Seeing Visions: The Persuasive Power of Sight in the Acts of the Apostles 1

Scholarship on Visions in Acts

Scholars have long recognized the importance of the visions of Saul and Peter in the narrative of Acts and explored many aspects of these chapters. Of particular importance for this discussion are the form- and rhetorical-critical approaches to these narratives. Scholars working within form criticism have identified these passages with many literary forms, ranging from commissioning narrative (Mullins 1976; Hubbard 1977) to miracle story (Hedrick 1981). Such classifications highlight the complexity of formal studies on narratives that include visions. For example, Fitzmyer (1998: 420) identifies Acts 9 (including Ananias’s vision) as a commissioning narrative, yet he also labels Saul’s vision as a ‘Christophany’, which he defines simply as a ‘manifestation of God’s son’. This term complicates the issue by indicating that the vision itself can be formally classified. Are visions characteristic of broader literary forms (e.g., a commissioning narrative), or do they constitute a form in and of themselves? Interestingly, scholars have approached narratives containing visions from both directions.

There have been significant studies on visions as a formal category in biblical and non-biblical literature (Kessels 1978; Cox-Miller 1994). John Hanson’s work on this topic, for example, has become highly valued and is often employed as a standard reference (1980). But many have sought to determine the formal, or generic, parameters of dreams and visions. A great deal of work has been done on dreams in the Old Testament (e.g., Gnuse 1984; Husser 1999). Perhaps the formal categories most consistently employed by other scholars are the categories of ‘message dream’ and ‘symbolic dream’ established by the work of Oppenheim (1956: 179-373). These two categories are also applied to visions, as seen in Susan Niditch’s study on symbolic visions in the Hebrew prophets (1983). ⁵ Although scholarly studies of visionary experiences in the Bible have struggled to create distinctions between visions and other types of divine encounters, such as dreams, theophanies, Christophanies, angelophanies or auditions, to name a few, a number of scholars have been critical of such endeavors as too narrowly restricting ancient experience and literary forms. ⁶ Recently, studies have been published that seek to expand the language and perspective of scholarship on visionary narratives. ⁷ The desire to expand this discussion has extended to critiques that biblical scholarship is too focused on the literary nature and expression of dream-visions to the neglect of the experiences behind them. This critique has merit. There are other voices, however, that warn of the limitations of scholarly descriptions of religious experience when ‘we can guess, project, speculate, imagine, but we cannot know the inner life of our forebears’ (Wasserstrom 2008: 76). This article, however, will focus on the literary expression of the visions in Acts, as a first step, in order to begin to loosen the overly restrictive approaches to vision narratives. Since ancient visionary experience is only available to the scholar through written texts, including vision reports like those in Acts, I would argue that more insight into the complexity of the literary accounts will assist scholars in understanding the experiences that are either behind the accounts or form the cultural foundation for those accounts. Currently, there is no consensus over the essence of what a vision is in distinction to other revelatory experiences. The disparate ways of defining visions can be seen in recent reference volumes. For example, Adela Yarbro Collins (1996: 1194) defines vision as ‘the sight of things normally hidden from human eyes’ and understands vision to refer to otherworldly realities that are perceived in large part separately from one’s physical reality. So she distinguishes visions from theophanies and epiphanies, which she describes as a physical presence or appearance that often focuses on the message conveyed, as opposed to visions, which emphasize the ‘objects, scene, or sequence of events enacted’ (Yarbro Collins 1996: 1194). ⁸ Greg Carey (2009: 791) in the NIDB defines vision as ‘a mystical, revelatory experience involving a visual dimension’. He also notes, however, that auditory components are often included, and he classifies Ananias’s purely auditory experience as a vision. It seems unlikely that it should be identified as such based on Collins’s discussion. ⁹

Clearly, one point of debate revolves around the question of the relationship between seeing and hearing when encounters with the divine are narrated (Wilson 2016). For example, a careful reader will recognize that what I refer to as ‘visions’ in Acts cannot always be described as visual experiences. In fact, some of the visions in chs. 7–12 relate little or no visual imagery. Neither Philip nor Ananias are said to have ‘seen’ anything. The angel of the Lord speaks to Philip, just as the Lord speaks to Ananias. Commentators have, at times, even questioned the descriptor of ‘vision’ being applied to such narratives and preferred to label them ‘auditions’ in order to highlight the verbal elements of the revelation (Hamm 1990: 64). The biblical text, however, clearly identifies Ananias’s aural experience as a vision (9.10): ‘There was a disciple in Damascus named Ananias and the Lord said to him in a vision (ὁράματι), “Ananias”. He answered, “Here I am, Lord”’. John Hanson (1980) has argued that the distinction scholars attempt to make between auditions and visions appear to be of little value within ancient culture. Although this mixture of oral and visionary components may seem unusual to contemporary readers, Hanson’s study has found that dreams and visions could be auditory, visual/symbolic or a combination of both. ¹⁰ This curious formulation begins to make more sense when one recognizes that in the ancient world there was a strong sense of interrelationship between words and images.

