Cloudy with a Chance of Apostles: Cloud Travel in Acts of Andrew and Matthias

Abstract

Clouds appear as a cross-culturally useful literary device in Greco-Roman, Jewish, and Christian sources. This paper argues that the cloud travel in the apocryphal Acts of Andrew and Matthias functions in three ways: as a transformative callback to Jesus’s ascension and coming return, as a demonstration of Andrew’s power over natural elements, and as a secure form of transportation away from the difficulties of other travel methods. The author of the text combines the divine protection found in clouds in Greco-Roman literature with the theophanies found in the Septuagint and the New Testament to create this cloud-travel motif that later reappears in the apocryphal sequel Acts of Peter and Andrew.

1. Introduction

The Acts of Andrew and Matthias contains several instances of travel on the way to and from the city of cannibals. There is a ship captained by a disguised Jesus, a road on which characters walk away from the city, and even a cloud summoned by Andrew. After the miraculous prison rescue in Acts of Andrew and Matthias (AAM),1 Andrew instructs his disciples, the freed prisoners, and Matthias to wait for him by a tree outside the city. Then, the text says that he summons a cloud (νεφέλη) to take them to Peter, who is preaching in another, presumably safer, location (21).2 While the story then follows Andrew through his martyrdom, it is this cloud that will form the basis of my analysis in this paper. Clouds blur the lines between the earthly and divine, and Andrew’s command over them demonstrates his ability to do what Jesus cannot in this narrative: provide supernaturally safe transport for his followers. The author of the text combines the divine protection motif found in clouds in Greco-Roman literature with the theophanic motifs found in the Septuagint and the New Testament to create this moment that later becomes transformed in the apocryphal sequel, Acts of Peter and Andrew. I argue that the clouds function in three different ways: as a transformative callback to Jesus’s ascension (Acts 1:9) and forthcoming return (Mk. 14:62; Mt. 26:64), as a demonstration of Andrew’s power over natural elements (AAM 21), and as a secure form of transportation away from the difficulties of previous travel methods. Due to the widespread use of cloud imagery in ancient Mediterranean cultures, I provide context for this analysis of AAM by first surveying the significance of clouds in Greek and Roman, and then Jewish and Christian, literary traditions.

2. Clouds in Greek and Roman Literary Sources

In Greek mythology, the gods use clouds as travel enhancers and hiding places for mortals. While there does not seem to be any particular cult devoted to clouds, a nymph, Nephele, is mentioned as controlling clouds. However, she also becomes the mother to the Centaurs according to Diodorus Siculus (IV.69.5.) and serves Artemis as a subordinate, so her cloud power is far from her only defining feature. Zeus is denoted throughout Homeric epics as the “cloud-gatherer,” and his power seems to derive from his ability to command the skies, further evidenced by his famed lightning bolt. Apollo, Aphrodite, and, in the Aeneid, Venus, can all demonstrate cloud control. What is clear in Greek mythology is that no humans seem to control clouds, adding to the awestruck appreciation of the natural phenomenon within the extant literary sources. Clouds represent the heavenly realm of the gods, and as such, only the gods may summon and utilize them.

Clouds function as a travel expediter in the Odyssey, where they are part of the Phaeacians’ success with sea travel. The text says that they are “hidden by mist and cloud” (ἠέρι και νεφέλη κεκαλυμμένοι) and thus they do not fear “being violated or destroyed” (οὔτε πημανθῆναι οὔτ᾿ ἀπολέσθαι) (Ody. 8.563).

