Jerome Murphy-O'Connor, Paul. A Critical Life.
Chapter 14: The Last Years, p. 341-371

(Detailed summary)

The depth of Paul’s concern about his reception in Jerusalem can be gauged from the fact that he mentions it in his letter to the Romans, a group whose support he needed if he was to preach in Spain.

1. An Uncertain Future

   At the end of his letter to the Romans (Rom 15:31–32), Paul asks the community to pray for three things:

   1. To be rescued from the unbelievers
   2. That the aid sent to Jerusalem may be well received by the saints
   3. To go to Rome with joy by God’s will

   By “unbelievers,” Paul refers to the Jews who have not accepted Christ (Rom 11:30–32). By using the verb “to be rescued,” Paul suggests that he feels physically threatened. How is this possible? During his two previous visits to Jerusalem, everything went smoothly. But the situation is different now. Recall that emissaries from Antioch had been closely monitoring him for four years, challenging his attitude toward the Law. In Galatia, they had the opportunity to read Paul’s letter to the local churches, and it is highly likely that they sent a copy to Antioch and reported on his antinomianism. Given the regular contact between Antioch and Jerusalem, we can be certain that James and his companions were fully aware that Paul’s position had become more radical, becoming the antithesis of their own. It was therefore perfectly reasonable for Paul to wonder whether James would accept a gift with which he was so closely associated.

   To Paul’s personal views must be added the political situation. In the past, the Jews accepted gifts from the Gentiles for sacrifices at the temple in Jerusalem. However, as relations with Rome deteriorated, such Gentile participation in Jewish worship gradually became less acceptable to the more extremist elements. The climax was reached in the year 66. Eleazar, son of Ananias, the high priest and governor of the temple, persuaded those who officiated in the worship not to accept any offering or sacrifice from any foreigner. This marked the true beginning of the war against the Romans. Now, Paul was well aware of James’s nationalist stance, both in a positive sense (Gal 2:3) and a negative one (Gal 2:12), and knew full well that any gesture that might be perceived as an attempt to reach out to people of pagan origin risked being rejected. Paul could not be certain of this, however, because he did not know how much the Jerusalem community needed this money.

   Note that Paul could have decided not to go to Jerusalem. His participation in the delegation was not essential. The delegates from the contributing churches were with him, and he could have let them the money and withdrawn. The only impact for him would have been on his pride. But his decision to persevere, despite the mortal danger and the possible futility of his gesture, underscores the depth of his feelings regarding the relationship between the Jewish and non-Jewish churches. No one was more aware than he of the widening chasm between those for whom Christ was central and those for whom he was not. Yet it was absolutely crucial to build a fragile bridge of charity across that chasm. He was willing to risk everything to achieve this.

2. A Farewell Circuit of the Aegean Sea

   Luke recounts Paul’s journey to Jerusalem in detail in the Book of Acts (Acts 20:3–21:17). He is able to provide so many details because he draws almost the entire account from the Travel Journal, one of the earliest sources for the Book of Acts, written by an eyewitness. With the exception of a brief speech at Miletus, it is simply a list of dates and places, which corresponds perfectly to the coastal navigation techniques of antiquity. Setting out from Philippi, more precisely from Neapolis, the ship traveled each day the distance allowed by the wind, skirting the coast of Asia Minor toward the south, in search of a port for the night. It was not until Myra that they found a ship sailing directly to Tyre.

   This route to Jerusalem is surprising, as one would have expected Paul to set sail for Jerusalem from the Corinthian port of Cenchreae. How can this detour through Macedonia be explained? Luke gives us this explanation: “When he was about to set sail for Syria, since the Jews were plotting against him, he decided to go through Macedonia again” (Acts 20:3). Where could Luke have obtained this information? One possible explanation is this: Luke knew that the normal route by ship to the east departed from Cenchreae, but his source gave Philippi in Macedonia as the point of departure, and so he had to postulate a scenario—that of a plot—to explain this change in itinerary.

   1. Transporting the Collection

      Before addressing the issue of the change in itinerary, let us examine the question of transporting the collection. The model that would have spontaneously come to mind for people in the Apostle’s time was the procedure for transferring the annual temple tax—half a shekel—from the Diaspora to Jerusalem. The money collected from the various communities was reduced to a minimum in volume by being converted into a precious metal, namely gold. We will never know exactly how much money Paul collected. It is certain, however, that the sum was considerable. The symbolic value of the gesture would have been nil if the sum had been paltry (1 Cor 16:2); it would have been perceived by the Jerusalemites as an expression of contempt.

      Given the conditions of travel in the first century, Paul’s primary concern was undoubtedly the safety of the funds entrusted to him. It was hardly possible for him to hire armed guards. His challenge was to ensure the transport was as discreet as possible and carried out in absolute secrecy. Each member of the group had to carry their personal funds for the journey in a money belt or a small pouch suspended by a cord around the neck, but each also had gold coins sewn into their clothing so that they would not jingle. Since gold is heavy for its volume, the risk of distorting the garment would have limited the number of coins a person could carry. Consequently, the number of Paul’s companions was determined by the amount of money to be transported.

