Vivid Imagery in Galatians 3:1—Roman Rhetoric,Street Announcing,Graffiti,and Crucifixions

Galatians 3:1 in Scholarship

In his commentary on Galatians, Betz notes that

Here, Betz is speaking of a particular technique of rhetoric known as ekphrasis or vivid speech. Davis (1998: 203) likewise speaks of Paul painting a vivid verbal image. I discuss this issue below. So far I am in complete agreement with Betz. However, in Betz's next statement, I cannot help wondering if there is a failure of analytical nerve: “Paul, in a case of self-ironic exaggeration, makes use of this topos, reminding the Galatians of his initial efforts to proclaim the gospel of Jesus Christ crucified to them” (1979:131, emphasis mine).

There is a similar statement in Longenecker's commentary:

In his Theological Wordbook, Kittel (771) removes emotion from the alleged presentation when he dismisses the notion that Paul's proclamation was anything resembling a “heart-rending depiction.”

Generally speaking, modern scholarship is ambivalent on how to understand Paul's preaching or teaching style, if indeed any thought is given to the issue. Do we see here reference to just a topos, or to an actual practice? All would agree that some sort of message was delivered. But how was the message conveyed? Was it a dry and abstract lecture, or a heartfelt emotional discourse? Are academics comfortable with Professor Paul but uncomfortable with street actor Paul? Even granting that Paul gave powerful presentations—was it only the content that made them powerful, or were there also issues of technique which added to the power? Why would Paul not add stylistic elements to augment his most important message?

We cannot go back in time and attend a session by Paul. We have no accounts of Paul's preaching other those in the book of Acts. Did Paul speak in a loud or soft voice, did he stand still or walk around in an animated fashion, did he use body language or props? The issue is veiled to our inquiry. But we do have one avenue to gain information. By attending to the styles and methods of vivid speech which were practiced in the Roman Empire at the time of Paul, we gain an understanding of tactics used by Paul's contemporaries. Is it credible to assume that Paul's style was utterly different from his peers? The matter bears investigation. A background check will give us new questions to address to Paul's various texts, and insights into how Paul understood himself and his message.

Perhaps John Chrysostom (himself a dynamic preacher of the late fourth and early fifth centuries) has sensitivity to the issues that can inform us. In his sermon on Galatians, Chrysostom notes:

Christ stripped, crucified, nailed, spat upon, mocked, drinking vinegar, insulted by thieves, pierced with a spear … they have forsaken this man and run back to the law, showing no awareness of Christ's sufferings [Homily on Galatians 3.1, in Edwards: 35].

The Word Prographē

Liddell-Scott (1473) gives the following range of meanings for prographē, the root noun related to the verb prographō and the form proegraphē:

Liddell-Scott draws upon a large database of ancient sources, and we see that it prioritizes the notice/advertisement aspect. Bauer (704), drawing on a smaller database, does not discuss the word prographē since it does not occur in the New Testament but gives two meanings for prographē:

Here, the prioritization is reversed from that in Liddell-Scott, but the meaning of public display still is evident. Kittel (771) essentially follows Bauer.

How is proegraphē used in the New Testament? There is too small a database (four occurrences) to make a determinative assessment. There are two genuine Pauline passages. Romans 15:4 speaks of “things written” long ago and is probably a reference to the Hebrew Scriptures and an assertion that they are prophetically speaking of Christ. This paper sees Galatians 3:1 as referring to a previous oral presentation, not a (presumably now lost) written work by Paul. The other two occurrences are either disputed Pauline (Ephesians 3:3, where the word is part of the rhetorical strategy to assert Pauline authorship to established Pauline works, e.g., 2 Corinthians 12:1 and Galatians 2:2) or a rather obscure reference in Jude 4. In summary, it seems wisest to let context rule our determination of the word's meaning, and that is this paper's strategy.

