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James or Jacob in the Bible?

The problem of names surfaced at a recent Bible study at the St. Paul Union Church in Antalya, Turkey. Pastor Dennis Massaro was discussing the three men named “James” in the New Testament: Two were apostles, and the third was the leader of the Jerusalem church and author of the eponymous letter—the Book of James. Participants in the study came from a range of countries, including the Netherlands, Iran, Mexico, Moldova and Cameroon. When I asked what the name of these men was in their languages, they all said “Jacob.”

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Baroque artist Guido Reni depicts the apostle James, son of Zebedee, in his painting Saint James the Greater (c. 1636–1638).

When I was teaching a course on the New Testament General Letters (Hebrews through Jude), I began by introducing the Book of Jacob, also known as the Book of James. Students were perplexed until they learned that Jacob is the proper translation of the Greek name Iakōbos. One student wrote later that knowing this “turned my understanding of the writing upside down.” Another observed that “with the name change, the loss of the Jewish lineage occurs.”

So how did the Jewish name Ya’akov become so Gentilized as James? Since the 13th century, the form of the Latin name Iacomus began its use in English. In the 14th century, John Wycliffe made the first Bible translation into English and translated Iakobus as James. (However, in both the Old and New Testaments he arbitrarily used the name Jacob for the patriarch). In all future English translations the name stuck, especially after 1611, when King James I sponsored the translation then called the Authorized Version. Since 1797 it has been called the King James Bible.

So what is lost by using James instead of Jacob? First, it has created an awkwardness in academic writing. Scholars providing a transliteration of James indicate Iakōbos, which even lay readers know is not the same. Hershel Shanks has noted that the reason Israeli scholars failed to understand the significance of the eponymous ossuary is that they didn’t connect James with Ya’akov.1

Second, James’s ancestral lineage is lost, as the student noted above. In Matthew’s genealogy, we learn that Joseph’s father was named Jacob (Matthew 1:16) and that his family tree included the patriarch Jacob (Matthew 1:2). James was thus named after his grandfather. As Ben Witherington writes, “It is clear that the family of ‘James’ was proud of its patriarchal heritage.”2 So Jacob was the third Jacob in the family.

Third, James’s Jewish cultural background is minimized. Tal Ilan identifies Jacob as the 15th most popular name in Palestine in antiquity, with 18 known persons carrying it.3 Including both the Eastern and Western Diasporas, Jacob was the third most popular Jewish name, with 74 occurrences.

Fourth, the Jewish literary heritage is muddled. The Book of Jacob (i.e., the Book of James) is addressed to “the twelve tribes in the diaspora” (James 1:1) and full of references and allusions to the Torah and Wisdom Literature of the Jewish Bible (Christians’ Old Testament). Scholars consider James the most “Jewish” book in the New Testament. Its genre is considered to be a diaspora letter like Jeremiah 29:1–23 and the apocryphal works The Epistle of Jeremiah, 2 Maccabees 1:1–2:18, and 2 Apocalypse of Baruch 78–86.

For these reasons, changing English translations of James to Jacob makes a lot of sense. In my lifetime we have adapted to a number of name changes: Bombay to Mumbai, Peking to Beijing, Burma to Myanmar, and Rhodesia to Zimbabwe. These changes were soon incorporated by the media as well as in subsequent editions of geographical and historical books. Making such an onomastic adjustment need not be too difficult in religious circles, either.

But can such a switch be made practically? Biblical scholars and publishers would need to agree that continued use of “James” is linguistically indefensible and culturally misleading. Most difficult to change would be Bible translations, which are very conservative. To start, a footnote could denote that James is really Jacob. And while we’re at it, let’s rehabilitate Jacob as the name of two of Jesus’ disciples/apostles. These connections, now lost only for English readers, were caught by Greek-speaking audiences as well as modern readers of translations in most other languages. Let’s give Jacob his due.

Notes:

  1. Hershel Shanks and Ben Witherington III, The Brother of Jesus: The Dramatic Story & Meaning of the First Archaeological Link to Jesus & His Family (New York: Harper Collins Publishers, 2003), p. 28.
  2. Shanks and Witherington III, Brother of Jesus, p. 97.
  3. Ṭal Ilan, Lexicon of Jewish Names in Late Antiquity. Part IV: The Eastern Diaspora 330 BCE–650 CE (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011).
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Destroying a Temple

The burning of the Ephesian Temple of Artemis by Herostratus

The apostle Paul, writing from Ephesus to the Christians in Corinth, warned: “If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy him; for God’s temple is sacred, and you are that temple” (1 Corinthians 3:17).