One additional formal structure recognized within vision narratives, the ‘double vision’, must be highlighted (Wikenhauser 1948). Hanson (1980: 1415) uses the phrase ‘double dream-vision’ in reference to the visions or dreams of two separate characters narrated in conjunction with each other so that a pair of interdependent visions is formed that function to provide ‘a resolution of some sort, and are therefore particularly useful in a literary context for purposes such as the advancement of plot’. ¹¹ Double dream-visions can be found outside biblical literature (e.g., Josephus, Ant. 17.345-53; Dionysius of Halicarnassus 1.57.3-4), but are of particular significance for Acts 9–10, where the visions of Saul and Ananias form such a pair, as do the visions of Cornelius and Peter. ¹² In other words, the author of Acts has chosen to include double visions in two subsequent chapters – a double, double vision, if you will.

Also crucial to this discussion is scholarship that applies rhetorical analysis to examinations of these chapters and the visions in Acts more generally. Edith Humphrey insists that there is an ‘undeniable rhetorical force’ to the vision narratives in Acts and discusses the power of repetition and the artful presentation of Acts 9 and 10 (2007: 67). Recently, Brittany Wilson (2016) has studied the intersection of sight and audition in Acts through a close examination of Stephen’s vision. Her article provides an important step forward in recognizing the complexity of the visionary narratives in Acts and in many ways supports the argument I am presenting here. Wilson approaches the visions in Acts by highlighting an earlier, although pervasive, theory that posits a dichotomy between the preference within Greek culture for the visual and the preference within Jewish culture for the aural (2016: 456-58). ¹³ Although she describes this characterization as an ‘overstatement’, and often speaks of the visual and auditory elements of the visions in Acts as ‘intertwining threads’ (Wilson 2016: 457-58), she continues to return to this distinction throughout her discussion and appears to emphasize the influence of Jewish tradition on the visions in Acts and the power of the verbal over the visual (Wilson 2016: 462, 475). Wilson’s work is insightful, although at times she succumbs to the common problem of pitting one side against the other when faced with tension in the narrative.

One conclusion that has arisen from literary and rhetorical studies is that these central visionary experiences in Acts function as absolute proof of God’s will for the Gentile mission. ¹⁴ Such assertions too often overlook the subtle way that visions are employed in these chapters. John B. Miller (2007, 2008) has raised questions about such claims for the absolute authority of visions in the ancient world, contributing to the current interest in reassessing the nature of visionary accounts and their purpose. A pattern emerges from the scholarship on these chapters: frustration with past attempts to come to a consensus on the categorization and formal structure of visionary experiences and their narrative expression has spawned a new movement to expand the classifications of visionary narratives and to acknowledge the complexity and subtlety of the rhetorical function of visions within their literary context. This article endeavors to advance this scholarly debate.

