Yet the Spirit is explicitly absent from the narrative after Paul is arrested in Jerusalem (21:22–28:31), apart from a brief note at 28:25. This is quite unlike the earlier concentrations of references to the Spirit, both in the Gospel and in earlier sections of Acts.
One obvious way to explain this is to refer to the pattern of occurrences of the Spirit in the Gospel: a concentration of activity by the Spirit in the opening chapters, some further references to the Spirit in the next half dozen chapters, but then silence until the scene where the dying Jesus hands over his spirit to the Father. The pattern in the Gospel, it would seems, is to establish that the life of Jesus as a whole is Spirit-led, and then leave that as assumed in the ongoing narrative.
Could that pattern then be followed in Acts? The early concentration of activity by the Spirit in Jerusalem establishes that the life of discipleship is similarly Spirit-led in what is told in the ensuing chapters.
This may be an attractive explanation; but it doesn’t deal with the observation we have made, that there are many explicit references to the activity of the Spirit, not just in the first few chapters, but right through the first three sections of Acts (into chapter 21). If Pentecost was to inform all that followed, why do these references to the Spirit still occur in the narrative?
A second explanation might be drawn from the fact that the story after chapter 21 moves explicitly and entirely into a hellenistic context.
Paul’s earlier activity had seen him regularly engaging with Jews in their synagogues: in Antioch (13:14–15, 43, 44), Iconium (14:1), Thessalonians (17:1–3), Beroea (17:10–11), Athens (17:16–17), Corinth (18:4) and Ephesus (18:19 and again in 19:8–10). The “place of prayer” by the river in Philippi (16:13) was, most likely, also a place of gathering for Jews. This section of Acts culminates with Paul visiting the Jerusalem Temple and taking part in a purification ceremony there (21:17–36, when he is arrested).
From this point onwards, as Paul is under Roman arrest, he is arraigned before various local authorities: first before Claudius Lysias, the tribune in Jerusalem (21:31–3, 22:23–29), then the High Priest Ananias, his lawyer, Tertullus, and Governor Felix, in Caesarea (23:31–23), then Felix and his wife Drusilla (23:24–26), then two years later before Governor Festus (25:1–12), and finally, still in Caesarea, before King Agrippa, his consort, Bernice, and the Roman Governor, Festus (25:13–26:32).
Eventually, he is sent to Rome, because of his claim to be a Roman citizen (22:25–29; this was already signalled earlier in the narrative, in Philippi, at 16:35–39). The preponderance of Roman officials and scenes where Paul’s case is being considered by these authorities may militate against references to the Holy Spirit in these scenes. Paul is a prisoner, under Roman authority, being scrutinised as to his ultimate fate. The Spirit is absent from this process. The scenes are secular, it might be claimed, not related to the mission of preaching the good news.
However, it should be noted that the context of chapters 13–21 was not exclusively Jewish. Paul engages with Gentiles in various locations: early on, with Gentiles in Antioch (13:48), “a great number of both Jews and Greeks” in Iconium (14:2), a priest of Zeus in Lystra (14:13), and “the Gentiles” throughout the regions traversed in chapters 13–14 (14:27: 15:3); on a later journey, with “a great many of the devout Greeks and not a few of the leading women” in Thessaloniki (17:4) and “not a few Greek women and men of high standing” in Beroea (17:12).
In two cities (Athens and Ephesus), Paul’s primary interaction is with Gentiles: with Epicureans and Stoics in Athens (17:18–21), with Demetrius the silversmith and others of that trade in Ephesus (19:24–27), with a large crowd of Artemis worshippers (19:28–34), and eventually with the town clerk of Ephesus (19:35–41).
It is true that, in both cities, Paul also visits the synagogue (17:17; 19:8). However, no Jew living in the Diaspora could escape the ubiquitous influence of hellenistic culture and customs. As the tribune in Jerusalem poses the question to Paul, when he addresses him, presumably in Greek: “Do you know Greek?” (21:37). Of course Paul did—as did countless thousands of other educated Jews!
The Jews in the synagogues in Athens and Ephesus—and, indeed, in every synagogue which Paul and his companions visited in chapters 13 to 20—were Diaspora Jews, living in ways that had been markedly influenced by the dominant hellenistic culture of the past three centuries. These were not “Jews of the homeland” (and even there, hellenistic influences were evident); they were Jews who had accommodated and acculturated to life in the Greco-Roman Diaspora.