The remains of the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus. The magnificent structure was one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Photo: Mark Wilson.

July 21 marked the anniversary of one of the most infamous destructions of a temple in history. On that night in 356 B.C.E., an Ephesian named Herostratus set out to make his mark in history. He walked to the Temple of Artemis with fire and flammable materials with the intention of burning it down.

The construction of this temple, which is one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, was sponsored in part through the benefaction of Croesus, the wealthy king of the Lydian empire. Begun around 550 B.C.E. under the direction of the Cretan architect Chersiphron and his son Metagenes, 36 of its columns were decorated with relief carvings, according to Pliny the Elder. A massive structure—it was 377 feet long and 151 feet wide, the size of a football field—it was supposedly the first Greek temple built of marble.

Herostratus must have been an unhappy man who had failed to achieve honor and status in Ephesus. So he became determined to put his name in the history books. Herostratus knew that he could not do much damage to the marble itself. However, if he could get to the wooden furnishings inside the temple, he would have a great chance of success.

Sneaking past the temple guards, Herostratus placed the rags in key places inside the naos, the inner sanctuary. He then lit each one, probably using the small flame from the olive oil lamp he would have carried. Soon fire was raging with flames climbing up the wooden beams to engulf the wooden ceiling. Even the cult statue of Artemis, made of ebony or grapewood by the noted Athenian sculptor Endoios (also spelled Endoeus), was burning. By morning all that remained was a smoldering ruin of 40-foot high columns.

The Ephesian Artemis. Ephesus Museum, Selçuk, Turkey. Photo: Mark Wilson.

Instead of fleeing the scene, Herostratus was boastful about his deed. He surrendered to the temple authorities and was imprisoned. Ephesian officials, to discourage similar acts in the future, quickly executed Herostratus and attempted to remove his name from memory by forbidding its mention under penalty of death. However, an ancient historian named Theopompus recorded Herostratus’s arson in his book Hellenics. The arsonist’s name that the Ephesians had tried to erase has thus been preserved to this day.

Later Greek and Roman tradition states that Alexander the Great was born in Macedonia on that same night, July 21, 356. The Roman historian Plutarch suggested in his Life of Alexander that the goddess Artemis was so busy attending to Alexander’s birth that she failed to protect her temple. Alexander later tried to pay for the temple’s rebuilding, but was told by Ephesian officials that it was not right for a god to build a temple for another god.

Herostratus’s destruction of the Temple of Artemis led to the coining of the phrase “Herostratic fame” meaning someone who commits a criminal act in order to receive the notoriety that follows. And reference to him and his arson has appeared in the works of noted authors such as Chaucer, Cervantes and Sartre.

The Temple of Artemis that stood during Paul’s visits to Ephesus was the successor to the one Herostratus had burned down. Is it possible that Paul and his audience in Corinth knew the story of Herostratus and his infamous destruction of the Temple of Artemis? I think it is probable that this incident was in mind when Paul wrote the well-known verse (quoted above) to the Corinthians. He was accusing them of perpetrating a similar shameful act: destroying the temple of God in Corinth—the church—through their immature and immoral behavior.

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Money Talks through Ancient Coins

Usually I have to travel hundreds or thousands of miles to attend a conference. But recently, one was held near my office here in Antalya, Turkey, at the Ramada Plaza Hotel. Sponsored by the local Research Institute on Mediterranean Civilizations, it was titled the “First International Congress on Anatolian Monetary History and Numismatics.”

The First International Congress on Anatolian Monetary History and Numismatics.

Numismatics is a unique scholarly discipline that spans archaeology, ancient history and epigraphy. It seems the axiom “money talks” is true. Much information can come from an ancient coin: the name of a king or emperor as well as his regnal titles, the names of governors or elite citizens and a city’s symbols, local gods and goddess and foundation myths. Coins are also one of the primary means of dating archaeological remains. Sealed in a stratum, they can provide conclusive evidence for the date of that level.

I was eager to learn about new discoveries and developments in the field. One of the speakers was the French authority Michel Amandry, whose work on Roman imperial coinage I had consulted during my doctoral research. In Biblical studies the field of numismatics helps to illustrate the influence of Roman imperialism. Even Jesus discussed coinage on one occasion with the Pharisees and Herodians. He asked whose image and inscription (Greek: epigraphē) was on the denarius, and they replied that it was Caesar’s (Mark 12:16).