Clouds appear as a space of relative safety, obscuring their occupants from harm. The gods of Olympus frequently utilize clouds to hide their favorites. In the Iliad, for example, Aphrodite saves Paris when he is on the brink of losing a duel to Menelaus, picking him up and covering him with a cloud before depositing him in his bedchamber (Il. 3.381). Similarly, Apollo rescues Hector from a furious Achilles, hiding him so well in the cloud that Achilles strikes four times and hits the cloud each time (Il. 20.444). In both of these instances, the deities are depicted as acting “as a god/goddess may (ὥς τε θεός),” once again highlighting that such powers are reserved strictly for divine figures. In his work inspired by the events of the Iliad, Virgil takes up the cloud as hiding place motif when he describes the flight of Aeneas. Venus covers the fleeing party, “goddess as she was, in a thick mantle of cloud, that none might see or touch them, none delay or seek the cause of their coming.”3 As in the Homeric tale, Virgil underscores the divinity that allows Venus to control clouds to help her favored humans.

Cloud-based protection is not limited to mortals. Gods use them to protect other divine beings. In Lucian’s Dialogues of the Gods, Zeus also uses a cloud to guard Hera from Ixion, a potential sexual assaulter. Providing an alternative outlet for Ixion’s lustful desires, Zeus forms a Hera imitation (εἴδωλον) out of a cloud (ἐκ νεφέλης πλασάμενοι) to entice her relentless pursuer. Hera briefly worries that her identity is contained inside the cloud, but Zeus reassures her that this is not the case, saying “the cloud is not Hera, nor are you the cloud. Ixion will only be fooled” (6.4-5).4 Though Hera is herself divine, she does not cloud gather here like her husband or the gods in Homer’s epics. The cloud is also not meant as a divine shield, but rather as an entirely separate object to stand in her place and satisfy the violent lust of Ixion. While Jeffrey N. Peters and Katharina N. Piechocki posit that this episode connects the cloud to the realm of the amorous (Peters and Piechocki 2021, p. 68) because Ixion copulates with the cloud (νεφέλῃ ὁ Ἰξίων συνέσται) (6.4), I see it more as a protective element. Though Zeus’s tone throughout the dialogue seems relatively nonchalant, he still creates the cloud to shield his wife from unwanted attention by directing it elsewhere.

Turning to the stormy side of clouds in Greco-Roman texts, clouds can have a negative connotation, whether emotional, physical, or philosophical. Homer deploys clouds and grief multiple times throughout the Iliad and the Odyssey, using variations of the phrase “a dark cloud of grief covered him” (τὸν δ᾿ ἄχεος νεφέλη ἐκάλυψε μέλαινα) in reference to male heroes such as Hector and Laertes (Ody. 24.315, Il. 18.22.). Sleep (Ovid, Metamorphoses 11.585) and death (Theognis, Fragment 1.703) can also be described as clouds, as can medical maladies such as clouded vision (Galen 6.252.) or cloudy urine (Hippocrates, Prog. 12).

Clouds are also a place of abstracted knowledge, often associated with comically aloof intellectualism. In his famous comedy Clouds, Aristophanes further underscores the ridiculousness of clouds by naming a city of birds “Cloud-Cuckoo-Land” (Νεφελοκοκκυγία) (818). The titular personified chorus of cloud goddesses appears to complain about not being worshipped properly, while the gullible philosophers who summoned them agree to their demands (818). Here, Aristophanes uses clouds as the personification of what he sees as a dangerous philosophical trend, namely, the introduction of new gods (Lombardini 2014, p. 14). In one of his satires, Lucian stages a conversation between personifications of Comedy and Dialogue. Comedy pokes fun at the more serious Dialogue’s companions, saying that she shows them “walking on air and mixing with the clouds” (ἄρτι μὲν ἀεροβατοῦντας δεικνύουσα καὶ νεφέλαις ξυνόντας) and then “measuring sandals for fleas” (ἄρτι δὲ ψυλλῶν πηδήματα διαμετροῦντας) (Lucian 1959, p. 497). Such absurdities highlight the risk of clouds as escapist, taking the person away from their earthly life and catapulting them into the realm of abstract thought.

