Nathan 17 Tarazi, Paul Nadim 123n24
Sampley, J. Paul 177n90 Thiselton, Anthony C. 48, 153n13, 155,
Sandra, Dominiek 21n56, 27n85 156n26, 156n29, 157
Sawyer, John F. A. 146nn97–98 Thoennes, K. Erik 205n3
Schiffrin, Deborah 65 Thrall, Margaret E. 168n60, 169n66,
Schlatter, Adolf 207 180n101
Schlier, Heinrich 118n2, 119n7, 123n24 Todorov, Tzvetan 11n21
Schneider, Stefan 16n43 Toney, Carl N. 198n57
Schräge, Wolfgang 162n44 Tooke, John Horne 27
Schreiner, Thomas R. 10–12 Tov, Emanuel 169n67, 170n69
Index Of Authors 237
Tuckett, Christopher M. 113n168 Wilckens, Ulrich 198n55

Tuggy, David 16n41, 16n43, 20n56, 21–22, William, Nagy 70n3
27n85, 30, 43n146, 56n178, 59n186, Wilson, Deirdre 17n48, 22n62, 23n65, 39,
60–62 41–43, 45–46, 50n164, 52–53
Turner, Max 10n16, 15, 16n42, 30–31, 36 Wimsatt, William K. Jr. 49n164
Tyler, Andrea 63n195, 70n3 Winger, Michael 10–17, 28, 31, 33, 52
Winter, Bruce W. 3n6, 130n49, 149n4,
Vegge, Ivar 165n55, 180n101 158–59, 163n48, 163n52
Wischmeyer, Oda 162n45
Walcot, Peter 72, 149n5 Wright, N. T. 144n93, 188nn18–19, 191n29,
Wallace, Daniel B. 125n30 194n40, 195–96, 198n56, 200
Wall, Robert W. 205n4
Weaver, Warren 13n30 Yarbrough, O. Larry 30n99, 161n43, 165n55
Weber, Robert 86n63 Yule, George 38n131
Weiss, Johannes 153n13
Welborn, Laurence L. 181n103 Ziegler, Adolf W. 114n170
Wierzbicka, Anna 78 Zmijewski, Josef 183
Index of Subjects
ad hoc enrichment 9, 19n52, 25, 37n123, extra-linguistic aspects of meaning see

