Acts 16:16-40 as a Framework for Prison Theology

The United States has over two million prisoners and the largest prison population in the world. Although the church has always ministered in prison, it has yet to develop a robust theology of prison. Some decline to ground a prison theology in a particular scriptural passage while others rely on passages such as Matt. 25:36 and its appeal to visit the incarcerated.^[1] As many scholars recognize, however, isolated passages such as these are inadequate for numerous reasons.^[2] Acts 16:16–40 offers an alternative framework for prison theology. This paper surveys the relevant literature on prison theology before offering an overview of the Acts 16:16–40 narrative. The final section discusses how that narrative can function as a framework for prison theology, while addressing challenges and limitations in that regard.

Background on Prison Theology

Over a decade ago, Sadie Cantone Pounder recognized the absence of a prison theology movement or any systematic expression of its meaning and thus proposed her own definition of prison theology. She defines prison theology as “a theology of liberation” that reflects on and actualizes the meaning of liberation “for the oppressed in prison and the entire criminal justice system, so they can know that their struggle for political, social, judicial and economic justice is consistent with the gospel of Jesus Christ.”^[3] Pounder explains that discussion of prison theology involves more than a prisoner’s experience in prison and includes interactions with other actors including law enforcement, the courts, and corrections.^[4] Within this larger framework, Pounder considers three themes to be central to prison theology: (1) liberation, (2) hope, and (3) justice.^[5] Thus, Pounder envisions prison theology as a movement that seeks to liberate the prisoner from the criminal justice system and is oppressive practices.^[6]

More recently, Sarah Jobe has introduced the concept “carceral hermeneutics” which she defines as the practice of reading the Bible from within prisons or alongside prisoners with the goal of recognizing and understanding patterns in those carceral spaces that are foundational to stories of the Bible.^[7] While Jobe recognizes that this type of “located exegesis” can offer insight into the carceral contexts of our day, her main concern is to explore the extent to which Scripture involves or is written from a carceral context.^[8] Thus, whereas Pounder views prison theology as giving biblical meaning to modern struggles in prison, Jobe sees the modern struggles in prison as providing meaning and value to biblical narratives.

Beyond these contributions, several scholars have proposed working approaches to prison theology. Like Pounder and Jobe, these voices arise in the era of mass incarceration and tend to focus on the oppressive experiences of the imprisoned church or ecclesia incarcerate.^[9] Stephen T. Hall lists six theological concerns relevant to prison ministry: (1) value of humans, (2) hope, (3) presence, (4) forgiveness, (5) power, and (6) inclusiveness.^[10] These factors mostly focus on the prisoner, with the exception of “forgiveness”—which involves the need to forgive and be forgiven by victims and other interested parties.^[11]

Linda Lee Smith Barkman, in contrast, proposes a theology of prison ministry grounded in (7) redemption.^[12] For Barkman, the primary distinction between imprisoned believers and free believers lies in soteriology. Whereas free believers need to be told that they are sinners in need of redemption, imprisoned believers must be convinced that they are salvageable.^[13] As Barkman correctly points out, this distinction signals that a prisoner relates to theological themes in areas such as Christology, ecclesiology and pneumatology in a fundamentally different manner than a free believer.^[14]

Beyond these seven factors—and the two distinct factors cited by Pounder, (8) liberation and (9) justice—this paper suggests three additional factors that merit discussion: (10) society’s roles in carceral injustice; (11) reconciliation; and (12) post-conviction life. First, prison theology must acknowledge society’s role in carceral injustice rather than place the blame solely on the criminal justice system. After all, criminal statutes are largely enacted based on popular pressure. That same pressure often influences the number of arrests and convictions for a particular crime. Second, prison theology must speak to the importance of reconciliation and not just forgiveness. True reconciliation uses restorative justice practices to meet the needs of those affected by crime. Lastly, prison theology must speak to a believer’s post-conviction life because most prisoners do not spend their entire lives behind bars.

Drawing from these sources and considerations, this paper defines prison theology as a method for understanding and interpreting Scripture against the backdrop of the historical and contemporary experiences of those involved with the criminal justice system. Similar to carceral hermeneutics, this definition centers the discussion on the experiences of those directly involved with the prison system. However, this definition is broader than Pounder’s because it considers not only the prisoner’s experience, but the experiences of other actors within the criminal justice system, such as prison staff and the victims of crime. Thus, this definition offers space for honest dialogue that does not pre-judge the prisoner, state actors, victims, or the criminal justice system.

