Toward a Rhetography of James 1:1–18: Ekphrasis, Cinematography, and the Visual-Rhetorical Effects of the Passage

Abstract

Within the analytical framework of sociorhetorical (or, socio-rhetorical) interpretation (SRI), this paper explores a sustained rhetography of James 1:1–18. It begins with a brief examination of visual elements in James through the lens of ancient ekphrasis, which offers a nuanced understanding of the social and cultural texture of the letter. Since the letter of James (especially 1:1–18) contains sporadic images that reflect ekphrastic tradition (rather than long, elaborate ekphrasis), a new approach is needed to understand its visual-rhetorical effects. Therefore, rhetography in SRI (especially cinematographic and editing techniques, such as shot types, shot transitions, and continuity editing with crosscutting shots) is introduced to the text. This sociorhetorical reading of James 1:1–18 helps readers understand the visual-rhetorical strategy of the text. This manifests in various ways: (a) displaying contrasting figures close-up (positive, less positive, and negative) to emulate or avoid; (b) portraying negative figure(s) in precarious situations through vivid similes that elicit emotional responses; and (c) envisaging eschatological consequences, thus making the invisible visible. The movement and sequence of the shots can effectively direct the letter’s audience/viewer toward a wise and unwavering life in the diaspora.

1. Introduction

This paper explores how the letter of James (especially 1:1–18) can be visualized like a movie and what interpretative insights are gained from this approach. One might ask what does a modern medium (film) have to do with ancient texts? A brief survey of classical and biblical scholarship lays the foundation for this paper.

Despite initial skepticism and lack of interest, the intersection of film and classical texts has evolved into a vibrant field of inquiry in classics.1 This academic field usually focuses on critically evaluating and interpretating films that adapt stories from classical texts, figures, and myths, as well as those that project various aspects of the ancient world on the silver screen (McDonald 1983; MacKinnon 1986; Solomon 2001; Cyrino 2005; Berti and Morcillo 2008; Winkler 1991, 2001, 2009, 2020; Nikoloutsos 2023). Some scholars take it a step further and use cinematographic devices to interpret classical texts, which is more pertinent to this paper’s task (note that this paper uses the term “cinematography” in a broad way).2 A half century ago, Mench (1969, p. 381) noted, “The literary critic should study not only philology or comparative literature but also the techniques employed by the filmmaker if he [sic] wishes to appreciate those literary works that utilize a kinetic visual approach (montage, variation of viewing angle, alternation of close-up and distance shot, and the like).”3 This 1969 call has been answered. In recent scholarship, scholars actively discuss both modern cinematographic techniques and philosophies to illuminate classical texts (usually epic narratives), which also include discussion of ekphrasis (e.g., Freudenburg 2023; Winkler 2024). Even for those who do not explicitly engage in this cinematographic discourse, “metaphors from the film industry like ‘zoom’ and ‘cut’ have crept into the analysis of literary narrative technique,” as Fotheringham and Brooker (2013, p. 171) noted.4 Winkler (2024, p. 152) also points out the filmic term “flashback” is frequently used in literary analysis.

On the biblical side, Reinhartz (2013, p. xvi) begins her edited volume surveying fifty key films by declaring, “The Bible has been a star of the silver screen since the birth of cinema.” The Bible’s presence in films has also translated into biblical scholars’ interest in films. The status of scholarship, according to Copier and Stichele (2016, p. 1), is that “the study of film… has become an accepted topic within biblical and religious studies.”5 The relationship between the Bible and cinema is not monolithic but multifaceted and interdisciplinary.6 Academic works on this subject have actively contributed to the fields of reception history and biblical hermeneutics for the last three decades (Bach 1996; Aichele and Walsh 2002; Exum 2006; Burnette-Bletsch 2016; Copier and Stichele 2016; Walsh 2021; Reinhartz 2022). The kinds of films studied by interpreters are not limited to mainstream Hollywood movies but include films created in various contexts (Shepherd 2008; Walsh et al. 2013). Like their counterparts in classics (such as Mench, Freudenburg, and Winkler), one can find biblical scholars who use cinematography as a hermeneutical tool for interpreting biblical texts, especially the Gospels (Kreitzer 2016; Walsh 2016; Zwick 2016).

This survey demonstrates that how cinematography (as well as film editing) illuminates non-narrative portions of the Bible needs more exploration. The letter of James is clearly underexplored in this regard. The reasons for this seem evident: James is not an epic poem with multisensory narratives like the Odyssey or the Aeneid that contain useful parallels to modern cinematic experience; it differs from Jesus stories in the Gospels or narratives in the Hebrew Bible, which are dominant in the discussion of the Bible and cinema; it provides less raw material for cinematographic imagination than the figure, story, and letters of Paul (e.g., Jewett 1993, 1999; Kreitzer 1999; Walsh 2005; though Paul only had “limited film exposure,” compared to Jesus, a “film celebrity,” Walsh 2005, p. 1). Yet, as Burnette-Bletsch (2014, p. 157) notes, “exposure to a variety of cinematic interpretations of biblical texts and characters broadens the interpretive horizons of the biblical scholar,” and this does not exclude any texts a priori.

Could one read James’s letter with “cinematic eyes”? How does one connect a cinematographic lens to the rhetorical effects of this ancient text? If so, would there be any interpretative benefits? To address these exploratory questions, sociorhetorical interpretation (SRI) as the overarching framework will be employed. Being a particular strand of New Testament rhetorical criticism that encourages interdisciplinary work,7 SRI uses various social-scientific theories and cultural studies (in this case, film studies) for conducting a rhetorical analysis of a text. Rhetography relates to cinematography as the former refers to visual aspects of a text’s rhetoric and their effects in the minds of the audience (more detailed discussion will be found in Section 3). A sustained rhetography of James 1:1–18 demonstrates that the various images in this passage come together to form a continuous and dynamic scene, which can effectively persuade the readers toward wisdom and endurance by helping them visualize positive and negative figures with corresponding consequences.8

In terms of James itself, where does this study start and what does it try to accomplish? This study begins with the premise that the letter of James is a coherent literary work. Yet, several interpreters regard James as lacking a clear structure that would provide continuity (see the list of scholars named in Allison 2013, p. 76, n. 411). Identifying the letter of James as a paraenesis, Dibelius (1976, p. 2, italics original) notes, “[T]he entire document [i.e., James] lacks continuity in thought. There is not only a lack of continuity in thought between individual sayings and other smaller units, but also between larger treatises.” Dibelius’s evaluation is echoed in Stowers (1986, p. 97): “James consists of a series of seemingly disjointed hortatory topoi without any apparent unifying model or models.” In a similar vein, Schrage (1988, p. 281) says, “From beginning to end, injunctions and admonitions follow without apparent organization or logical development.” As Allison (2013, p. 77) points out, however, the previous view that James lacks coherence is far from the current consensus.9 More interpreters present diverse ways to identify the structures or patterns in James linguistically, thematically, or theologically (examples in Johnson 1995, pp. 11–12). In addition, various rhetorical analyses that overcome the aforementioned Dibelius paradigm have also been proposed (examples in Watson 2007, pp. 99–120), which this study hopes to join from a fresh angle. Furthermore, the most recent scholarship in James appreciates the advanced literary quality of James in light of ancient literary criticism (Becker et al. 2022).10 Simply speaking, James is not a loose compilation of exhortations without any structural design or coherence.

Yet, the way visual aspects in James enable readers to understand the flow and rhetorical effects of the passage remains underexplored. These effects emerge both from the images employed and from the shifts/transitions between those images. This paper aims to fill this gap in the scholarly discussion by exploring a rhetography of James 1:1–18, with insights drawn from modern film studies, hoping to contribute to both areas, i.e., the scholarly discourse on the Bible and cinema as well as rhetorical analysis of James. This project focuses on the prescript and prologue of James (1:1–18), rather than the literary structure and rhetorical strategy of James as a whole.11 However, the findings from this case study may have broader implications for understanding the letter of James. In discussing the addressees of James, Hartin (2003, p. 25) notes, “[The letter’s] rhetorical purpose is to encourage hearers/readers to embrace a vision and values necessary for them to lead lives as members of the ‘twelve tribes in the Dispersion.’”12 I argue that the sociorhetorical reading of James 1:1–18 in this article illuminates how this goal is achieved through the letter’s visual-rhetorical strategy. The visual rhetoric of James 1:1–18, which is the focus of this study, displays contrasting figures close-up (positive, less positive, and negative) to emulate or avoid, portrays the precarious situation of the negative figure(s) through vivid similes that elicit emotional responses, and envisages eschatological consequences, thus making the invisible visible. The movement and sequence of the shots can effectively direct the audience/viewer of the letter toward a wise and unwavering life in the diaspora.