Sight, Knowledge, Persuasion and the Progymnasmata

The starting-point for this conversation must be the ancient progymnasmata, or school exercises, which make clear the application of rhetorical theory to narrative (such as Acts) by offering students practice in literary forms that are ‘the foundation of every kind of discourse’ (Theon 70.29-30), including history and other narrative genres. ¹⁵ In Theon’s Progymnasmata, narrative is defined as ‘language descriptive of things that have happened or as though they had happened’ (πραγμάτων γεγονότων ἢ ὡς γεγονότων; 78.16-17) and its three virtues are clarity (σαϕήνεια), conciseness (συντομία) and credibility (πιθανότης; 79.20-21). As a form of discourse that seeks to be descriptive and values clarity, one of the literary styles engaged in narrative and discussed in the progymnasmata is ekphrasis (ἔκϕρασίς). Theon defines ekphrasis as ‘descriptive language, bringing what is portrayed clearly before the sight’ (περιηγηματικὸς ἐναργῶς ὑπ’ ὄψιν ἄγων τὸ δηλούμενον; 118.7). Its virtues are clarity (σαφήνεια) and vividness (ἐνάργεια), so that the hearer can ‘all-but-see what is described’ (τοῦ σχεδὸν ὁρᾶσθαι τὰ ἀπαγγελλόμενα; 119.31-32). Many subjects were appropriate for the application of ekphrasis. This variety could be categorized into four types of subject matter: persons, places, times and events. Many other progymnasmata related similar definitions to Theon’s. For example, Hermogenes says ekphrastic language should ‘create seeing through hearing’ (διὰ τῆς ἀκοῆς σχεδὸν τὴν ὄψιν μηχανᾶσθαι; 22-23) and John of Sardis in his commentary on Apthorios’s progymnasmata says that ‘what is said is changed from being heard to being seen (ἀπὸ τῆς ἀκοῆς εἰς τοὺς ὀϕθαλμοὺς); for the language inscribes what is described in the eyes of the spectators and paints the truth in the imagination’ (τῇ ϕαντασίᾳ ζωγραϕεῖ τὴν ἀλήθειαν; 224; Kennedy 2003: 86, 219). It is important to recognize that many descriptions of ekphrasis emphasize the transition from hearing to seeing. This raises the question of the relative value of each of these senses for providing clarity and credibility, the goals of ancient narrative.

Unfortunately, the progymnasmata do not offer a clear answer. Theon includes examples of such descriptive language from historians and poets and some discussion of appropriate topics for ekphrasis, but little is said about why this is essential to any composition, oral or written, and no explanation is offered regarding the relationship between hearing and seeing. For deeper insight into the role of ekphrasis, and the vivid description at its core, Ruth Webb (2009) provides a helpful examination of what it means to say that an orator or author can use words to bring a topic ‘before the eyes’ of the audience. Based on passages from Quintilian and ps.-Longinos, she argues that ekphrasis refers to the ability to create a narrative so vivid and detailed that it leads the hearer to create a visual picture in her mind of what is being described. Vivid description (enargeia; ἐνάργεια), can conjure an ‘internal mental image’ that will in turn stir the hearer’s emotions (Webb 2009: 95). Quintilian discusses enargeia which he describes as an ornament of a speech’s narratio, in a way that corresponds closely to the definitions of ekphrasis found in the progymnasmata:

[V]ivid illustration … is something more than mere clearness, since the latter merely lets itself be seen, whereas the former thrusts itself upon our notice. It is a great gift to be able to set forth the facts on which we are speaking clearly and vividly. For oratory fails of its full effect, and does not assert itself as it should, if its appeal is merely to the hearing, and if the judge merely feels that the facts on which he has to give his decision are being narrated to him, and not displayed in their living truth to the eyes of his mind. (non exprimi et oculis mentis ostendi; Quintilian, Inst. 8.3.61-62).

He goes on to say that there is ‘one form of vividness which consists in giving an actual word-picture of a scene, as in the passage beginning, ‘Forthwith each hero tiptoe stood erect’ (Aeneid 5.426), which Quintilian claims ‘gives us such a picture of the two boxers confronting each other for the fight, that it could not have been clearer had we been actual spectators’ (Inst. 8.3.63).

According to Webb, the basis for this rhetorical function of vivid narration is found in the Greek idea that sensory perceptions and mental images form the foundation of thought and language (2009: 111). ¹⁶ According to Aristotle, thought itself is inseparable from our mental images and cannot take place without them (Aristotle, Mem. 449b 30; An. 427b 14-16). He states, ‘no one could ever learn or understand anything without perception; and even when one thinks theoretically, it is necessary to have some mental picture with which to theorize (ἀνάγκη ἅμα ϕάντασμά τι θεωρεῖν; An. 432a). ¹⁷ Stoics also conceived of mental images as the root of language. In a way it seems that this concept conceives of a cycle from image to language to image. Specifically, Diogenes Laertios describes the process of thought as arising first from an impression or mental image which is then expressed in language so that the image or impression can be shared with another (7.49; Webb 2009: 113-14). But as the progymnasmata and rhetorical handbooks make clear, in order to clearly communicate a thought, the language used to express it must be of a vivid nature that can then transform the verbal language into a mental image in the mind of the other. Webb makes the point that this understanding of the relationship between words and images within the process of thought means that ‘the rhetorician’s enargeia is therefore far from being an anomalous form of language, rather it is a heightened example of the way that all verbal communication could be thought to work, transmitting an internal impression from one mind to the other’ (Webb 2009: 114).