We turn now to Galatians 3:1. In his analysis of proegraphē in Galatians 3:1, Betz notes (131 n.39) that it can mean portray publicly or proclaim publicly. “Modern commentators usually prefer the second option, but the rhetorical material lends support to the first.” As the lexicons suggest, “proclaim” in a strictly verbal sense is a narrow aspect of a broader category, namely presentations which may include both verbal and visual components. The most thorough discussion of interpretations of prographē has been done by Basil Davis (1999, 2002). I recommend his works as excellent summaries of the issue, though I disagree with some of his conclusions.

Davis rejects what he terms a “theatrical portrayal” (1999: 198–99) using the following argument: Paul is like a Hebrew prophet, and while some prophets symbolically acted out events as part of their message, they did so in only for events to come rather than for events in the past. Davis’ argument seems unnecessarily constricted, if not unrealistic. Paul (and other prophet figures) had a wider repertoire than simply predicting future events. The goal of the prophet is to portray vividly—to enact and thus actualize—an event separate from his audience, whether this event was separate temporally (past, future) or spatially (far away). Consider the apocalyptic prophets mentioned both in Acts 5:33–39 and in Josephus (Ant. 20.97–99), who rehearsed Exodus events for their audience as part of their claim to messianic status. Eucharist and baptism are liturgically enacted depictions of past events in order to have their power experienced in a current setting. Finally, the healing proclamations of Jesus for distant figures are a kind of prophetic enactment (e.g., Mark 5:21–43; Luke 7:1–10). Davis’ position is untenable in light of these various issues.

Adding weight to the argument is a point rarely discussed in New Testament scholarship—the word prographō was used in magical charms. In the Greek Magic Papyri, three charms explicitly call for the drawing or writing-out (proegraphē) of an image or figure (PGM II.49; XXXVI.260; XXXVI.265; see Betz 1986). The concrete image adds to the power and efficacy to the verbal charm.

When Paul says “Christ was depicted as crucified,” we glimpse Paul's intention. Although his audience could not be eyewitnesses of the historical crucifixion; through Paul's presentation the audience could witness the crucifixion as a vivid present event, one happening right before their eyes. On this issue, visual art provides new ways to see abstract ideas; so the reader is invited to do a Google Image search of the following paintings: Lucas Cranach the Elder, “Martin Luther Preaching,” (1539) and Paul Gauguin, “Vision after the Sermon” (1888). In Cranach's painting, Luther creates a vivid impression in the imagination of his congregation, though Luther's pose is calm—one typical of the portraiture of the sixteenth century. In Gaugin's painting, we lose sight of the preacher as we join in the turbulent and ecstatic vision shared by the congregation. Where does Paul fit into this scenario? Is he a calm lecturer or a fiery performer, or somewhere in between? Was it Paul's intent that audiences lose sight of him, and see only Christ?

Consider four different types of communication common in the Roman Empire: rhetoric, street announcing, graffiti, and crucifixion. In each of these we see vivid statements made to an audience. As with Paul, there is a background issue of competition. Paul's career was dogged by competition from rivals who argued against his teachings and practices. Roman rhetors competed for the verdict of a judge or the approval of the audience. Street announcers jostled with other hawkers for the attention of noisy crowd. Graffiti artists competed for the attention of passers-by. Crucifixion portrayed the might of the Roman Empire in the face of rebellion or crime. In each case, vivid imagery helps in the competitive arena by making a message memorable and thus influential. In the intersection of these various sorts of communication we find new possibilities for understanding the meaning of Paul's statement in Galatians 3:1 and other Pauline texts.

Communication 1: Rhetoric

Rhetoric involves attention to the form and style of a message as well as its content. The use of rhetoric in the Roman Empire was widespread and it developed out of the earlier Greek tradition. It was taught in the school curriculum of upper-class boys, and was used in the political, judicial, and literary/artistic arenas of discourse. The intention behind rhetorical communication was to persuade the audience to the point of view of the speaker.

New Testament texts were composed in the late first century of the Roman Empire, and each was intended to persuade and teach its audience. The application of rhetorical analysis to New Testament texts is now widespread and accepted by many scholars (see, e.g., Mack, Porter & Stamps, and Cameron). Some texts such as the Gospels may have a less direct influence from formal rhetoric, yet may still be examined profitably through the lens of rhetorical analysis. Other texts or portions of texts (Paul's epistles, for example) appear to be significantly shaped by rhetorical styles and features.

