Was Paul critical of the Roman Empire? Thus asks Christoph Heilig in The Apostle and the Empire. The book's sub-title insinuates instantly a positive answer to the question, one that merely needs further fine-tuning to identify and distinguish Paul's Implicit and Explicit Criticism. The question has bothered scholars intensively in the last decades, prompting diverse answers: notably, N. T. Wright made the case for criticism, carefully couched (in R. A. Horsley (ed.) Paul and Politics (2000), 160–83; and Paul: In Fresh Perspective (2005)), while John Barclay sought to rebut it (in Barclay (ed.), Pauline Churches and Diaspora Jews (2011), 363–87). H. has published profusely on the topic himself (e.g. Hidden Criticism? (2015)), arguing for criticism of Rome. His present contribution takes its cue from a recent article challenging anew the idea of Pauline criticism (Laura Robinson, New Testament Studies 2020, 55–72). H.'s monographic reply is two-fold: first, primarily historiographic and methodological, in chs 1, 2 and 5; second, analytical and interpretative (regarding a single Pauline comment), in chs 3 and 4.

H. writes smoothly, advancing his case purposefully, in conscious contradistinction to earlier interventions. This is helpful for anyone new to the topic, because in the early chapters H. lays out in detail the contours of the debate, simultaneously clarifying the particular advance aimed for in this new book. Moreover, H. expands a previously established five-fold check-list designed to identify implicit criticism of Rome—focused on ‘the rules of public discourse’ (nos 1 and 2), the potential for Paul's confrontation with aspects specifically perceived as Roman by him (no. 3), the likelihood of Paul's critical stance towards these aspects (no. 4) and of his personal disposition towards expressing criticism in his correspondence's subtext (no. 5)—with a sixth item, i.e. the existence of an occasion that might have compelled Paul to critique Rome (42). Hailing this check-list as a methodological advance, H. then seeks such an occasion in the triumphal imagery in 2 Cor. 2:14, raised by Paul's use of θριαμβεύω. H. deplores the fact that several translations have downplayed the historically specific meaning of the term, privileging instead generic notions of triumphing. Emphasising the link to Roman triumphal imagery, H. relates it to Claudius’ triumph in 44 c.e.—thus satisfying his new, sixth criterion. H.'s argumentation centres on identifying the source of Paul's knowledge of the Roman triumph. He argues that Claudius’ triumph as the ‘incumbent emperor’ is the ‘only potential source for contemporary knowledge about the triumphus’ (64), transmitted through ‘Paul having met potential eyewitnesses’ (Priscilla and Aquilla: 65) as well as an epigraphically attested cult to Victoria Britannica in Corinth, believed to be contemporary to Paul's presence in the city (69–70). Ch. 4 advances the argument through reference to diverse other sources (coins, reliefs, poetry, etc.). H. contends that while Pauline criticism is primarily directed at the Corinthians, the text's replacement of the Roman triumphator with God challenges ‘basic assumptions of Roman ideology’ and is thus to ‘be classified as at least potentially “subversive”’ (99). Ultimately, H. argues however for obvious, not hidden criticism (101), given that ‘the dissonances created by Paul's metaphor […] are indicative of his rejection of at least the cultically elevated expression of Roman military conquest’ (99).

H. returns to methodological matters in ch. 5, including critique of standard teaching foci and approaches in NT exegesis in Germanic and Anglophone settings, while praising digital advances, including search facilities. Following a trend in the study of early Christianity, H. calls for more specialised commentaries and handbooks (e.g. focused on papyrological materials) to aid historical contextualisation, claiming that the relevant knowledge is not readily within the reach of NT scholarship. Somewhat dominating the book, these broader issues dwarf the analytical contribution in chs 3 and 4. The latter is small enough anyhow, given its narrow remit, i.e. the interpretation of a single line (‘a Pauline passage’: 55)—for all H.'s relentlessly bold evaluation of his own contribution. But the book's revisionist stance is actually weakened by the text's analysis: the proposed method for contextualising the passage through connections to a single event shows just how thin our knowledge base is. It also shows disregard for sound historical argumentation. To be sure, Paul might well have alluded to Claudius’ triumph. But this possibility cannot be established (rather than merely raised) through rough contemporaneity, let alone hypothetical eyewitness accounts or other, coinciding cult activity. Unfortunately, H.'s discussion does not engage with the large body of scholarship concerned with allusions in contemporary texts, while his call for more specialised commentaries or handbooks to provide the missing expertise is unconvincing: such research is widely published and accessible—requiring merely a preparedness to approach the ancient world holistically, rather than within a single scholarly niche.

H. rightly challenges the narrow-minded nature of some earlier scholarship. But The Apostle and the Empire follows suit by keeping the focus myopically concentrated on a single question and by pursuing it in an inward-looking manner. Critically, the microscopic attention on Paul's potential critique of the Claudian triumph is not explained: (why) does it matter? Does addressing the matter change our view of the Pauline mission—and if so, how and in what ways? I have myself no issues with the exploration of specialised topics. But such work does not normally produce sufficient intellectual harvest to justify 140 pages of text and is better suited to article-length publication. There seems to me a bigger issue with a debate that spends much time on loud discussion of method instead of quietly developing new insights.