39–48, 52–54, 56n178, 60, 62, 65, 70n3, pragmatics
75–76, 78n44, 93, 96, 150, 155, 159, 161,
189, 200 fallacies, linguistic 6, 21, 27n85, 49n164,
ambiguity (semantic) 9, 14–16, 17n47, 19n52, 203
20, 22, 26–27, 41n140, 46, 52, 55, 58, 61, see also illegitimate totality transfer
63–64, 68 father
see also componential analysis imitation/emulation of 132, 161, 162n45
Paul as 161n43, 166–68, 176–77, 180,
call/conversion (of Paul) 2, 4, 111–12, 127n35, 182–83
140–47, 177, 194, 199n61 Phinehas as 167, 173–175, 177–78, 183
see also experience (of Paul) foolishness 48, 99, 138, 150, 164, 173
cognitive linguistics 12–13, 18, 22, 23n65, of Paul 169n65, 178–81, 183
26–27, 34, 36–37, 39–41, 56
see also relevance theory Generative Lexicon theory 18n50, 23–25, 60
componential analysis 16–17, 25–26, 28, ‘grab-bag’ 9, 44, 48, 51–52, 56–57, 60, 63–64,
33n111, 34 67, 69–71, 87, 89, 91–92, 97, 104n138, 150,
conversion see call/conversion (of Paul) 155, 179, 203
corpus linguistics 5n1, 22n64, 32–33, 37, grammatical metaphor theory 32–33
68, 70
homonymy 19–21, 27, 29, 57
defamiliarization 66n205
denotation see meaning vs. reference identity
disambiguation see ambiguity (semantic) cruciform 3, 136–38
discourse analysis 8n11, 12, 18, 35–36, making/shaping of 9, 50, 53, 63, 65–68,
38n131, 53, 55, 66, 154, 190, 196n52, 156–57, 159, 186
203 marker of 67, 77, 107, 109, 126, 142, 184,
201, 204–6
Elijah 63, 72, 90n77, 91–92, 95, 110, 126, 137, illegitimate totality transfer 6, 31n100,
141, 143–47, 168, 171–72, 175, 198–99 151n9
emotion, ζῆλος as 7n8, 63, 71–72, 72–73n14, see also fallacies, linguistic
86–89, 116, 120, 128, 181n103, 197 imitation 3–4, 82n54, 62, 81–82, 85–86n61,
see also passion/pathos 88, 119–20, 129–32, 133n61, 134, 136,
emulation 1, 3, 14n37, 31, 48, 62, 67, 71, 138n71, 148, 151, 157–64, 179–80, 182n109,
79–83, 85, 90, 120, 124, 126n34, 129, 204
131–35, 137n70, 138n71, 140, 149n6, 150, see also emulation
151n9, 158–62, 164, 167, 179–83, 190, implied reader 50–51
192–93, 200, 203, 205–7 Israel, doctrine of 2, 189–91
see also imitation; zeal
encyclopedia, mental 9, 31n100, 37n123, jealousy
43–45, 50–52, 55–56, 60, 113 ζῆλος as 3, 6, 21, 31, 48, 54–55, 60–61,
experience (of Paul) 4, 184, 189, 194–96, 198, 63–64, 71, 90n77, 106, 108, 113, 126–27,
201, 203 159, 164, 166–68, 170–71, 176, 199n61
see also call/conversion (of Paul); ζηλοτυπία as 81, 87–88
paradigmatic ‘I’ Latinate words for 61n192, 73–74
Index Of Subjects 239
παραζήλωσις as 2, 150, 189–93, 198, 200, Phinehas 2, 67–68, 72, 90–106, 110, 112, 126,
203 143, 147n101, 167–69, 171–83, 198, 199n61
see also zeal see also Elijah; father, Phinehas as; priest/
priesthood
lexical pragmatics 5n2, 12nn27–28, 14, 17–18, polysemy 6–9, 18–27 et passim
19n52, 43, 55 see also monosemy
see also pragmatics pragmatic effects 14–15, 45–46, 48, 52–53,
lexical semantics 5n1, 10–12, 14, 16, 18, 25, 27, 55, 57n179, 59, 149, 150
31, 38, 59 pragmatics 8, 12–19, 23, 24–59
see also Generative Lexicon theory; see also lexical pragmatics; pragmatic
semantics effects
linguistic fallacies see fallacies, linguistic priest/priesthood 94–95, 100, 102, 107–8,
linguistics, cognitive see cognitive linguistics 143n86, 167, 172–78, 183n112
linguisitics, corpus see corpus linguistics
reference see meaning vs. reference
Maccabees 68, 91n80, 107, 110, 143n86, 172 relevance theory 3–4, 9, 13, 19n52, 34,
see also Mattathias 36–37n123, 39–55, 62, 65, 78n44, 149,
Mattathias 110, 126, 143, 174–75 155–56, 203
meaning vs. reference 10–12, 33–34, 65n202 rival/rivalry 7, 65, 73–74, 86, 88, 114n170,
mental encyclopedia see encyclopedia, 114n173, 126n34, 129, 131, 136n66, 149n4,
mental 151, 155–56, 161, 168n60, 182, 189, 200,
mental lexicon see encyclopedia, mental 202–3, 205–8
metaphor see also zeal
cultic 183n112
generative 165n53 semantics 10–19, 21–44, 48, 55–60, 74, 76,
linguistic 19n52, 29, 32–33, 42, 45, 60 140, 143n86, 150n7, 154n21, 159, 192–93
marriage 148, 164, 166–69, 172, 174, 176 see also lexical semantics; Natural
see also grammatical metaphor theory Semantic Metalanguage (NSM)
metonymy 18n50, 19n52, 29, 143n87 semantics-pragmatics distinction see
mimēsis see imitation semantics; pragmatics
model reader 50–51, 66, 112–13 semantic domains 3, 5–7, 16, 26n82
Modified Occam’s Razor 8n10, 54, 58 strong pragmatic effects see pragmatic effects
monosemic bias 3, 27–32, 35–36, 53–54, synonyms 60–61, 69, 71, 157n33, 180n101,
56–60, 63–65, 203 187n10
monosemy 4–13, 18–19, 21, 25, 27–42, 53–65 syntax/syntactic analysis 8–13, 19, 24, 55, 57,
et passim 76, 154
see also polysemy Systemic Functional Linguistics (SFL)
mother, Paul as 119n4, 135, 162 19n53, 31–37
Natural Semantic Metalanguage (NSM) theological lexicography 34, 37n123, 53, 66,

78–79 150n7, 203
New Perspective on Paul 2, 185, 188n19
utterance 15, 17n47, 22–23, 36, 40n137, 42,
paradigmatic ‘I’ 195–96 46n159, 47, 52, 59
parsimony 58–59
passion/pathos 67, 74, 83n58, 88–89, 97n115, violence 2n2, 72n14, 84, 96n107, 102n130, 112,
118, 197, 205 172–75, 194, 200, 205n2
see also emotion, ζῆλος as see also weakness
240 Index Of Subjects
weakness 4, 120, 133–35, 136n66, 139–40, object of 4, 24, 48, 55, 62, 64, 71–74, 83,
158n34, 163, 167, 178, 180–81, 183, 203–5 87, 89–91, 98, 106, 116–17, 119–20,
weak pragmatic effects see pragmatic effects 124–29, 131–35, 137n70, 138–39, 150, 156,
works-righteousness 187n14, 188, 191, 208 160, 163–64, 172n76, 186, 203–4
of Elijah see Elijah
zeal see also emulation; imitation; jealousy;
‘Jewish’ 6–7, 31n100, 67, 75–77, 92–94, rival/rivalry
106–112, 113n168, 126, 140, 143, 171–72, Zealots 1–2, 70n4, 102n131, 107–9, 110n155,
177–79, 184, 186–87, 195, 200–201, 203–8 115n174, 127n35, 172, 177
Index of Ancient Sources
Old Testament 25:11 94, 97n115, 100n124, 101,