      In such a context, it was better to travel by ship, since the crew and passengers of a vessel were fixed and known individuals whose movements could be monitored, whereas on the road and in inns one was constantly encountering strangers about whom it was difficult to know what they had noticed and who might flee after an attack.

   2. A Sense of Foreboding

      Why, then, did Paul choose to take the overland route northward instead of the sea route eastward? It was because he had decided to return first to Macedonia, and the sea route northward would have forced him to sail against the summer winds and would have caused endless delays. But why did he want to return to Macedonia? Paul likely had a premonition that he would never return from Jerusalem, and so he wished to bid farewell to the communities he had founded there. This hypothesis is supported by the fact that, despite his eagerness to reach Jerusalem, he devoted time to his two foundations.

      Paul remained in Troas, even though a ship bound for Assos was ready to set sail. He instructed his companions to go ahead, having agreed to join them by crossing on foot at the foot of the great promontory (Acts 20:13). We can assume that he was held up by unresolved matters in Troas. Paul had been able to devote only a little time to the local community (2 Cor 2:12–13). No doubt he had promised them he would return during his previous stay. During a final meeting, he told them it was unlikely he would ever see them again. Naturally, they stayed with him until the very last moment.

      It is only in this light that it becomes possible to explain why Paul decided to avoid going to Ephesus and instead summoned the elders to Miletus. He did not wish to relive the same heart-wrenching ordeal as the farewell at Troas. Miletus was located 80 km from Ephesus, and thus a journey of about three days, perhaps a little longer for elderly people. In his speech at Miletus, Paul does not explicitly bid farewell to the elders, but the final nature of the visit is clearly indicated by his apprehension regarding what will happen in Jerusalem (Acts 20:22), and by his foresight for the future, since he warns the elders that they will henceforth bear sole responsibility for the church in Ephesus (Acts 20:28).

3. Paul’s Reception in Jerusalem

   This section of the Travelogue culminates with Paul’s arrival in Jerusalem (Acts 21:17) and continues with his departure for Rome (Acts 27:1). For everything that happened in the meantime, we rely entirely on Luke and his other sources. However, it is increasingly accepted that Luke had only a very rudimentary idea of what actually happened to Paul during his last visit to Jerusalem. The basic framework likely included nothing more than the following elements: Roman intervention saved Paul from a Jewish mob. The tribune in Jerusalem, Claudius Lysias, referred the case to his superior in Caesarea, Felix, who had not resolved it when he was replaced by Festus. Eventually, Paul asserted his right, as a Roman citizen, to be judged by the emperor and was sent to Rome. With remarkable literary skill, Luke brought these events to life. His aim was simply to embellish the facts and manipulate them in order to convey his own convictions regarding Paul’s role in the plan of salvation.

   Rather than attempting to establish the historical veracity of Luke’s account, it is preferable to address the two issues that concerned Paul in Rom 15:31–32: his apprehension regarding the reception of the collection and his fear of assassination. Were his fears justified?

   Only one verse in Acts can possibly be interpreted as an allusion to the collection: “After many years, I have come here with alms and offerings for my people” (Acts 24:17). But, since it was customary for devout pilgrims to bring alms to distribute in the Holy City, as well as money for sacrifices, Luke simply intends to show that Paul believed “in everything written in the Law and the Prophets” (Acts 24:14). But is it really possible that Luke was unaware of the existence of this collection? Since we cannot say for certain what Luke knew or did not know, it is more relevant to ask what James and the other members of the Church in Jerusalem knew. Recall that it was James who had requested financial assistance for his church from Paul during the Jerusalem Council. Not only had this request been made less than five years earlier, but Paul’s response must have been the subject of constant discussion.

   What, then, were the feelings of James and the Jewish Christians in Jerusalem at the time of Paul’s arrival? One can imagine that as Paul’s radically antinomian stance spread within the increasingly nationalistic church in Jerusalem, some intended to categorically refuse any gift from such “unclean” hands, while others, more pragmatic, would have argued that money has no smell, that it was necessary, and that it could be put to good use, without necessarily subscribing to Paul’s idea of a link between the Jewish and Gentile churches. In any case, the decision rested with James.

   What happened when Paul finally made his appearance? The possibilities are limited: (1) the collection was accepted; (2) the collection was rejected; (3) some Jerusalemites accepted the collection despite the objections of others; (4) the delivery of the collection was blocked. In order to remain faithful to a project he had initiated, James’s first reaction would have been to seek a way to accept the collection. His main concern, therefore, would have been to convince himself and his right-wing constituency that Paul remained a practicing Jew and that his reputation as an antinomian was unjustified. A simple profession of faith would not have sufficed. Paul had to make a public gesture demonstrating his Jewish identity. The simplest act—and the minimum that James could accept—would have been the purification required of all Jews coming from Gentile territories and wishing to enter the Temple. They were presumed to be defiled by a corpse, and this Levitical impurity had to be cleansed by a priest sprinkling water from the sacrifice on the third and seventh days. Only by performing this ritual could Paul have established a relationship with the most devout members of the Jerusalem community, who, moreover, would have been satisfied by the implicit condemnation of the Gentiles.

