Diaspora is different from travel (though it works through travel practices) in that it is not temporary. It involves dwelling, maintaining communities, having collective homes away from home (and in this it is different from exile, with its frequently individualist focus).
—James Clifford
Μόνον τῶν πτωχῶν ἵνα μνημονεύωμεν, ὃ καὶ ἐσπούδασα αὐτὸ τοῦτο ποιῆσαι
—Gal. 2:10
The focus of this chapter is to revisit another difficult issue in Pauline scholarship, namely, the collection project. It is my contention that the various interpretations of Paul’s collection have not paid sufficient attention to how the concepts of home and homeland, as well as Paul’s acute sense of geographical space, might inform our understanding of his willingness to risk his life to move around to serve those inhabiting the ancestral “home.” Since diaspora studies is keenly concerned with the dynamics of movements, it is well poised to shed new light on the connections between Paul’s diasporic social locations and his attempt to restore and serve those inhabiting Jerusalem—especially those adherents sharing with him a bond in the resurrected Christ (Rom. 15:25; 26, 31; 1 Cor. 16:3). Another generative insight from diaspora studies in this chapter is how the ancestral homeland is reappropriated and reimagined by the diasporic figure Paul in the issue of the collection. With the help of diaspora studies analysis I will demonstrate how Paul, as a member of one ethnic diaspora, is preoccupied to help Christ followers of his ethnic group located in his ancestral homeland, and how he goes about engaging other ethnicities to participate in his financial relief project. For Paul, Jerusalem still maintains a very important place in his reimagination, and it is reappropriated to serve his rhetoric of new creation (Gal. 4:25-26). Thus what is gained from using the tools and insight of diaspora studies in the context of Paul’s collection project is the capacity to reread this issue from the perspective of social realities rather than solely from theological preoccupations, although theology cannot be neglected entirely. I will show at the end of the chapter how theology can still be engaged fruitfully, while not being too preoccupied by it.
I argue in this chapter that the collection project (mentioned in Gal. 2:10; 1 Cor. 16:1-4; 2 Cor. 8–9; Rom. 15:25-28) is at the heart of Paul’s diaspora politics of a commitment to the restoration of and service to those inhabiting the ancestral “home,” especially the poor invested in the resurrected Christ in a similar way as he is. I will begin by situating Paul as a diasporic figure through his travel practices; then the question of why Paul was so preoccupied with travelling for the collection project will be tackled in conversation with some major Pauline interpreters reflecting on the subject, before launching into the significance of why he was so eager to raise funds for the poor in Jerusalem through the lens of the concepts of home, of time, and space.
Paul and Travel
The question of why Paul travelled and how his trips were funded has only recently been explored in ways that are not obscured by apologetic concerns. The old romanticizing view of Paul as a formidable and ambitious traveler around the Mediterranean in the first century is being challenged (replaced?) by a more mundane view of Paul’s movements: he traveled to major cities as an artisan in search of economic opportunities and not as an active missionary with clear missionary strategies. Paul, the hero in Acts, undertakes his extended journeys (Acts 16:6-12; 20:13-16; 21:1-3; 27–28; 18:11-13) as an almost unscathed superhero in control of the times and circumstances (Acts 17:16-33; 27:27-44). Luke’s hero manages, even as a prisoner, to have a composure that impresses Roman governors (Felix, Festus—“Paul, your great learning is driving you insane!” in 26:24—and Agrippa, Acts 24–25) and local authorities (13:7; 28:7-10). The hero of Acts is a Roman citizen (22:26) who does not really have many difficulties with the Roman authorities, but has more problems with his fellow Judeans (13:50-51; 17:5-9; 21:27-36; 23:13-22)—in spite of the fact that he obeys the law and conforms to the ritualistic demands made on him (21:26)—wherever he tries to bring the gospel of Christ. The hero of Acts is under Roman care in a house arrest in Rome to fulfill the theological and ideological goal of Luke—the gospel is preached from Jerusalem to Rome—but in such an abode Paul is more like a resident philosopher sharing the wisdom of God revealed in his son with the different visitors he receives (entertains) in his place of seclusion (28:17-31). This image of Paul as the hero in control of his movements, and a traveler in different cities of the Roman Empire, serves Luke’s foundational myth of a movement that is not offensive to the empire, but, rather, imitates it and is intelligible to its social, political, and cultural elite.
Acts presents a hero-worship image of a Paul who, as a masculine and as a strong dominating figure, penetrates the shores and inlands of those lost in darkness. One may, then, wonder how a presentation of Paul as brutally treated, and utterly vulnerable to the whims of life’s precariousness and unpredictability, might confront modern middle-class academics, who imagine the first-century wanderer as a good fellow they could easily invite for a lovely afternoon tea to discuss disembodied theological niceties. The picture presented in 1 Cor. 4:11, for example, is far from being glamorous: going hungry and thirsty, in rags and brutally treated, and in a state of homelessness (καὶ πεινῶμεν καὶ διψῶμεν καὶ γυμνιτεύομεν καὶ κολαφιζόμεθα καὶ ἀστατοῦμεν). Again, many times Paul was subjected to the dangers and hardships of an ancient traveler: shipwreck, robbery, lack of sleep, hunger, and thirst (2 Cor. 11:23-27). He needed to find ways to sustain himself in the dire reality of a first-century itinerant worker. He could not go to some places because of probable difficulties with local authorities (1 Thess. 2:1-2, 17-18), or because he was not welcome by some local communities. In other words, Paul’s social realities as an ancient traveler and artisan were incongruous with the religious ideals that he might have had. Life for him as an itinerant worker and preacher in his diasporic social locations was grim and left him dependent on the support of others.
Approaching Paul as a diasporic figure through his travel practices also calls into question recent assertions that Paul was a champion of empire in the sense that he moved around by following and by mimicking the map of the Roman Empire. Joseph A. Marchal, for example, following Musa Dube’s theoretical framework for evaluating ancient texts based on their literary-rhetorical grounds, inquires about “Paul’s justification for his movement in the empire.” The question he adopts from Dube is the following: Does this text encourage travel to distant and inhabited lands, and how does it justify itself? Analyzing Paul’s rhetoric in the Philippians correspondence with regard to his movements around the Roman empire, Marchal concludes that the fact that “Paul twice justifies his travels in the name of progress echoes the historical rationale for colonization: empire is for the good of the subjects, a paternalistic, civilizing force of advancement. The imperial resonance of Paul’s parousia, the term used for the arrival of a victorious emperor or the visit of an imperial administrator, then, may not be entirely coincidental.” Thus, according to Marchal, Paul, with his understanding of Jesus as a new emperor replacing the Roman emperor, covers the same territory as the Roman power. The image of Acts does not seem to be far away either in this configuration of Paul’s movements, since he is portrayed as going from Jerusalem to occupy the political center, Rome.
However, Marchal does not consider other types of travelers, such as those moving around as exiles, immigrants, migrant workers, skilled artisans in search of economic opportunities, nor people traveling for business purposes, for reasons of health, journeying to gain experience and in pursuit of divine wisdom, and the homeless wandering from place to place, and so on. Although his rhetoric is stamped with the Roman imperial rhetoric, Paul cannot, in my view, be compared to a Roman authority addressing a Roman colonia like Philippi. It is rather surprising that in spite of referring to “the conditions of travel,” Marchal still does not pause to reflect on the specificity of these conditions and on how they might have had some bearing on Paul as a traveling artisan to the different communities with which he had some relations.
Building on Mary Louise Pratt’s theoretical lenses of “contact zone” and on Inderpal Grewal’s adaptation of Pratt’s conceptio...