104n138, 105n, 110, 168,
Genesis 170–71, 171n72, 171n75, 172,
4:7 196n51 172n76, 177
4:9 196n51 25:12 96, 171, 173
16:4 92n88, 100n127 25:11–13 91n80, 126, 143, 167
22:16 101n129 25:13 72, 94, 102, 107n146,
29:23 100n127 168n63, 172–73, 173n78
30:1 72 25:14 92n87
37:11 108 31:6 93n93
45:4 108 31:16 92n85
49:22 61n191
50:20 90n76 Deuteronomy
4:24 110n155, 115n174, 151, 167,
Exodus 170
6:13 92n84 5:9 96n111, 110n155, 115n174, 151
6:25 94n93 6:15 110n155, 115n174, 151
20:5 74n21, 96n111, 110n155, 9:4 188n18
115n174, 151 9:8–29 188n18
32 104n137 30:4 171
32:11–13 104 32 106n141, 184, 189, 190n25,
32:14 74n21, 104, 110n155, 192–93, 200
115n174, 151, 167, 170 32:15 114n171
32:19 104, 105n139 32:16 61n191, 151
34:14 74n21 32:19 61n191
32:21 114n171, 150–51, 192–93,
Leviticus 198, 200n64
18:18 61n191, 74
Joshua
Numbers 15:17 103n133
5:14 72 22 97n117
5:15 74 22:10 97
11:22 175n85 22:13 94n93
11:29 171n72 22:16 110
14:9 110 22:24–25 97n116
16 90 22:30–34 94n93, 96
16:1 97 24 108
22–24 92n85 24:33 94n93
25 93–96, 99–100, 102,
169n64, 171, 176n88 Judges
25:1 96n113 1:13 103n133
25:6 96n113 3:9 103n133
25:6–13 93–94, 174n81 3:11 103n133
25:7–8 93 4:17–24 104
242 Index Of Ancient Sources
Judges (cont.) 73:3 90n78

11 97 105 108
11:26 95–96n104 106:16 61n191
17 98 106:28–31 94n93, 102, 172–73, 173n78
17–20 96n104, 106n140 119:139 171n72
19–20 95
19:1–30 99 Proverbs
20 100n125 3:31 90n78
20:21–28 93n89, 93n93, 100 4:14 61n191
20:35 93n89, 100n125, 101n128 6:6 61n191
6:34 90n78, 97n115
2 Samuel 7:4 97n115
21:2 171n72 14:30 61n191
23:17 90n78
1 Kings 24:1 90n78
14:22 63 24:19 90n78
17–19 91 31:10–31 92, 92n84
18:40 144, 171
19 144, 146, 171, 199 Isaiah
19:8–18 141, 141n80, 144, 146 49 141n80
19:10–14 63, 72, 126, 143–44, 49:1–6 145, 177
144n89, 146–47, 168, 50 167
168n62, 170–71, 171n72, 54 167
171n75 66:13 170n70
19:11–13 147
19:14–18 146–47, 199 Jeremiah
19:15 145 1 141n80
19:15–18 147 1:5 145, 145n94, 177
3 167
2 Kings 34:17 92n84
10:16 72, 171n72
Ezekiel
1 Chronicles 5:13 97n115
6:4 94n93 8:3–5 61n191
6:50 94n93 16 167
9:20 94n93 16:38 97n115
26:16 170n69
Ezra 35:11 61n191
7:5 94n93, 173 36:5 61n191
8:2 94n93 36:6 197n53
8:33 94n93
Hosea
Nehemiah 1–3 167
9 108 4:1 188n16
4:6 188n16
Psalms
19:4 198 Joel
37:1 72, 90n78, 185n2 2:18 197
69:9 171n72 2:32 197, 198n55
Index Of Ancient Sources 243
Nahum 2 Maccabees
1:2 110n155, 115n174 2:21 143n86
2:3–4 109n154 4:2 143n86
4:16 143n86
Zechariah 8:1 143n86
1:14 197n53 14:38 143n86
8:2 171n74, 197n53
4 Maccabees
Judith 4:26 143n86
5 108 13:25 128n38, 130
9:4 72 18:12 94n95, 172n77
1 Esdras
5:5 94n95
Deuterocanonical Books
8:63 94n95
Sirach 2 Esdras
9–20 90 1:2 94n95
9:1 90n77, 90n78, 91 19 108
9:11 72, 90n77, 90n78
9:26 90n78
18:8 91n82
26:6 74, 90n77 Pseudepigrapha
30:3 90n77
30:24 90n77, 90n78 Liber antiquitatum biblicarum
33:13–14 91n82 6.9 97n115
37:10 90n77 9.5 103
37:11 74, 90n76, 90n77, 9.6 96, 103
90n78 11.6 96
40:4 90n77, 90n78 12.4 104–5
45 90 12.4–10 104
45:18 90n77 12.5 104–5, 105n
45:23 90n77, 94 12.8 104–5
45:23–34 172n76, 173–74 12.10 104–5
48:1–2 90n77, 91, 126, 143 16 95n102
51:17–18 90n76, 90n77, 91 16.2 92n86
16.4 97
Baruch 16.6 97
4:7 151 17.2–18.14 93
18.4 101
1 Maccabees 18.6 92n86
2:19–27 175n84 18.11 96
2:23–26 112, 126, 143 18.12 97
2:26–27 72, 94, 94n94, 110 18.13 96
2:50 72, 110 18.14 93, 101, 105
2:51–60 175 19.7 104n139, 105n
2:54 72, 94, 94n94, 167, 172, 20.5 96n109
175, 175n86 22.1 96, 96n108, 97
2:58 110 22.4 97
Liber antiquitatum biblicarum (cont.) 50.3 95, 95n103, 174n83