Overview of Acts 16:16–40

The authorship of the book of Acts is historically attributed to Luke. The specific events in Acts 16:16–40 take place in Philippi, a Roman colony which Luke recognizes as the “leading city” in Macedonia (v.12).^[15] Luke perhaps emphasizes the city’s status because of the importance of Roman customs and citizenship to the narrative that follows.^[16] While in Philippi, Paul and Silas encounter a spirit-possessed slave girl who earns money for her owners through fortune-telling. The slave girl follows Paul and Silas for several days and harasses them with false praise before Paul commands the spirit to depart her (vv. 16–18). Paul may have delayed his reaction in an effort to avoid retaliation for interjecting himself in Roman business affairs. That Paul acted at all thus says more about his desire to avoid confusion among new converts than about any actual impatience.^[17] In any event, what follows is a series of gross injustices lodged against Paul and Silas for doing the work of the Lord.

First, the owners, enraged by their lost profits, drag Paul and Silas to the marketplace to face the magistrates (v. 19). Under the Roman system, accusers were responsible for charging defendants before the magistrates and an accuser could procure the court’s favor if they held a higher status than the accused, whether based on citizenship, property, or position. For example, unlike their Roman counterparts, non-citizens could be beaten even before trial either to secure evidence or deter their followers.^[18] Here, the owners begin the criminal action by identifying the accused as “Jews” (v. 20). Significantly, although the disciples are Roman citizens, they do not disclose this fact until later on, perhaps to avoid compromising the Gospel message by using secular methods to secure their release.^[19]

Next, the owners charge Paul and Silas with two offenses: (1) throwing the city into an uproar and (2) advocating unlawful customs (vv. 20–21). While the owner may have had good reason to be upset by Paul’s actions, their claims seem to have less to do with his conduct and more with the fact that Paul and Silas were Jews, a group viewed with suspicion by Romans for their refusal to worship the same gods.^[20] Indeed, for the first offense the only “uproar” comes from the citizens pressing charges.^[21] Beyond that, second offense reads like a fabricated charge intended to cover up the real complaint, i.e. “economic losses.”^[22] Of course, the owners are not the only ones up in arms over the disciples’ actions. Luke tells us that “the crowd joined in the attack against Paul and Silas” (v.22) and instigate the further injustice that ensues. Indeed, the magistrates respond to the crowd by commanding that Paul and Silas be “stripped and beaten with rods” (v. 22), a classic method of humiliation.^[23] However, as Craig S. Keener notes, the mob’s role here “reflects badly on the magistrates, who were officially responsible to maintain order.”^[24] Yet, not only do the magistrates abuse their power by ordering Paul and Silas flogged without proper investigation, but they do so based on mob pressure rather than probable cause.^[25]

Following these charges, and after being “severely flogged,” Paul and Silas are “thrown into prison, and the jailer [is] commanded to guard them carefully” (v. 23). In response, the jailer places them in the innermost cell and secures their feet in the stocks—measures that were clearly unnecessary to secure prisoners that have just been seized, dragged and beaten.^[26] While these “inner cells” were “usually its harshest, least ventilated, and most degrading part” of the jail,^[27] they were only one aspect of a much crueler system. Willie James Jennings paints a particularly grim picture of the Roman prison system as one that was full of corruption and favored the rich and powerful. Roman prison was a tool for control and containment. Even prison guards, who were often public slaves, could be subject to the same punishments as their prisoners if they were allowed to escape.^[28] Thus, Jennings observes, “[t]o be a guard [was] to be bound to violence and death.”^[29] Indeed, jailers were often known, if not specifically chosen, for their brutality.^[30] We see this reality expressed in the actions of King Herod who, upon learning that Peter had escaped, ordered that the jailer be cross-examined and then executed (12:5–19). Despite the grim reality of Roman prison, it was only a temporary place of confinement for defendants awaiting trial and was thus not considered a form a punishment.^[31] Even so, prisons were designed and administered to make escape impossible. Here, the jailer locks Paul and Silas in the inner cell with their feet in stocks, which clearly betrays his desire to avoid the same fate as Peter’s jailer.