Based on this conceptual understanding, part of the value of ekphrasis for rhetorical communication was the ability to instill in the hearer such a clear picture of the event described that, in essence, the hearer became an eyewitness to the event. By using language to paint an internal mental image into the minds of the hearers, a speaker can ‘penetrate the emotions’ (Quintillian, Inst. 8.3.67) of the audience and lead them directly into his own perspective in such a way that the audience actually takes on the speaker’s perspective. In this way the speaker, or author, can persuade the audience to ‘see’ matters in a certain way. Ancient rhetoricians, then, conceived of communication as a complex interrelationship between words and images. The impression left by this discussion is that visual images are central to the process of understanding. And if communication of ideas is to be successful, it must find a way to translate mental images into such vivid language that, when heard, it paints the mental image for another to see.

Sight and Reliability in Ancient Histories

The complex interrelationship between sight and hearing that is described by rhetorical texts can be viewed in action through the work of ancient historians. Ancient histories provide insight into how ancient authors valued seeing in comparison to hearing and how the practical realities of oral and written communication complicated the relationship between the two. In addition, it is particularly appropriate to discuss this genre in conjunction with Acts since it is a genre of literature that seeks to establish the credibility of its account and to persuade its readers of truth, as indeed does the author of Luke–Acts as stated in the preface to the gospel (Lk. 1.3-4). ¹⁸ Ancient historians carried on a lively discussion regarding what constitutes the most valuable evidence and how to evaluate that evidence. While concern for relating a reliable account was frequently asserted by historians, this was particularly crucial when extraordinary events, including visions and dreams, were reported. ¹⁹ For historians who endeavored to relate ancient history, evaluating and reporting legendary and supernatural events could not be avoided. ²⁰ Although their level of credulity varied regarding the supernatural, ancient historians shared with the author of Luke–Acts a commitment to providing the most accurate report of such events. Historians who were more skeptical might report both a supernatural and a natural explanation for an event. ²¹ Historians who were more accepting of direct divine communication might bolster the plausibility of their account by emphasizing the reliability of the witness(es) or by demonstrating how the outcome of an event bore out the divine message. ²² In either case, ancient historians were reporting visionary experience. And these reports engaged both visual and oral/aural means of communication in an attempt to provide ancient readers with the most complete and reliable account.

Conventional wisdom proclaimed eyes to be more reliable than ears (Herodotus 1.8; Polybius 12.27.1; Lucian, Hist. Conscr. 29). This comports with Greek philosophical thought which regarded sight as a prime actor in the theory of cognition. But as discussed above, there is an intricate relationship between the work of the eyes and the ears in the process of knowing. This was evident in the methods of ancient historians.

Many historians assert that what they have seen with their own eyes is of primary importance for determining what truly occurred. This is often referred to as the convention of autopsy. ²³ This included not only the historian’s presence at the events that he related, but also his visual inspection of places and monuments that provided knowledge and substantiation of his information (Marincola 1997: 67, 101). While Herodotus (1.8.2, 2.99) and Josephus (Apion 1.55), for example, claimed their first-hand observations provided their narratives’ reliability, other historians raised concerns about eyewitness observation. This was particularly, but not solely, the case when assessing the value of the eyewitness accounts of others. When historians could not see for themselves all aspects of an event, which was often, they depended on what they heard from others through oral reports. Such eyewitness accounts were considered to be a valuable historical source. Byrskog argues that historians were particularly interested in the reports of those who were personally involved in the event being recorded, stating that ‘the ideal eyewitness is the one who is closest to the events, involved and participating’ (2000: 157).

Thucydides (1.22.2-3), however, recognized that bias is possible in eyewitness reports. Faulty memories or personal prejudice for or against an individual or group could affect one’s perception and reporting of events. Polybius insisted that, in all cases, more important than what one sees is the ability of that person to understand what he has seen. ²⁴ It is important to mention here that within the ancient world it was commonly understood that a dream-vision was not always clear. There was a strong literary tradition of visionaries who required assistance to interpret divine messages or who misunderstood the visionary messages they received. ²⁵ For ancient historians, therefore, eyes and ears were valuable sources of information, as long as their limitations and biases were recognized and they were tested by careful investigation. The ideal historian, then, was one who could collect and evaluate the reliability of multiple eyewitness accounts, what they have seen for themselves as well as what they have heard from others (Polybius 12.4c.4-5; Lucian, Hist. Conscr. 38, 41, 47). As Clare Rothschild states, ‘It is the procedure with the highest probability of providing credible, even-handed results’ (2004: 216). In other words, regardless of the stated value of sight for determining the truth, it must be combined with other forms of knowledge and perception in order to ascertain the most balanced and accurate ‘picture’ of an event.