22.6 97 50.5 96n109
22.7 97 52.2 95n103
23.6 92n86 53.6 95
24.4 95, 95n103, 96n108, 58.1 96, 96n109, 104n138
177 59.4 92n86, 96n109
25–28 103n133 60.2–3 92n86
25–48 93 62.1 96n109
25.3 103n134 62.11 96n109
25.3–26.5 103 64.8 96n109
27.6–8 104
28.1–4 95 Testament of Asher
28.1–5 104n135 4.3–5 171n73
28.3 95n103
28.7–9 92n86 Testament of Zebulun
31.3–9 104 9.8 185n1
31.5 104n136
32.1–2 96n109
39.2 96n109 Dead Sea Scrolls
39.10 97
40.8 97
44–47 93, 95–96, 98–102, 106 1QS IX, 23 126, 143
44.7 93, 96n109, 98 4Q372 1 XII 126, 143
44.10 93, 96n109, 98 4Q395 (MMT) 172, 178
45.1–5 99 11QPsa 51.18 90n76
45.4 105 Damascus Document 176n87
45.6 93, 96n109, 98–99 (CD) 13.9
46.1 95n103, 96n109, 100
46.3 100
46.4 100 Ancient Jewish Writers
47 107n146
47.1 100–102, 105 Josephus
47.1–2 103 Against Apion
47.1–3 92–93, 96, 98–100, 2.123 74
102n131, 105
47.2 101 Jewish Antiquities
47.2–3 105 1.72 71n5
47.3 101–2, 105, 174 4.152–53 177
47.3–12 99 4.152–262 94n98
47.4 93 5.104–120 94n98
47.4–8 103 5.159 94n98
47.7 93, 96n109, 98–99, 5.182 103n133
100n126, 126, 143 6.343 197
47.8 100n126 7.110 94n98
47.9–10 101n128, 103 7.231 143n86
48.1 96 7.386 74
48.1–2 171 8.11–12 94n98
48.2 174n83 12.271 126, 143
48.1–3 95 15.166 116n179
15.156 116n179 On the Sacrifices of Cain and Abel

20.186 111n158 20 74
100 72
Jewish War
2.146 124n27 On Sobriety
2.254–57 111n158 26 130, 134
2.651 70n4, 112
4.160–201 70n4 On the Special Laws
4.340 109n154 1.10.56–57 177
4.533 36 1.30 70
1.56 94
Philo 2.253 108, 110n156
On the Agriculture 2.259 130
91 70
On the Virtues
On the Confusion of Tongues 7.41 177
57 70, 94, 177 176 70
That the Worse Attacks the Better

36 159n36
New Testament
45 159n36
On Drunkenness Matthew
17–18 177 10:4 107n142
21 130
Mark
Allegorical Interpretation 3:18 107n142
1.34 70, 72 5:41 107n142
3.86–87 177
3.242 173 Luke
3:1–20 177
On the Embassy to Gaius 6:15 73, 107
198 116n179 7:3 57
338 124n27 8:54 107n142
9:22 57
On the Migration of Abraham 15:12 57
164 134 15:25 57–58
20:1 57
On the Life of Moses 22:52 57
1.301 94n96
1.301–304 177 John
2:17 73
On the Posterity of Cain 3:3 6, 62
46 70
182–185 177 Acts
183 126, 143, 173n80 1:8 107, 112
1:13 73, 106–7, 110
On Rewards and Punishments 1:14 107
89 193 2:30 111n159
Acts (cont.) 22:22 112

5:14 108 26:1–23 111
5:17 73, 106–110, 112 26:7 143n86
5:19–20 108 26:16 108
6:8–15 108 26:20 112
7:9 73, 106, 108–9 28:31 112
8:3 144
9 144 Romans
9:1–22 111 1:1 177n91, 199
9:15 146 1:5 199
9:22 109 1:16 202
9:23 109 1:20 36
9:23–30 106 1:28 187
10:36 112n165 1:29 127, 202
12:3 109 2:10 125
12:11 109 2:15 202n70
13:13–41 109 2:20 187
13:43 109 3:13 127
13:45 73, 106, 109–110 3:20 187
13:46–47 109, 145n96 3:22 125, 202
14:1–7 106 4:25 145n96
14:19 106 5:19 145n96
14:23 57–58 6:4 163n49
15:12 146 6:6 163n49
17:4 110 6:8 163n49
17:5 73, 106, 109, 109n154, 110 7 78n41, 195–96
17:5–9 109 7:7–25 195–96
17:13–14 106 7:12 195, 202n70
18:6 106 7:13 202n70
18:12–17 106 7:13–20 196n51
19:9 106 7:13–24 202n70
20:35 137 7:14–25 196n49
21:20 73, 107, 110, 110n155, 126, 7:15 196n51
143 7:16 202n70
21:21 110 7:18 125, 202n70
21:24 110 7:18–19 196n51, 202n70
21:27 110 7:21 11, 52, 125, 202n70
21:38 110 7:21–25 202n70
22:3 73, 75, 107, 110, 110n155, 111, 7:22–23 11n24
126, 143 8 31–33
22:3–15 111–12 8:17 163n49
22:4 112 8:18–23 33
22:6–21 111 8:19–22 32
22:14 111–12 9 197
22:15 108 9–11 2, 4, 14n37, 106n41, 114n171,
22:17 111 139, 184–203
22:19 111 9:1 139, 197
22:21 112 9:1–5 197
9:2 139, 197 11:23 139