Roman Coins with Prof Kevin Butcher – Render unto Caesar

But which Caesar was it? Numismatics has provided us with an answer. One of the congress’s speakers was Kevin Butcher, an authority on Roman Syria, who has discussed the “Jesus coin” in above video. He explains why the image on the coin could only be that of Augustus, contrary to some popular opinions. His research has shown that denarii of Tiberius, the emperor who lived during the time of Jesus, never circulated in Judea.

A denarius from the reign of Augustus. Eretz Museum, Tel Aviv.

Something that struck me during the congress was the presentation of unprovenanced coinage sold at auctions. Various galleries and images connected to coin dealers were cited. I asked two of the numismatists at the congress about this. Readers of BHD know, some archaeological publications refuse to cite or publish unprovenanced material.* Both scholars told me that to ignore such coins would be to severely limit our understanding of ancient mints and coinage types. And they also believed that ignoring illegally excavated coins would not stem the flood of unprovenanced coinage entering the market.

In Turkey it is illegal for anyone except registered collectors to possess ancient coins. These collectors must maintain a detailed inventory that is reviewed regularly by a local museum. Because of Turkey’s numerous ancient sites, old Greek and Roman coins are frequently found, and many are collected clandestinely or sold on the antiquities market, from where they are shipped overseas. Turkish museums try to purchase ancient coins, particularly hoards, when they are found. Since most local museums display coins from the area, they usually have funds to purchase these coins. But the prices paid on the illegal market are often higher, especially when the coins are made of precious metals.

A final bonus at the congress was to see my friend, Inci Turkoğlu, give an outstanding presentation on the coins of Chalcedon, an ancient city located on the Asian side of the Bosporus in Istanbul. Numismatics is one portion of her doctoral dissertation being written on Constantinople’s sister city and the site of the Fourth Ecumenical Church Council in 451 CE. I walked away from the congress with a fresh appreciation for this specialized discipline and grateful for the contribution of these numismatists who helped me better understand the ancient world.

Of Pirates and Virgins: Greek and Turkish Scholars Colloquiating

The invitation to attend the Second Greek-Turkish Symposium on Epigraphy in May was one I couldn’t turn down. It had been extended by Mustafa Adak, the chairperson of the epigraphy and ancient history department of Antalya’s Akdeniz (“Mediterranean”) University. Not only was I interested to hear the presentation of some of the thirty papers, I was also curious to see how these scholars from similar, yet politically rivaling, cultures would get along. Recent news stories highlighted the controversy over who had invented baklava—the Turks or the Greeks. And what should that thick, hot drink with grounds in the bottom of the cup be called—Greek or Turkish coffee? However, the three-day colloquium turned out to be a model of peaceful relations as the scholars set aside their nationalistic differences for the sake of epigraphy.

Angelos Chaniotis

The symposium was held at the university’s conference hotel, set amidst the idyllic Lycian coast beneath Mount Olympos. In the first century B.C.E. the pirate Zenicetes overran the nearby ancient cities of Olympos and Phaselis and established his base there. When the Roman general Servilius Isauricus cornered the pirates in their stronghold in 77 B.C.E., Zenicetes and his followers committed collective suicide, much like the Sicarii did over a century later at Masada. So the natural and historical setting was ideal for scholarly endeavors. Another plus for me was that most of the presentations were in English.

The Roman Harbor at Phaselis on the Lycian Coast

The Roman Harbor at Phaselis on the Lycian CoastA speaker whom I particularly wanted to hear was the Greek epigrapher Angelos Chaniotis. Chaniotis had authored a recent article in Biblical Archaeology Review on the Jews and Godfearers in Aphrodisias. In his presentation, Chaniotis discussed a 2nd-3rd century C.E. funerary inscription of a young Aphrodisian woman named Melition Tatis. My ears perked up when he mentioned that she was called a parthenos in the inscription. The proper translation of this Greek word is still debated in several Biblical texts. Is the meaning in Isaiah 7:14 “virgin” (niv) or “young woman” (nrsv)? However, all translations of Matthew 1:23, which quotes the verse from Isaiah and speaks of Mary, read “virgin.” So I was intrigued whether this newly found inscription might help us understand better how parthenos was used in antiquity.