Rhetoricians, too, were concerned with the bias of eyewitnesses. It was widely acknowledged that the motivations of a witness connected to the issue or person at the center of a trial were suspect. According to Aristotle, such a person could offer testimony to the facts of the case, but only someone unconnected could offer reliable testimony as to the quality or meaning of the facts (Rhet. 1.15.15-17). Furthermore, the status, character and situation of witnesses must be considered (Rhet. 1.15.19; Cicero, De Orat. 2.118; Quintilian, Inst. 5.7.9-25). The voluntary testimony of a witness who is a friend of the accused would be suspect due to the possibility that they are motivated by favor or self-interest (Rhet. Alex. 1431b). Α disinterested witness with a good reputation, however, would hold greater credibility. Rhetorical handbooks had a good deal to say about either undermining your opponent’s witnesses on these points, or bolstering your own. As I will discuss below, in both pairs of visions in Acts the visionaries have no prior connection to each other and are in each case at odds in some way. The fact that the narrative presents their experiences coinciding with and supporting each other provides a strong sense of reliability. ²⁶

The Balance of Vision and Word in Acts 9–10

This brief review of ancient rhetorical and historical writings shows that the distinction between seeing and hearing, which scholars attempt to assert in their studies on visions, is problematic from an ancient perspective as they were inextricably linked within human thought and communication. It is not surprising therefore to see them linked in the visions in Acts. Moreover, both were essential for persuasion. I propose that a study of the interrelationship of sight and hearing in these vision narratives will provide insight into the larger rhetorical aim of the central chapters in Acts. For when one considers the narrative context of this cluster of visions, by which I mean the geographic and demographic expansion that takes place in Acts 7–10, it becomes clear that this expansion is not without conflict. The transformation and commissioning of a former enemy, Saul, and the baptism and inclusion of the non-circumcised Gentile Cornelius rewrite the expectations of group identity. Certainly it is in regard to debated transitions within communities that persuasive speech is particularly vital. The visions in chs. 9 and 10 offer just such persuasion. Edith Humphrey (2007: 84) raises a pertinent question: ‘What does it mean, then, for Luke to clothe “the word” with the garb of vision?’ I suggest that the answer is found in the establishment of the power of seeing that the visions provide. Through sight one acquires personal knowledge, experience and insight and then is able to provide essential eyewitness testimony. The visual nature of the communication is vital. At the same time, ancient historians and rhetoricians recognized the problem of bias and the reality that what is seen may not be understood, which hampers the trustworthiness of personal testimony. This conflict is tempered when the visual experience is balanced by other forms of perception and means of communication. In Acts this is accomplished by gathering multiple, independent eyewitnesses (including both the characters within the narrative and the audience hearing the narrative) who gain and communicate knowledge through both visual and aural means. The result is the heightened reliability and clarified meaning of the new revelation presented through the visions.

The ‘indispensable conjunction of revealing vision and revealing word’ was recognized by Richard Dillon (1978: 200) decades ago in his redactional analysis of Lk. 24. Although Dillon conceived of his purpose as challenging earlier views of the Lukan resurrection accounts, specifically those that argued that Luke’s purpose was not to provide the content of early Christian preaching but the proof for its validity and so emphasized ‘deeds and facts over the interpretive word’, several key insights that resulted from his work are particularly apropos for the argument presented here (Dillon 1978: ix). Dillon, rightly I think, argues that the Lukan resurrection account demonstrates that human perception is not sufficient to comprehend the message and meaning of Jesus Christ. Each of the appearance narratives in Lk. 24 emphasizes the confusion that arises from what is seen. In each case, only the ‘revealing word’ can resolve the disciples’ bewilderment and solidify the certainty of Easter faith (which is the goal of the narrative as a whole for its audience; Lk. 1.4; Dillon 1978: 197). Dillon’s discussion, however, overemphasizes the dichotomy between the visual experiences of the disciples and the divine interpretive word. Although at times it is evident that he understands the relationship between visual perception and revealing word to be dialectical, not dichotomous, as when he says,

The risen Lord persuaded his followers he was ‘alive’ by his appearance and by his instruction. The two steps were necessary together to show that this was truly he (αὐτός, Lk 24, 39) … the origin of the Easter witness is located in the recognition and audition of the risen Christ … (Dillon 1978: 199-200)

Finally, his work demonstrates how Luke uses the divine word to provide meaning and clarity to the visual experiences narrated in the post-resurrection appearances in Lk. 24, not to deny the essential visual nature of the experiences.