   Luke alludes to a form of purification at the temple, but he confuses Paul’s purification with the ceremony marking the end of his Nazirite vow. Fulfilling a Nazirite vow was no easy task. The required offering consisted of “a one-year-old male lamb without blemish as a burnt offering, a one-year-old female lamb without blemish as a sin offering, a ram without blemish as a fellowship offering, and a basket of unleavened bread, cakes of fine flour mixed with oil, and unleavened wafers anointed with oil, along with the grain offerings and drink offerings required for them” (Num 6:14–15). For a poor person, the financial burden was considerable. Given Paul’s personal financial situation, as revealed in his letters, it is highly unlikely that he had the means to pay for four Nazirites.

   Luke attributes the initiative for Paul’s purification rite to the leaders of the Jerusalem community, but it is more likely that Paul himself was behind it. The concern expressed in Rom 15:31–32 attests to his constant worries about how he would be received in Jerusalem. During the long journey from Greece, he had all the time necessary to devise a plan that would reassure the believers in Jerusalem while presenting them with a fait accompli. Unfortunately, the plan was set in motion but never carried through to completion. Even before the seven days of his purification had ended (Acts 21:27), the second danger Paul had foreseen materialized. Non-Christian Jews attempted to lynch him. The garrison at the Antonia Fortress intervened to save him. He was then detained by the Romans. We will never know what his companions did with the collection.

4. A Roman Prisoner

   A distinctive feature of Luke’s account following Paul’s arrest is the number of speeches attributed to him. In Jerusalem, he addresses the people (Acts 22:1–21) and the Sanhedrin (Acts 23:1–10), then in Caesarea, the Roman governors Felix (Acts 24:1–21), Festus, and the Jewish king Agrippa II (Acts 26:1–23). Paul’s message reaches all segments of the Palestinian population, from the crowd to the royal court, from religious authorities to civil authorities. Historically speaking, all of this coming from a prisoner is hardly plausible. Luke puts his theological vision into Paul’s mouth.

   1. A Hazardous Journey to Rome

      Problems multiply when we turn to the account of the voyage to Rome (Acts 27:1–28:14). Not only do the Western and Alexandrian texts offer significantly different versions, but both show traces of source material and editorial interventions. Let us give a few examples of the lack of literary unity within the Western text.

      1. Acts 27:8–10 cannot belong to the same narrative as 27:11–12. The former recounts a dangerous voyage on the high seas departing from Fair Havens in Crete, while the latter describes a similar voyage, the success of which is far from assured, and whose destination is Phoenix in Crete.

      2. Acts 27:13–17 recounts a tumultuous crossing to the island of Clauda, where the ship finds refuge, but in 27:18, it is still at sea.

      3. The unusual Homeric expression epekilan tēn naun, meaning “to land on an open beach” (with no connection to a shipwreck), appears in both 27:29 and 27:41. This repetition reveals the editorial technique of “repetition.”

      Here is a reconstruction of Luke’s source by Boismard and Lamouille (Les Actes des deux apôtres – 2, 1990, pp. 225–226).

      Note : TA = Alexandrian text-type

      Travel Journal

      Acts I

      (27: 1) When it was decided that we were to sail for Italy, (3) we came to Sidon. (7b) Putting out to sea from there, we sailed under the lee of Crete, (8) and came to Fair Havens near a city. (9) Since we had lost much time, and sailing was now dangerous because even the Fast had already passed, Paul advised them (10) saying, ‘Men, I can see that the voyage will be with danger and much heavy loss, not only of the cargo and the ship, but also of our lives.’ (12 TA) But the majority was in favour of putting to sea. (13) When a moderate south wind began to blow we sailed along the coast of Crete. (14) A storm struck from the south-east. (18) The next day, since the boat was being pounded so violently, (19) we jettisoned the cargo. (20) When the storm had raged for many days, when neither sun nor stars appeared, we finally lost all hope of surviving. (37) We were about 70 people. (21) The food having completely run out, Paul stood up and said, ‘Men, you should have listened to me and not set sail from Crete and thereby avoided this danger and loss. (22a) I urge you now to keep up your courage, for there will be no loss of life among us. (26) We must strike an island.’ (15) The ship was pushed by the wind, and we arrived at an island called [Gaudos]. (17b) There we rested. (28: 2) The natives welcomed us (10a) and showed us unusual honours. (11) We sailed on an Alexandrian ship which had wintered at the island. (14b) And so we came to Rome. (15 a) The believers, when they heard, came to meet us.