So proposing a clear cut dichotomy to differentiate between Jews and Gentiles, between Jewish contexts and Hellenised contexts, does not hold water. Applying such an analysis to Acts fails to explain the absence of the Spirit in chapters 21–28.
How else might this be explained? See the next blog post …
A critical moment in the narrative that Luke shapes in the second volume of his orderly account (the Acts of the Apostles) comes when the spirit falls on the Gentile believers in Caesarea (10:44–45; 11:15–16). This event is specifically portrayed as a complementary event alongside the falling of the Spirit on Jews in Jerusalem on the Day of Pentecost (2:1–4). In his initial report of this event in Caesarea, Luke states that “the circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles, for they heard them speaking in tongues and extolling God” (10:45–46).
The activity of the Spirit is noted at various places in this sequence of events. The Spirit guides Peter to meet the men sent by Cornelius and travel with them to Caesarea (10:19; 11:12). In reporting the arrival of messengers from Cornelius (11:11-12), Peter notes simply that “the spirit said to me to go with them without criticism” (11:12; cf. 10:19-20). His omission of many details (character traits, travel details, conversation and personnel; even, surprisingly, the name of Cornelius) places the focus on the role of the spirit.
Peter’s version of the outpouring of the holy spirit is short on factual reporting, as it were; he simply states that the spirit fell on them (11:15). His report abounds in interpretation of the significance of the event, however. The earlier narrative of this event has already noted that the spirit was given as a gift (10:45); Peter now reinforces the divine source of this gift as that which God gave them (11:17; see 10:45).
This gift fulfils the prophetic word of Jesus, that “John baptised with water, but you will be baptised with holy spirit” (11:16, quoting 1:5; cf. the similar, but longer, saying of John at Luke 3:16). Twice Peter parallels this act of the spirit on “them” (Gentiles) with the events that happened to “us” (Jews) at Pentecost, when he notes that the spirit “fell on them just as on us at the beginning” (11:15), and when he states that “God gave them the same gift that he gave us who believe” (11:17). This leads to the clear conclusion, “God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life” (11:18).
After Peter’s sermon in Caesarea and the gifting of the Spirit to the Gentiles (Acts 10-11), the Spirit guides Barnabas and Paul to Seleucia and onwards (13:2) and then later guides Paul away from Asia Minor, towards Macedonia (16:6–7).
At this key moment of decision, three injunctions are given; each one is from a divine source. The first of these, an instruction not to speak in the southern region of Asia, comes from the Holy Spirit (16:6). The second direction, a prohibition against any attempt to head north and enter Bithynia, comes from the same spirit, here described as “the spirit of Jesus” (16:7).
The third divine interjection takes place at Troas, where a vision is seen in the night with a petition to “come across into Macedonia” (16:9). Being guided by the Spirit and seeing visions are common occurrences in Acts. The nature of such phenomena has already been established as divine in origin (2:14-21); the move into Macedonia is thus in accord with the divine will. What takes place, as Paul travels relentlessly with various companions (13:4–21:17) is all driven by the Spirit (13:2, 4).
Much later, Paul’s final visit to Jerusalem and his subsequent arrest takes place under the guidance of the Spirit (20:22–23; 21:11). The story of this movement, then, is of multiple events inspired and propelled by the Spirit over these years.
It is curious, then, that the Spirit is explicitly absent from the narrative after Paul is arrested in Jerusalem (21:22–28:31). It is only in the closing scene, in , that the Spirit is again mentioned—and here in terms of the Spirit being the source of the prophetic oracle (28:25) which Paul quotes from Isaiah (28:26–27, citing Isa 6:9–10). This is quite unlike the earlier concentrations of references to the Spirit, both in the Gospel and in earlier sections of Acts.
What is the explanation for this mysterious disappearance of the Spirit in this final section of Acts?
The Spirit is the motivating, energising force that lights the fire of enthusiasm amongst the followers of Jesus in the early days after his ascension (Acts 1:6–11). In his orderly account of the things coming to fulfilment, Luke makes this clear when he reports what takes place on the Day of Pentecost, when the Spirit fell upon the followers of Jesus “gathered in one place … all of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability” (Acts 2:1–4).