The next passage shows the remarkable response of those oppressed by the injustices of both society and government. Paul and Silas began “praying and singing hymns to God” which conveys their trust and dependance on God in the face of suffering. They praise God with such fervor that the “other prisoners” can hear them (v. 25). This short passage reveals a much larger truth: Christ is most directly revealed through prayer “at the site of suffering and rejection.”^[32] In response to such dramatic worship, God brings an earthquake that shakes the foundations of the prison and frees the those in bondage (v. 26). In other words, the disciples’ unwavering worship in light of their oppression and suffering initiates God’s liberative act of opening the prison doors and offering physical freedom to those in captivity.^[33] The prison narrative then describes how the tables are turned between prisoner and oppressor in two distinct ways.^[34] First, the jailer, a man previously in a position of power and authority, is now prepared to “kill himself because he thought the prisoners had escaped” (v.27). While Paul and Silas could have stayed silent and proceeded with an easy getaway, Paul commands the jailer not to harm himself, explaining that the prisoners have not fled (v. 28). In response to this perplexing situation, the jailer falls down and trembles before Paul and Silas, walks them out of the prison himself, and then pointedly asks them, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” (vv. 29–30). While it is likely that the jailer was not asking how to be spiritually saved but rather how to avoid being punished by the magistrates,^[35] Paul uses the opportunity to proclaim the Gospel message (vv. 31–32). The jailer responds to the disciples’ love and compassion by washing their wounds, preparing a meal, and receiving the gift of baptism (v. 33–34). Notably, by dealing with prisoners this way, the jailer risked serious repercussions by the magistrates.^[36] Despite that risk, the jailer’s conversion produces “joy” now that he and his entire household have come to believe in God (v. 34). As Jennings rightly observes, God is involved at every turn: “The Spirit breaks the prison, crushes its technologies, and saves the jailer who treats the wounds of the tortured.”^[37] In short, this passage shows that liberation is both physical and spiritual and that it involves not only prisoners but institutions and actors that perpetuate injustice. Here, deliverance necessarily includes the jailer, “because redemption must come to him if the prisoners are to be set free.”^[38] Redemption in this sense is firmly grounded in reconciliation between natural adversaries, as demonstrated by the mercy and compassion that the prisoners and jailer show to each other.

The redemptive narrative grows as the tables are again turned when the jailer tells Paul and Silas that they are free to leave (vv. 35–36). Emboldened by God’s divine favor, however, the disciples scold, not the jailer with whom they are now reconciled, but the authorities whose message was relayed. Paul invokes his Roman citizenship and objects to having been beaten without a trial and thrown in prison and calls on the authorities to confront him directly (v. 37). Of course, rather than marking a departure from the Gospel message, “Paul and Silas are acting as disciples precisely in this moment of invoking their Roman citizenship and … claiming their rights as citizens.”^[39] The magistrates, who had perhaps concluded that the evidence was lacking to convict Paul and Silas, were now alarmed to learn that Roman citizens had been improperly treated under their watch. Thus, just as the jailer had feared for his life after the earthquake, the magistrates find themselves in a similar place, and plead with the disciples to leave (vv. 38–39).

In the final passage, Paul and Silas come out of the prison and go to Lydia’s house where they greet and encourage their brothers and sisters (v. 40). Paul and Silas are now free believers and undoubtedly emboldened by their spiritual encounter. They waste no time protesting the injustices they suffered as foreigners at the hands of a corrupt and ill-administered regime, and instead use their experiences to embolden the believing community. Thus, blessing comes not only to Paul and Silas and not only to the jailer and his household, but to Lydia’s home, which “now houses ex-offenders” as a “place where the Holy Spirit dwells.”^[40] In sum, by placing their faith in God, Paul and Silas experience spiritual renewal that transforms the lives not only of those inside the prison walls, but those outside them as well.

Framework for Prison Ministry

Pounder identifies hope, liberation, and justice as central themes for a theology of prison. These concepts carry dual meaning to the imprisoned believer because they relate to material and spiritual concerns. The prisoner hopes for liberation not only from physical incarceration but also from spiritual bondage. Physical liberation is needed because prisoners are oftentimes victims of injustice at the hands of their accusers, the community, and the criminal justice system. They also require spiritual liberation since only the Holy Spirit can restore those who have been so brutally beaten by perpetual injustice. The Acts 16: 16–40 prison narrative speaks to these concerns by weaving together three basic themes: (1) the prisoner’s relationship with God, (2) the prisoner’s relationship with other actors, and (3) the prisoner’s empowerment and post-conviction life.