The body of this essay contains three sections (2–4). Section 2 (“SRI and Ekphrasis”) introduces SRI, then examines visual elements in James in light of ekphrasis (descriptive speech in ancient rhetoric). As an ancient rhetorical device for vividness, ekphrasis is similar to the rhetography that this paper explores. This preliminary section demonstrates that the use of ekphrasis as an analytical lens helps one reach a nuanced understanding of the letter’s social and cultural texture (SRI terms). Yet, James’s lack of elaborate ekphrasis (esp. in 1:1–18) poses limitations. Section 3 (“From Ekphrasis to Rhetography”) discusses how rhetography differs from ekphrasis and how it can illuminate the visual-rhetorical effects of James. Section 4 (“A Rhetography of James 1:1–18: Cinematographic Analysis”) discusses a sustained rhetography of James 1:1–18 using analogies from cinematography and film editing, such as shot types, shot transitions, and continuity editing with crosscutting shots.

2. SRI and Ekphrasis

Rhetography refers to “the graphic images people create in their minds as a result of the visual texture of a text” (Robbins 2008, p. 81). It is a technical term used in sociorhetorical interpretation (SRI); thus, a brief discussion about SRI is in order.13 The name “sociorhetorcial interpretation” (also spelled “socio-rhetorical interpretation”) first appeared in the 1980s (Robbins 1984), but a programmatic proposal for SRI, focusing on multiple textures, was most clearly articulated in mid-1990s (Robbins 1996a, 1996b). As an interpretative analytic that contains but is not limited to classical rhetorical criticism, SRI invites multiple approaches, perspectives, and disciplines to explore the dynamic interplay of various textures of a given biblical text and to understand a text’s rhetorical force (Robbins 1996a, 1996b, 2009; Robbins et al. 2016). The term “rhetorical force” in SRI is defined as “the emerging discourse of a social, cultural, ideological, and/or religious movement like early Christianity as it participated in reconfigurations of belief, behavior, and community formation in the Mediterranean world” (Robbins et al. 2016, p. xxii). Most recently, rhetorical force is understood as a text’s rhetorical impact on subsequent early Christian discourse, thus partly overlapping with the discussion of Wirkungsgeschichte (Bruehler 2019, pp. 117–23).14

While SRI began in the 1980s and 90s with a focus on multiple textures, visual texture was not discussed in earlier textbooks (i.e., Robbins 1996a, 1996b). Yet, visuality and sight deserve serious exploration with regard to the New Testament and early Christianity because “Greco-Roman culture was highly visual, particularly when it comes to interacting with the gods” (Whitaker 2015, p. 69). Indeed, early Christian literature’s visual aspects and its interactions with visual culture have been actively explored by SRI practitioners over the last 15 years (e.g., Robbins 2008, 2009; Canavan 2012; Maier 2013; also called “visual exegesis” in Robbins et al. 2017). In terms of rhetorical implications, what is highlighted in this recent scholarship is the insight that persuasion does not merely occur through logical reasoning. According to Robbins (2009, pp. 16–17), graphic persuasion is differentiated from, equally important as, and ultimately working with “rhetology” (i.e., argumentative persuasion through logical reasoning). Recently, drawing on Lakoff’s theory, Robbins (2024, p. 109) further emphasizes the importance of vivid rhetoric, “Only if the picture in a person’s mind changes will that person be persuaded to think differently.” Thus, as Bloomquist (2014, p. 216) summarizes, “[R]hetography… has been placed at the forefront for rhetorical investigation.” This paper fits within this modern emphasis on visuality and its rhetorical implications for understanding early Christian rhetoric.

Rhetography resembles but is distinguished from ekphrasis in ancient rhetoric (this will be discussed in Section 3). For example, in his seminal, programmatic essay on rhetography, Robbins (2008, pp. 81–82) mentions ekphrasis as importantly related to rhetography but quickly moves to name other theoretical conversation partners, such as iconography, iconology, semiotics, and religious studies. As part of SRI’s interdisciplinary discourse, rhetography draws on various academic fields to understand how the human brain perceives and processes images. In particular, this paper is interested in exploring a sustained rhetography, paying attention to visual effects created by shifts between shots within a long passage.

Before moving to rhetography, ancient ekphrasis and its implications for the interpretation of James deserve further discussion.15 According to the “preliminary exercises” (the progymnasmata),16 ekphrasis is defined as a “a descriptive speech which brings the thing shown vividly before the eyes” (Theon, Progymnasmata 118.6 [in Webb 2016, p. 51]; see also Ps.-Hermogenes, Progymnasmata 22).17 This definition differs from the use of the term in modern literary studies, where it narrowly refers to literary descriptions of works of art. For Heffernan (1991, p. 297), ekphrasis means the “literary representation of visual art.”18 Yet, as Webb (2016, pp. 7, 51) points out, ancient progymnasmatic textbooks understood ekphrasis primarily in terms of its evocative, rhetorical impact on the audience, rather than the subject matter.19 This ancient understanding of ekphrasis allows for an exploration of James in light of this rhetorical device.

A close comparison between pictorial descriptions in James and the instructions for ekphrasis in the various versions of progymnasmata (Theon, Ps.-Hermogenes, Aphthonios, Nikolaos, etc.) is illuminating. For example, vivid images in James can be arranged and cataloged according to the subjects mentioned as typical cases of ekphrasis in these handbooks. As noted above, subjects (esp. visual art) are not the defining factor of ekphrasis, and a wide variety of subjects can be described by ekphrastic techniques (Webb 2016, p. 8). Nevertheless, one can identify some common subjects frequently appearing across the progymnasmata tradition (Webb 2016, p. 61). For example, Ps.-Hermogenes lists five types of subjects:

• prosōpa (persons)
• pragmata (events, such as battle [in Theon’s list, this category includes storm, famine, plague, etc.])
• kairoi (peacetime, war)
• topoi (harbors, seashores, cities)
• chronoi (spring, summer, festival time) (Webb 2016, p. 213).

Among them, kairoi and chronoi can be lumped together and renamed “times” (Webb 2016, p. 62). Whether four or five categories, it is clear that the letter of James contains all these subjects.20 

Table 1. Subjects of ekphrasis in James.

Types	Examples in James	Subjects
prosōpa	1:9–11	A lowly member of the community and a rich person
	2:1–7	A rich person and a poor person
	4:13–14	A merchant
	5:1–6	Rich landowners
	2:21–26; 5:17–18	Biblical figures (Abraham, Rahab, Elijah)
pragmata	1:6; 3:4	Storm
	3:5–6	Wildfire
	4:1–3	Battles and fights (πόλεμοι and μάχαι)
	5:17–18	Drought
kairoi	1:2–4, 12–15	Time of temptation
	2:6; 4:11–12	Time of court trial
	5:7–9	Parousia of the Lord (cf. judgment/reward–1:12; 2:13, 5:3b, etc.)
topoi	1:6; 3:4	On the sea
	2:1–7	At a synagogue
	4:13–17	In a foreign city
chronoi	1:11	Sunrise
	5:7	Harvest time (cf. 5:4)
	5:7	Early/late rains

below catalogs passages and subjects in James according to the five types of subjects in the progymnasmata.

To be clear, not all the verses listed above include elaborate ekphrasis, as some images are snapshots rather than full descriptions. According to Demetrius’s literary-critical criteria, ἐνάργεια (a notion closely related to ekphrasis) should demonstrate detailed descriptions (Jónsson 2021, pp. 162–64). James 2:1–4 especially demonstrates ἐνάργεια, as it meets all the criteria of Demetrius’s literary criticism (Jónsson 2021, p. 164). I think these criteria can also be successfully applied to a few more examples (e.g., Jas 5:1–6; 3:5–6).21 Perhaps, these criteria appear to weaken the argument for identifying ekphrasis when interpretating other parts of James that briefly mention these subjects (e.g., 1:6, 1:11 in Table 1). However, the progymnasmata tradition treats ekphrasis flexibly, and the length of description is not always a defining factor. Parsons and Martin (2018, pp. 128–30) discuss short verses (such as Gal 3:1 and Col 2:15) as examples of ekphrasis in Paul’s letters.22 As shown by short examples in Quintilian (2002b), Institutio Oratoria 6.2.32–33, what counts for ἐνάργεια is its vividness not its length. At times, a short and lively depiction of an event or a person can strengthen one’s rhetorical purpose, especially considering some ancient authors’ criticism of overly lengthy ekphrasis (Lucian (1959), How to Write History 20; Horace (1926), Ars poetica 24–31, etc.; cf. Theon, Progymnasmata 81 on the importance of achieving clarity and avoiding digressions).