When examining the text of Acts, the interrelationship between the visionary experiences of Saul and Peter and the verbal substantiation and elucidation related through the visions of Ananias and Cornelius becomes evident. First, the persuasive power of sight is established through the pervasive use of the vocabulary of vision. The experiences of Saul, Ananias, Peter and Cornelius are all referred to as ὅραμα (9.10, 12; 10.3, 17, 19; 11.5), although Peter’s symbolic vision is also described twice as an ἔκστασις (10.10; 11.5). Along with the terms that specifically describe the visions, various words for seeing, sight or words linguistically related to verbs of seeing, such as ἰδοὺ (‘behold’) are present in the narratives. In the narrative of Saul and Ananias’s double vision, which comprises 19 verses, there are 12 ‘seeing’ words. This translates to approximately 63% of the verses highlighting the sense of sight. In Cornelius and Peter’s double vision narrative, which comprises 23 verses (I have not included the multiple retellings of the visions that are related later in ch. 10 and in ch. 11), there are 9 ‘seeing’ words. It is interesting that the visions of Cornelius and Peter include less visual vocabulary, particularly considering the visually descriptive nature of Peter’s vision (vv. 11-16). It is in this narrative that language revolving around hearing and speaking becomes more prominent, including one of Peter’s many speeches. ²⁷

Secondly, the vividness of visionary accounts functions to bring the events ‘before the eyes’ of the audience. The author of Acts has provided a very detailed narrative of the double visions of Saul and Ananias and Peter and Cornelius, producing enargeia in regard to both the people and events described (two of the four categories identified by Theon as appropriate for ekphrasis). The narrative opens with a description of Saul ‘breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord’ (9.1), and it concludes by describing the physical effect of the vision on Saul when it reveals ‘though his eyes were open, he could see nothing’ (9.8). The reactions of Saul’s companions are also expressed clearly when they ‘stood speechless because they heard the voice but saw no one’ (9.7). ²⁸ The events that unfold are described vividly as well. Details are offered regarding Saul’s purpose for travelling, including his receipt of ‘letters to the synagogues at Damascus’ from the high priest, so that ‘if he found any that belonged to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem’. The visionary experience itself is brought to life by both visual and verbal details: ‘a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”’ (9.3-4). The dialogue at the center of the vision (vv. 4b-6) is short, but striking for Jesus’ personal address to Saul as well as the dramatic exchange between the visionary and the risen Lord. The narrative concludes by illustrating the effects of the vision on Saul and how he was ‘led by the hand and brought into Damascus’ (9.8) because he could see nothing. All these details add to the careful description of the people and actions and bring the scene alive for the hearer to ‘create seeing through hearing’ (Hermogenes 23).

Ananias’s vision narrative is equally, but uniquely, vivid (9.10-19). Very little detail is given about the person of Ananias; he is simply described as a disciple in Damascus (9.10). Neither is his visionary experience described visually in any way. The verbal nature of the experience is highlighted. The dialogue between Ananias and the Lord, in contrast to Saul’s, is extensive and is the locus of detailed information that is provided to Ananias (and the audience). First, Ananias is told not only that he is to find ‘a man of Tarsus named Saul’, but also the street and house where he will be found (9.11). He is even told exactly what Saul is doing at that moment (9.11-12). Second, after Ananias raises an objection to following these instructions, Jesus provides a precise description of Saul’s mission as God’s chosen instrument who will bring Jesus’ name before ‘Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel’ (9.15). Finally, the narrative graphically portrays Saul’s healing as Ananias lays his hands on Saul and ‘immediately something like scales fell from his eyes’. The moment is captured in vivid detail, as are the immediate and even mundane events that follow as Saul ‘got up and was baptized, and after taking some food, he regained his strength’.

Turning to the visions of Cornelius and Peter (10.1-16), each is narrated so that the audience ‘all but sees what is described’. Cornelius is described with some specificity as a ‘centurion of the Italian Cohort’ and his devotion to God is specifically said to include giving alms and constant prayer (v. 1). Further, the exact time of his vision is indicated (v. 3) as well as the form of the divine appearance – an angel of God – and his reaction of terror to the angelic appearance (v. 4). The interaction between Cornelius and the angel is short and in some ways reminiscent of Saul’s earlier words with Jesus. Cornelius is called by name and answers only with a brief question – ‘What is it, Lord?’ rather than ‘Who are you, Lord?’ Cornelius appears to understand more than Saul did when he experienced his vision. As Jesus pointed Saul to a place where he would attain further instructions (9.6), so the angel points Cornelius to a place where he will gain more information as well. Cornelius, however, is given quite explicit information about the location and who he will find there (vv. 5-6): ‘Now send men to Joppa for a certain Simon who is called Peter; he is lodging with Simon, a tanner, whose house is by the seaside’. Cornelius’s vision shares important features with Ananias’s vision. Both visions are more verbally oriented than either Saul or Peter’s vision and include more extensive dialogue with the apparition. In both cases this extended dialogue involves the presentation of detailed instructions on locating an individual (in both cases personally unknown to the visionary and part of a competing community) who will be able to complete the goal of spreading Jesus’ name to the Gentiles.