9:4–5 197 11:33 187
9:27 146n98 12:11 3
9:29 146n98, 199n60 13:13 3, 3n9, 7n7, 47, 57n181, 73,
9:30 76–77, 197 77, 86n63, 89, 149, 184,
9:30–31 197 201–2, 205–6
9:30–32 77n38 14:21 125, 125n29
9:30–10:3 184n1, 186 15:12 146n98
9:31 76–77, 197 15:14 187
9:32 77 15:15–16 67
9:33 77, 197 15:16 183n112
10:1 197 15:19 143n87
10:2 3, 3n9, 4, 7n7, 73, 75–77, 15:21 145n96
77n38, 78, 86n63, 128, 134, 15:25 143n87
139, 142, 170n71, 184–5, 188, 15:26 143n87
194, 194n40, 197, 199n61, 15:31 143n87
200n66, 201–2, 202n70, 16:6 127
203–4, 206, 208 16:12 127
10:2–3 196n51
10:3 76, 77n38 1 Corinthians
10:4 139 1:1 177n91
10:4–5 76 1:18 138
10:5–21 198–99 1:25 138
10:6 188n18 1:26 139
10:12 187n14 2:3 181n105
10:14–21 190 2:6 125
10:16 146n98 3:1–9 161
10:18 198 3:3 3, 3n9, 46, 73, 86n63, 89,
10:19 3n9, 74, 77, 86n63, 150, 127, 148–9, 149n4, 149n6,
184, 184n1, 192, 202, 151, 156, 159–60, 202,
202n70, 203 205–6
10:20 146n98 3:3–4 161
11 190 4 158n34, 161, 163–4
11:1 184 4:6 159
11:1–6 198–9 4:8–16 161, 180
11:2 146 4:9 161
11:2–3 144 4:10 161, 180, 181n105
11:2–4 147n101 4:10–17 161
11:3 144n89 4:12 161
11:11 3n9, 74, 77, 86n63, 150, 4:13 161
184, 184n1, 192, 202, 4:14 166
202n70, 203 4:14–16 180n102
11:11–14 184n1 4:14–17 161n43
11:13–14 201 4:16 4, 119, 133n61, 148, 151, 161,
11:14 3n9, 74, 77, 86n63, 150, 204
184, 184n1, 192, 192n31, 4:16–21 181n102
200n66, 201–2, 202n70, 4:17 166
203 4:21 36
1 Corinthians (cont.) 14:1 3n9, 6, 9, 73, 86n63, 128,

5:5 60 139, 148, 152, 156, 160, 166,
5:6 125, 155n22 197, 202, 204
7:1 125, 125n29 14:5 156
7:5–7 162n45 14:12 3n9, 73, 75, 86n63, 134,
7:8 125n29 139, 148, 149n6, 153, 157,
7:9 125n29 159–60, 166, 202, 204
7:20 169n68, 170 14:39 3n9, 73, 86n63, 128, 134,
7:26 125, 125n29 139, 148, 152, 157, 160, 166,
9:3 163n51 202, 204
9:5 163 15:1 169n68
9:15 125 15:8–11 199
9:22 181n105 15:9 197
9:24 113n168 15:10 137
10:6 151 15:39 60
10:9 152n12 16:3 143n87
10:11 151 16:7 169n65
10:16 169n68 16:10 169n68
10:18 151
10:22 3n9, 74, 86n63, 148, 2 Corinthians
150–51, 151n11, 156, 160 1:4 169n68, 170n70, 181n105
10:22–11:1 161 1:6 169n68, 170n70
10:24 161 1:8 4, 181n105, 204
10:31–11:1 162n45 1:12–14 166
10:33 151, 161, 114n171 2:4 165, 181n105
11 158n34, 161, 164 3:1–3 166
11:1 4, 119, 133n61, 148, 151, 161 4:4–6 207
11:2 169n68 4:5 166
11:16 116n179 4:7–10 4, 204
11:27–34 6 4:17 181n105
12 153 5:12 166
12–14 63–65, 148, 149n6, 152, 154, 6:4 181n105
156n27, 157, 157n 32, 159, 6:13 161n43
161–2, 205 6:11–12 165
12:2 133n60 6:13 166
12:31 3, 3n9, 6, 9, 64, 73, 86n63, 7–9 167, 179, 181–2
121, 121n14, 128, 134, 139, 7–11 159
148, 153–4, 156, 157n32, 7–12 178–83
160, 166, 202, 204 7:2–3 165
12:31–14:1 182 7:3 163, 165
12:31–14:39 4, 152–7, 192n33 7:4 166, 181n105
13 4, 151–2, 156 7:5 139, 160
13:3 155n22 7:7 3n9, 45, 73, 86n63, 128,
13:4 3n9, 6, 9, 24, 64, 73, 89, 128n37, 134, 139, 148,
127n36, 151–3, 156, 160, 162, 159n38, 160, 165–7,
202, 206 169n68, 170n70, 179,
13:4–6 127n36 179n97, 181, 183, 202, 204,
14 158n34 206
7:7–12 180, 180n101 12:10 4, 136n66, 180, 181n105,

