Acts 26:1–3

Acts 26:1 — "Agrippa said to Paul, 'You may speak for yourself.'"

The setting is the royal audience hall at Caesarea Maritima, thick with pomp: King Herod Agrippa II, his sister Bernice, the Roman governor Festus, military tribunes, and the leading men of the city have assembled (Acts 25:23). Luke's description is almost theatrical — "great pomp" (φαντασίας, phantasias) — and yet it is the chained prisoner who will command the room. Agrippa's grant of permission ("You may speak for yourself," literally ἐπιτρέπεταί σοι, "it is permitted to you") is ostensibly a concession of Roman judicial courtesy, but Luke frames it as a providential opening. Paul had appealed to Caesar (Acts 25:11), and his standing before Agrippa fulfills the Lord's own prophecy: "You will bear witness also at Rome" (Acts 23:11). The gesture of stretching out his hand (ἐκτείνας τὴν χεῖρα, 26:1b) is the formal orator's pose, drawn from Greco-Roman rhetorical convention — Paul is not improvising; he is composing an apologia in the classical sense.

Acts 26:2 — "I think myself happy, King Agrippa…"

The Greek word translated "happy" is μακάριον (makarion) — the same beatitude-word Jesus uses in the Sermon on the Mount. Paul does not merely say he is "fortunate"; he pronounces himself blessed. This is not rhetorical flattery (a common misreading). Paul means it theologically: to suffer for the Gospel and to have the occasion to defend it publicly is a beatitude, a participation in Christ's own witness before the powerful (cf. Luke 21:12–15). The phrase "concerning all the things I am accused by the Jews" (πάντων ὧν ἐγκαλοῦμαι) signals that Paul intends a comprehensive defense — not merely of his personal conduct, but of Christianity's coherence with Israel's own scriptures and hopes.

Acts 26:3 — "Especially because you are expert in all customs and questions…"

Paul's appeal to Agrippa's expertise is theologically loaded, not merely diplomatic. Herod Agrippa II, though only nominally Jewish in practice, was recognized by Rome as the guardian of the Jerusalem Temple and its treasury; he appointed High Priests and was steeped in Jewish law and custom. Paul's appeal, therefore, is not pandering but precision: the charges against him are intrinsically Jewish theological disputes — about resurrection, Messianism, and the fulfillment of prophecy — and only a judge who understands those categories can adjudicate them. The request to "hear me patiently" (μακροθύμως, with long-suffering) echoes the posture Paul himself enjoins on the churches: patient endurance in charity (cf. 1 Cor 13:4; Col 3:12). The apologist models the virtue he preaches.

Typological and Spiritual Senses

In the broader Lucan narrative, Paul before Agrippa mirrors — and consciously echoes — Jesus before Herod Antipas (Luke 23:7–12). Both are sent from one authority to another; both face accusations from Jewish leadership; both ultimately bear witness to truths the powerful cannot suppress. Paul's joy (makarion) before his accusers is the spiritual fulfillment of Christ's beatitude: "Blessed are you when men revile you and persecute you… on my account" (Matt 5:11). Paul is not simply defending himself — he is participating in the Passion-pattern of his Lord.

Catholic tradition reads this passage through the lens of what the Catechism calls "bearing witness" — martyria — which the Church understands as inseparable from the Christian vocation. CCC 2471–2474 teaches that the Christian is called to bear witness to the truth even at personal cost, following the example of Christ, "the faithful witness" (Rev 1:5). Paul's makarion in verse 2 is a lived embodiment of this theology.

St. John Chrysostom, in his Homilies on Acts (Homily 52), marvels at Paul's composure and joy: "He that is in bonds rejoices; he that speaks before a king is not troubled." For Chrysostom, Paul's equanimity is not stoic indifference but the fruit of the Holy Spirit, the "Paraclete" (the defender) whom Christ promised would give his followers words in precisely such moments (Luke 12:11–12).

The Catholic tradition of apologetics — the rational, ordered defense of the faith — finds in Paul a founding model. Vatican I's Dei Filius (1870) affirmed that faith is not blind but accords with reason, and that the Church both can and must render an account of her hope (cf. 1 Pet 3:15). Paul before Agrippa demonstrates this: he does not retreat into pious assertion but engages Agrippa on shared intellectual ground, the Jewish scriptures.

Furthermore, Paul's appeal to Agrippa's expertise reflects the Catholic principle of inculturation in evangelization: the Gospel must be presented in terms intelligible to the hearer's context (cf. Evangelii Nuntiandi §20, Paul VI). Agrippa's familiarity with Jewish law is an asset, not an obstacle — Paul leverages it rather than circumventing it.

Contemporary Catholics are increasingly called to explain and defend their faith in secular or hostile settings — at family gatherings, in the workplace, in academic environments, or on social media. Paul's opening before Agrippa is a masterclass in how to do this well.

First, note Paul's disposition: he is not bitter, defensive, or condescending despite his chains and the years of unjust imprisonment behind him. He has genuinely cultivated the makarion — the blessedness — of one who suffers for the truth. Catholics who feel marginalized for their beliefs are invited to examine whether they have made this interior transformation, or whether their apologia is still driven primarily by wounded pride.

Second, note Paul's strategy: he begins with what he and Agrippa share — a knowledge of Jewish custom and scripture — before moving to what distinguishes them. This is the instinct of every effective Catholic witness: find the genuine common ground (natural law, shared human experience, acknowledged history) and build from there. Pope Francis echoes this in Evangelii Gaudium §238: "The Church must lower herself, must descend — especially to those who are far away."

Third, Paul asks to be heard patiently. Good apologetics requires time and relationship. Catholics should resist the social-media temptation to "win" arguments in 280 characters, and instead cultivate the long-suffering patience (makrothymōs) that real witness requires.