Certainly, Peter’s vision is the most visually arresting. As a symbolic vision one would expect it to be narrated with vivid imagery. And indeed, what Peter sees is carefully described in 10.11-12, ‘He saw the heaven opened and something like a large sheet coming down, being lowered to the ground by its four corners. In it were all kinds of four-footed creatures and reptiles and birds of the air’. There is a verbal exchange between Peter and an unidentified voice (vv. 13-15), but this short exchange functions to clarify the visual experience and has no meaning apart from it. The vision itself is set within a detailed description of the place, time and person of Peter, as ‘about noon the next day … Peter went up on the roof to pray. He became hungry and wanted something to eat; and while it was being prepared, he fell into a trance (ἔκστασις)’ (vv. 9-10). Finally, the vision comes to a clear end when the ‘sheet’ is removed from Peter’s sight and taken back up into heaven (v. 16).

The rhetorical power of seeing functions on two levels. First, by means of the frequent visual vocabulary and the identification of these four events as ‘visions’, each narrative implies that the mental images that are the foundation for thought have been received by the visionaries themselves, and their first-hand experience is confirmed. Secondly, the visionaries are not the only eyewitnesses to these divine events. The hearers of Luke’s narrative become eyewitnesses because they are now able to see for themselves the truth of the events and their meaning. Ekphrasis brings the divine message before the eyes of the audience, and the words of the story become images in their minds that support the truth of the account (see Lk. 1.4).

As historians and rhetoricians make clear, however, the dependability of eyewitness testimony is not absolute – even one’s own. Seeing something for oneself could put one too close to the event to be independent and objective. This concern was heightened when eyewitnesses reported a wondrous event, such as a dream or vision. Although divine occurrences, such as visions, were valued as authoritative, there was simultaneously a lack of certainty regarding their credibility, due in large part to the subjective nature of the experience and its report. ²⁹ The narrative in Acts certainly appears to recognize the ambiguous authority of the vision accounts. Frequently, commentators on Acts argue that the visions establish an absolute divine authority. As Haenchen states, ‘the divine incursions have such compelling force that all doubt in the face of them must be stilled’, obviating human activity and decision making (1971: 362, 485). ³⁰ The reason for this compelling force is not, primarily, the vision encounter itself, but the manner in which it is integrated into the narrative. The author of Acts intentionally clusters visions at this point in the narrative to counter the questions of reliability that would naturally arise from any report of a vision, particularly one that redefines group identity. By so doing he mimics the work of the historians as they collect and evaluate multiple accounts. Specifically, Acts narrates two double vision reports to offer verification for the transition they promote: the mission to the Gentiles (Koet 1999: 749). By narrating multiple accounts that provide unrelated, and thereby more trustworthy, eyewitnesses, the bias of eyewitness testimony can be mitigated.

In addition, Polybius raises the concern that one may not understand what one sees. It is in regard to this concern that the verbal elements of the visions clarify and define what is unclear through the act of seeing alone. In each pair of visions, the main characters’ (Saul and Peter) visual experiences do not result in understanding. Their lack of insight is only overcome when God’s word is received by a second visionary who delivers God’s message to them so that the full picture can be revealed and the visionary’s perception (and, by extension, the audience’s perception) realized. Saul does not understand the meaning of his vision. He, in fact, remains blind to it until Ananias provides the missing word from God. It is only to Ananias that Saul’s commission is made clear: ‘this man is a chosen instrument of mine to carry my name before Gentiles, kings and Israelites’ (9.15). Although the narrative does not state that Ananias reported these words to Saul (9.17), the fact that Saul is healed of his blindness and regains his sight by the hand of Ananias strongly implies that with his newfound sight comes new insight. The common trope within ancient literature of associating blindness with ignorance and sight with understanding cannot be missed in this story (Hartsock 2008). The immediate results of sight regained – Saul’s baptism and proclamation of Jesus as the Son of God in the synagogues of Damascus – provide further indication that God’s word was communicated to Saul through Ananias, leading to his full understanding.