7:11 3n9, 73, 86n63, 128, 204
128n37, 159n38, 160, 12:14 161n43, 166
160n39, 166, 181n104, 202, 12:15 165
204, 206 12:20 3, 3n9, 47, 57n181, 73,
7:11–12 166 86n63, 89, 127, 149, 156,
8–9 129, 182 160–61, 202, 206
8:1–5 163 13:3–4 4, 204
8:1–7 181 13:4 180, 181n105
8:2 181n105 13:7 125
8:7–8 180n101 13:9 180, 181n105
8:7–22 166
8:8 3 Galatians
8:13 181n105 1 2, 77, 142, 144, 177, 196, 199
8:16 167 1:6–10 124
8:24 166, 169n68, 170n70 1:6–4:11 139
9:2 3n9, 73, 86n63, 128, 1:10 145
129n43, 131, 139, 148, 1:10–24 140–47
159n38, 160, 163, 166–7, 1:11 169n68
182–3, 202, 204–6 1:13 73, 144–45
9:3–15 182 1:13–14 142, 143n86, 197
9:11 182 1:14 3, 3n9, 4, 7n7, 57n181, 73,
9:13 182 76–77, 86, 110n155, 115n174,
9:23 166 118, 126–28, 127n35,
10:10 180, 181n105 133–34, 137, 140–43, 145,
11 67 164, 172, 175, 178, 178n95,
11–12 180–81 184, 187n14, 194, 199n59,
11:1 4, 173, 180 201, 204, 208
11:1–2 167, 183 1:15 145, 177
11:1–4 4, 148, 164, 203 1:15–16 142, 198–99
11:1–12:10 183 1:15–24 137
11:2 3n9, 73, 128, 128n37, 139, 1:16 77, 145–46
139n72, 147n101, 157, 1:17 144–45
159n38, 160, 164, 166–8, 1:17–18 143n87
169n65, 169n68, 170, 1:20 145
170n70, 172–4, 176, 177, 1:23 145
177n90, 178–9, 179n98, 1:24 145
182–3, 197, 198n55 2:1 143n87
11:2–3 176n90 2:2 137
11:11 165 2:7 146
11:16–17 180 2:10 136–37
11:19 180 2:13–14 142n86
11:19–20 169n65 2:14 142n86
11:21 180, 181n105 2:19 163n49
11:29 180, 181n105 2:19–20 195n47
11:30 167, 181n105, 183 3 144
12:5 181n105 3:1 137
12:9 139, 181n105 3:3 146n99
Galatians (cont.) 5:20–21 127

3:6–4:7 118 5:22–23 207
3:13–14 137 5:22–24 138
3:28 145 5:26 128n37, 138, 138n71
4 67, 77, 87n65, 89n74, 6:1 36
141–42, 163 6:9 125
4:3 145 6:12 138
4:7 145 6:13 138
4:9 139 6:12–14 124
4:11 137 6:14 138
4:12 119, 119n4, 120, 134, 136, 6:15 187n14
147, 158n34, 162n43 6:17 138
4:13 137, 204
4:12–20 4, 118–36, 137n70, 138–39, Ephesians
157, 158n34, 180n102, 3:8 146
203–4 4:23 36
4:13 133, 135, 204 5:22–33 167
4:13–14 120, 122, 133, 135, 138n71,
140 Philippians
4:13–15 123 1:2 66
4:14 130–31, 137 1:12 7n6
4:15 135, 137 1:15 3, 127, 149
4:16 134, 136, 138 1:24–25 165
4:17 3n9, 24, 72, 72n12, 73, 120, 2:8 138
123–24, 126, 128n37, 130, 2:16 137, 145n96
132, 134, 134n62, 135, 138, 2:22 161n43, 166
138n71, 144, 164 3 2, 196
4:17–18 3, 7n7, 7n8, 62, 77, 86, 3:3–7 137n70
119n4, 120, 126, 128–29, 3:4–6 142n86
129n41, 131, 137, 159, 3:5 76, 172
162n43, 184, 202, 202n70, 3:6 3, 3n9, 4, 7n7, 73, 76–78,
205 86n63, 126, 128, 138, 143,
4:18 3n9, 73, 119–26, 128n38, 161n43, 175, 178, 178n95,
129n43, 130–34, 134n62, 184, 187n14, 194, 197,
138n71, 140, 164, 202n70, 199n59, 199n61, 201,
204, 208 204
4:19 119n4, 135–36, 162n43, 166 3:7 138
4:20 133, 136 3:8 138
4:21–31 118, 141n79 3:9 76–77
4:24–25 144 3:10 4, 204
4:25 145 3:12 77
4:25–26 143n87 3:12–17 162n45
5:1 145, 169n68, 170 3:14 77
5:7 138 3:16 77
5:11 138–39 3:17 4, 119, 133, 161n43, 163,
5:13 145n95 163n49, 204
5:19–20 207 3:18 138
5:20 3, 3n9, 7n7, 47, 57n181, 73, 4:9 133
77, 86, 89, 118, 127, 133, 138, 4:13 4, 204
138n71, 149, 202, 206
Colossians Philemon
1:11 169, 169n68 10 161n43, 166
1:29 137
2:12 163n49 Hebrews
2:13 163n49 10:27 73
2:18 21
2:23 21 James
3:11 142n86 3:14 73
3:16 73, 149n3
1 Thessalonians 4:2 73
1:5–7 163 5:16 102
1:6 4, 133n61, 204
1:6–7 119 1 Peter
2:1 133n60 3:4 36
2:8 165n54 3:13 73, 75
2:11 133n60, 166
2:14 4, 133n61, 204 Revelation
2:14–16 109n154 3:19 73
2:16 67
3:9 169n68
4:2 133n60
Rabbinic Works
5:21 125
2 Thessalonians Bava Batra