Also, one might argue that some of the subjects collected in the table appear as part of the author’s simile, i.e., as examples to compare, rather than primary objects. Yet, this does not prevent them from being analyzed in light of ekphrasis. For example, Jónsson (2021, p. 161) regards the short simile of a roaring lion in 1 Peter 5:8 as ekphrasis. Additionally, Fränkel suggests that Homeric simile constitutes ekphrasis (as well as cinematography; see Fränkel 1921, p. 11).23 Furthermore, one recalls Cicero’s passage about metaphor and simile, especially focusing on their ability to evoke vivid images in the mind:

[A] single word in each case suggests the thing and a picture of the whole; or because every metaphor, provided it be a good one, has a direct appeal to the senses, especially the sense of sight, which is the keenest: for while the rest of the senses supply such metaphors as ‘the fragrance of good manners,’ ‘the softness of a humane spirit,’ ‘the roar of the waves,’ ‘a sweet style of speaking,’ the metaphors drawn from the sense of sight are much more vivid, virtually placing within the range of our mental vision objects not actually visible to our sight.

(Cicero (1942), De Oratore 3.40.160–161)

Metaphors/similes appeal to the senses, especially sight (“of eyes,” oculorum in Cicero’s passage above), and they vividly conjure even invisible objects in one’s mental vision.24 One can analyze certain metaphors/similes in light of ekphrastic tradition.

The rhetorical function of each image in Table 1 deserves close analysis, but this task will be reserved for future research. For now, the overall significance of ekphrasis in this letter can be briefly mentioned. James is full of lively images that emerged from the social realities of the ancient Mediterranean world. These ekphrastic depictions in James set the recipients (“the twelve tribes in the diaspora,” 1:1) into the dynamic life of the Mediterranean world. Not only the liturgical/theological temporality of the Jesus movement or of Judaism is its matrix, but also chronoi and kairoi for all people, such as harvest time, early/late rains, and court trials, are depicted. The lives of various people are portrayed in topoi, such as a foreign city, the sea, and a synagogue. Typical prosōpa, like itinerant merchants and settled landowners, appear. Common pragmata, such as a storm on the sea, devastating fire, drought, battle, and fights, are vividly described. Later, this paper explains Type I shots, which envision diverse and yet typical life (and its vicissitudes) in ancient Mediterranean cities and towns. The letter of James not only envisions a theological or ecclesial space within a believing community but weaves it into the fabric of society.

Therefore, awareness of the ekphrastic nature of James has implications for the social and cultural texture of James, that is, understanding the author’s social/cultural stance on, and engagement with, the wider Greco-Roman world in a more nuanced and complicated way.25 With regard to the letter’s explicit exhortations, James is seen as promoting separation. Purity language in James highlights that message and sharply contrasts friendship with the cosmos/world and friendship with the Jewish God. Coker suggests that James’s strong emphasis on purity and perfection can be compared to “nativist” discourse. James the “nativist” presents a “dual attack against both empire and hybridity” (Coker 2015, p. 34). Also, the contents of this letter’s ekphrastic elements may also indicate the addressees’ distinctive cultural and religious context, which separates them from the rest of society. For example, the author describes prosōpa from Jewish Scripture, such as Abraham and Rahab, rather than Homeric or Virgilian figures.26 Additionally, James looks eagerly to the kairos of the Parousia of the Lord, eschatological rewards and punishment, and the new temporality and spatiality defined by the God of Israel and Christ, rather than pagan festivals or times of sacrifice that guarantee the continuation of one’s prosperous life on earth. Thus, reading the letter of James in light of various strategies in migrant writings, Aymer (2017, p. 74) notes, “James’s migrant strategy is separation.”

At a closer look, separation is not the final word. Aymer (2017, p. 76) continues, “even with a migrant strategy of separation… there is not—and has never truly been—any absolute separation between these ‘twelve tribes’ and their host communities.”27 For one thing, it is interesting that the clearest markers of Jewish identity, especially in the diaspora and reflected in Paul’s letters, circumcision and food laws, do not appear in the letter of James. Furthermore, this paper shows that in terms of rhetorical skills and cultural literacy,28 James demonstrates a complicated engagement with the society/culture around the faith community.29 The nuanced distinction between assimilation, acculturation, and accommodation in Barclay (1996, pp. 92–98) helps explain the letter’s relationship to the surrounding culture. According to Barclay, assimilation refers to the degree of social integration (ranging from “abandonment of key Jewish social distinctives” to “social life confined to the Jewish community”) one has, while acculturation has to do with the degree of “linguistic, educational, and ideological” familiarity one has to the culture, and accommodation is a scale to measure how one uses acculturation—whether in “integrative” or “oppositional” ways. In light of these distinctions, one can say that the author of James is highly acculturated (thus, the author and the community are not fully separated from Greek and Roman culture), especially considering the quality of language and style, as well as the use of Hellenistic topoi (Johnson 2004, p. 18; also, Jónsson 2021). Yet, the author does not use this acculturation to promote the total abandonment of Jewishness and/or conform to the system of wealth and honor in society (thus remaining less accommodated and less assimilated).

The blend of ekphrastic elements with resources from Jewish Scripture and Jesus tradition persuades the audience to imagine what it would look like to live wisely in an embodied/embedded way in the diaspora—not fleeing from it—while holding on to a particular set of convictions and behaviors flowing from the Torah and from their trust in Christ. In Jewish tradition, one could compare this with the strategies found in Hellenistic Jewish wisdom literature, such as Pseudo-Phocylides or the Wisdom of Solomon, despite the differences in genre/messages. The text of James creates a hybrid space in emerging early Christian discourse, employing the Greco-Roman rhetorical device of ekphrasis (potentially appealing both to insiders and outsiders) to encourage them to seek divine wisdom. In this space populated with the letter’s ekphrastic images, the audience is urged to resist temptation and continue to practice the core values of Jewish law while waiting for the eschatological events consummated by the Jewish God and/or Jesus Christ, the “Lord of glory” (Jas 2:1).

3. From Ekphrasis to Rhetography

One may ask why the term rhetography is needed, if one can examine the text’s pictoriality through the lens of ekphrasis. First of all, the constraints mentioned before (pp. 5–6 in this paper) may pose a practical question to any ekphrastically oriented investigation of James: if the diverse images appear sporadic, how can one make sustained rhetorical interpretations from each of the images? The theory and practice of motion pictures (i.e., film studies) will be helpful in this regard, and indeed, it is not uncommon that classicists who study epic narratives employ both ancient ekphrasis and modern cinematography (Freudenburg 2023; Winkler 2024). This does not explain how cinematography can be effectively integrated into the rhetorical study of a New Testament letter (i.e., a non-narrative genre). This calls for a flexible analytic in SRI that combines social-scientific insights with rhetorical analysis of graphic images: rhetography. This section focuses on examining how rhetography and ekphrasis, while sharing commonalities, differ from each other (to be clear, this is about difference, rather than superiority). Furthermore, ancient ekphrasis and modern cinematography can work together to illuminate ancient writings, as demonstrated in the recent works of classical scholars mentioned above. I suggest that a rhetography of James 1:1–18, especially through cinematographic analysis, can maximize the ekphrastic potential of several images in this passage by weaving them into a continuous, vivid description.

According to Vernon Robbins’ proposal, rhetography is defined as “the graphic images people create in their minds as a result of the visual texture of a text” (Robbins 2008, p. 81), and in his 2009 monograph, the term is further defined as “the progressive, sensory-aesthetic, and/or argumentative texture of a text (rhetology) that invites a hearer/reader to create a graphic image or picture in the mind that implies a certain kind of truth and/or reality” (Robbins 2009, p. xxvii). As deSilva (2008, p. 274) notes, rhetography is especially useful for “uncovering the argumentative force” of a text when rhetology is not explicitly found in it. Given these definitions, the images themselves are not of primary importance in rhetography, but rather, the dynamic interaction between the multiple textures of the text and images that the text evokes, eventually contributing to the text’s rhetorical force. Along this line, Oropeza (2016, p. 36) says, “The difference [between ekphrasis and rhetography] is that rhetography focuses on the rhetoric of a text that prompts graphic images and pictures in the mind that directly correlate with persuasive effects, and the sequencing of pictures produces scenes and story lines.” However, it should be noted that ancient ekphrasis also concerns the rhetorical effects of visual descriptions, and its images are not merely ornaments. In her discussion of ancient ekphrasis, Whitaker says that “ekphrasis is defined by its effect on the listener” (Whitaker 2015, p. 47) and “ancient descriptions and usage of ekphrasis indicate it was not an end in itself but a means of persuasion” (Whitaker 2015, p. 69). In short, both rhetography and ekphrasis are concerned about rhetorical effects, and therefore, one needs a more convincing reason to explore rhetography over (or in addition to) ancient ekphrasis.