The two major themes that emerge in Greek and Roman literary sources on clouds are a connection to divinity and an emphasis on protection. No humans command clouds; that power in Homer and elsewhere is reserved only for gods and goddesses. Despite their witty criticisms, even Aristophanes’ and Lucian’s use of clouds participates in these ideas as the chorus in Clouds is cloud goddesses, and the ability of Dialogue’s companions to walk on and mix with clouds places them within divinity’s realm. The clouds also provide a safe place for humans and even an alternative sexual vessel for pursuers of gods. There is an undeniable dark side to the cloud in AAM, but clouds remain thematically connected features of human life. The ancient Greeks and Romans considered them to be external to the human condition, highly mobile, and originating in the divine; after all, sleep and death, emotions, and illness were all understood to be forces that acted upon humans and could be sent by the gods to affect human experiences—just as clouds could be sent by the gods to alter human events. In all these literary examples, the divine aspect is central to the interpretation of cloud-related incidents in each narrative.

3. Clouds in Jewish and Christian Tradition

There is special divine significance accorded to clouds within Jewish and Christian traditions. Both the figures of God and Jesus appear in clouds, and God is even stated as traveling via clouds in Psalm 104. These earlier associations of God and Jesus with clouds would also be important for the well-read Christian author of AAM. This section begins with a survey of divine cloud encounters in the Septuagint and other Hellenistic Jewish sources before moving to cloud usage in the New Testament (Acts 1:9). It concludes with a special analysis of the cloud that appeared at Jesus’s ascension back to heaven.

3.1. Clouds in the Septuagint and Hellenistic Jewish Tradition

In the Septuagint, clouds are frequently theophanic. The cloud filling the temple is seen as the hem of the divine garment (1 Kings 8:10), God’s chariot5 is said to be made of clouds (Is 19:1, Ps 104:3), and even the dust from God’s feet is associated with clouds (Nahum 1:3). God prefers to manifest himself in a cloud to hide his glory and power from human audiences. The most familiar example of this manifestation can be seen in the pillar of cloud in Exodus 13 and 14, where God protects the Israelites from their enemies and guides them through the desert by day and night. It is also referenced in Numbers 14:14 and 10:36. This cloud appears at the revelation events at the tabernacle in addition to the top of Mount Sinai when Moses has a personal meeting with God. Josephus offers early evidence for this interpretation when he calls the cloud at the tabernacle “God’s presence” (Antiquities 3.12.5, Ant. 3.14.4). Divinity dwells in the heavens, but it seems that clouds in particular are associated with the deity drawing close to earth. In another contemporary example, Philo focuses his cloud commentary on the cloud of the wilderness in Exodus (Decal. 44). Drawing from Daniel 7:13, Rabbi Jehoshua ben Levi points to a sign of the Messiah as being accompanied by heavenly clouds (B.Sanh. 98a).

A particularly interesting mention of clouds appears in Isaiah 60:8. In a chapter describing the gathering of the diasporic community, verse 8 reads, “Who are these that fly like a cloud, and like doves to their windows?”6 Isaiah’s figurative language explicitly associates clouds with travel, more specifically flight, as both the clouds and doves fly.

A final, yet particularly pertinent Second Temple example of clouds as a named otherworldly feature of travel is 1 Enoch 14:8. Within Enoch’s vision, there are clouds (νεφέλαι) that call or summon (ἐκάλουν) him.7 The clouds are only one of many meteorological phenomena that accompany the transition to heaven. Others include mists (ὁμίχλαι), shooting stars (διαδρομαὶ τῶν ἀστέρων), lightning flashes (διαστραπαί), and winds (ἄνεμοι). The clouds here are also not the means of transportation. Rather, they seem to function as either an announcement system or as a herald. The stars, lightning, and winds seem to form the actual travel mechanics. R. Gillian Glass notes that this brief travel narrative “conveys a phrenetic sense of pace and disoriented space…entirely unlike typical human travel” (Glass 2024). The cloud is only one of the set pieces that create an ethereal ascension, but this instance is a clear example of theophanic meteorology used as transport. This pericope’s pertinence to this discussion resides in scholars’ recognition of repeated allusions to 1 Enoch in the New Testament (Scott 2023; Lafitaga 2022). Enoch has been highlighted as a proto-messianic figure, making him relevant to the following analysis of Jesus, regardless of direct influence (Joseph 2013, p. 480).