Soon after that experience, Peter speaks to the gathered crowd, interpreting the portentous events of the day by relating them to Joel 2:28–32, “God declares, I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh” (Acts 2:14–21). Later in this speech, Peter affirms that Jesus, “being exalted at the right hand of God, and having received from the Father the promise of the Holy Spirit, he has poured out this that you both see and hear” (2:33).
From Pentecost onwards, the Spirit is active; Luke regularly and consistently notes the presence of the Spirit throughout the events that follow. Specific leaders within the early church are said to be “filled with the Spirit”: Peter (4:8), Stephen (6:3, 5; 7:55), Paul (9:17; 13:9), and Barnabas (11:24). This phrase signals the reactivation of the Spirit in ways that evoke the time, before the birth of Jesus, when key figures were “filled with the Spirit” (1:35, 41, 67), and at the start of the public activity of Jesus, when he was “filled with the Spirit” (4:1, 14).
Indeed, in the early period, the whole community in Jerusalem is filled with the spirit: “they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God with boldness” (4:31). Beyond Judea, the Spirit guides Philip to travel with the Ethiopian eunuch on the wilderness road to Gaza (8:29, 39), inspires Agabus to prophesy in Antioch (11:28), and probably also is active through the “burning enthusiasm” of the preaching of Apollos in Ephesus (18:25).
When the persecutor Saul has his dramatic encounter on the road to Damascus, a disciple in that city named Ananias is pivotal in the story. In a vision, he is commanded to go to where the blinded Saul is staying, and say to him, “Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit” (9:17). As Saul regains both sight and appetite (9:18–19), so he is now open to the work of the Spirit in what he does.
Later on, in Antioch, “while they were worshiping the Lord and fasting, the Holy Spirit said, ‘Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them’” (13:2). Accordingly, “being sent out by the Holy Spirit” (13:4), Barnabas and Saul begin their travels, preaching and performing miracles to people in the eastern Mediterranean.
Today, 3 June, we remember the day in 1992 that the legal case brought by Eddie (Koiki) Mabo was decided by the Australian High Court. The court effectively recognised the existence of Native Title rights and rejected the concept of terra nullius, which claimed Australia was a land belonging to no-one prior to British occupation. The judgement opened the way for the passing of the Native Title Act in 1993.
This decision of the High Court was one of the highlights in the area of indigenous affairs during the period that Paul Keating led the federal government. The Mabo case was decided just six months after Keating had become Prime Minister (in December 1991).
The other highlight was the powerful speech that Keating delivered a year later, in December 1992, which is known as the Redfern Speech. In this speech, Keating acknowledged the role played in destroying the culture of the First Peoples by those who invaded and colonised the continent in the early decades of British settlement.
Paul Keating delivers the Redfern Speech in December 1992
“The problem starts with us non-Aboriginal Australians”, he declared. “It was we who did the dispossessing. We took the traditional lands and smashed the traditional way of life. We brought the diseases. The alcohol. We committed the murders. We took the children from their mothers. We practised discrimination and exclusion. It was our ignorance and our prejudice.”
It was a searing recognition of the multitude of ways in which white Australian society had impacted the long-established cultures of the First Peoples; a recognition of the complicity of white Australia in the devastation of black Australians. It was a clear step beyond anything articulated in public in previous years.
In assessing the period when the Keating Government was in power, Dr John Gardiner-Garden began by referencing Keating’s Redfern speech of December 1992, as well as “his government’s decision to set up a national inquiry into the separation of Indigenous children”. Keating “sought to encourage recognition of past injustices. In his government’s native title and land fund legislation and proposed ‘Social Justice Package’ he sought to advance the process of making amends for the disregard of Indigenous common law rights which the 1992 Mabo judgement had found to have occurred.”
During the years that the Keating Government was in power, the following themes were chosen for each year of NAIDOC WEEK:
1991: Community is Unity—Our Future Depends On Us
1992: Maintain the Dreaming—Our Culture is Our Heritage
1993: Aboriginal Nations—Owners of the Land Since Time Began—Community is Unity
1994: Families Are the Basis of Our Existence—Maintain the Link
1995: Justice Not Tolerance
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In 1991, the focus on community in the theme, Community is Unity—Our Future Depends On Us, echoed the earlier themes that referred to community: talking together in the 1983 theme, Let’s talk—we have something to say; seeking understanding in the 1985 theme, Understanding: it takes the two of us; and working towards peace in the 1986 theme, Peace, not for you, not for me, but for all of us. The theme also had a future orientation, expressing hope for what might lie ahead for Aboriginal people: Our Future Depends On Us. That “us” clearly included white and black together, working in common in community.