3:6–13 119 109b 94n98
3:7–9 4, 204
Berakhot
1 Timothy 6b 94n98
1:2 161n43
1:11 146 Numbers Rabbah
2:7 146 20.26 94n98
4:10 137 21.3 171
2 Timothy Pirqe Rabbi Eliezer

1:2 161n43 47 93n88, 94n98,
1:8 4, 204 100n127
2:1 161n43
Rosh Hashanah
Titus 3.5.16 92
1:4 161n43
1:16 206n8 Sanhedrin
1:10–16 206n7 82b 94n98
2:7 206n8
2:14 3–4, 73n17, 75, 86n63, 139, Sifre Numbers
205–8 131 94n98, 102
3:1 206n8
3:3 206n7 Sifre Deuteronomy
3:8 206n8 165 173n79
3:9–11 206n7 326 174
3:14 206n8
Tanhuma Balak Aristophanes

30 94n98 Thesmophoriazusae
788 149
Targum Pseudo-Jonathan
Ps.-J. to Exod 6:18 171 Aristides
Ps.-J. to Num 25:8 102 Orations
Ps.-J. to Num 25:12 95–96 28 160n40
Aristotle
Eudemian Ethics
Early Christian Writings
1229a 38 71n7
Augustine Nichomachean Ethics

Commentary on Galatians 1105b 23 71n7
37.9 121n17, 122n18
Magna moralia
Barnabus 1.7.2 71n7
17.1 115n176
Rhetoric
Irenaeus 2.9–11 88
Against Heresies 2.11 71n7, 86n62, 120,
3.3.3 112n167 131n54, 134, 149n6
3.19.3 149
John Chrysostom
Commentarius in Galatas Cicero
4.18 121n16 Academicae quaestiones
1.5 87n68
Homiliae in epistulam i ad Corinthios
23.1 168n60 Epistulae ad Atticum
2.1 87n66
Homiliae in epistulam ad Colossenses 6.3 87n66
62.363 185n2
Pro Caelio
14 87n66
Greco-Roman Literature
Epistulae ad familiares
Aeschines 12.13 87n66
False Embassy
171 75n27 De finibus
3.40 87n68
Alciphron
Epistulae Pro Flacco
3.64 130, 134 26 87n66
Appian Pro Marcello

Bella civilia 1 87n66
26 160n40
Pro Murena
29 87n66
De natura deorum Epictetus

1.22 129n40 Diatribai (Dissertationes)
2.12.25 75n27
Orationes philippicae 2.14 158n34, 180n100
2.12 87n66 2.14.13 75
In Pisonem Enchiridion
39 87n66 19.2 71n8
Tusculanae disputationes Hesiod

1.6 87n68 Works and Days
1.43 87n67 195–96 72
1.44 86
2.7 87n68 Theogony
3.83 86 383–85 72
4.6 88
4.7 87 Isocrates
4.8 86 Ad Nicoclem (Or. 2)
4.16–17 88n71 26 86n61
4.17 86 38 132n55, 132n56, 181n106
4.46 88n71
4.56 88n71 Aegineticus (Or. 19)
23 72n10
In Verrem 45 72n10
2.3.78 87n66
Antidosis (Or. 15)
Demosthenes 30 132n57
Letters 60 132n57
2.4–5 131 142 132n57
2.5 181n103 154 132n57
244–46 138n71
Eroticus 245 132n57
30 135n64 246 132, 134, 163n47
30–31 134 258 135n63
30–32 131n52 304 132n57
31 131
De bigis (Or. 16)
Dio Chrysostom 38 132n55, 133n58, 134
Oration
1.38 130n49, 159n36 Busiris (Or. 11)
4.122 130n49, 159n36 7–8 132n55
32.10 131n50
55.4 149n6 In Callimachum (Or. 18)
55.4–5 158n34 51 72n10
Diogenes Laertius De pace (Or. 8)

7.111 87 83 133n58
142 132n56, 134, 181n106
Ad Demonicum (Or. 1) 2.436 73n20, 74

11 75n27, 132n56, 158, 2.539 73n20
180n99, 181n106 2.595 73n20
3.360 73n20, 74
Epistulae 3.563 73n20
6.14 133n58 3.593 73n20
9.8 149n3
Philostratus
Evagoras (Or. 9) Epistulae
77 132n55, 163n47 4.11 158n35
Helenae encomium (Or. 10) Vitae sophistarum

8 134 208 130n49
8–11 133n58, 140
33 133n58 Plato
Philebus
Nicocles (Or. 3) 47e 71n6, 86n62
60 132n56 50b 71n6, 86n62
Panathenaicus (Or. 12) Protagoras

23 132n57 343a 75n27
241 132n57
260 132n55 Plutarch
Quomodo adulator ab amico internoscatur
Panegyricus (Or. 4) 54C 129n41, 134
77 133n58
159 132n55, 163n47 Aemilius Paullus
184 72n10 1.5–6 80
Philippus (Or. 5) Amatorius