In his commentary on Galatians, Betz analyzes the epistle along rhetorical lines (see also Mack: 66–73). He estimates that the letter is constructed in a judicial framework: arguing a case based on evidence from past events. Betz notes how Paul strategically portrays his audience:

So, there appears to be a rhetorical advantage for Paul's overall argument to call his audience “eyewitnesses.” But upon what basis can this eyewitness characterization be made? The answer may lie in a particular form of rhetorical style, namely ekphrasis or vivid speech. This connection has been recognized by some scholars (Betz 1979: 131, Maier: 28–31) and is worth further consideration.

Our best sources of information about vivid speech and rhetorical styles and techniques in the Greco-Roman world are Progymnasmata or textbooks of composition and rhetoric. These books fall into two streams: Greek and Roman (see Kennedy 2003: ix–xiii). Four Greek authors of the Roman period wrote such textbooks: Aelius Theon of Alexandria (first century), Hermogenes (later second century), Aphthonius (later fourth century) and Nicolaus (fifth century). Only Theon provides contemporary evidence for rhetorical styles in the first century, the time in which Paul spoke and wrote. However, the nature of the Greek tradition textbooks is conservative: later texts repeat very closely what Theon set forth, essentially using him as a template. Thus, these texts demonstrate how well-accepted were Theon's principles and styles. Kennedy provides a compendium of the Greek writers, and the English citations below reference Kennedy's collection. The Greek phrases are from Spengler's collection. Turning to the Roman tradition on vivid speech, this topic is represented in a few texts: one attributed to the first-century writer Cicero (Rhetorica ad Herennium), one attributed to the third century writer Longius (On the Sublime), and most significantly Quintilian's The Orator's Education, also of the first century.

The first cluster of points focuses on the Greek tradition, noting in some cases where a similar thought was expressed by Roman writers. Here we see several issues which shed interesting light on Galatians 3:1. These are related at length because they are not well known to modern readers.

“Ekphrasis is descriptive language, bringing what is described clearly before the sight …” (enargōs hup opsin, Theon in Kennedy: 45; see Spengel 1: 118, lines 7–8). This phrase is repeated in Hermogenes (Kennedy: 86), Aphthonius (Kennedy: 117), and Nicolaus (Kennedy: 166). Cicero (Ad. Her. 4.50.68–69) says essentially the same thing about a category of rhetoric he calls Demonstratio (Ocular Demonstration). Quintilian says similar things (6.29; 8.61–63).

“The virtues of an ekphrasis are as follows: most of all clarity and a vivid impression of all-but-seeing what is described …” (skedon orasthai ta apangelomena) (Theon in Kennedy: 45, see Spengel 1: 119, lines 29–30). This assertion is repeated in Hermogenes (Kennedy: 86) and Aphthonius, who speaks of creating an imitation of the things being described (apomimeisthai ta ekphrazomena pragmata, Kennedy: 117, see Spengel 2: 47, lines 7–8).

The later writer Nicolaus develops the idea, arguably implicit in the earlier texts, that the hearers of the words become spectators of the event being described (theatas tous akouontas ergazesthai, Nicolaus in Kennedy: 166 and again in 167, see Spengel 3: 491, line 30 and 492, line 30). John of Sardis, a writer in the ninth century, in citing Theon on ekphrasis says, “… what is said is changed from being heard to being seen; for the language inscribes what is described in the eyes of the spectators and paints the truth in imagination …” (Kennedy: 219). Quintilian says something similar where he speaks of the audience being present at the event being narrated (6.29; also 8.3; 8.61–63).

It is important to note the wide range of topics in ekphrasis. Until recently, modern scholarship focused only on ekphrasis being detailed descriptions of places or artistic objects such as buildings, paintings or statues. However, all the ancient writers say otherwise: “There is ekphrasis of persons and events and places and periods of time …” (Theon in Kennedy: 45). The later writers Hermogenes (Kennedy: 86), Aphthonius (Kennedy: 117), and Nicolaus (Kennedy: 166) each add elements to Theon's list.