      (27: 1b) The following day having called a centurion called Julius, he delivered to him Paul and some other prisoners. (6) The centurion found a ship of Alexandria sailing for Italy and put (them) on board. (11–12) The captain and the owner decided to put to sea on the chance that somehow they could reach Phoenix, a harbor of Crete. (13) Supposing that they had obtained their purpose they weighed anchor and sailed (to) Crete. (14) But soon a tempest struck. (15) When the ship was caught and could not face the wind, they took measures to undergird the ship. Then fearing they should run on the Syrtis, they lowered the gear, and so were driven. (18b) They began next day to throw the cargo overboard. (19) And the third day they cast out with their own hands the tackle of the ship (38) and the ship was lightened. (27) When the fourteenth night had come, about midnight, the sailors suspected that they were nearing land. (41) They ran the vessel aground. (28: 1) Having landed, they recognized the region which was called Malta. (2a) The natives showed them unusual kindness, (10b) putting on board whatever we needed. (16) When we came to Rome, Paul was permitted to stay by himself with the soldier who guarded him.

      The similarity between the two accounts is striking. From the eastern coast of the Mediterranean, a ship set sail for Crete as autumn gave way to winter. The risk was justified by the prospect of a smooth crossing. On the next leg of the journey, toward Italy, the travelers were not so fortunate. Caught in a storm, the crew was forced to throw the cargo overboard. They survived and found refuge on an island, where they were welcomed with hospitality by the natives, who eventually sent them on their way to Rome. So many similarities indicate unequivocally that we are dealing with two versions of the same event. Furthermore, the two journeys must be dated to roughly the same period. The journey described in the Travel Journal must have taken place after Paul’s visit to Jerusalem to deliver the collection for the poor. According to Acts I, the process leading up to this journey began with Paul’s arrest in Jerusalem.

      There is, however, one major difference between the two texts: Paul’s status. According to Acts I, he is a prisoner, but in the Travel Journal, he is free, as in the other sections of this document. Yet it is the same journey. How can we make sense of these two versions? We must not forget that, according to Acts I, the decision to go to Rome was made by Paul (Acts 25:11–12). Festus could not have refused his appeal to the emperor. It was therefore perfectly plausible to recount the journey while omitting the fact that Paul was, technically, a prisoner. Furthermore, certain clues in the Travel Journal suggest that Paul was not in control of his own destiny. For Paul was in the habit of preferring the overland route. The decision to take to the sea here was not his own. Second, why did Paul not heed his own warning that it was too risky to continue the journey (Acts 27:11) and why did he not leave the ship at Fair Havens? It is because he had no choice. The decisions were made by the centurion, under whose custody he was traveling.

   2. Incarceration in the Eternal City

      Luke describes the conditions of Paul’s imprisonment in Rome. He lived in private quarters, under the supervision of a single soldier (Acts 28:16, 30). This form of detention is not implausible in itself. The alternative would have been prison. However, in prison, it would have been difficult to receive visitors and deliver the speech that Luke attributes to Paul. The implausibility of this speech to the Jews, as well as their reaction, reveals Luke’s intentions and once again compromises his credibility as a historian. If this account is his invention, could he not also have created the context allowing Paul to continue his missionary activity “quite openly and without hindrance” (Acts 28:31)? A major question mark therefore hangs over the nature of Paul’s detention in Rome. It is highly likely that he endured difficult times, even though, based on his experience, there was no reason to be discouraged: he had always been released after his many imprisonments (2 Cor 11:23).

      According to Luke, Paul’s imprisonment lasted two years (Acts 28:30). From a Roman official’s perspective, Paul was not a particularly important prisoner, and a purely fortuitous release might have been beneficial to him—for instance, if an act of clemency were deemed appropriate at a given moment, or simply to lighten the court’s caseload by clearing backlogs. But Luke was probably unaware of what happened to Paul, as well as to Peter, and ended his account because he had no further information.

5. The Pastoral Letters

   Are there other sources of information that shed light on Paul’s later career? For some biblical scholars who accept the Pauline authorship of the Pastoral Epistles (1 and 2 Timothy, Titus), these letters provide insight into the period of Paul’s life between his imprisonment in Rome and his death in the year 67.