The 1992 theme, Maintain the Dreaming—Our Culture is Our Heritage, looked back just a couple of years, to the 1990 theme, Don’t Destroy, Learn and Enjoy our Cultural Heritage, and to the 1988 theme, Recognise and Share the Survival of the Oldest Culture in the World. It also referenced the 1978 theme, Cultural Revival is Survival. All four years focussed attention on the long-exisiting culture that was maintained and passed on by indigenous peoples around the continent.
In addition, the 1992 theme included a reference to Dreaming; this is a term, somewhat contentious amongst First Nations people, which has nevertheless seen widespread acceptance and adoption in the wider Australian society. It is generally understood to be a way to refer to the collection of stories that form the foundational mythology of Aboriginal peoples.
Reconciliation Australia, on its website shareourpride.org.au, states that “it is impossible to find words that adequately capture this core element of who we are but it’s something you feel when you sit with us on our country and hear our stories with an open mind and heart.”
The website affirms that “Dreaming is more than a mythical past; it prescribes our connection as Aboriginal people with the spiritual essence of everything around us and beyond us. Dreaming stories are not in the past, they are outside of time – always present and giving meaning to all aspects of life.”
The 1993 theme, Aboriginal Nations—Owners of the Land Since Time Began—Community is Unity, incorporated three distinct phrases. The final phrase looked back by incorporating one phrase of the 1991 theme, Community is Unity. However, the full theme included a clear reference to the struggle that had culminated in the 1992 Mabo decision. It identified Aboriginal people as Owners of the Land Since Time Began. This was the principle underlying the High Court’s Mabo decision, and which then enabled the development of the Native Title Act of that year (1993).
Furthermore, the 1993 theme included a clear declaration that Aboriginal people had not simply been “one nation” before British invasion and settlement commenced in 1788; the reference to the plural, Aboriginal Nations, was highly strategic. It had been the custom in the 19th and 20th centuries for Aboriginal people to be described and treated as a single cultural and historical unit.
By contrast, today, two decades into the 21st century, the claim made by the 1993 theme is widely accepted and commonly spoken. British settlers have dispossessed people from well over 250 different nations right across the continent and its associated islands. The clearest example of this recognition is the map published by the government agency AIATSIS (the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies).
On a website explaining this map, AIATSIS explains that it “attempts to represent the language, social or nation groups of Aboriginal Australia. It shows only the general locations of larger groupings of people which may include clans, dialects or individual languages in a group.”
The map presents a clear lesson in a graphic manner: there were many, many nations across the continent prior to 1788.
The NAIDOC WEEK themes of the next two years continued to articulate core beliefs within Aboriginal culture. The 1994 theme, Families Are the Basis of Our Existence—Maintain the Link, alluded to the 1979 theme, What about our kids?, and would provide a prophetic looking-forward to the key findings of the Bringing Them Home report issued just a few years later, in 1997.
The 1995 theme, Justice Not Tolerance, was a plea to move beyond ideas of merely tolerating indigenous people, and adopt the principles of justice that would see them treated equitably, with wrongs righted and reparations made for past errors.
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In March 1996, John Howard’s Liberal Party, in coalition with the National Party, was elected, and formed a government that lasted for the next 11 years. The 1996 and 1997 themes for NAIDOC WEEK continued to provide sharp insights into what was needed in Australian society, even with a more conservative government at the helm. In 1996, the theme was Survive—Revive—Come Alive.
In 1997, the theme was equally pointed, as it,celebrated the 30th anniversary of the 1967 referendum,
Dr John Gardiner-Garden notes the many retrograde steps taken by the new Howard Government: they “dropped the terms ‘social justice’ and ‘self-determination’, withdrew support from many of the initiatives and institutions for which these terms were the raison-d’etre and declared its new priorities to be ‘accountability’, ‘improving outcomes in key areas’ and ‘promoting economic independence’.”