According to the Greek textbooks, the standard tactic in ekphrasis was to use many words, to be descriptive, to judiciously pile on verbal details of the thing being described. Paul's detailed hardship list in 2 Corinthians 6:4–10 is written ekphrasis. Further, on the issue of detail, Theon makes an interesting statement which Paul could have adapted to portray Jesus’ crucifixion. Theon notes that in describing a battle, the speaker should “describe the wounds and the deaths and the grief, and in addition the capture and enslavement of some and the victories and trophies of others” (Theon in Kennedy: 46). Hermogenes (Kennedy: 86) paraphrases this statement. One can imagine Paul describing Jesus’ humiliation, wounds and painful death, and then his glorification and victory over sin and death.

Roman writers explicitly state the rationale behind the use of vivid imagery: first, it usefully produces emotion which helps to persuade, and second it is memorable, allowing the argument to stay fixed in the minds of the audience. So Cicero (Ad. Her. 3.22.37), who provides an example which we may imagine Paul adapting, “… somehow disfigure them [the images], as by introducing one stained with blood or soiled with mud … so that its form is more striking.” (See also Longius 15.1–2; 9–11; and Quintilian 6.29; 6.2.32).

Quintilian is a particularly valuable resource, for he speaks of the motivations and thought processes he himself went through in developing his rhetorical craft (6.2.26). Thus, we get a rare window into the mind of a speaker. Considering how closely Paul identifies with the suffering of Christ (a point discussed below), Quintilian's statements below are very appropriate, and point to what we might call an early form of method acting:

Quintilian later speaks of actors continuing to weep after the performance is over, and of speakers playing the part or taking on a role of the client they are representing (6.2.36). Quintilian then asks,

Quintilian suggests that a strong imagination is key, a point which I will revisit in discussing Paul. Similarly, Longius (14) speaks of imagining great speakers of the past and speaking as they would or else as if they were in the audience—another example of strong imagination and identification.

Quintilian reveals a very interesting tactic of some speakers, namely the use of what we would call props or visual aids. Some advocates brought into court bloody swords, blood-drenched clothes, or displayed the wounds of victims. Quintilian notes that at Caesar's funeral, the bloody toga on display evoked powerful emotions in the crowd, making “… the image of the crime so vivid that Caesar seemed not to have been murdered, but to be being murdered there and then” (6.1.30–31). Quintilian said that he even saw speakers use images painted on a board or curtain (depictam in tabula sipariove imaginem), but he disparages this tactic as demonstrating the verbal incompetence of the speaker (6.1.32–33).

Communication 2: Street Announcing

The Latin terms praeco (singular) and praecones (plural) refer to town criers, heralds, public announcers, low-ranking public speakers, auctioneers, and those who silenced crowds before a theatrical or musical performance. These speakers operated at a lower social level than the elite world of rhetors; yet they probably borrowed some of the tactics of the rhetorical craft, and adapted them for their noisy and competitive street-corner milieu. The British actor Ian McNiece gave a memorable portrayal of a praeco in the 2005–2007 HBO series “Rome.”

Classicists have studied the social classes and functions of praecones (see Jones, Purcell, Gilula, Cohen). Some praecones, probably of a moderately high class, were praecones publici. These were what we would call civil servants, in the employ of the state for official business (proclaiming news and edicts, making program announcements at public assemblies and engaging in crowd control), and thus they enjoyed some respectability and status in society. Others were known as praecones privati, free-lance agents who engaged in commercial activity such as hawking goods on busy street corners and auctioning the estates of people who had fallen into debt.