3.2. Clouds in the New Testament

Moving on to the New Testament references, in Mark 9:7, a bright cloud appears on the mountain after Jesus is transfigured and his clothes become dazzlingly bright. It covers the space, and a divine voice (presumed to be God the Father) says, “This is my beloved son. Listen to him.”8 Albrecht Oepke uses the phrase “out of the cloud” to conclude that the disciples were outside the cloud’s cover and thus, shrouded from the divine presence within (Oepke 1967, p. 908). While the transfiguration itself continues to be a mystery which has parallels in Greek and Roman mythology, Adela Yarbro Collins does address the cloud as a “theophanic element, signifying the presence of God” (Yarbro Collins 2007, p. 425).

In addition to the transfiguration, there is an eschatological dimension to clouds in the New Testament. Jesus predicts that he will return with the clouds of heaven, also alluding to the Daniel 7:13 passage in Matthew and Mark. This motif is taken up once again in Revelation 14:14-16, where Jesus comes again, sitting on a cloud. In another eschatological scene, 1 Thessalonians 4:17 promises that the living believers will be “caught up in clouds for the meeting of the Lord in the air”(ἁρπαγησόμεθα ἐν νεφέλαις εἰς ἀπάντησιν τοῦ κουρίου εἰς ἀέρα) after the resurrection of the dead at the return of Jesus.

3.3. Jesus’s Ascension:9 A Special Case of Cloud Travel

In Acts 1:9, the ascension narrative says that Jesus was lifted up and a cloud hid (lit. “took up by getting under” from ὑπολαμβάνω) him from their eyes.”10 Some medieval and late-antique Christian authors comment on the cloud’s significance. The sixth-century poet Arator points to it as a divine domination of the heavens, saying, “Nor do the elements cease to serve their thunderer… A cloud waits upon him in obedience as he goes” (Arator 2006, p. 10). The identification of the cloud as subservient to Jesus provides an intriguing power dynamic that will be continued in AAM. In the seventh century, Bede picks up on this when he says, “Everywhere creation offers obedient service to its Creator… Clouds overshadowed him in his suffering, received him in his ascension, and they will accompany him when he returns for the judgement” (Bede 2006, p. 11). Like Jesus, Andrew has command over the clouds. Fifth-century author John Chrysostom calls the cloud “a symbol of heaven,” correlating it with the Psalm 104:3 passage that describes the clouds as God’s chariot. He then says that “no other power could dwell upon a cloud” (Chrysostom 2006, Homily II on Acts of the Apostles 1–2). Just as he was taken up by clouds, Jesus is expected to return on clouds (Mk. 14:62 and Mt. 26:64).

Later scholars consider the cloud in Acts 1:9 as a narratological device. For example, Joseph Fitzmyer calls the cloud an “apocalyptic stage prop,” which signifies the divine presence in a way akin to the God-cloud of the Exodus narrative (Fitzmyer 1998, p. 209). Similarly, Hans Conzelmann calls the cloud “simply a vehicle” for the ascension (Conzelmann 1987, p. 7). Oepke says the narrative “combines plasticity… with a chaste safeguarding of the mystery,” referencing the way that the cloud allows for ambiguity in the ascension and shields it from inquiries about how exactly the ascension could have happened before multiple eyewitnesses, as the text attests (Oepke 1967, p. 910).