He furthered noted that “Government actions such as creating a Special Auditor, reducing Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission (ATSIC) funding, amending the Native Title Act and perceived inactions on reconciliation and in responding to the rhetoric of the new One Nation Party placed a strain on relations with the Indigenous community.”
The three events referenced in the 1997 theme, Gurindji, Mabo, and Wik, were pivotal moments in the advancement of Aboriginal claims in the 20th century.
The Gurindji Strike of 1966 was led by Vincent Lingiari. A protest against the Wave Hill station managers resulted in the return of some traditional lands to the Gurindji people under a lease arrangement in 1975, and later led to the granting of inalienable freehold title to this area in 1984.
In the Mabo decision of the High Court, handed down on 3 June 1992, the court recognised the land rights of the Meriam people. They were the traditional owners of some islands in the Torres Strait. Marked on the map as the Murray Islands, the Torres Strait Islanders called these islands Mer, Dauer and Waier). The case is significant because it rejected the view that at the time of colonisation, Australia was terra nullius, or land belonging to no one.
The case had initially been brought in 1982 by five indigenous people. Because Eddie Koiki Mabo was the first plaintiff in the case, it became known as the Mabo Case. In its judgement, the High Court acknowledged that “Indigenous peoples had lived in Australia for thousands of years and enjoyed rights to their land according to their own laws and customs.” See https://aiatsis.gov.au/explore/mabo-case
The Wik judgement of 1996 built on the basis of the Mabo decision. The case related to the right to hold native title in an area where there were pastoral,leases in place. By a majority of 4–3, the High Court agreed that the pastoral leases did not extinguish the native title of the Wik and Tahyorre people of Cape York.
Sadly, the remembering of these three key events during the early years of the retrogressive Howard government, strikes a note of pathos. These advances were not built on by the Howard government. In the ensuing decade, due to the intransigence of the government, things would actually go backwards.
As we read the whole story that has been compiled by Luke, in his orderly account, we note that the Spirit plays a key role from the very beginning. The first person we meet in Luke’s narrative is Zechariah the priest, a man devoted to the service of God in the Temple (1:8–9). Zechariah himself will later be filled with the Spirit (1:67) and sing of what God will do through his son, John (1:68–79)—although first he will be struck dumb (1:20, 22), because he did not believe the words of the angel, that his son would be “filled with the Holy Spirit” (1:15) and go before God “with the spirit and power of Elijah” (1:17). Zechariah’s spirit-filled song is possible after he is miraculously able to speak once more (1:64).
His wife, Elizabeth, expresses an attitude of deep faith in God, accepting her surprise pregnancy as “what the Lord has done for me” (1:25). They are both described as “righteous before God” (1:6). Elizabeth maintains her faith throughout her pregnancy; she herself is “filled with the Spirit” (1:41) as she sings a blessing over her relative Mary (1:42–45).
Mary, demonstrates a similar faith as she submits to a similar fate, bearing a child, with the words, “here am I, the servant of the Lord” (1:38). She articulates the traditional hopes and expectations of the people in a spirit-inspired song known as the Magnificat (1:46–55; compare 1 Sam 2:1–10). Mary is “overshadowed” by the Spirit (1:35), just as Zechariah and Elizabeth had both been “filled” with the Spirit (1:41, 1:67).
After Mary’s child is born, he is taken to the Temple where Simeon sings another song (2:29–32, known as the Nunc dimittis, or the Song of Simeon). His song continues the strongly Jewish tone of the earlier songs of Zechariah, Mary, and Elizabeth. Simeon is “righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel” (2:25); the Spirit “rested on him” (2:25), then “revealed to him” the words he then speaks (2:26) before “guiding him … into the temple” (2:27).
Alongside Simeon in the Temple, Mary and her husband Joseph encounter the prophet Anna (2:38). As she is a prophet, her words (although not reported directly by Luke) are likewise spirit-inspired (as are all prophetic utterances), as she “began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem” (2:38). The hopes of the Jewish tradition are strong and clear.