The question about difference can be answered in three other ways. First and foremost, these two concepts have different purposes. In the progymnastic handbooks, ekphrasis is mentioned primarily as a rhetorical exercise for composition,30 whereas in SRI, rhetography is introduced primarily as a rhetorical exercise for interpretation that articulates the pragmatic effects of a text. Put differently, ekphrasis is a teaching tool for ancient orators/authors on how to construct one’s rhetoric, whereas rhetography is an analytical tool for hermeneuts to examine how the various textures of the text can impact the audience or reader’s mind. Therefore, rhetography is concerned about something bigger than the original intent of the orator/author at the moment of composition. This leads to a second difference. As a heuristic tool for modern interpreters, rhetography flexibly blends both ancient rhetorical perspectives (including ekphrasis) and other approaches in modern biblical scholarship to better understand the text’s persuasion. Engaging ekphrasis can be one way of performing rhetography in the interdisciplinary space of SRI, but ultimately, SRI practitioners go beyond it.31

From there, a third difference arises. Rhetography draws on insights from social linguistics and cognitive science especially in exploring the function of images evoked in the text. Based on the theory of Idealized Cognitive Model (ICM), rhetography reflects six modes of discourse or “rhetorolects” (wisdom, prophetic, apocalyptic, precreation, miracle, and priestly)32, and rhetographical explorations will ask how visual images in a given text intersect with these six discursive modes (or various blends of them). This means that rhetography would pay more attention to a set of topoi and image patterns (represented by these six rhetorolects) in the minds of early Christians, rather than the materiality and full diversity of images from the ancient world. From an art historical perspective, this aspect of rhetography could be subject to criticism. Nygren (2017, p. 286) points out that “rhetography is concerned with revealing how mental images fit into a narrative of revelation, which is irreducibly teleological,” and he further asks (Nygren 2017, p. 287), “I am left wondering why both images and pictures are invoked by Robbins as dematerialized mental images.” This challenge provides opportunities for further development in the engagement of SRI practitioners with rhetography.

Due to the scope of this essay, it will not discuss the six modes of discourse or rhetorolects with regard to the rhetography of James 1:1–18, as the task at hand is to explore the “sequencing of pictures” in James, which will help overcome some constraints mentioned above at the beginning of the section. Note that interest in the “sequencing of pictures” is one of the characteristics of rhetography mentioned by Oropeza above. Considering the traditional understanding of ekphrasis in literary studies (ekphrasis as the “stilling of movement,” Krieger 1967, p. 109), this focus on sequencing and movement in SRI is distinctive.

The next section will demonstrate how film studies can illuminate the rhetography of this passage. The study of films, though it has not been actively explored by SRI practitioners (especially with regard to the epistolary genre), is particularly pertinent to rhetography, since rhetography is about how “our mind…constructs what we see” (Bloomquist 2017, p. 94). This means that the rhetography of James 1:1–18 can be best articulated by dynamic images like movies, rather than still-cuts like art in a museum. Cinematography partly resonates with ancient ekphrasis in its power of creating spectators. In Progymnasmata 68, Nikolaos notes that ekphrasis “make[s] the hearers into spectators,” and in the modern world, films are a primary medium that attracts spectators to watch and experience. Winkler demonstrates the cinematographic potential of ekphrasis in interpreting ancient texts.33 For example, in the chapter named “Motion Images in Ecphrases,” he presents a “screenplay of the ecphrasis” of Catullus’s Poem 64, by showing scenes, shots, and detailed directives (Winkler 2024, pp. 145–49). This paper tries something similar toward a rhetography of James 1:1–18. When a reader hears/reads James and imagines themself as a spectator in a movie theater, the disparate images of the passage, reflecting ekphrastic tradition (but not a full-blown ekphrasis), turn into a continuous space/time in which the spectator is immersed.

Prior to moving to Section 4, two caveats should be mentioned. First, the techniques explored in the next section (e.g., shot transition, continuous editing, etc.) are also devices for composition and not interpretation, and in this regard, they are on par with ekphrasis (i.e., a tool for composition). Therefore, the compositional insight of cinematography is included in the interpretative/analytical framework of rhetography, rather than simply equated with it. Second, using cinematography to interpret an ancient letter is admittedly a modern interpretative enterprise, since no one in antiquity knew modern cinema (though cinema-like experiences may have existed).34 Modern interpreters engage in the meaning-making process in ways that are primarily intelligible to modern readers, rather than ancient audiences.35 However, it should be noted that this paper’s approach is not only based on modern imagination. Although the actual author and initial recipients of James remain (and will remain) unclear, one can assume that most early Christians who encountered this document experienced it orally/aurally in a communal setting, rather than reading it silently and individually at one’s desk (for this important presupposition about early Christian reading in performance criticism, see Iverson 2021, pp. 3–5). If early Christian traditions, including the NT, were oralized by “using verbal and visual cues” (Iverson 2021, p. 9), and performance of these traditions included nonverbal communication systems, i.e., visual (kinesic, proxemic, artifactual), auditory (pitch, rate, duration, etc.), and invisible (tactile, olfactory, chronemic) subsystems (Iverson 2021, p. 102), it is possible to compare the experience of those early readers of the New Testament to that of spectators in theaters—even movie theaters.

4. A Rhetography of James 1:1–18: Cinematographic Analysis

Three particular aspects of cinematography and film editing help one explore a rhetography of James 1:1–18: shot types (esp. distance), shot transitions, and continuity editing combined with crosscutting techniques. Before beginning, a few theoretical/terminological issues should be addressed. First, the difference between a shot and a scene needs clarification. In cinematography, a shot is “a single uninterrupted series of frames,” constituting “film’s basic unit of expression,” while a scene is “a coherent unit,” usually made up of a series of shots (except for a long take shot—in this case one shot amounts to a scene), creating “the illusion of a moment in narrative space and time” (Pramaggiore and Wallis 2020, pp. 146–47). Therefore, James 1:2–18 is one scene that consists of several shots (see Table 2 below; 1:1 would be an opening scene). This means the focus is how the transitions between shots (not scenes) can be heuristic devices for one’s interpretation of this passage.36 Because this paper uses grammatical features (e.g., singular/plural pronouns and verbs) to determine shots and shot transitions, one can also say that shot transitions reflect the progressive texture of this passage.37 Secondly, there are different shot types in terms of camera distance: an extreme long shot (ELS/XLS), a long shot (LS), a medium shot (MS), a close-up (CU), etc. Names of these shots are determined by “the implied distance between the camera lens and the subject being photographed” (Barsam and Monahan 2016, p. 236; cf. Pramaggiore and Wallis 2020, p. 157). Additionally, there are “crosscutting shots,” which are inserted into a series of continuing main shots (focusing on main actions in a scene). One could imagine a movie scene that alternates between a battle at one place and another battle at a different place. In this case, even though the shots are from different locations and interrupt each other, the overall continuity between the stream of shots is achieved through crosscutting embedded within the overall continuity editing (Bordwell et al. 2016, p. 244). One can find similar attempts to arrange and analyze ancient texts in scenes and shot types in several scholarly works, such as Mench (1969, p. 384 on Aeneid 4.68–73), Zwick (2016, p. 93 on Matt 17:1–13), Freudenburg (2023, pp. 159–165 for a summary of various cinematographic/editing techniques with “counterparts in ancient epic”), and Winkler (2024, pp. 145–149 on Catullus’s Poem 64).

Third, my analysis of James 1:1–18 utilizes the Kuleshov effect, a phenomenon discovered by Lev Kuleshov in 1917.38 According to this discovery (which is one of the primary principles of film studies), “the meaning of a shot was determined not only by the content of the shot, but also by its association with the preceding and succeeding shots” (Pramaggiore and Wallis 2020, p. 206). This means that one can draw more meaning from how each shot is connected to the surrounding shots, rather than individual shots in isolation. Though the term was coined in the early twentieth century, the Kuleshov effect taps into a pattern of human perception. Human perception tends to make connections and create continuity out of disconnected experiences. Berliner and Cohen (2011, pp. 59–60) demonstrate that cinematography and editing conventions “deliberately… exploit and accommodate the processes and limitations of our perceptual system,” and the findings in their cognitive scientific research explain “how cinema spectators perceive continuity when viewing cinema’s fragmentary images.” This rhetographical analysis presupposes a similar cognitive pattern for the readers/audiences of James. When they experience the letter aurally and visually, meanings arise through the audience’s cognitive process that makes connections between successive shots and images projected in their mind by the linguistic signs in the text.

The passage of James 1:1–18 can be understood as two scenes—Scene 1 (1:1, epistolary prescript) and Scene 2 (1:2–18, prologue). The latter is longer and contains several quickly shifting shots. The cinematographic structure of 1:1–18 can be found in Table 2.

Table 2. The cinematographic structure of James 1:1–18.