   1. The Problem of Authenticity

      A simple reading of the Pastoral Epistles is enough to show that they differ from the other letters in the Pauline corpus: there are differences in (1) language, (2) literary style, (3) theological perspective, (4) the organization of the Church, and (5) the nature of the opposition the Church faces. Consequently, the prevailing view among biblical scholars is that at least the majority of these three letters were not written by Paul. According to this hypothesis, the author sought to invoke Paul’s authority in an attempt to resolve the Church’s problems around the year 100. He thus created three apocryphal letters. How were they accepted? Rumors spread that they had remained outside the developing Pauline corpus because of their private nature. However, the needs of the Church now demanded their publication. This hypothesis is entirely plausible. Most scholars agree that the Epistle to the Ephesians was not composed by Paul himself, and the extent to which he explicitly wrote it under his own authority remains questionable. There are, moreover, several apocryphal letters, such as the Epistle to the Laodiceans and the Third Epistle to the Corinthians, as well as the Epistle to Titus, not to mention the supposed letters of Paul to the Macedonians and Alexandrians, known only through vague and late allusions. However, unlike the apocryphal gospels, the epistolary form was not a widespread genre. We cannot therefore assert that there was a climate of acceptance conducive to the integration of the apocryphal pastoral epistles into church life. Furthermore, the pastoral epistles, addressed to individuals and rich in personal details, differ fundamentally from the apocryphal letters that have come down to us, which are addressed to churches and contain little or no personal information. Finally, we must not assume that Christians of the first two centuries were characterized by credulity and naivety. If the pastoral letters were indeed accepted, there must have been a very close connection with Pauline circles.

   2. The Authenticity of the Second Timothy

      When considering the three pastoral epistles (1 and 2 Timothy, Titus), we must distinguish the group consisting of 1 Timothy and Titus from 2 Timothy. Indeed, when analyzing the vocabulary, style, and doctrine of these pastoral epistles, we must conclude that 2 Timothy cannot have been written by the same author who composed 1 Timothy and Titus. Regarding the status of the sender and the recipient, Christology, ministry, the Gospel, attitudes toward women, and false teachings, it is possible to identify 30 points where elements found in 2 Timothy are absent from 1 Timothy and Titus, or conversely, are present in the latter but absent from 2 Timothy. Thus, the judgment regarding the authenticity of 1 Timothy and Titus cannot be applied to 2 Timothy.

      As a methodological approach, one must initially consider a document to be authentic unless compelling evidence demonstrates that it is not. However, an in-depth stylometric study has concluded that 2 Timothy is as close to the core of the Pauline corpus as the Second Epistle to the Corinthians, which belongs to the group most widely recognized as authentic. The significance of the Second Epistle to Timothy within the Pauline corpus is clearly illustrated by the large number of parallels with the authentic letters. Furthermore, the only plausible explanation for the acceptance of the Pastoral Epistles lies in the authenticity of one of the three letters. If one of them had been known and recognized for a long time, the late “discovery” of the other two—which share the same general structure—could be explained in various convincing ways.

      As for the biographical details, it is a mistake to try to reconcile those contained in 2 Timothy with those in 1 Timothy. They belong to two different worlds. The biographical details in 2 Timothy must be studied on their own terms.

6. Rome and Spain

   When Paul wrote 2 Timothy, he was in prison (2 Tim 1:8, 16) as a criminal (2 Tim 2:9). As had been the case in Ephesus, he was able to write letters and receive visitors. His visitor was Onesiphorus: “May the Lord grant mercy to the household of Onesiphorus, for he has often refreshed me and was not ashamed of my chains. On the contrary, as soon as he arrived in Rome, he eagerly sought me out and found me” (2 Tim 1:16–17). This passage provides us with a great deal of information, particularly regarding the location of his imprisonment. Paul praises Onesiphorus’s tenacity in finding him, since Rome was a large city of one million inhabitants with no street names or house numbers. The implication that Onesiphorus was his only visitor and that he received little help in finding him is confirmed by Paul’s sense of isolation (2 Tim 4:11). Evidently, Paul’s interactions with the church in Rome were not particularly warm. At the end of the Second Epistle to Timothy, Paul conveys greetings from Eubulus, Pudens, Linus, Claudia, and all the believers (4:21). All these names are Latin. There is no doubt that they were members of the local church. It is equally clear, however, that they distanced themselves from the apostle: “When I first made my defense, no one stood by me; everyone deserted me” (2 Tim 4:16). Given Paul’s evident desire to be surrounded by faithful friends (2 Tim 4:11), it would seem that if he mentions a few names, it is to give Timothy the impression that his relations with the church in Rome were better than they actually were.

   This situation is hardly compatible with the circumstances of Paul’s first imprisonment in Rome, however long it may have lasted. At that time, as we know from the Epistle to the Romans (Rom 16), he not only had old friends in the Roman church (for example, Rufus’s mother), but two of his most faithful co-workers, Priscilla and Aquila, were in charge of one of the house churches. When the Second Epistle to Timothy was written, they were no longer in Rome (2 Tim 4:19). We are therefore compelled to consider a second imprisonment in Rome some time after the first. This means, of course, that Paul was released after his first imprisonment, and we must assume that he continued his missionary work. Where was he preaching? His plan was to travel to Spain (Rom 15:24), and Clement of Rome, writing around the year 95, affirms that this was precisely what he intended to do:

   It was as a result of jealousy and discord that Paul demonstrated (how one wins) the prize of endurance. Chained seven times, exiled, stoned, and having become a herald in the East and the West, he received resplendent glory for his faith. After teaching righteousness to the whole world, reaching the borders of the West, and fulfilling his martyrdom before those in authority, he left the world and went to the holy place, an illustrious model of endurance ” (1 Clement 5:5–7).