The sense of deeply devoted and strongly conventional Jewish piety continues in the reports of the early years of Jesus. It is only in Luke’s Gospel that we find the information that Jesus was circumcised after eight days (2:21), that his mother was subsequently purified and brought offerings to the Temple (2:22–24), that the family made Passover pilgrimage to Jerusalem (2:41) and that Jesus showed an early interest in discussing matters of the Law (2:42-51). The child, Luke reports, grew in wisdom and divine favour (2:40, 52)—surely indications that the Spirit has been active in these scenes which provide an entry into the story that Luke tells in the following chapters.
This is the same Spirit that has been active since the moment of creation (Gen 1:2), that was breathed into human beings (Gen 2:7), and that infuses every one of the creatures brought into being in God’s wonderful creation (Ps 104:24–30). It is this Spirit that has endowed individuals with leadership (Exod 31:2–3; Num 11:25–26; Deut 34:9; and a number of judges) and which has inspired prophets to proclaim the word of the Lord (Isa 61:1; Ezek 2:2; Joel 2:28–29).
And it is this Spirit which impels the adult Jesus into action. John the baptiser declares that the one coming after him will baptise ”with the Holy Spirit and with fire” (3:16); soon after, Luke reports that “when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove” (3:21–22).
Almost immediately, “Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tested by the devil” (4:1–2). After those forty days, “Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee” (4:14), where he taught in synagogues. In the synagogue in Nazareth, Jesus read from the prophet Isaiah, claiming that the prophetic words applied directly to him: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor … today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” (4:18, 21).
The opening chapters of Luke’s long narrative clearly put the Spirit on centre stage. The Spirit has not been quenched, as Josephus appears to indicate. The Spirit is still active!
2 The Spirit throughout the story of Jesus
We have noted the concentration of references to the spirit in the opening chapters of Luke’s orderly account. The guiding presence of the spirit in Luke 3:16–4:21 indicates that the public activities of the adult Jesus that follow are all to be understood as being guided, impelled, and shaped by the activity of the Spirit.
References to the Holy Spirit in the body of the Lukan story of Jesus (from 4:31 to 24:53) are, by comparison, relatively sparse. More frequent are the references to the evil spirits with whom Jesus engages, at least in the earlier stages of the story that Luke tells: the spirits in a man in the synagogue in Capernaum (4:33), in a demon-possessed man the country of the Gerasenes (8:29), in the daughter of Jairus, a leader of the synagogue (8:55), in the boy convulsing because of an unclean spirit (8:39, 42), and in the woman crippled for eighteen years (13:11).
Jesus understands that what he hears about from the seventy that he sent out to “cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you’” (10:9) is, in fact, the cosmic conflict of which these individual exorcisms are an integral part: “I watched Satan fall from heaven like a flash of lightning. See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you” (10:18–19).
Luke reports that Jesus “rejoiced in the Holy Spirit” on hearing reports from the seventy (10:21). He understands that “if it is by the finger of God that I cast out the demons, then the kingdom of God has come to you” (11:20). The conflict with spirits and demons is integral to the Spirit-inspired mission that he had announced in his programmatic sermon in Nazareth (4:18–21). That conflict continues throughout the ensuing chapters, as the spirit-filled Jesus grapples with the unclean spirits possessing human beings.
The gift of the Spirit which Jesus knew is, he says, available to those who ask in faith: “if you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” (11:13). It is not just Jesus who is endowed by the Spirit; those who follow Jesus and ask in faith will also be spirit-gifted. So Jesus assures his followers that, “when they bring you before the synagogues, the rulers, and the authorities … the Holy Spirit will teach you at that very hour what you ought to say” (12:11–12).
There is just one further reference to spirit in Luke’s Gospel, at the very end of Jesus’ life, when his final words from the cross (quoting a psalm) are, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit” (23:46, quoting Ps 31:5). Jesus goes to his death with certainty, knowing his fate, assured that he will be received by God as he seemingly chooses his time of death at the climactic moment in the story.
Complementing that handing over of the spirit is the promise by the risen Jesus, speaking to his disciples just before he ascends into heaven, declaring to them that “you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you” (Acts 1:8). The Spirit then returns to the forefront of the narrative concerning the early movement of followers of Jesus and the communities of messianic believers that they establish around the eastern Mediterranean world. We will trace that in a subsequent blog post.
Towards the end of the first century CE, the Jewish historian and apologist, Flavius Josephus, wrote a two-volume treatise rebutting the criticism of Judaism which had been made by ApionPleistoneices, an Egyptian writer of the early first century, who was famous for his breadth of knowledge and ostentatious oratory.