4. The Cloud in Acts of Andrew and Matthias

Now that cloud imagery is no longer as nebulous,11 we can turn to Acts of Andrew and Matthias. AAM is frequently described as a derivative work, with some scholars even discounting it as “just a juicy story” (Hilhorst and Lalleman 2000, p. 9). However, a growing number of scholars recognize that apocryphal texts in general are valuable sources for witnessing a creative reinterpretation and reimagining of Christian canonized material and apostolic identity, including AAM.12 The central question of the text seems to be how a faithful follower of Jesus might live and navigate their relationship with his seemingly paradoxical authority and physical absence. In this reading, the cloud travel within the narrative, despite comprising a minuscule portion of the story, has substantial significance. An alternative travel method seems hardly necessary from a narrative point of view. Andrew and his disciples arrived via a boat on the sea, albeit a boat captained by a disguised Jesus, and there is clearly an overland road out of the city since that is the starting point of their cloud travel (16). The actual location of this city has been widely disputed, but it seems to be simply a fictionalized city of cannibals with no real geographic markers given (Lanzillotta 2006, p. 231). Similarly, the location of Peter’s preaching, their intended destination, is also ambiguous, with no toponyms available in the text. So, if neither the point of departure nor the destination offers anything of analytical significance, we are left with the clouds themselves to decipher. Within the contextualizing framework of the sources outlined above, I argue that the clouds function in three different ways: as a callback to Jesus’s ascension and forthcoming return, as a demonstration of Andrew’s power over natural elements, and as a secure form of transportation away from the difficulties of previous travel.

4.1. Clouds as Evidence of Transformative Work

Several studies have designated this story as highly derivative with clear allusions to the canonized book of Acts and the earlier apocryphal work Acts of Andrew.13 As addressed elsewhere, AAM provides a significantly different depiction of Andrew as a rebel apostle who struggles to follow the Lord’s orders but eventually chooses to remain faithful (Chan 2021, pp. 40–47). In this case, Andrew is following his own wish to keep his disciples, the newly rescued prisoners, and Matthias safe from the ravenous cannibalistic inhabitants of the city (AAM 21). In disagreement with this rebellious interpretation, however, I would point out that since there is no divine admonishment, it seems safe to conclude that Andrew’s actions are not in opposition to Jesus’s instruction. The treatment of AAM as derivative and Andrew as a rebel inherently limits engagement with this source, as it negatively frames this later source’s alterations to and divergences from earlier works and places the scholarly emphasis on what AAM is not, rather than what it is. Viewing AAM through the lens of fanfiction14 theory offers a positive method for reading the way this story transforms elements of its source materials (Chan 2021, p. 18). AAM is thus a “transformative work,” not simply a derivative one.15

The cloud-travel episode is particularly useful for demonstrating how canonized materials were creatively interpreted: “Andrew commanded a cloud, and it lifted Matthias and Andrew’s disciples and placed them on the mountain where Peter was, and they stayed with him” (AAM 21).16 A variant of the ascension verb from Acts 1:9 (ἐπαίρω) is used for the cloud’s passengers who are lifted up into the clouds (αἴρω). By connecting this cloud with Jesus’s, both instances are automatically associated with divinity, without ever having to explicitly label either cloud as divine. Neither does a voice from God emanate from either cloud, but their presence and power seem to indicate a milder sort of theophany where God acts rather than speaks.

The transformation of motifs does not end with one transformative work, however. Transformative works have their own afterlives, and AAM became the source for later stories. The cloud-travel episode, a central feature retained from the original story, shows the connection between AAM and Acts of Peter and Andrew (APA), a later work composed as a sequel to AAM. The fact that the later author carries the cloud-travel trope over from the previous narrative demonstrates that the feature interested ancient audiences and authors. In APA, Andrew uses this mode of transport to travel to Peter, joining up with his brother for more miraculous escapades (APA 1). This adaptation of cloud travel suggests that Christian readers may have considered Andrew’s distinctive mode of transportation as “a signature move” to be carried on in future transformative works.