First, and most importantly, the prison narrative develops the centrality of the prisoner’s relationship with the Creator. The first thing Paul and Silas do in prison is pray and sing hymns to God. As Jennings notes, this doxological approach sets up the “Christological center of prayer at the site of suffering and rejection.”^[41] Thus, although the disciples were imprisoned for casting out a demon, “in the name of Jesus” (v. 18), they continue to call on His name even from within the prison. This concept of worship in midst of suffering resonates with the imprisoned believer, who is often exposed to cumulative injustices: from excessive charges by resentful accusers and rejection by the community to excessive punishments issued by stoic judges and barbaric prison conditions maintained by indifferent prison staff. Within this paradigm, liberative hope anchored in the prisoner’s relationship with God is two-fold. First, there is spiritual liberation in knowing that God forgives the those who repent of their sins and confess their faith in Christ. As Chris Barbera notes, “[a] person in prison who becomes accountable for their actions is no longer in bondage to their crimes.”^[42] Moreover, there is hope for physical liberation. In the same way that God broke down prison walls for Paul and Silas, God can intervene in witness interviews, court cases, and parole board hearings.^[43]

Second, the Paul and Silas prison narrative speaks to a prisoner’s relationship with other actors. The disciples humanize and reconcile themselves with their oppressor (the jailer) while calling out injustice by those who refuse to be held accountable (the magistrates). Of course, this does not mean that all actors are oppressors. A holistic theology of prison requires a perspective developed not only from the prisoner’s viewpoint but that of the courts, prison staff, and victims. People commit crimes. Those crimes hurt people and the community. That community must then administer justice. The prison narrative humanizes the actors of the criminal justice system. The magistrates were pressured by the community to take action, the jailer feared death if he did not follow the rules, and the accusers had at least some basis to complain about their economic loss. Read this way, the passage reflects that the prisoners and the prison system are both in need of redemption and forgiveness as Barkman and Hall suggest,^[44] and that the criminal justice system is really just a reflection of the larger society.^[45] The points here is that part of the mechanism for redemption is mutual reconciliation. It is only after Paul and Silas display compassion towards the jailer that the jailer and his household are saved. The jailer reciprocates that love and compassion by cleaning the disciples’ wounds and offering them a meal. Thus, to answer Jennings’ question of whether the church should “seek the deliverance of not just the prisoner but also the guards,”^[46] the answer is a clear “yes!”

Finally, the prison narrative speaks to the empowerment of the imprisoned believer both inside and outside of prison. Paul and Silas save the jailer and his entire household all while still technically incarcerated. Once freed, they immediately go to Lydia’s house and encourage their fellow believers, who welcome them back into the community. Tellingly, unlike the unbelieving community that joined in the attacks against Paul and Silas, the Christian community at Lydia’s house welcomes their brothers with open arms. The passage thus reveals that a Christ-centered life does not just serve prisoners inside of prison but outside as well. Thus, the prison narrative fosters a theology that empowers imprisoned believers to impact their immediate community, while recognizing that their impact can extend beyond the prison walls.

There are, of course, several challenges to using Acts 16:16–40 as framework for prison theology. First, Roman prisons differed significantly from contemporary penal institutions. They were not designed for punishment or extended incarceration and were thus not considered a place for reform and rehabilitation. This raises questions of how the narrative speaks to the experiences of those serving life sentences or on death row. Even here, though, physical liberation is possible through pardons, commutations, and exonerations. Second, the passage addresses reconciliation between prisoner and oppressor, but not between prisoner and victim. This is troublesome given that a holistic theology of prison must take into account those most affected by crime. This point is less troublesome, however, if we consider the jailer to be a symbol for other actors within the criminal justice system. In short, Acts 16:16–40 offers a useful hermeneutical framework for a theology of prison grounded in the prisoner’s relationship with God. That relationship marshals in a liberative hope of justice for both the prisoner and the criminal justice system. That liberative hope is grounded in the Spirit’s role in reconciliation as a means towards mutual redemption and empowerment.