   By using the term “borders of the West,” Clement of Rome can only be referring to Spain. Under the best conditions, the Iberian Peninsula was a seven-day sail from Ostia, the port of Rome. But it is impossible to be more precise about the exact place where Paul might have gone. As for whether the Church of Rome sent him on a mission as he had hoped, this is doubtful given the strained relations with the Church revealed in 2 Timothy. One can imagine that, with his impetuous nature, Paul must have set out on the mission anyway, accompanied by those who had been his companions.

   The Iberian Peninsula was the most Romanized of all the territories under Roman control. Given this close relationship, it is not unlikely that the Roman believers considered Spain to be part of their sphere of influence and felt it was their responsibility to bring the Gospel there. In their eyes, it would have been extremely presumptuous of Paul to act without their approval. Not only would he have flouted the dignity of the church in the empire’s capital, but his inevitable failure would have jeopardized the organization of their own subsequent missionary expeditions. This hypothesis, despite its speculative nature, would help explain the Roman church’s hostility toward him. Paul’s own silence could be explained by his failure, as was the case with his aborted attempt to convert the Nabataeans (Gal 1:17). Chronologically, this event likely lasted no more than a single summer. The fact that Greek was not widely spoken remains the most likely explanation for the failure of the Spanish mission. Consequently, the southern coast of Gaul and northern Italy would not have been any more fertile ground. Where could Paul have gone next?

7. Once More the Aegean

   Upon his return from Spain, it would have been surprising for Paul to have made his failure known to the Roman church. It is more likely that he bypassed the city of Rome to the south to reach the Appian Way, which ran through southern Italy to the port of Brindisi on the Adriatic Sea. If the season were not too far along, it would have been easy to find a ship to Dyrrachium, the gateway to Illyria.

   We must not forget that Illyria was the only region in the East where Paul still had unfinished business, since his mission had been abruptly interrupted by the crisis in Corinth, which is the subject of chapters 10 through 13 of the Second Epistle to the Corinthians. Drawing on his long experience, Paul knew that the foundations of the church there needed to be strengthened—something he had been unable to do because of his first imprisonment. He therefore owed them a follow-up visit, just as he had done for all his other congregations. This is likely the reason for his return to the East. Had he followed his usual practice in Macedonia, Paul would have spent at least a year ministering to the Illyrians. Once convinced of the church’s strength, he knew that his continued presence would hinder the community’s normal development. Where did Paul go next?

   The Second Epistle to Timothy provides several geographical references, but only five pertain to Paul’s itinerary. Two allude to what Timothy already knew; the other three constitute new information. The expressions “you know” (1:15) and “you know very well” (1:18) frame two types of behavior that should be instructive for Timothy. Paul contrasts the attitude of those “in Asia who deserted me” with the devotion of Onesiphorus, as evidenced by “the gifts he sent to Ephesus.” It is clear that Timothy has firsthand knowledge of these two episodes, and the second would place him in Ephesus with Paul at the time they occurred. The fact that he was unaware of what had happened in two port cities—one north of Ephesus, Troas, and the other to the south, Miletus—indirectly confirms that the capital of Asia was Timothy’s base of operations. “When you come, bring the cloak I left with Carpus in Troas, along with the books, and especially the scrolls” (2 Tim 4:13); “Trophimus I left behind, sick, at Miletus” (2 Tim 4:20). The fifth mention contrasts sharply with the previous one: “Erastus remained in Corinth” (2 Tim 4:20).

   This last reference allows us to choose among the options available to Paul after his departure from Illyria. It rules out a journey south to Corinth, since he would then have been able to inform Timothy of Erastus’s decision during their subsequent meeting in Ephesus. Consequently, Paul continued eastward along the Via Egnatia and likely visited Thessalonica and Philippi before crossing over to Troas. The simplest explanation for why Paul left his cloak, books, and notebooks in Troas is that they would have been an impossible burden to carry on his 338-kilometer walk to Ephesus in the heat of summer. It is not known how long he spent in the capital of Asia or whether he visited the churches in the Lycus Valley. He eventually settled in Miletus, from where he took a ship to Corinth. The purpose of this pastoral journey through the Aegean Sea could only have been to edify, encourage, and console (1 Cor 14:3) the churches he had founded.

8. The Problem of Timothy

   Where was Timothy when Paul wrote the Second Epistle to Timothy? It cannot have been Ephesus, since Paul has to inform him that he sent Tychicus there (2 Tim 4:12). We know that Timothy had previously been in Ephesus with Paul (2 Tim 1:15–18), but it is clear that he was no longer there. Nevertheless, Paul still knew where to send his letter. Since Timothy was unaware of what had happened north (Troas) and south of Ephesus (Miletus) (2 Tim 4:13, 20) and since he had to pass through Troas to reach Rome, his new mission could therefore only have been to the east, among the churches of the Lycus Valley or those of Galatia.