4.2. Clouds as a Demonstration of Andrew’s Power over the Heavens

What is interesting in the AAM version of the cloud-traveling trope is that it is Andrew calling down the cloud and not any explicitly divine figure. Where Zeus is the cloud-gatherer in Greek mythology and the other Olympian gods also demonstrate cloud powers, and where God in Jewish and Christian sources has voices and lights that can emanate from clouds, Andrew’s power to call down clouds seems to pale in comparison. However, clouds frequently blur the line between the earthly and the divine (Heusser 2004, p. 235), so Andrew’s seemingly effortless command over the cloud is a demonstration of his power over heavenly forces. AAM chooses to show Andrew’s power, rather than tell about it.

The text does not speculate on how he summoned the cloud, opting instead for a matter-of-fact reporting of the event. One could assume he prayed, since that seems to be his primary method of miracle working (AAM 19), but the text is silent on this point. Given the Greek, Roman, and New Testament insistence that the command of clouds is a divine endeavor, the absence of an explicit request to a deity is striking. Andrew must be powerful indeed if he has the ability to cloud gather all by himself.

4.3. Clouds as an Alternative Method of Transportation

In terms of travel, the Roman Empire famously improved ancient travel for its inhabitants by providing government-sanctioned road-building projects, substantial military presence protecting travelers on land and sea, and the establishment of the cursus publicus, a courier and transportation system for governmental and military purposes. Even with all these improvements, ancient travelers could be confronted with a host of difficulties. Land travel depended heavily on the hospitality of roadside inns and strangers unless someone had a network of connections across their route. Despite imperial attempts to protect travelers, travel on foot, the most accessible form of transit, was far from safe. There are no animals mentioned in AAM, so we can assume that the cloud’s passengers had no alternate mode of land travel besides their own feet.

Ships were another common method of transportation, even used in AAM 5–16 to carry Andrew and his followers on their rescue mission. Sea travel may seem like a natural authorial choice as a callback to the previous sea journey and an equally convenient way to carry the passengers out of the narrative. However, the ship in the narrative proves to be an unstable location for its passengers. On the surface, this sea journey should be perfect in every way. The ship itself is a divine vessel, and Jesus himself in disguise serves as the ship’s captain while his angels serve as sailors (AAM 5). He promises to get Andrew to Matthias’s aid in record time, breaking Andrew’s travel estimates that he would be too late to keep Matthias from getting eaten (AAM 4).

Things do not turn out as the reader might expect. Andrew and his followers have nothing to do with the actual running of the ship, despite Andrew’s previous canonized experience as a fisherman. In fact, his disciples prove themselves unfit for the journey from the outset by immediately becoming seasick. In a humorous allusion to Jesus’s most famous miracle, disguised ship-captain Jesus conjures up miraculous bread for them to eat, but the twist is that they are too sick to eat it (AAM 7). Though Jesus’s emotions are not described in the text, he asks Andrew to put his followers to sleep for the rest of the journey, which one can read as a sense of resigned divine frustration with their bodily weakness, and they remain sleeping even after they reach their destination (AAM 8–16). The disguised angels who served as the ship’s crew carry them to the shore, and the boat vanishes from the story. It is possible that their chance of sea travel is removed with the disappearance of the boat, as it is never mentioned again. Regardless, the hazards of sea travel are illustrated within the story itself. Seasickness and long travel times abound, not to mention unexpected weather events that often lead to shipwrecks. Even if the author was unfamiliar with sea travel from personal experience, the canonized Book of Acts describes one such wreck (Acts 27:39–41), while the apostle Paul claims three shipwreck incidents when he recounts his own ministry in a canonized epistle (2 Cor 11:25).

In contrast, the cloud is never questioned as a form of transport. Andrew never worries about whether the passengers will reach their destination, nor does he mention any potential issues that may arise from the cloud that he calls. The text assumes that the cloud will safely deliver its passengers to Peter teaching on the mountain. It is notable that the cloud is not utilized as a stable hiding-place like the cloud that protected Hector in the Iliad. Rather, it is more like Aphrodite’s cloud protecting Paris during his relocation from the battlefield to Troy. The cloud of AAM is a fluid form of transport that is seemingly reliable, as there are no mishaps recorded after the cloud’s passengers are literally lifted up and out of the story. Like the myths, the cloud provides a temporary refuge that obscures its passengers, a shelter focused on movement, not insulation.