11 138n71 768A 131, 135
68 72n10
68–69 132n57 Cato the Younger
69 137n70 9.10 81n49, 82
Lysias Comparatio Lycurgi et Numae

Funeral Oration 4.2–5 85
2.48 71n8 4.7–8 83
Musonius Consolatio ad uxorem

Fragments 611B 75–76
8.87 75
Moralia
Ovid 131A 131n50
Art of Love
1.296 73n20 Lycurgus
2.336 73n20 4.2 129n41
Numa Quomodo quis suos in virtute sentiat profectus

5.2 84 84B–85A 81
5.5 84 85B 81
6.2 86n61
6.2–4 84–85 Polybius
8.1 86n61 The Histories
22.1 85 10.21.4 82n55
Pelopidas Pseudo-Andronicus
19.5 129n41, 131 On Emotions
2–5 87
Pericles
1.2 131n51, 134 Sophocles
1.4 81 Oedipus coloneus
2.1–2 81 1234 149n3
2.2 131, 134
Stobaeus
Tiberius et Caius Gracchus Eclogae
4.5 82n55 2.7.10b–c 87, 88n72
De virtute morali Thucydides

448E 131n51 Histories
5.59.4 124

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Paul’s Language of Ζῆλος

Biblical Interpretation Series

Paul Anderson (George Fox University)

A.K.M. Adam (University of Oxford)

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/bins

Lappenga, Benjamin J., author.

Copyright 2016 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

1 Ζῆλος as a Univocal Lexical Input in Pauline Usage: Gricean Monosemy

2 The Language of Ζῆλος in Paul’s Literary Milieu 68

Excursus: Ζῆλος as Emotion in Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations 86

3 Redefining ‘The Good’: Ζῆλος in the Letter to the Galatians 118

4 Imitation and the Manifestation of God’s Ζῆλος in Weakness: Ζῆλος in

‘Foolish’ Zeal in 2 Corinthians 7–12 178

5 “I Myself am an Israelite”: Ζῆλος in the Letter to the Romans 184

List of Works Cited 209

I am grateful to many individuals for their helpful observations at various

1.1 Plot of monosemy to homonymy 21

2.1 Relationships between noun, adjective, and verbal forms 69

CEB Common English Bible

Classical and Hellenistic Literature

De pace De pace (Or. 8)

Journals, Series, and Lexical Aids

JQR Jewish Quarterly Review

TDNT Theological Dictionary of the New Testament. Edited by

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���6 | doi ��.��63/9789004302457_002

In view of this state of scholarship, it is my contention that a void exists

Ζῆλος as a Univocal Lexical Input in

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���6 | doi ��.��63/9789004302457_003

polysemy. The implications of this monosemic understanding of the ζηλ- word

Semantics and NT Word Studies: Michael Winger and Νόμος

Michael Winger is a helpful dialogue partner because his 1992 monograph on

moves too quickly from syntagmatic patterns to the delineation of categories.”20

straight . . . accentuates the relativization of νόμος begun in v. 21.”25 Yet his

is difficult to explain by semantics.29 Rather, they are founded in tandem with

Semantics and Pragmatics

meaning yet denote varying things on different occasions of use.34 Therefore

resolution of ambiguity.38 Pragmatics certainly shapes meaning, but strictly

semantic components in attempts to describe (e.g.) the “meaning of νόμος in

To conceive of semantics as concerned with speaker assertion (i.e. with

It is my sense that biblical exegesis has traditionally gravitated toward

Polysemy is the phenomenon of a single word having two or more mean-

As Pethö indicates, polysemy remains theory-dependent, since it remains

monosemy derivation polysemy homonymy

FIGURE 1.1 Plot of monosemy to homonymy.

(i) polysemy is rampant; (ii) polysemous meanings are related in mul-

Besides the difficulties involved in establishing protocols for disambiguation,

74 “Non-Uniqueness,” 153.

In our linguistic analyses we should not be merely aiming towards

I make no attempt here satisfactorily to distill the body of evidence

c­ ognition, and cognitive linguistics . . . can account in a unified fashion for

Charles Ruhl’s Proposal for Monosemy

The tradition of questioning the assumption of polysemy goes back at least to

Dr. S. Johnson has numbered up twenty different meanings of the prepo-

Anyone using a dictionary is accustomed to finding that most words have

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��6 | doi ��.��63/9789004302457_002

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��6 | doi ��.��63/9789004302457_003

74 “Non-Uniqueness,” 153.

c ognition, and cognitive linguistics . . . can account in a unified fashion for

93 On Monosemy, 4.

109 Creation Language, 168.

112 Creation Language, 22.

121 Creation Language, 39.

127 Creation Language, 42.

132 Creation Language, 168.

142 Sperber and Wilson, Relevance, 265.

163 Pattemore’s remarks summarize the usefulness of RT as a hermeneutical tool: “Treating

169 “Word Meaning,” 612–13.

171 “Word Meaning,” 609 n. 2.

173 “In Defense of Monosemy,” 83–84.

176 “In Defense of Monosemy,” 80.

187 Review of Ruhl, 214.

193 “Kīsa,” 346.

196 B DAG, 427.

200 See further Chapter Four.