Quintilian disparages praecones because they scrabble out a living through their voices (1.12). The Roman humorist Martial portrays praecones in an unflattering way:

Rauh notes (461) that ancient authors portrayed the auctioneer as having a stentorian voice, a rapid wit, a comic presence, an ability to attract a noisy crowd and to hold its attention, and above all a keen head for sales. A kind of street or performance artist comes to mind! How interesting to consider Paul in this light, especially in conjunction with his own admission in 1 Corinthians 9:19–23 that he “has become all things to all people, so that he might by all means win some” to his message.

Rauh paints a vivid scene of the location of auctioneering in the city of Rome, and we might well assume a similar setting in any urban center of the empire. Notable is the presence of written advertisements and graffiti:

Such a setting provides a foil to the description in Acts 17:16–32 of Paul's speech in the Areopagus of Athens, there portrayed as a somewhat intellectual exercise of oration among fellow philosophers. Recalling the presence of sales notices in the auction neighborhood, we now turn to the topic of graffiti.

Communication 3: Graffiti

One of the meanings of prographō is to write or display in public—in other words, to make graffiti. We know that graffiti was a common phenomenon throughout the Roman world. Literary sources allude to it, and excavations at first-century Pompeii and Herculaneum (as well as other locations) provide archaeological evidence (see Langner, Tanzer, Solin, Wallace).

Graffiti was of two sorts. The first were handbills, slogans and announcements, commissioned to be painted on walls in public places. Many of these were campaign posters urging citizens to vote for a candidate in a civic election (see Brewster 476–78; Etienne 58–60; Zanker 128). In spirit, if not style, there is some comparison here with Paul's urging his audience to support and maintain their allegiance to Christ. There were also advertisements of items for sale and lists of arena events (including spectacles of public execution; see discussion below). These public statements were painted on walls in large script in red or black paint.

The second sort of writing was the sort of graffiti we see in the modern world. This had an informal nature: either sketches of scenes from life, or cheeky and subversive sayings and graphics. In either case these would have been quickly scribbled or scratched on the walls of a variety of places. Often these activities were done under the cover of darkness. The exterior walls of an elite home were public space, and homeowners would have to send slaves out in the morning to scrub off the writings which had sprung up overnight. Like graffiti today, street wall space involved an on-going battle between the graffiti artist and the property owner.

In a play, the Roman playwright Plautus has a character complain that the doors of his home are scrawled black with love ditties (Plautus, Merchant 409). The humorist Martial had an acquaintance who feared that Martial would write about him in a poem. Martial breezily reassures him: “I advise you, if you are anxious to be read of, look for some boozy poet of the dark archway who writes verses with rough charcoal or crumbling chalk which folk read while they shit” (Martial 12.61).

Perhaps Paul was more subversive and less accommodating to Roman society than he is sometimes portrayed. Perhaps in his desire to get the message across, he felt he needed some of the shock-value of graffiti. Paul has no hesitation in using strong language, at times violent (Gal 5:12), at times scatological (1 Cor 4:13). And certainly Paul has the dogged persistence of the graffiti artist—he keeps repeating his message relentlessly! Finally, it is ironic that two of the earliest depictions of a crucifix are in graffiti, and it is to the issue of crucifixion that we now turn.

Communication 4: Crucifixion

In the Roman Empire, crucifixion was more than a form of execution. Its public nature, the shaming and degradation, the brutality of slow torture leading to death—all of these features made crucifixion a potent form of communication. The message behind crucifixion was straight-forward: “this is what happens to trouble-makers. Do not oppose the State” (see Cook 2012: 76 and Finney: 124–34).

Several issues need to be raised for those who seek to study crucifixion in the Roman Empire. Worthwhile studies include Aubert (94–133), and Cook (2012: 75–82). Crucifixion was viewed as such a shameful act that it is rarely discussed in ancient sources. The upper-class males who composed most of the texts likely considered the matter distasteful and for the most part applicable only for those below them in the social ladder. Thus, at times our assessment of the act is sketchy due to the lack of evidence. We know that crucifixion was common, many were crucified, and the category of “crucifixion” was flexible. In other words, various acts of execution could be called “crucifixion,” or be done as a form of crucifixion. These include nailing or tying the condemned person to a pole or cross where he would die by suffocation, tying him to a stake where he would be mauled by animals or burned, or strapping him to some sort of torture device (machina). The Roman historian Tactitus records these activities during Nero's reign (Annals 15.44, see Cook 2012: 75–82).