   The Second Epistle to Timothy clearly suggests that Paul is dissatisfied with his disciple’s attitude. The repeated exhortation: “Share in my sufferings” (2 Tim 1:8; 2:3), when considered in the context of the invitation to “rekindle the gift of God that is within you… for God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, love, and self-control ” (2 Tim 1:6), reveals a certain lack of commitment on Timothy’s part. To some extent, he was not fulfilling the mission of an evangelist; he was not fully carrying out his ministry (2 Tim 4:5). Paul may have noticed this himself during his stay in Ephesus. Paul’s first attempt to remedy the situation was to devise a mission that would take Timothy away from the city, while he himself would take charge of the church.

   Paul’s stay in Ephesus does not seem to have improved the situation. Indeed, “all the residents of Asia have turned away from me” (2 Tim 1:15) suggests that he exacerbated the tensions that were stirring up the community. Opposition to Paul had always existed in Ephesus (Phil 1:14–18), and it is highly likely that the church had evolved differently from the Pauline model during the seven years—or even longer (beginning in the year 54)—that Paul was separated from his flock. The false teaching that Paul urges Timothy to avoid undoubtedly reflects his personal experience during his last visit to Ephesus. The main concern of 2 Timothy is fruitless debate, “quarrels over words” (2 Tim 2:14), “profane and empty talk” (2 Tim 2:16), and “senseless and empty inquiries” (2 Tim 2:23). Such fruitless discussions, Paul insists, lead only to “the demoralization of the listeners” (2 Tim 2:14), to “increasing godlessness” (2 Tim 2:16), and to “quarrels” (2 Tim 2:23). Everything suggests that there was a group in Ephesus whose intellectual aspirations were similar to those of the “spirit-people” in Corinth.

   Paul’s departure for Miletus (2 Tim 4:20) may have been motivated by the realization that he was unable to resolve the problems within the Ephesian community. However, it was impossible for him to abandon the believers entirely, so he entrusted the responsibility to Prisca and Aquila, the founders of the church. Their presence in Ephesus is suggested by their ties to the family of Onesiphorus (2 Tim 4:19; cf. 1:18). Furthermore, the city lay on Timothy’s route from the Lycus Valley to Rome. From this perspective, the dispatch of Tychicus—whom Luke identifies as an Asian (Acts 20:4)—was intended to strengthen the Pauline faction within the church in Ephesus. Upon reflection, Paul realized that it was not wise to leave Timothy in the region. He lacked both the skills and the authority necessary to combat the theological verbalism that had taken hold in Ephesus and was in serious danger of spreading into the hinterland. Clearly, Timothy was one of those who make excellent assistants but poor leaders. That is why Paul summoned him to Rome, under the pretext that it would be for his own good (2 Tim 1:4; 4:9, 21).

9. What did the Future Hold?

   “Do your best to come see me before winter” (2 Tim 4:21). This terse instruction provides us with two important pieces of information. The letter must have been sent from Rome toward the end of spring or the beginning of summer, and Paul expected to be in Rome to receive Timothy at least four months later. Furthermore, he fully expected to need his winter coat (2 Tim 4:13). In addition, Paul instructs Timothy to bring Mark with him, “for he is helpful to my ministry” (2 Tim 4:11). Despite being in prison, it is clear that Paul looks forward to an active future. Although no one stood by him at his first trial (2 Tim 4:16), the verdict was not unfavorable to him, despite the fact that he had made no secret of his identity or his activities: “The Lord stood by me and gave me strength to proclaim the word fully, so that all the Gentiles might hear it. Thus I was rescued from the lion’s mouth” (2 Tim 4:17). He cannot imagine what new evidence might be brought against him and therefore looks forward with confidence to a favorable outcome: “The Lord will rescue me from every evil” (2 Tim 4:18).

   This optimistic outlook poses serious problems for understanding 2 Tim 4:6–8, where Paul alludes to his impending death. However, the entire context points to Paul’s sense of fulfillment. We are not dealing with the anguish of a man condemned to death, but with the serenity of a life well lived. Paul, who was then approaching 70, knew that his best years were behind him. Given the average life expectancy, he was living on borrowed time—especially for one who had borne in his body, for so many years, the death of Jesus (2 Cor 4:10). Every day was a blessing, and he intended to make the most of every moment. He might not live long after his release from prison, but that did not exempt him from the obligations of his ministry. He could prepare for the future, and if he were to be arrested, Timothy and Mark could take over.