Scene	Shot	Verse	Feature
Scene 1: Prescript	Shot 1 CU	1:1a James… Ἰάκωβος…	- It could be part of the next scene, but it is better understood as an opening scene, since it is a salutation/prescript. - A combination of a close-up (James) and an extreme long shot (the twelve tribes spread across the Mediterranean world).
	Shot 2 ELS	1:1b to the twelve tribes in the diaspora… ταῖς δώδεκα φυλαῖς ταῖς ἐν τῇ διασπορᾷ…
Scene 2: Prologue	Shot 1 LS	1:2–4 my siblings (i.e., members of one particular community)… ἀδελφοί μου…	- Embedded in second person plural pronouns and verbs (vv. 2–4) - Addressing the entire community - The main topic of the first part of this letter is temptations/trials (πειρασμοί) and how to cope with them wisely.
	Shot 2 MS	1:5–6a any of you… τις ὑμῶν…	- Not a specific individual, but any one of the community (the camera turning around) - Third person singular imperatives, targeting any one of the community members
	Shot 3 CU	1:6b–8 one who doubts… that person… a double-minded man ὁ… διακρινόμενος… ὁ ἄνθρωπος ἐκεῖνος… ἀνὴρ δίψυχος	- Description of a specific individual who has negative qualities - This individual is among “you,” i.e., the community from Shot 1.
		Crosscutting (Type I): Shot 3′ (1:6c) like the wave of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind	- An extended simile indicating realities outside the main shot (i.e., the community) is inserted into Shot 3. - The doubter/double-minded person in the community is compared to the precarious situation encountered in the sea.
	Shot 4 CU	1:9–11 the lowly sibling… (versus) the rich one ὁ ἀδελφὸς ὁ ταπεινὸς… ὁ… πλούσιος…	- An economic contrast between a community member (called ἀδελφός) and an outsider (not called ἀδελφός) - ὁ ἀδελφὸς ὁ ταπεινός could be the same individual in vv. 5–8, i.e., who is humbled by adversarial circumstances (πειρασμοί) and in danger of falling into double-mindedness.
		Crosscutting (Type I): Shot 4′ (1:11) For the sun rises… its flower falls…	- Another extended simile indicating realities outside the main shot is inserted into Shot 4. - A rich person is compared to a futile situation observed on land.
	Shot 5 CU	1:12 a man who endures temptation/trial… ἀνὴρ ὅς ὑπομένει πειρασμόν…	- Description of another individual in the community, who has positive and exemplary qualities - This person is contrasted both with the lowly sibling and the rich outsider.
		Crosscutting (Type II): Shot 5′ (1:12b) (the person) will receive the crown of life promised to those who love the Lord	- A shot showing the suprahuman realm is inserted into Shot 5. - Eschatological rewards in apocalyptic discourse
	Shot 6 MS	1:13–15 no one… each one… μηδείς… ἕκαστος…	- Corresponding to Shot 2 (not a specific individual, but any one of the community) - Third person singular verbs (both imperative and indicative)
		Crosscutting (Type II): Shot 6′ (1:15)	- A shot showing the suprahuman realm is inserted into Shot 6. - Personified beings in a mythological mode
	Shot 7 LS	1:16–18 my beloved siblings… ἀδελφοί μου ἀγαπητοί…	- Corresponding to Shot 1 (addressing the entire community) - Following the second person plural imperative, emphasizing a wise course of life amid temptations
		Crosscutting (Type II): Shot 7′ (1:17–18)	- A shot showing the suprahuman realm is inserted into Shot 7. - Twisted precreation discourse (God as a father-mother of the community)

Table 2. The cinematographic structure of James 1:1–18.

Scene	Shot	Verse	Feature
Scene 1: Prescript	Shot 1 CU	1:1a James… Ἰάκωβος…	- It could be part of the next scene, but it is better understood as an opening scene, since it is a salutation/prescript. - A combination of a close-up (James) and an extreme long shot (the twelve tribes spread across the Mediterranean world).
	Shot 2 ELS	1:1b to the twelve tribes in the diaspora… ταῖς δώδεκα φυλαῖς ταῖς ἐν τῇ διασπορᾷ…
Scene 2: Prologue	Shot 1 LS	1:2–4 my siblings (i.e., members of one particular community)… ἀδελφοί μου…	- Embedded in second person plural pronouns and verbs (vv. 2–4) - Addressing the entire community - The main topic of the first part of this letter is temptations/trials (πειρασμοί) and how to cope with them wisely.
	Shot 2 MS	1:5–6a any of you… τις ὑμῶν…	- Not a specific individual, but any one of the community (the camera turning around) - Third person singular imperatives, targeting any one of the community members
	Shot 3 CU	1:6b–8 one who doubts… that person… a double-minded man ὁ… διακρινόμενος… ὁ ἄνθρωπος ἐκεῖνος… ἀνὴρ δίψυχος	- Description of a specific individual who has negative qualities - This individual is among “you,” i.e., the community from Shot 1.
		Crosscutting (Type I): Shot 3′ (1:6c) like the wave of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind	- An extended simile indicating realities outside the main shot (i.e., the community) is inserted into Shot 3. - The doubter/double-minded person in the community is compared to the precarious situation encountered in the sea.
	Shot 4 CU	1:9–11 the lowly sibling… (versus) the rich one ὁ ἀδελφὸς ὁ ταπεινὸς… ὁ… πλούσιος…	- An economic contrast between a community member (called ἀδελφός) and an outsider (not called ἀδελφός) - ὁ ἀδελφὸς ὁ ταπεινός could be the same individual in vv. 5–8, i.e., who is humbled by adversarial circumstances (πειρασμοί) and in danger of falling into double-mindedness.
		Crosscutting (Type I): Shot 4′ (1:11) For the sun rises… its flower falls…	- Another extended simile indicating realities outside the main shot is inserted into Shot 4. - A rich person is compared to a futile situation observed on land.
	Shot 5 CU	1:12 a man who endures temptation/trial… ἀνὴρ ὅς ὑπομένει πειρασμόν…	- Description of another individual in the community, who has positive and exemplary qualities - This person is contrasted both with the lowly sibling and the rich outsider.
		Crosscutting (Type II): Shot 5′ (1:12b) (the person) will receive the crown of life promised to those who love the Lord	- A shot showing the suprahuman realm is inserted into Shot 5. - Eschatological rewards in apocalyptic discourse
	Shot 6 MS	1:13–15 no one… each one… μηδείς… ἕκαστος…	- Corresponding to Shot 2 (not a specific individual, but any one of the community) - Third person singular verbs (both imperative and indicative)
		Crosscutting (Type II): Shot 6′ (1:15)	- A shot showing the suprahuman realm is inserted into Shot 6. - Personified beings in a mythological mode
	Shot 7 LS	1:16–18 my beloved siblings… ἀδελφοί μου ἀγαπητοί…	- Corresponding to Shot 1 (addressing the entire community) - Following the second person plural imperative, emphasizing a wise course of life amid temptations
		Crosscutting (Type II): Shot 7′ (1:17–18)	- A shot showing the suprahuman realm is inserted into Shot 7. - Twisted precreation discourse (God as a father-mother of the community)

A summary of the entire passage in movie terms is presented this way. The first prominent device in Scene 1 is zooming in and zooming out, alternating different shot types. Right after a close-up of the sender (Shot 1), the letter shifts to an extreme long shot, almost showing the entire Mediterranean world (Shot 2). Then, at the beginning of Scene 2, the camera is zooming in on one unnamed community with a long shot (Shot 1). The camera zooms further in and turns around to show the members of the community (Shot 2). Immediately the letter employs close-ups of three people, or three types of people (Shots 3–5), interspersed with two types of crosscutting shots that represent two other storylines (Type I in Shots 3′ and 4′ [a common pattern of life in the ancient Mediterranean world]; Type II in Shots 5′, 6′, 7′ [a suprahuman space in apocalyptic and mythic discourse]). The transitions and crosscutting technique create a continuity among people in each storyline.39 After a medium shot (Shot 6) that corresponds to Shot 2, the whole scene ends with a long shot of the community (Shot 7), recalling Shot 1, like an inclusio. All of these can be related to the progressive-repetitive inner texture of the passage created by the repetition and change in pronouns and subjects (for inner texture, see Robbins 1996b, pp. 46–50).

4.1. Scene 1 (1:1): Prescript

Although it is a single verse, I treat 1:1 as a separate scene, since the verse is viewed as a salutation/greeting or an epistolary prescript by most scholars. The audience of this letter encounters “James” as the author/sender and “the twelve tribes in the diaspora” as the recipients. Scene 1 contains a combination of close-up (Shot 1) and extreme long shots (Shot 2) that shift very quickly.

• Shot 1 (v. 1a): a close-up

The author/sender of the letter is Ἰάκωβος, a Jewish male name.40 This person identifies himself as a slave/servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ,41 leading the ancient audience into a space where a long-established Jewish tradition (δοῦλος/עבד of God/Yahweh) and a recently emerging early Christian literary tradition (the author as δοῦλος of Christ) meet. Depending on the dating of this letter, one can also expect that this name evoked many traditions, stories, and images related to James of Jerusalem (e.g., Gal 1–2; Acts 15), which contributed to the authority of this figure for ancient audiences. For modern readers who have the advantage of reading all the New Testament, this oral-scribal intertexture can be more freely explored. Another possibility is that v. 1a is divided into four separate shots, showing the images of James, a slave/servant, God, and Jesus, respectively, like a rapid imaging sequence, but it is better understood as a single shot mainly focused on the author/sender, while other images could be expressed with an overlay.