The next point may have relevance for how Paul and his audience would have visualized crucifixion. Until recently, the usual assumption for the location of crucifixions is that they took place outside the city limits along the roadside. While this likely was the case in many instances, and almost certainly for the crucifixion of Jesus in Jerusalem, this may not have been the sort of location familiar to Paul. Recently, scholars have recognized that public executions were also enacted in the arenas of cities, as part of a cluster of public entertainment events (gladiatorial contests, combat with beasts) known as spectacles. Kyle provides a thorough survey and discussion of Roman spectacles. Cook (2012: 68–100; also Harley-McGowan) gives a case study in early second century Roman Campania, where civic laws and inscriptions demonstrate the practice of executing criminals in the city's arena. Whether this practice was widespread and part of a standard program of events is debated (see Hopkins & Beard 70–72); yet it did occur in several locations (Cook 2012: 75ff). Ancient writers attest to this practice: Apuleius Metam IV.13, Seneca Ep. 7.3–5, Tacitus Ann. 15.44, and Tertullian Apol 50.3.

What needs to be kept in mind is that the apostle Paul was not an eyewitness to the crucifixion of the historical Jesus, however that event happened. Paul had to visualize the imagery and details of that event by some mental process, whether we label it “revelation” or “imagination.” It stands to reason that the details of current events would structure his mental imagery and teaching. Maier makes the following point about the nature of discourse. He notes that communication is predicated on a shared symbol system between speaker and audience. Even if the speaker critiques the symbol system, or presents an alternate interpretation of it, discourse draws upon the “larger external narratives” of the culture in which speaker and audience live (Maier: 29). Let us consider that the current state of arena crucifixions may have contributed to the understanding of Paul and his audiences.

Spectacle events were announced by praecones and advertised by graffiti notices: this was common practice throughout the empire. Scenes witnessed in arena spectacles such as gladiatorial contests (Langner: figs. 769–916, 990–1062, 1136–1144) or combat with beasts (Langner: figs. 1063–1133) were a popular theme in graffiti art. Cook (2012) presents evidence of inscription advertisements for crucifixion in Roman Campania and a picture of a crucifixion seen by someone who had attended an arena event there (see also Langner: fig. 1366 and Harley-McGowan). Indeed, that vivid picture of a person being crucified is the earliest image we have of crucifixion. That image (early second century) predates the better known Palatine or Alexamenos Graffito (early third century) by perhaps a hundred years. On the Alexamenos Graffito, see Ferguson (“Alexamenos”), Cook (2008: 262–85) and Langner (fig. 1242). To restate this important point: the earliest pictures we have of crucifixion are two graffiti—stark and vivid images.

Thus, we have crucifixion events advertised in graffiti announcements, proclaimed loudly by praecones, and sometimes depicted vividly in graffiti. Crucifixion itself was a powerful proclamation of Roman dominance and lethal control. Why should we not imagine that Paul—in his typical manner—both adapts and also turns the tables on this rhetoric? He will portray vividly a particular crucifixion—and show its surprising result for humanity.

The Context of Paul's Letter to the Galatians

The stakes are high for Paul's community in Galatia. Conservative Judean Christ-followers have come to Galatia urging Paul's community to complete their allegiance to and faith in Christ by adding Torah-obedience, which had been Israel's traditional requirement for membership in “people of God.” Paul violently resists this initiative—for him it is an all-or-nothing proposition, either faith-allegiance to Christ or else obedience to Torah (evidenced in circumcision, observance of food laws and religious festivals). Paul accuses those who are now starting to practice Torah-obedience of abandoning the gospel which he (Paul) preached to them (1:6) and of turning away from God (4:9–10).