In Chaniotis’s handout, the word was translated “virgin.” But he suggested verbally that it was better understood as a class of young women. Chaniotis shared with me later that such a use was not just localized to Aphrodisias. And I learned that parthenos and its derivatives could even be a female name, probably indicating the person’s youthful appearance rather than her status of virginity or being unmarried. Chaniotis’s research has revealed that parthenos has three closely related yet distinct meanings: virgin, unmarried, and young/unmarriageable. While it may not always be possible to distinguish among them, an awareness of this difference can help us better understand Biblical texts. For example, the niv and nrsv both use “unmarried” in Acts 21:9 to designate Philip’s daughters, a better translation of parthenos than “virgin.” Listening to Chaniotis, I was reminded again of the importance of context in translating and interpreting Greek words.

This intercultural scholarly gathering was a great success. All agreed that a third Greek-Turkish epigraphy symposium should occur. However, a date could not be set because Greece’s economic situation may preclude its scholars from hosting one in the near future. So hopefully a sponsor will be found. Nevertheless, I look forward to colloquiate again with these epigraphers and to drink some more Turkish (or is it Greek) coffee?

Antipatris Herodian Street

Antipatris: Another Pauline Site Off My Bucket List

Mark Wilson Follows Paul’s Footsteps

Several years ago Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson brought the subject of “bucket lists” to our attention via a movie by that name. In case you didn’t see it, Nicholson’s billionaire character assists Freeman’s in fulfilling a number of wishes before he “kicked the bucket.” While I have not prepared a formal bucket list, I certainly have an informal one.

Antipatris Herodian Street
Ancient visitors would have approached the magnificent walls of Antipatris on this Herodian street. Biblical scholar Mark Wilson describes the road into Antipatris. “My imagination was stirred to picture Paul mounted on a horse and riding into Antipatris under the protection of 200 soldiers, 70 horsemen, and 200 spearmen.”

One wish is to visit all the sites related to Paul in the New Testament. Living in Turkey is certainly a boon to make that happen. So far, I have visited all the Pauline places in Turkey, Italy, and mainland Greece. In Israel the only place I hadn’t visited was Antipatris. Paul made an overnight stop there while being escorted by Roman troops en route from Jerusalem to Caesarea (Acts 23:31-32).

An opportunity to visit Antipatris presented itself in late February when I was leading a tour in Israel for my Regent University students. So my wife Dindy and I flew to Tel Aviv a day early and picked up a rental car at Ben Gurion airport. Since I drive in Turkey, I figured that driving in Israel wouldn’t be much different. In fact, the drive to our hotel in Yafo (Joppa) was a piece of cake, since we arrived on Friday afternoon, the eve of Shabbat, when the roads are largely empty.

Antipatris Mark Edited
Antipatris was one of the few Pauline sites that Biblical scholar Mark Wilson had yet to visit. By standing on this Herodian Street, Mark Wilson became familiar with yet another ancient city in Paul’s world. In addition to his research, Wilson guides BAS readers through Paul’s footsteps in Turkey.

Antipatris was one of the few Pauline sites that Biblical scholar Mark Wilson had yet to visit. By standing on this Herodian Street, Mark Wilson became familiar with yet another ancient city in Paul’s world. In addition to his research, Wilson guides BAS readers through Paul’s footsteps in Turkey.

Saturday morning we set out for Antipatris, today part of a national park called Yarkon. I plotted the route on a highway map, and it didn’t look too difficult. However, in Petak Tikva we missed a turn and wandered around for an hour. Fortunately, most Israelis speak some English so periodically we got redirected. One young man marveled that I was trying to find the place without the aid of a smart phone or GPS navigation system. Well, I happen to be old school when all we had were maps, and they usually work well enough.

Down the road I saw a sign pointing to Afek. Well, I knew that Antipatris was called Aphek in the Old Testament. Here the Philistines captured the Ark of the Covenant in a great battle with the Israelites (1 Samuel 4:1-11). So, thinking we were close, I turned–only to arrive at the Afek Industrial Park. Once again we retraced our route to the main road as my wife smiled patiently from the navigator’s seat.

Soon we spotted the massive walls of the 16th century Ottoman fort perched on Tel Afek’s summit. We found many Israelis in the park relaxing amidst the lush greenery under massive eucalyptus trees. Water flowed from the springs at the source of the Yarqon River; no wonder it was called Pegae (“the springs”) in the Hellenistic period. Herod later named the city Antipatris after his father.