In the course of his analysis of the claims of Apion, Josephus deals with the works that form scripture for the Jews—22 books “which contain the records of all the past times which are justly believed to be divine” (Josephus, Against Apion 1.38). Josephus makes the claim that the authors of these works were “prophets that have written the original and earliest accounts of things as they learned them from God himself by inspiration; and writing down what happened in their own times in a very exact manner also” (1.37). These works, says Josephus, cover the time from Moses to Artaxerxes; he regards them as divinely-inspired, accurate and reliable.
He distinguishes them from a series of later works, which set out events in subsequent decades. Of these, he makes this claim: “our history has been written since Artaxerxes very thoroughly, but it has not been considered of equal authority with the earlier records by our forefathers, because there has not been an exact succession of prophets since that time” (Josephus, Against Apion 1.41). This last claim–the lack of prophets in recent centuries–has resonated in the histories of Judaism, and Christianity; it led to the notion that prophecy ended because the Spirit had become inactive.
In this context, it is striking to note the way that Luke starts his orderly account of the things that have come to fulfilment amongst us (the two volumes we know as the Gospel according to Luke, and the Acts of the Apostles). The Holy Spirit plays a central, active role in these writings. In the first volume of his orderly account, Luke highlights the Spirit at key places in the narrative, beginning even before the conception and birth of Jesus.
The events reported in the second volume are generated from the dramatic intervention of the Spirit into the early community formed by the followers of Jesus after his ascension. The story of that intervention—known to us as the coming of the Spirit on the Day of Pentecost—is told early in Acts (2:1-42). Jews from around the eastern Mediterranean are gathered in Jerusalem for the annual festival (2:1-13), when the Spirit comes upon them. This is the event that is remembered each year, in the calendar of the church, at Pentecost (this year, on Sunday 5 June).
A second story of the coming of the Spirit is told at a later point in Acts—after Peter sees a vision in which God declares all food clean, and he is summoned to the home of the Gentile centurion, Cornelius, in Caesarea (10:1-33). As Peter preaches to the Gentiles, the Spirit falls on them, “just as it had upon us [Jews] at the beginning (11:15). The importance of the Spirit in Luke’s account of the early movement cannot be underestimated. The significance for the church today of the Spirit’s empowering presence at Pentecost is likewise high.
The Spirit, of course, was not a new concept to the people,of Israel, for the Spirit had already been active throughout the stories told by the people of Israel about their ancestors. It was the same Spirit who was seen to be active in the creation of the world (Gen 1:1–2; Job 33:4; Ps 104:30; Isa 42:5) who then guides selected leaders within Israel. The Spirit is active in stories about Moses (Num 11:16–17); Joshua (Deut 34:9); Othniel (Judg 3:10); Gideon (Judg 6:34); and David (1 Sam 16:17).
The Spirit inspires prophecy (1 Sam 10:6, 19:23–24; Ezek 37:1; Joel 2:28–29; Mic 3:8), enables the interpretation of dreams by Joseph (Gen 41:38) and Daniel (Dan 4:8,18, 5:1), and gives other specific gifts to Israel (Num 11:25; Deut 34:9; Dan 4:8–18; Prov 1:23).
The qualities of the Spirit will characterise the coming Messianic figure envisaged by the prophet Isaiah (Isa 11:2–5). This idea is taken up later in Isaiah in descriptions of the Servant (Isa 42:1–4; 61:1–7). In second Isaiah the Spirit is promised as a gift to the people who are led by the Servant (Isa 42:5; 44:3; 48:16; 59:21). Third Isaiah recalls the time of Moses as a period when the Spirit was given to Israel (Isa 63:11–14).
So Luke stands firmly within the tradition of the people of Israel—the tradition of Jesus himself—as he narrates the story of Jesus, and his followers, in the two volumes of his orderly account. The story of Pentecost is a climactic and pivotal moment in that narrative. We need to see it in relation to what has come before it, and also what follows on after it.
This is the first in a series of posts relating to Pentecost, exploring the role of the Spirit in the two volumes of Luke’s orderly account (Luke-Acts). Stay tuned for more each day … … …
An Informed Faith 