5. Conclusions

This article has surveyed ancient sources on cloud-travel scenes as further evidence of transformative work, as demonstrations of power, and as a travel alternative. Greek and Roman literature underscores the connections among clouds, protection, and the gods of Olympus. LXX texts connect God’s presence in clouds to various parts of him and his divine accoutrements. Both LXX and New Testament sources look forward to the coming of a messianic figure on clouds. In AAM, the cloud-travel trope functions as a throughline for tracing previous sources and creative continuations of the story, as a powerful way for Andrew to demonstrate his closeness with divinity, and as a convenient and safe method of travel. The weather can truly be described as cloudy with a chance of apostles.

Future studies could take this analysis of cloud travel in several different directions. A fascinating comparison could be made between the cloud travel depicted in this scene and modern air travel, which Erica Durante has extensively treated in her book theorizing the “fictionscape of the Airworld.” Within her three types of “cloud people,” whom she identifies as employees and passengers who frequent airports and planes (Durante 2020, p. 16), her work on marginalized, fluid, and suspended identities could further illuminate the contentious issue of apostolic identity in AAM.

Another potential avenue of research is the Greco-Roman meteorological sources. While I had to restrict my analysis within this paper to literary sources, I found a rich discussion of cloud formation, classification, and behavior in scientific treatises. Ancient people spent much time staring heavenward and contemplating the celestial bodies they saw there. Clouds hardly escaped their notice. Thinkers like Seneca the Younger, Lucretius, and Aristotle demonstrate a considerable knowledge of clouds. For example, Aristotle writes of cloud seeds forming over bodies of water such as the seas and rivers (Aristotle 1952, p. 167). They understood that rain made the clouds dissipate as the water was scattered all over the land. They even distinguished between different types of clouds. The work within this ancient genre, which can also detail the weather’s impact on important events or people, promises intriguing insights into the ancient understanding of clouds as potential modes of transport.

Divination and soothsaying could add yet another layer of meaning to the scene in AAM, as aeromancy (telling the future based on weather) broadly and nephomancy (telling the future based on clouds) in particular were well-established in the ancient world. Seneca writes about “hail-guards” in Cleonae who sacrificed to ward off hail from certain clouds17, and Cicero references signs of the future in nature, though he places them into a category separate from divination (Wardle 2006, pp. 129–30). While Andrew does not command the clouds to foretell anything in this narrative, the widespread practice invites further investigation into Andrew as a soothsayer in other traditions.

As a final note, I think it important to acknowledge the dark side of clouds, which can marginalize and obscure people. While the cloud in AAM provides a temporary safe haven for its passengers, it also literally lifts the people involved out of the narrative. Most notably, Matthias is lifted out of one of the few apocryphal acts that bear his name, taken away as a token disciple once more as the narrative focuses exclusively on Andrew. The cloud as a symbol of Andrew’s power becomes simultaneously an example of Matthias’s powerlessness. It obscures his identity by lumping him into the “them,” with Andrew’s followers and his fellow former prisoners. His special status as one of the Twelve after Judas’s death is overshadowed quite literally by one of the original disciples. I must note that there is no malicious intent or jealousy explicitly depicted in the text. From an authorial perspective, the urge to focus on a single character’s journey is certainly strong, and Andrew’s story would have generated much more interest than Matthias’s, whose cult was never particularly strong. There are many external factors that could have led to this choice, but responsible critics should acknowledge that writing characters out of stories is not a neutral decision. It is a privileging of a tale, and the type of tale is important to note. While Andrew contradicts Jesus verbally at several points, his actions are always obedient to the divine commands. In return for his obedience, he is given power of his own, and the cycle of enforced and rewarded submission continues.