Excavations have exposed a few rows of an odeon as well as part of the agora. But most thrilling for me was the ability to walk on the Herodian street that led into the city. My imagination was stirred to picture Paul mounted on a horse and riding into Antipatris under the protection of 200 soldiers, 70 horsemen, and 200 spearmen. Unlike our leisurely excursion on a sunny winter afternoon, Paul’s visit was stressful as he fled for his life. However, being a Roman citizen was a good perquisite for times like this.

Later our Israeli guide told me he had never visited Antipatris with a group. Was it worth the hassle of getting lost to find this out-of-the way place? Definitely! And now my bucket list of Pauline places has one more site checked off.

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Who Governed the Roman Province of Lycia-Pamphylia?

One thing I enjoy about living in Turkey is the serendipitous discoveries waiting to be found. Last year as my wife and I were returning from the grocery store, I looked into a garden and saw an ancient stone standing there. The top had later been hollowed out as a basin. As I walked through the gate, my heart was racing in anticipation: Would there be an inscription on its face? Sure enough there was! In well-cut Greek letters five lines stood out (the remainder of the inscription was buried beneath the tiled walkway). Two words jumped out in my initial examination: anthupaton Pamphylias, that is, “the governor of Pamphylia.”

Here I am with my wife Dindy (center) and Dr. Nuray Gökalp (right), proudly posing with the early-third-century C.E. Greek inscription that mentions Julius Tarius Titianus, governor of Pamphylia.

Anthupatos is the Greek word for the proconsul who governed a Roman senatorial province. Acts 13:7 describes how Paul and Barnabas met Sergius Paulus, the anthupatos of Cyprus.

Pamphylia means “land of all tribes” and originally designated the southern region of Asia Minor along the Mediterranean Sea. Later it became the name of a Roman province. Jews from Pamphylia were among those in Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost (Acts 2:10). Paul and Barnabas, after leaving Cyprus, made landfall at Perga, a major city of Pamphylia (Acts 13:13). At the end of the apostles’ first missionary journey they departed from another Pamphylian city, Attalia—modern Antalya—where I live (Acts 14:25). Like many civic degrees the demos and boulē (“the citizens and the council”) were the dedicators of this inscription, in this case for an eminent governor of the province, Julius Tarius Titianus.

To learn more about this inscription, I contacted the epigraphy department of the local Akdeniz (“Mediterranean”) University. There I was put in contact with Dr. Nuray Gökalp, an epigrapher presently preparing the corpus of inscriptions for Attalia. I emailed her pictures of the stone, and she quickly acknowledged that the inscription was unknown to her. Two days later we arranged a meeting. She brought a colleague, and it was exciting for me to see their excitement as they saw the inscription for the first time. Dr. Gökalp suggested at the time that the next line, now buried below ground level, undoubtedly said “and Lycia.” This region, west of Pamphylia, had been a double province with Pamphylia for over a century. After cleaning and wetting the stone, the epigraphers made a squeeze, a process that uses special paper to produce an impression of the surface’s texture. As we said our goodbyes, Dr. Gökalp promised to share the results of her investigation with me.

Who Governed the Roman Province of Lycia-Pamphlyia?
The squeeze that was made of the inscription.

Those results have just been published by Dr. Gökalp in a short essay in the journal Gephyra. The inscription is now firmly dated to the early third century C.E. The governor’s name was first found in the 19th century on an inscription dating to 202–205 C.E. in a bathhouse at Takina.

The noted archaeologist William Ramsay was one of the first scholars to publish this inscription. Until now, however, it was unknown whether Takina was in the province of Lycia-Pamphylia or in Asia. Most scholars thought the latter. The new inscription now definitely proves that Takina was in Lycia-Pamphlyia and that Tarius Titianus was the governor of this province and not of Asia. Another inscription mentioning Tarius Titianus, dating after 210 C.E., was recently found in Hippos, a Galilean city that was part of the Decapolis.* It turns out that he later served as the governor of Syria–Palestina. It is amazing to me that five lines of text with only 11 Greek words can tell us such a story. And to think that there are many more such stones still awaiting discovery. So my eyes are always on the lookout, waiting to find another one.

* For Hippos, see Arthur Segal and Michael Eisenberg, “The Spade Hits Sussita,” Biblical Archaeology Review, May/June 2006, and Michael Eisenberg, Archaeological Views, “What’s Luck Got to Do With It?” Biblical Archaeology Review, November/December 2010.