• Shot 2 (v. 1b): an extreme long shot

The author then claims that the letter is sent to the twelve tribes (of Israel) in the diaspora, and the image of multiple communities across various regions is evoked. Thus, this letter is different from the undisputed Pauline letters that were sent to a particular local community (e.g., 1 Corinthians, 1 Thessalonians) or communities in the same region (e.g., Galatians). One may expect that Shot 2 is a point-of-view shot,42 embodying James’s point of view (the person shown by a close-up right before) toward the recipients. However, it is impossible to look at all of these multiple communities at once through the eyes of James. Rather, reading James 1:1b, the modern reader can envision an aerial view where they can see several communities and/or the entire Mediterranean basin from above. This is not to say that the initial audience of James in antiquity had an aerial view of the earth, yet the sheer difference in scope (a single person and multiple communities in the diaspora) would have had some cognitive effect on the ancient audience. Indeed, ancient epic narratives also provide examples of a high-angle shot, such as a panoramic view of the Trojan and Achaean armies at the beginning of Iliad 3 (Freudenburg 2023, pp. 21–22). In that Homeric passage, the aerial, comprehensive shot soon transitions to a ground-level and close shot.43 In James 1:1, the shift from Shot 1 to Shot 2, marked by the camera changing its point of view and angle, moves in the opposite direction. By raising the angle high, it invites the audience/viewer to share God’s point of view (not just James’s), looking at God’s people wherever they are.

This extreme long shot from above, depicting diaspora communities, communicates a sense of God’s wandering people, who could be considered “exiles” forcefully deported from their homeland (cf. exile identity in 1 Pet 1:1, 2:11), scattered throughout the Mediterranean world.44 This high angle shot serves to reveal the narrative space of this letter, suggesting an ambivalence toward the diaspora. On the one hand, it strengthens the feeling of isolation, remoteness, and vulnerability in the twelve tribes’ diaspora experience. On the other hand, it depicts (though vaguely) their interactions with others in their cities, implying that living in the diaspora is not just about constant grief and loss. One may recall a sense of the rootedness of the diaspora found in Philo’s description of Jerusalem as metropolis (mother city) and of the diaspora city he lived as patris (fatherland) (In Flaccum 46).

Regardless of whether the sender (James) and the recipients (twelve tribes, see v. 1b) are real or fictitious, the letter of James functions as an “apostolic diaspora letter” (apostolischer Diasporabrief) (Niebuhr 1998, p. 424). The aerial point of view of James’s address (“to the twelve tribes”) and greeting (χαίρειν) reconnect each of these scattered communities at a heavenly level (cf. 1:17–18), emphasizing their shared identity. James’s visual rhetoric in Scene 1 (Shots 1 and 2) prepares the audience to imagine how they can walk faithfully in their diaspora space, where both perils and opportunities exist.

4.2. Scene 2 (1:2–18): Prologue

The camera zooms in from an extreme long shot at high altitude (v. 1b, Scene 1, Shot 2) to an earthly long shot (v. 2) to begin Scene 2, focusing on one community in a single location. The camera’s point of view is basically that of “James,” who stands among them (perhaps through his epistolary presence via a lector), looking around and delivering this word of exhortation. Scene 2 consists of several shots, and these shots are depicted in Figure 1 and discussed in more detail below.

• Shot 1 (vv. 2–4): a long shot

In v. 2, Shot 1 begins with the author calling the addressees, “my siblings” (ἀδελφοί μου). The term, “my siblings,” likely refers to members of one particular community, rather than referring to all twelve tribes in the diaspora. Grammatically, the verses consist of a second-person plural imperative (ἡγήσασθε) and second-person plural verbs (περιπέσητε, ἦτε [also, plural participles such as γινώσκοντες]), demonstrating that the author is directly addressing his audience. The main topic of Scene 2, introduced in vv. 2–4, is temptations/trials (πειρασμοί) and how to cope with them wisely by changing one’s perspective. These trials should be reframed with joy (πᾶσαν χαράν),45 as opportunities for endurance, maturity, and perfection. In summary, immediately after the extreme long shot in Scene 1 that covers many Jewish communities in the diaspora, Shot 1 in Scene 2 narrows the focus to members of one single community and addresses them intimately, which sets the stage for the rest of the letter.

• Shot 2 (vv. 5–6a): a medium shot

In v. 5, Shot 2 cuts in, as the camera zooms in further with a medium shot. This time, the author focuses on a single person (τις ὑμῶν, “any of you”) and addresses the lack of wisdom (and how to receive wisdom), which is one of the most important topics in this letter. The sentence uses third-person-singular imperatives (αἰτείτω occurring twice: v. 5 and v. 6a). This person is not specified but rather could be any individual in the group. One can imagine the camera panning around every member of the community. As Johnson (1995, p. 179) notes, “the exhortation is directed at any who are not able to share the community’s perception (hēgēsasthai) rooted in a common knowledge (ginōskontes).” Yet, the next shot zooms in for a close-up and points out one person.

• Shot 3 (vv. 6b–8): a close-up

Shot 2 quickly transitions to Shot 3 in vv. 6b–8, where an individual with negative qualities is framed in a close-up. The camera that was moving around (vv. 5–6a) in Shot 2 has stopped on one person: “one who doubts” (v. 6b), a “double-minded” (δίψυχος) man (v. 8).46 This person does not follow the author’s exhortation in vv. 5–6a. These verses are not about total unbelief but “vacillating faith” (Allison 2013, p. 179).47 In cinematography, close-ups (which are not possible in stage performance) are often used to reveal the hidden thoughts and emotions of characters (Balázs 1972, p. 56), and this is performed via subtle facial expression rather than spoken words (Panofsky 1995, p. 101). McGinn (2005, p. 51) comments on close-ups, “[T]he type of audience perception that comes into play here is not merely the perception of material things but of states of mind… The close-up affords a uniquely powerful window onto the mind of the character.” Envisioning a close-up in vv. 6b–8 can be an effective device to communicate the mental state of this double-minded person.

• Crosscutting (Type I): Shot 3′ (v. 6c)

Here in v. 6c, the first extended simile is inserted (“like the wave of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind”), a literary version of the crosscutting technique in film editing. Technically, the simile does not depict the main characters of the scene but is brought in as a literary trope; however, this does not necessarily prevent filming it (see Mench 1969, p. 393 for the filming of the ant simile in Aeneid 4.401–407).48 A violent wave of the sea appears in Shot 3′, while Shot 3 is still focusing on the recipient community. The doubter/double-minded person in the community (Shot 3) is effectively compared to the unruly situation in the sea (Shot 3′). Considering the Kuleshov effect, the juxtaposition of this crosscutting shot with the close-up in Shot 3 shapes viewers’ perception of the character’s thoughts and emotions (which are not verbally expressed in the text).

Intertextually, the storm on the sea and the danger of sea voyages constitutes a familiar topos in ancient literature (tracing back to the Homeric epic, and often found in Jewish scripture) and resonates with the socio-cultural realities of the ancient Mediterranean world, although the wording that James uses seems quite distinctive (for example, ἀνεμίζω may be coined by James; Allison 2013, p. 183). As discussed below, Shots 3′ and 4′ are “Type I crosscutting shots” that represent some common social and cultural reference in Mediterranean antiquity (i.e., social and cultural intertexture).

• Shot 4 (vv. 9–11): a close-up (a split screen)

Now, Shot 3 (and 3′) immediately transitions into Shot 4 in vv. 9–11. Shot 4 can be compared to a split screen that presents two contrasting figures: “the lowly sibling” (ὁ ἀδελφὸς ὁ ταπεινός) and “the rich [person]” (ὁ πλούσιος). That the lowly person in v. 9 is called ἀδελφός (“sibling”) implies that this is a community member. Yet, the rich person in v. 10 does not explicitly have that familial designation. Interpretations about their identities are divided.49 Some believe that the rich person could also be an ἀδελφός (thus, insider), but the repeated word is omitted for stylistic reasons. Others think that the omission of the word ἀδελφός implies that the rich person is an outsider, thus presenting a sharp contrast. Considering the letter’s critique of the rich, the latter view is more likely correct—for example, the rich who oppress the members of this community will be subject to eschatological judgment (2:6–7 and 5:1). This does not mean that all people in James’s audience were poor, nor that all outsiders were rich. As Batten (2022, p. 326) correctly notes, “The question is not whether or not the rich or the poor are in the [real] audience. Rather, these are characters.” What is significant here is how the author of this document rhetorically sets the boundary of the community in economic terms, rich and poor.

The Kuleshov effect helps to understand how the preceding and following shots shape the meaning of Shot 4, especially the half of the split screen focusing on the “lowly sibling.” As a whole, Shot 4 still focuses on the same community as Shot 1, thereby maintaining the same storyline surrounding this community. In other words, Shot 3 and Shot 4 are set in the same context, and Shot 3′ is inserted as a crosscutting shot. Thus, the viewer/audience perceives the meaning of the contrast in Shot 4 in light of the preceding shots. A possible identification of an individual in Shot 3 with (at least) one of the people in Shot 4 emerges: the “lowly sibling” in v. 9 could be identified with the “doubter” in vv. 6–8. Also, the emotional effects (pathos) from precariousness and urgency on the sea in Shot 3′ continues to control the emotional tone of Shot 4.

