In this cogent book, Jennifer Quigley argues that theology and economics in the ancient Greco-Roman world were not separate but intertwined. This position stands in contrast to the approach of most classicists, economic historians, and archaeologists, who have not considered a religious studies framework in their examinations of relevant material evidence, and most biblical studies scholars, who have not “fully accounted for the divine in its consideration of economic themes” (112). Intending to fill this scholarly gap, Quigley introduces “theo-economics,” which she defines as “an intertwined theological and economic logic in which divine and human beings regularly enter into transactions with one another” (3). Using this as a methodological framework, Quigley takes seriously “the ways in which persons in antiquity understood themselves to be participating in transactions with the divine” and therefore aims “to break down some of the scholarly categories that separate theology from economics” (15).

In chapter 1, by studying material evidence (inscriptions, papyrological documents, coins, etc.), Quigley explores “some of the contexts in which the gods and humans transacted in antiquity” (19). These contexts include both cultic and noncultic settings. The examples for the cultic setting establish gods and goddesses as significant owners of such properties as sacred lands, votive offerings, and temples, which “also served as banking and storage centers in antiquity” (19). The goddess Aphrodite Pontia not only had her own bank account but also shared profits in the thesauroi (storage containers) with her priestess; the “job descriptions” of religious functionaries (cultic intermediaries, including priestesses) “involve the proper financial management of divine property, but groups also make decisions about and manage divine property in the world” (21). Furthermore, an early fourth-century Jewish example mentions Theodorus, an archisynagogos, who oversaw the building of a synagogue; one of the two sources for this construction is from the “gifts of God,” which Quigley interprets as meaning that “God and the congregants together fund the construction of the synagogue” (25). Beyond the cultic settings, gods are also “actant,” that is, informed by new materialist understandings of nonhuman agency and the interconnectedness of people and objects, in this case coins, weights, inscriptions, and statues found in commercial places such as agorai and makella (markets). For example, Mercury-Augustus in the form of a statue oversaw financial transactions in the makellon; and imperial figures and divinities “occur at many points of transaction, from the currency of the Roman empire to objectives like weight busts, which are used to measure transactions” (31). All of these points lead to the conclusion that “gods pervaded the economic sphere in antiquity” (33).

Chapter 2 focuses on Paul’s letter to the Philippians in light of these contexts. Contending that theo-economic logic, including divine-human financial language, pervades the biblical book Philippians, and drawing on Julien M. Ogereau’s work on the cognates of koinōnia, which are often used in contractual relationships in Greco-Roman antiquity, Quigley proposes reading koinōnia as a joint venture in the gospel under God’s supervision (Phil 1:5), a partnership in which Paul and the Philippians share both liability and potential reward (40). In this “koinōnia discourse” of Philippians, Paul claims in 1:12 that his imprisonment is not a setback but rather a contribution to the shared responsibility for the gospel since it brings progress (prokopē) to the gospel (47). This theo-economic reading of koinonia explains better Paul’s first mention of his imprisonment in Phil 1:7 “as in defense (apologia) and security (bebaiōsis) of the gospel” (48), as bebaiōsis regularly suggests warranties or securities in business contracts (49). In this reading, while Paul’s imprisonment appears to have been a drawback at first, it is actually a guarantee to that joint venture because Paul’s body “is deposited (keimai) in prison for the defense of the gospel” (Phil 1:16; 53). Paul then assures the Philippians “that he is rather contributing to the gospel venture and that the Philippian koinōnia requires his contribution to succeed. In this way, Paul continues to assert that his authority over the Philippians in the gospel venture as the ultimate broker with God the key to the gospel’s success” (58). Therefore, in Philippians chapter 4, as Paul acknowledges the Philippians’ financial support, he encourages them to “understand their giving as part of a larger theo-economic system in which they have both divine obligation and the promise of divine reward” (66).

In chapter 3, Quigley zeros in on a cluster of theo-economic terms in Phil 3:7–11 to continue her demonstration of “how financial language was useful to the ancient theological imaginary” (72). Using terms such as kerdos (gain), zēmia (loss), huperxō (to exceed), heuriskō (to acquire wealth), and koinōnia, Paul sets up Christ as “an object of investment for whom Paul will exchange everything,” that is, Paul commodifies Christ in the form of a real profit (kerdos) (71–72). This “Christ commodity,” which possesses an exclusive and ultimate value, in turn allows Paul “to participate in a koinōnia with Christ in suffering and to attain resurrection from the dead” (72). This “divine accounting system” depicts “a venture in suffering that is worth investment, even if it means death,” since it provides “access to the benefit of resurrection from the dead” (91). In describing the system in such a way, Paul sets himself up as “the only one with direct access to the suffering koinōnia with Christ. While the Philippians also have access to partnership with Christ, it is mediated through Paul’s koinōnia in suffering” (87).

In chapter 4, Quigley moves beyond Paul’s letter to the Philippians and argues for the “theo-economic afterlife” or reception and adaptations in Polycarp’s Letter to the Philippians in the early second century CE (93). She directs her attention to Polycarp’s Letter 8.1–2, which says that Christ, “who bore our sins in this own body upon the tree,” is the “down payment of our righteousness.” Understanding sin as obligation, Polycarp sees that the “suffering Christ-body on the cross is now a commodity that has the value level of a down payment for humanity’s sins” and that its value requires both right belief and right action of the Philippians for the future divine judgment (98). For Polycarp, “rendering a proper account before God requires being in proper agreement (homologēo) with his understanding of correct Christian teaching” (109).

The conclusion offers a summary of Quigley’s work with implications for New Testament studies, the study of early Christianity, and the study of religion in general. Having laid a new methodological foundation for “theo-economics,” Quigley believes that this framework opens up new questions and new possibilities for looking at the texts that account for “human-human and human-divine transactions” (119). She concludes that topics “that have traditionally been understood as solely theological (cosmology, creation, incarnation, self-knowledge, divine judgment) should be examined as part of a broader divine economy that is not separate from topics that relate to matters of day-to-day lives, including the financial lives, of early Christ followers” (119).

Quigley’s book offers a thoughtful, careful, and illuminating perspective in examining Pauline (New Testament) and early Christian texts and their relevant evidence. Her theo-economics is methodologically convincing, and her evaluation of material evidence regarding economic aspects is engaging and contextually appropriate. In her intended aim to break down some of the separate categories of theology and economics, she achieves success. One might have concerns about economic reductionism if one is not careful in using this methodology. However, (graduate) students and scholars of the New Testament and early Christianity on the one hand and classicists, economic historians, and archaeologists on the other will appreciate the creative synergy this method can produce.

Helen Rhee
Westmont College