Central to Paul's argument in Galatians and to his theology in general is his concept of the salvific nature of Christ's death on the cross. In Galatians, Paul argues that those who participate in Christ's death are freed from the obligations of the Law (Gal 2:19–21). Paul states that he and those who follow Christ are co-crucified with him (2:20–21, see below) and that the crucifixion redeems Christ's followers from the Law (3:13–14). However, Paul recognizes that the argument that someone's shameful death on a cross could be salvific or beneficial for others is difficult point to argue, a “stumbling block” as Paul calls it (5:11).

How can Paul bring the immediacy and strength of his argument to full force, so as to move his audience back to solid (i.e., Pauline) ground? By reminding them of the intense experience they once had as he taught or portrayed Christ's crucifixion in a vivid manner (3:1). Paul reminds his audience that at that time they were, in a special way, witnesses to the crucifixion, thus participating in it and sharing in its effects. Paul draws upon a common image—crucifixions and particularly those in Roman spectacles—to help make his image more vivid.

Other Pauline Texts

At this point the proposition is circumstantial, and cannot stand on Galatians 3:1 alone. However, the utility and the probability of the thesis are demonstrated in how it knits together other Pauline issues. Not only does it sit comfortably alongside several well-established Pauline themes, it also suggests possible insights into obscure features within the Pauline corpus.

The first theme is “Christ is proclaimed in power.” 1 Cor inthians 4:20 says that the Kingdom of God is proclaimed not in speech (en logō) but in power (dunamei). We see a similar phrase in 1 Thessalonians 1:5. In 1 Corinthians 2:2–4 Paul states that he “resolved to know nothing among [the Corinthians] except Jesus Christ and him crucified,” and that Paul's “speech and proclamation were not in wise words but in demonstrations (apodeixei, “exhibition, display”) of spirit and power.” Romans 15:18–19 speaks of Paul's proclamation through word and deed (logō kai ergō) in the power of signs and wonders (sēmeiōn kai teratōn). We get the sense that whatever Paul means by demonstrations of power, he means something more than an academic lecture or indeed verbal discourse alone. What about Paul's self-deprecating assessment in 2 Corinthians 10:10 that others saw him as a powerful writer but not a powerful speaker? Does not this speak against the thesis? Perhaps not. First, Paul is making a relative assessment—he is comparing himself to other speakers in Corinth. And second, the fact that there were more powerful speakers than Paul suggests the possibility that others were doing even more spectacular and vivid presentations than he.

The next theme, one central to Paul's theology and psychology, is his intense identification with Christ, particularly with Christ's sufferings. Davis (1999: 207–10; 2002: 208–98) picks up on this point: “Christ is displayed in Paul's own person.” In Galatians 2:20 Paul's stirring statement often receives a rather tepid translation, “I have been crucified with Christ.” The Greek word sunestaurōmai would better be translated as “co-crucified.” Then Paul famously goes on to say, “and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.” (Note that this passage is in close proximity to Galatians 3:1.) Romans 6:5–6 similarly speaks of the new self being united with Christ, and the old self being co-crucified with him. Philippians 3:10 speaks of knowing Christ and the power of his resurrection and the “fellowship of his sufferings” (konōnian pathēmatōn). We know that Paul speaks of the many scars and injuries he has suffered as badges of honor, calling them “the marks” (ta stigmata) of Christ in Galatians 6:17. Here, he is using his own victim's wounds as a verbal symbol—one wonders if he literally displayed them during an address, since Quintilian has noted the practice of displaying wounds in court. Paul urges his Corinthian audience to imitate him, even as he imitates Christ (1 Cor 11:1). To this theme, we may add other Pauline passages which speak of Paul's weakness and afflictions, and God working through them (e.g., 2 Cor 12:5–10; 2 Cor 6:4–10; 1 Cor 4:8–13).

Spectacles of death are known to Paul. He has spoken of them in 1 Corinthians 4.9–10, “For I think that God has exhibited us apostles as last of all, as though sentenced to death, because we have become a spectacle (theatron) to the world, to angels and to mortals.” In 2 Corinthians Paul evokes a complex cluster of images. He speaks of a Roman triumphal procession (during which time captives were humiliated) and then a spectacle of death. The smell of sacrificial incense is compared to the funeral pyres of executed criminals.