Furthermore, the way the shots transition from 1 to 4 (from long to close-up) through continuity editing, along with the progressive texture of pronouns and verbs, gradually directs the viewer’s attention to this particular “lowly sibling” in the community. As shown in Figure 2 below, the author narrows the scope of the shots from the community as a whole (ἀδελφοί μου, “my siblings” [pl.], 1:2) to some anonymous/undesignated person among them (τις ὑμῶν, “any [sg.] of you [pl.],” 1:5) to one specific person (ὁ ἀδελφὸς ὁ ταπεινός, “the lowly sibling” [sg.], 1:9).

If one experiences the progression of these shots in a continuous manner like in a movie, this lowly sibling (v. 9) could be understood as exemplifying the characteristics mentioned in v. 2 (issues and concerns such as temptations/trials) and in vv. 5–8 (humbled by adversarial circumstances and in danger of falling into double-mindedness). Though in crisis and already humiliated, the person is an ἀδελφός/sibling who stays in the community, has an opportunity to improve by heeding to the author’s exhortations, and thus stands in contrast to the rich person who would remain (eschatologically) humiliated (v. 10b). Even though one is reading a letter, the viewer/audience can construct a story about this person in the community by looking at these continuing shots. Dibelius (1976, pp. 83–84) notes that 1:9–11 introduces “a new antithesis which is not combined… in any way with the preceding antithesis,” and he regards attempts to establish “any connection in thought” between 1:9 and 11 and the previous verses as hopeless. Yet, by paying attention to the shot transitions, one sees the textual flow, going from the crowd to an individual, from indefiniteness to identification.

Yet, the other half of the split screen in Shot 4 focuses on the rich person, an outsider. The subsequent crosscutting shot (Shot 4′) vividly portrays this person’s situation.

• Crosscutting (Type I): Shot 4′ (v. 11)

The previous shot is quickly followed by another extended simile in Shot 4′ (v. 11), which is a crosscutting shot that elaborates on the nature of the rich person (πλούσιος in v. 10b). This unnamed rich outsider (or a visitor? [cf. 2:2]) is compared to a flower that withers when the sun rises. This recalls an earlier shot (Shot 3′) that depicts the rough wave of the sea. In terms of crosscutting and continuity editing, it is possible to envision that 3′ and 4′ are actually continued shots, although they are divided by Shot 4 in the middle (see Figure 3 below). It is possible that the images of the wave of the sea and the flower withering under the sun are drawn from the Jesus tradition (e.g., Mark 4:6) and/or other Jewish tradition (e.g., Isa 40:7; Ps 103:15). Yet, these images were typical and pervasive in the ancient Mediterranean. While the letter of James continues to focus on the community settled in the diaspora, these crosscutting shots form a continued, extended, and contrapuntal storyline of dynamic life in the Mediterranean behind and beside the storyline of the community. The two stories (main shots and Type I) do not merge completely,50 but the crosscutting technique enables viewers/readers to understand one in light of the other.

Type I crosscutting shots (the wave in Shot 3′; the flower in Shot 4′) likely reflect a typical story that many people in the ancient Mediterranean world experience and relate to (for example, almost everyone would have witnessed a flower wilting in the summer sun). One could imagine a story like this: a person first suffers from the windstorm and rough wave in the sea, and after landing on an unfamiliar shore, the person sees a wildflower that quickly withers when the scorching sun rises after the storm. In the later parts of James, one sees the story of this typical life-journey in the Mediterranean cut back into the main storyline of the community again. For example, the story of the merchants in James 4:13–17, where the merchants desire to make money doing business for an extended period in another town can also be understood as a crosscutting shot corresponding to Shot 3′ (1:6c) and Shot 4′ (1:11). All this constitutes a contrapuntal storyline alongside the main storyline of the believing community that serves as social commentary.

• Shot 5 (v. 12): a close-up

Shot 5 (v. 12) transitions to “a man (ἀνήρ) who endures temptation/trial” and serves as a positive example for the audience. The word ἀνήρ, which is used for the first time here, introduces a new figure (unlike the connection between ἀδελφοί in v. 2 and ἀδελφός in v. 9). Again, despite the person not speaking in this verse, the close-up shot can reveal the inner disposition of this person with a facial expression. The description of this steadfast person differs from the lowly sibling in 1:6–8. Whereas temptation, lack of wisdom, and doubt characterize the lowly sibling in Shot 4, endurance despite temptation is embodied in the positive example in Shot 5 (the contrast is probably not absolute because both are community insiders). Here, the camera focuses on a laudable individual in the community, who stands in contrast to the negatively portrayed rich person in vv. 10–11. A simple diagram is helpful for visualizing this triangular relationship (Figure 4). The sequence of shots (Shots 3–5) evoking the images of these figures and their contrasting standing positions can effectively stimulate the audience/viewer to imitate the positive example (and avoid the negative one). This process is similar to what Iverson points out in relation to the evocative and imitation-inducing power of performance based on “mirror neurons and the simulation process” (Iverson 2021, p. 89).

• Crosscutting (Type II): Shot 5′ (v. 12b)

The positive description of a laudable member of the community suddenly leaps into an apocalyptic shot in v. 12b (Shot 5′). In Shot 5′, the camera concentrates on the reward generally promised to those who love God (τοῖς ἀγαπῶσιν αὐτόν, v. 12b),51 which is solidified in this person “who endures temptation” (v. 12a). The word στέφανος relates to athletic contests and war–victory in the ancient Mediterranean world (thus, one might want to label it Type I), but the phrase στέφανος (τῆς ζωῆς) evokes New Testament apocalyptic tradition (Rev 2:10; cf. Rev 3:11; 4:10; 14:14). The metaphorical use of a crown is sometimes found in the wisdom tradition (e.g., Prov 4:19; 14:24), but as Allison (2013, pp. 231–32) notes, “the promise of a (metaphorical) crown bestowed by wisdom became, in apocalyptic and related literature, surpassed by hope for a crown in the afterlife or the new age”.

This crosscutting shot can be identified as Type II, which continues throughout James (see Figure 1). Type II crosscutting envisages a space populated with suprahuman powers. One may compare this crosscutting in Shot 5′ (v. 12b) to the shot movement Mench describes with regard to Aeneid 4.90–92: “Abruptly mood and scene are shattered by cutting to Juno’s cynical celestial dialog with Venus… The angle shot from beneath the walls past the crane has pointed the way to this scene in heaven. In line 89 the sky (caelo) is the background against which something earthly was measured” (Mench 1969, pp. 386–87). James 1:12b shows personified beings intervening in human life, gifts from above, and/or God’s eschatological reward or punishment,52 flashing back to the aerial shot in 1:1b and foreshadowing another heavenly shot in vv. 17–18, by which the viewer is asked to measure earthly life in the diaspora. This brings the invisible (or the absent) to the visible and tangible reality, which partly overlaps with the effects of ekphrasis (cf. visio/φαντασία in Quintilian (2002b), Institutio Oratoria 6.2.29 and Diogenes Laertius (1925) 7.45–46).

• Shot 6 (vv. 13–15): a medium shot (esp. a pan shot)

Now, in v. 13, the camera moves down and zooms out slightly, panning (turning the camera horizontally) to the members of the community to emphasize that no one (μηδείς) in the community should say, ἀπὸ θεοῦ πειράζομαι (“I am being tempted by God”). One can notice vv. 13–14 are full of words that share the sematic range of temptation (πειράζω [four times] and ἀπείραστός [once]), and thus, in terms of vocabulary, this shot echoes v. 2 (Shot 1) and v. 12 (Shot 5). In terms of shot types, Shot 6 corresponds to Shot 2, where a more general appellation, “any of you” (τις ὑμῶν), is found.

• Crosscutting (Type II): Shot 6′ (v. 15)

Again, a crosscutting shot (Shot 6′) is used in v. 15. Along with Shot 5′, this shot envisages a suprahuman space in apocalyptic and mythic discourse. It should be noted that Type II crosscutting shots are not just about the eschatological future in the linear sense; rather, these shots spatially transcend the human sphere. In Shot 5′, the blessed, eschatological reward of the person who endures is highlighted, but Shot 6′ reveals the opposite, darker side of this space. Greek words, such as desire (ἐπιθυμία), sin (ἁμαρτία), and death (θάνατος), are personified as if they are (evil) deities. They are pregnant, give birth, and/or grow. Perhaps the overlapping vocabulary between James 1:15 and Psalm 7:14 (7:15 LXX) (e.g., συλλαμβάνω and τίκτω are found in both) suggests that James draws on Jewish wisdom literature (Allison 2013, p. 252), and the personification of death is found in Jewish scripture (e.g., Ps 49:15; Isa 25:8; Hos 13:14) (Allison 2013, p. 253, n. 246). Yet, this verse also evokes mythical images from the broader world, where gods, demi-gods, and other suprahuman beings (either good or evil) undergo sexual intercourse, birth, growth, and other human-like processes. In a sense, James writes something like mythical genealogy or theogony on a small scale.