10. Martyrdom

    Paul’s return to Rome must have taken place after the great fire that ravaged Rome for nine days (from July 19 to 28) in the year 64 and destroyed ten of the city’s fourteen districts. Very early on, rumors circulated that Herod had set the city ablaze to make way for his new urban development plan. Here is the account by the Roman historian Tacitus (Annals 15.44):

    But no human means, no imperial largesse, no expiatory ceremonies silenced the public outcry that accused Nero of having ordered the burning. To appease these rumors, he offered other culprits, and made a class of men, hated for their abominations and called Christians, suffer the most refined tortures. This name comes from Christ, who, under Tiberius, was delivered to the torture by the procurator Pontius Pilatus. Suppressed for a moment, this execrable superstition overflowed again, not only in Judea, where it had its source, but in Rome itself, where all that the world encloses of infamies and horrors flocked and found supporters. Those who confessed their sect were first seized, and, on their revelations, an infinite number of others, who were convinced not so much of arson as of hatred for the human race. Some were covered with animal skins and devoured by dogs; others died on crosses, or were smeared with inflammable substances, and when the day was over, they were burned in place of torches. Nero lent his gardens for this spectacle, and at the same time gave games in the Circus, where he sometimes mingled with the people in the clothes of a coachman, and sometimes drove a chariot. Also, although these men were guilty and had deserved the last rigors, the hearts opened with compassion, while thinking that it was not with the public good, but with the cruelty of only one, that they were immolated.

    The chronology of events suggests that the persecution of Christians was not an immediate consequence of the fire. Some time must have passed before the failure of the imperial efforts to appease the public became apparent and the rumors reached their peak. We cannot, therefore, assume that it lasted more than a year. The persecution should therefore likely be dated to the spring of the year 65. It is doubtful that it lasted any longer than was necessary to keep the population occupied. Prolonging the crackdown excessively risked drawing attention to the emperor’s true motives. Moreover, that same spring, Nero had to contend with the Pisonian conspiracy aimed at assassinating him. The unfortunate and lasting consequence of this episode was the creation of a troubling precedent: the presumption of guilt against Christians.

    News of Nero’s bestial ferocity spread like wildfire throughout the empire. By the fall of 65, it had reached the Pauline churches in Greece and Asia. Believers were horrified at the thought of the agonizing deaths suffered by their fellow believers. Seeing the impact of such horror on his own converts, Paul had little difficulty assessing the consequences for the few Christians in Rome who, by luck, had escaped the emperor’s clutches. If the Roman church was to survive, other communities would have to come to its aid. This is a reason that perfectly explains Paul’s return to Rome and Erastus’s decision to remain in Corinth (2 Tim 4:20). Erastus considered the risk too great. Paul knew he was putting his life in danger, but the need was urgent.

    If Paul returned to Rome under such circumstances, it is unlikely that he sneaked into the city and then cautiously wandered from one refuge to another. The restoration of the community required a visible presence. In order to instill courage and hope, he had to openly assume a leadership role. His witness had to be public. How long was he able to maintain this role?

    The reference in 1 Clement 6:1 to the persecution of Peter and Paul under Nero is elaborated upon by Eusebius:

    It is reported that, during the reign of Nero, Paul was beheaded in Rome itself, and that Peter was also crucified. This is confirmed by the fact that the cemeteries of Rome still bear the names of Peter and Paul… Bishop Dionysius of Corinth (around the year 170) informs us, in a letter to the Romans, that they were both martyred during the same period: “Through your eloquent exhortation, you have thus brought together all that has sprung from the seed sown by Peter and Paul in Rome and Corinth. For both of them sowed in our Corinth and taught us together; in Italy, too, they taught together in the same city and were martyred during the same period.” (Church History 2.25)

    The year of Paul’s death, which is not mentioned in Eusebius’s Church History, is provided in his Chronicle. Unfortunately, the versions differ. According to the Armenian version, the persecution unleashed by Nero cost Peter and Paul their lives during the thirteenth year of his reign (October 13, 66 – October 12, 67), whereas Jerome’s translation places it during the fourteenth year (October 13, 67 – June 9, 68). In his note on Paul in Illustrious Men, Jerome states that “he was beheaded in the fourteenth year of Nero, on the same day as Peter,” while the entry on Seneca in the same work indicates that “Seneca was executed by Nero two years before the martyrdom of Peter and Paul.” Since Seneca died in April 65, the eleventh year of Nero’s reign, the death of the apostles would therefore date to the thirteenth year of his reign. As for Nero’s personal involvement, it should be noted that he was in Greece from the fall of 66 until the end of 67 or the beginning of 68.

    Paul’s beheading suggests that he was condemned by a duly constituted court. The location of his execution and burial are unknown. No public liturgical veneration of the martyrs is attested in Rome before the mid-3rd century. Consequently, no reliable local tradition can be established. It has been convincingly argued that the veneration of Peter and Paul at Ad Catacumbas, on the Appian Way, originated in a private revelation of dubious origin, and that the Roman Church handled the situation with great skill by claiming that the bodies had been secretly transferred elsewhere: Peter’s to the Vatican and Paul’s to the Ostian Way.