Similarly, Peter’s vision leads to confusion. Within the vision itself, Peter continues to contradict the voice he hears that commands him to ‘kill and eat’ the animals, clean and unclean, shown to him in his vision. Immediately after the experience concludes, the narrator states: ‘While Peter was in doubt about the meaning of the vision he had seen, the men sent by Cornelius asked for Simon’s house and arrived at the entrance’. Peter’s lack of understanding is placed in direct relationship with its solution. And again in 10.19, ‘As Peter was pondering the vision, the Spirit said “There are three men here looking for you. So get up, go downstairs and accompany them without hesitation, because I have sent them”’. The divine message that is related to Cornelius is needed to explain what Peter has seen. Once Peter hears of the experience of the Gentile Cornelius and receives the invitation to go to him, then the meaning of his vision begins to come into focus. ³¹ The dependence of Peter’s understanding of what he saw on what is heard becomes evident as Peter’s thinking develops throughout the narrative. ³² When Peter arrives at Cornelius’s house, he expresses the link between his vision and the divine word shared with Cornelius: ‘You yourselves know that it is unlawful for a Jew to associate with or to visit a Gentile; but God has shown me that I should not class anyone profane or unclean’ (10.28). Peter clearly interprets the meaning of his vision to refer to the relationship between Jews and Gentiles. Miller is correct to acknowledge that clarification for Peter’s initial confusion is offered through a combination of divine mediation and human interpretation. Yet, the intersection of divine message and human interpretation exhibited in Peter’s experience is not accomplished in isolation from others. In both sets of double visions, it is evident that God’s message is revealed to and carried by multiple individuals whose experiences help to complete and corroborate each other’s visionary encounters. It appears that seeing for oneself, although essential, is not enough to present a full and reliable report. Personal experience and the visual images that are the foundation for knowledge must be present, but so must the clarification of meaning and the corroboration that comes through the oral reports (even reports of visionary encounters) of those who are close to the matter at hand, but not biased toward the facts they affirm.

Conclusion

What is the relationship between seeing and hearing in the visions in Acts? Does seeing support and authenticate the word? Or does the word clarify and define what is seen? The answer is both. Although it was at times stated that eyes are more reliable than ears, there was a complex relationship between the visual and the verbal elements of knowledge and communication in the Greco-Roman context. Because knowledge was conceived visually, occurring through the ‘eyes of the mind’, the frequent use of visions in Acts would certainly communicate effectively with the Hellenistic audience of the book of Acts. And the vivid style of narration, as promoted in the progymnasmata and ancient rhetoricians, would bring the audience into the experience with the characters, so creating in the hearers the sense of being fellow eyewitnesses who have seen these events themselves and heightening the feel of plausibility. In these ways, the visions in Acts emphasize the significance of seeing as a means of persuasion. These visual experiences, however, are also limited in their ability to persuade. The meaning of what is seen is not always clear. And in order to communicate what is seen to another it must be translated into words. An oral report of what is seen must employ language that provides clarity as to meaning and, at the same time, offers support for the dependability of the verbal report of the mental images. Those who spoke and wrote to communicate ideas and persuade others of the validity of those ideas knew that both what was seen and what was heard were essential elements of persuasive speech and narrative. The visions in Acts 9–10 balance both the visual and the verbal so as to gain the greatest rhetorical power.

The visions in chs. 9 and 10 function to persuade the Hellenistic audience of Acts that the controversial belief of this Jewish band of Jesus followers, namely that God’s plan for salvation includes the Gentiles, is true and trustworthy. Certainty is established when the visionaries’ direct knowledge of the divine message is received and conveyed vividly, so as to bring this insight clearly before the eyes of the hearer; this knowledge is based upon a clear understanding, which is established through visual and verbal means of communication and corroborated by no less than four men with distinct perspectives and relationships to the Jesus community. The complex layering of the double visions at the center of Acts mirrors the complex layering of persuasive tools employed through the vision narratives: the vivid, visual language of Saul and Peter’s visions is paired with the clarity of the verbal components of Ananias and Cornelius’s visions, while the ambiguous authority of visions as a means of revelation is paired with the reliability of multiple, independent witnesses. Simply stated, the author of Luke–Acts leads his audience to discern the truth (Lk. 1.4) through the complex and subtle interplay between seeing and hearing, expressed literarily through vision and voice.