What makes this passage stand out among other mythological discourse is that these personified evil beings are not located in the primordial past but in direct contact with each person’s present.

• Each person is tempted by one’s own ἐπιθυμία.
• ἐπιθυμία is conceived and gives birth to ἁμαρτία.
• ἁμαρτία grows into maturity and gives birth to θάνατος.

Thus, the apocalyptic/mythic discourse featuring these personified beings blends into wisdom tradition with an emphasis on the discerning and fruitful life of believers (cf. v. 16): Μὴ πλανᾶσθε (“Do not be deceived!”). Prompt transitions between the main shots and these Type II crosscutting shots (Shots 5′, 6′, 7′) create the impression that they are not separate from this apocalyptic reality, thereby increasing the urgency and teleological significance of the author’s wisdom exhortation.

• Shot 7 (vv. 16–18): a long shot

Right after the crosscutting shot, the passage transitions to Shot 7 (v. 16), depicting the community in the human realm. The camera pulls further back to a long shot to reveal the community as a whole. The shot distance is similar to that of Shot 1 (v. 2), creating an inclusio. The author uses the second person plural, ἀδελφοί μου ἀγαπητοί (“my beloved siblings”),53 in a similar way to ἀδελφοί μου (“my siblings”) in v. 2. All comparisons of individuals in Shots 3–5 now morph into direct exhortations for the community. The second-person-plural imperative (“Do not be deceived”) emphasizes the importance of a life of wisdom amid temptations.

• Crosscutting (Type II): Shot 7′ (vv. 17–18)

The final example of crosscutting in Scene 2 envisions a space beyond the human sphere. The portrayal of God in Shot 7′ is in contrast to the mythic-apocalyptic depiction of desire–sin–death (Shot 6′). In Shot 6′, entities like desire, sin, and death are pregnant, give birth, and grow in a vicious cycle. In Shot 7′, it is God who gives birth to the audience or the community “by the word of truth” (v. 18). The paralleled action may suggest that the shift between two crosscutting shots (Shot 6′ and Shot 7′) constitutes a “match cut” (“a transition from one shot to another shot that matches it in its action and/or overall composition,” (Freudenburg 2023, p. 97); for an example of a match cut featuring Penthesilea and Dido in the Aeneid, see Freudenburg (2023, pp. 97–98)). Yet, in James, the contrast between the evil theogony and God’s procreation is emphasized, rather than their connection.

What is striking here is the slight tension within this brief shot, i.e., differences between v. 17 and v. 18. On the one hand, God, who is called the “father (πατήρ) of lights,” is portrayed as an unchanged, immutable being (οὐκ ἔνι παραλλαγή, “there is no change”) even without the turning of shadow. On the other hand, God appears to be a mother-figure, who “gave birth to us” (ἀπεκύησεν ἡμᾶς).54 The first point to be noted is that giving birth (perhaps along with growth/death) is a characteristic of mutable beings, and it implicitly contradicts the statement in v. 17 (God is immutable). Secondly, it is noted that God appears as both father and mother. The metaphor of giving birth is “not purely feminine” (e.g., a masculine participle is used here), and God is not explicitly called mother, but “the use of apokueō is unusual for a masculine being, occurring no place else in the Greek New Testament or Hebrew Bible with a masculine subject” (Aymer 2017, p. 38). In other words, the verb ἀποκυέω emphasizes God as the “birthmother of the community” (Aymer 2017, p. 38).55 In SRI, precreation rhetorolect is often understood as expressing God’s paternity for Christ in God’s precreational space–time (e.g., John 1; Hebrews 1), in contrast to God’s maternity for human believers in the present. Thus, the blend of father and mother images in Shot 7′ potentially challenges and expands one’s understanding of precreation rhetorolect in SRI.

Finally, all these apocalyptic/mythic discourse crosscutting shots (Shots 5′, 6′, and 7′) are blended into the wisdom discourse of the main shots in Scene 2. The rapid alternation between main shots and these Type II crosscutting shots facilitates this blending. This blended discourse functions as a social criticism against socio-economic injustice (and partiality issues in the community). The God who exists above (see the use of ἄνωθεν and καταβαῖνον [v. 17] to indicate God is above and human begins are below) is portrayed as a true and ultimate benefactor, and “James sets the stage to critique human patrons and the havoc that patron-client relations could wreak” (Batten 2010, p. 121) that appear more vividly in the rest of the letter.

5. Concluding Remarks

Within the analytical framework of sociorhetorical interpretation (SRI), this paper explores a rhetography of James 1:1–18. It first engages ancient ekphrasis found in the progymnasmata tradition to examine images in James. A brief discussion of ekphrasis helps one reach a more nuanced understanding of the social and cultural texture of James, especially identifying the author as skilled in rhetoric and cultural literacy. Yet, since James lacks elaborate or sustained ekphrasis, but rather contains sporadic images that reflect ekphrastic tradition, this paper focused on rhetography in SRI. This analytical lens combines insights from other academic disciplines (e.g., cognitive science and social linguistics), here cinematographic and editing techniques (e.g., shot types, shot transitions, continuous editing and crosscutting) specifically. The lens of cinematography demonstrates how seemingly discontinuous subsections within a passage can be understood as a series of continuing main shots (including contrasts between positive and negative examples in the community, insiders and outsiders) and crosscutting shots (Type I contains things common to life in the ancient Mediterranean world and Type II relates to the suprahuman realm).

This rhetographical reading helps one understand the progressive flow of the passage and the rhetorical effects that emerge from the dynamic interactions of images that are sometimes terse and scattered. In Scene 1 (prescript, v. 1), right after the author/sender is introduced, the extreme long shot presents an aerial view of the scattered communities in the diaspora and invites the audience/viewer to share the divine perspective. As Scene 2 (prologue, vv. 2–18) begins, the shot gradually zooms in from long (Shot 1) to medium (Shot 2), focusing on one of these communities that the author affectionately calls “siblings.” Throughout a series of close-ups (Shots 3–5), the progressive texture of the passage, as well as continuity editing, enables one to identify the lowly sibling (v. 9, community member) with the one who is in danger of double-mindedness (vv. 5–8). This develops into a triangular contrast between this lowly sibling (v. 9, less positive), a manly person who endures temptation (v. 12, positive), and a rich outsider (v. 9, negative). As close-up shots in movies reveal the thoughts and emotions of the person through facial expressions and other subtle cues, these consecutive close-ups in Shots 3–5 (vv. 6–12) encourage viewers/readers to pay attention to the inner dispositions of these exemplary figures (both negative and positive) and to emulate the most positive model. Type I crosscutting shots (Shot 3′ [v. 6c] and Shot 4′ [v. 11]), interspersed throughout Shots 3–5, present extensive similes that describe the situations of negative figures ekphrastically, increasing the effectiveness of the author’s rhetoric through vividness and emotions. While Type I crosscutting shots represent common social and cultural references in Mediterranean antiquity, Type II crosscutting shots (Shots 5′ [v. 12b], 6′ [v. 15], 7′ [vv. 17–18]) portray the suprahuman space populated by both God and evil/mythic powers—that is, making the invisible (or the absent) visible. The vivid descriptions of eschatological rewards and divine gifts (Shot 5′ and Shot 7′) further motivates the viewer/audience to choose a wise and unwavering life in their diaspora context. The little theogony of desire–sin–death (Shot 6′) increases the urgency and teleological significance of the author’s wisdom exhortation, in which the rapidly alternating crosscutting shots are finally blended.

This interdisciplinary project contributes to four (overlapping) groups: (1) Jamesian scholarship in general and those who pay attention to the rhetoric of James in particular, (2) New Testament scholars who interpret James through SRI, (3) commentators/exegetes who engage SRI with various texts other than James, and (4) biblical interpreters and scholars of ancient religion/literature who engage film studies. First, this essay helps scholars in Jamesian studies appreciate the visual-rhetorical flow of James 1:1–18 and encourages them to explore the rest of James with regard to its ekphrastic/rhetographical aspects. Second, this essay enriches the sociorhetorical interpretation of James and is a useful conversation partner for previous SRI studies of James (e.g., Wachob 2000; Batten 2010; Mongstad-Kvammen 2013),56 because rhetography has not been utilized much in the interpretation of James. Third, while the significance of rhetography is being acknowledged in the SRI commentary series (SBL Press),57 this paper suggests that the generative role of rhetography in commentary writing and exegetical work deserves further exploration in relation to the New Testament. Finally, as an example of interdisciplinary study, this paper benefits scholars who explore the intersection of film studies and ancient religion/literature by expanding into various genres, including epistolary literature.