Lest this last interpretation seem fanciful, the reader is directed to the account of the Martyrdom of Polycarp 15.2 (see Lightfoot & Harmer 141), which says that the second-century saint's body gave off a lovely scent as the flames consumed it—an idea most likely influenced by Paul's statement in 2 Corinthians 2.

The final passage is a perplexing text in the Pauline tradition. Paul's authorship of Colossians is debated, and I do not seek to resolve the debate at this point. Let us assume that the text at least preserves Pauline ideas or a memory of what Paul did. So what do we make of this obscure comment?

At first glance, this seems an odd statement. What could be “lacking” in Christ's redemptive afflictions, and how could Paul consider that he himself adds to them? Here is a proposal. We know that Paul considers that faith in Christ's redemptive suffering is necessary for salvation. Those who knew the historical Jesus and had seen the crucifixion might well have grasped the immensity of his sacrifice. But Paul's audiences—and Paul himself—are separated by geography and time from the crucifixion, and thus lack the intense experience of eyewitnesses. If Paul can realistically and powerfully impress on his audience the drama of the crucifixion, he would in a sense be filling up or completing the salvation plan of God by bringing that world-changing event of crucifixion into the time and space of his (Paul's) audience. Paul thus functions as a representative or “ambassador” (presbeuomen, 2 Cor 5:20) of Christ and the crucifixion event to his audience.

The meanings of the Greek word husterēmata (need, want, deficiency) support my assertion. We see supportive evidence in non-disputed Pauline material. In 1 Thessalonians 3.10, Paul says that he will arrive in person, to supply what is lacking in the Thessalonians’ understanding. There is a similar sense in 1 Corinthians 16.17 and Philippians 2.30—a deficiency resulting from one person's absence is remedied by an action or presence of another person. A lexical aspect of the word supports this interpretation. On husterēma, Bauer (849) notes, “To complete the husterēma of one person means to make up for his absence, [to] represent him in his absence.” And finally—to speculate—in his vivid presentations Paul could make up a deficiency in his own understanding. Each time Paul tells the story vividly, it would grow in his imagination and become more concrete. By re-experiencing the suffering of Christ, Paul would be engaging in an act of devotion to his Lord. This issue is very interesting to consider and its possibility is strongly suggested both in Paul's context and in his attitude as stated in his undisputed texts.

Conclusions

This paper has set forth a new and intriguing way to read Galatians 3:1, a text which has not received the attention it deserves. By setting Paul's statement about portraying Christ crucified within the inter-related discursive realms of Greco-Roman rhetoric, street announcing and graffiti, we see the common theme of vivid speech. What we know of the features of those realms makes a convincing case for how Paul conducted his own preaching and teaching. The thread of Galatians 3:1 is woven throughout Paul's theology, and the issues in that text are an important key to unlock other significant and poorly understood aspects of Pauline writings (e.g., preaching “in power,” the implications of Paul's identification with Christ, and “making up for the deficiency in Christ's sufferings”).

We need to reconsider Paul as a speaker and oral teacher, a topic hardly addressed in scholarship. In analytical studies Paul's writings dominate, and we have too easily bought into Paul's self-effacing portrait as an ineffective public speaker. What we see in Paul's writings suggest that his oral message fit with what other speakers of his time were doing. There likely were similarities in vivid or powerful speech, identifying with past figures, use of descriptive details, even perhaps the display of wounds. Paul also gives evidence that he and his audience are familiar with spectacles of death in Roman arenas and that this format of crucifixion may have been used by Paul to rhetorical advantage.

It is reasonable to assume that Paul characterized his message as a vivid experience. We may conclude that Paul so identified with Christ that he felt his own sufferings fit into a divine plan, and that they helped him re-present and portray Christ's sufferings in a vivid way, as a kind of spectacle for his audience. The writer of Acts captures a memory of Paul's unique combination of evangelism and suffering in Acts 9:15–16, where Christ is shown to say: