Acts – An Informed Faith

Good works and acts of charity: a strong, consistent biblical motif (Tabitha, Acts 9)

Tabitha (also known as Dorcas) is an unlikely role model for disciples. There is no record of her preaching the Gospel, or casting out demons; and no direct statement that she was hosting a house church or offering hospitality; although she did make clothing for widows and this could be seen as an act of hospitality, perhaps. Rather, Tabitha is known simply for the fact that she was a disciple who was “devoted to good works and acts of charity” (Acts 9:36, NRSVUE translation).

Quite strikingly, she is a woman who is named (a striking feature, as many women in scripture go unnamed); and we are given her name in two languages, Aramaic and Greek. It is possible that Tabitha is derived from Tsibiah, the name of the mother of King Jehoash (1 Ki 12:1). So Tabitha is worth remembering. Mostly, however, she is remembered for the fact she had fallen ill and had died; when Peter and two other disciples came to Joppa, where she lived, she was brought back to life (9:37, 40–41).

A depiction of Tabitha, from the work of James C. Lewis

Whilst this may mean that Tabitha exemplified the pathway that Jesus trod (into death, then back to life), she is not put forward as an example of that paradigmatic pattern (which Paul, for instance, sees as fundamental; see 1 Cor 15:3–4; Rom 6:3–8, 11; 2 Cor 4:8–11; Gal 2:19–20; Phil 3:10–11). Why, then, is this story included in Acts? Tabitha is part of a group of stories that form a crucial pivot in the storyline of Acts, from the time of the church in Jerusalem (chs.1—7) to the activity amongst the Gentiles (chs.13 onwards) that begins to spread the good news “to the ends of the earth” (cf. Acts 1:8).

The way that Tabitha is introduced may well serve to point to her ultimate significance in this book which records various incidents because of their foundational importance for Christian faith and life. In the very first verse, Tabitha is praised for “doing good works” and performing “acts of charity”. This is reminiscent of the introductions offered for a number of other characters, all valued for their piety and the good things that they did (not just “what they believed”).

Good works and acts of charity

Elizabeth and Zechariah, at the start of Luke’s Gospel, are described as “righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord” (Luke 1:6). They did what was considered to be good, performing the acts of charity required by Torah. Simeon is introduced as a man who was “righteous and devout” (Luke 2:25) whilst Anna “never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day” (Luke 2:37). They too did what is good, as they adhered to Torah. And in Acts, immediately after the story of Tabitha, we meet Cornelius, “a devout man who feared God with all his household; he gave alms generously to the people and prayed constantly to God” (Acts 10:2). Cornelius is yet another example of someone who did good.

So Tabitha “was devoted to good works and acts of charity” (Acts 9:34). Often these terms are viewed through a narrow lens, based on a hardline reading of Paul’s affirmation that “a person is justified not by the works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ … we [are] justified by faith in Christ, and not by doing the works of the law, because no one will be justified by the works of the law” (Gal 3:26). He offers a similarly strenuous affirmation along these lines at Rom 3:24–25, 28–30, followed by his detailed argument that Abraham was justified by his faith, and not by any “works of the law” (such as circumcision; see Rom 4:1–25).

This Pauline focus on “faith, not works” generated a negative attitude towards “doing good”. This came to full fruition amongst the Reformers, when they rejected the medieval Roman Catholic system of indulgences (accruing merit in the eyes of God through the support of charitable works, amongst other things) and declared that “doing good” and “charitable works” were of a lesser value than “simply believing” and “having faith in Jesus”. From this perspective, amongst more recent Protestant churches, a healthy disdain for these good deeds has developed. Good works were not “the heart of the Gospel”. Tabitha would hardly be seen by them as a role model for a faithful disciple.

Doing good

Yet “doing good” and performing “charitable deeds” are valued as positive and advocated as necessary by many voices in scripture. Prophets instructed the people of Israel to “learn to do good, seek justice” (Isa 1:17; see also Isa 41:23; Jer 4:22), following the example of the Lord God who does good (Micah 2:7; Zech 8:15). Psalmists sang a refrain to “depart from evil, and do good” (Ps 34:14; 37:27) and to “trust in the Lord and do good” (Ps 37:3), once again following the example set by the Lord God, who is acknowledged in this manner: “you are good and you do good” (Ps 119:68).

Similar advice appears in later Jewish literature. In the story of Tobit, the angel Raphael in the guise of “brother Azariah” instructs Tobit and his son Tobias to “do good and evil will not overtake you” (Tob 12:7), whilst in Ben Sirach Wisdom herself advises, “if you do good, know to whom you do it, and you will be thanked for your good deeds. Do good to the devout, and you will be repaid—if not by them, certainly by the Most High” (Sir 12:1–2). Wisdom also offers advice to “do good to friends before you die, and reach out and give to them as much as you can” (Sir 14:13).

This focus on “doing good” continues throughout Second Temple Judaism. As this period draws to a close, Jesus himself instructs his followers to “love your enemies, do good to those who hate you” (Luke 6:27), reminding them that “if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you?” (Luke 6:33). He further reinforces these instructions with the words “love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return” (Luke 6:35).

Jesus extends the image of the tree bearing fruit first spoken by John (Luke 3:8–9) with his teaching that “no good tree bears bad fruit, nor again does a bad tree bear good fruit; for each tree is known by its own fruit”, noting that “the good person out of the good treasure of the heart produces good” (Luke 6:43–45). The commitment to “doing good” which is seen in prophets, psalms, and wisdom writings, is expressly affirmed also by Jesus.

Furthermore, in Matthew’s Gospel Jesus declares that “not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven” (Matt 7:21). He tells his disciples they are “the light of the world” and then says, “let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works” (Matt 5:14-16). Later in that Gospel, he makes it clear that those doing this “will of my Father” by performing “good works” are those who feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, welcome strangers, clothe the naked, take care of the sick, and visit those in prison (Matt 25:35–36).

This, of course, itself draws on the guidance provided by the post-exilic prophet whose words are included in the book of Isaiah, posing the rhetorical question about “the true fast”: does it not include, amongst other things, “to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?” (Isa 58:6–7). And this is how Peter remembers Jesus when he preaches to Gentiles in Caesarea about “how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power; how he went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him” (Acts 10:38).

Followers of Jesus who wrote letters to encourage and instruct other followers in the next few decades repeat the same instruction: “see that none of you repays evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to all” (1 Thess 5:15); “do not neglect to do good and to share what you have” (Heb 13:16); “let those suffering in accordance with God’s will entrust themselves to a faithful Creator, while continuing to do good” (1 Pet 4:19).

Even Paul notes that “to those who by patiently doing good seek for glory and honor and immortality, he will give eternal life” (Rom 2:7), while a later writer of the first century CE evoking the authority of Paul includes amongst the requisite qualities of a widow that she is “well attested for her good works, as one who has brought up children, shown hospitality, washed the saints’ feet, helped the afflicted, and devoted herself to doing good in every way” (1 Tim 5:10). Finally, another letter writer concludes that “it is better to suffer for doing good, if suffering should be God’s will, than to suffer for doing evil” (1 Pet 3:17). “Doing good” is a persistent biblical motif.

Acts of charity

Closely related to this is the statement that Tabitha was known as one who performed “acts of charity” (Acts 9:36). This, too, is a strong biblical theme. The word translated by the NRSVUE as “acts of charity” is ἐλεημοσυνῶν (eleēmosunōn), which derives from the root word meaning “to have mercy”—a quality that is advocated for at various places in scripture. In other translations, it is rendered “almsdeeds” (KJV, ASB), “acts of mercy” (WEB), “compassionate acts” (CEB), or “helping the poor” (GNB, NIV).

Mercy was a quality seen in God by the Israelite prophets. Isaiah declared that “the Lord waits to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show mercy to you, for the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him” (Isa 30:18). Hosea says that the Lord promises Israel, “I will take you for my wife in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love, and in mercy” (Hos 2:19).

Jeremiah tells the returning exiles that God has said, “Is Ephraim my dear son? Is he the child I delight in? As often as I speak against him, I still remember him. Therefore I am deeply moved for him; I will surely have mercy on him” (Jer 31:20). and Habakkuk prays, “in wrath may you remember mercy” (Hab 3:2). And in a recurring song various writers affirm that “the Lord is gracious and merciful” (Joel 2:13; and see Exod 34:6; Num 14:18; Neh 9:17b; Ps 145:8–9; Jonah 4:2; as well as 2 Kings 13:23; 2 Chron 30:9).

Many psalms contain an indication that God was seen to be merciful (Ps 69:16; 86:15; 103:8; 111:4; 116:5; 119:156; 145:8) and a number of times, the psalmist prays “be merciful to me, O God” (Ps 57:1), “be mindful of your mercy” (Ps 25:6), “do not, O Lord, withhold your mercy from me” (Ps 40:11), or simply “have mercy on me” (Ps 51:1) or “on us” (Ps 123:3). Of course, in Christian tradition, it is the simple prayer, “Lord, have mercy”, that draws on this tradition; and in the original Greek, kyrie eleison, the verb is derived from the same root word found at Acts 9:36 (“acts of charity”, eleēmosunōn).

It is mercy for which the prophets consistently advocated. Zechariah declared that the Lord is instructing Israel, “render true judgments, show kindness and mercy [hesed] to one another; do not oppress the widow, the orphan, the alien, or the poor; and do not devise evil in your hearts against one another” (Zech 7:9–10). Micah asked his potent question, and then answered, “to do justice, to love mercy [hesed] ” (Mic 6:8). Hosea offered this clear summation: “I desire mercy [hesed], not sacrifice” (Hos 6:6).

It is this last saying that Jesus twice quotes (Matt 9:13; 12:7), both times in rabbinic-style disputations with scribes and Pharisees. This usage indicates that he saw this text as a proof text which could be used to conclude such argumentative debates. He continues the prophetic commitment to “doing mercy” in everyday life. In the final amd most aggressive interaction between Jesus and these Torah teachers, he berates them for their skewed priorities, and identifies “justice and mercy and faith” as “the weightier matters of the law” (Matt 23:23).

In the same Gospel of Matthew, Jesus affirms that the merciful are blessed, “for they will receive mercy” (Matt 5:7), and concludes his parable of the unforgiving servant by having the master declare to him, “should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?” (Matt 18:33).

Then, in telling a much-loved parable found only in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus responds to the lawyer wondering “who is my neighbour?” by telling a story about a wounded man and three passers-by, and ending with the question, “who do you think was the neighbour?”—to which the lawyer declares, “the one who showed him mercy” (Luke 10:37). Luke, of course, had highlighted the quality of God’s mercy in the songs that appear in the opening chaps of his Gospel (Luke 1:50, 54, 58, 72, 78).

Finally, James the brother of Jesus offers a succinct summation of the importance of mercy: “mercy triumphs over judgement” (James 2:13), while the short letter of Jude concludes by adjuring those who hear it to “have mercy on some who are wavering … and have mercy on still others with fear” (Jude 22–23). Mercy, as a quality which is evident in the lives of followers of Jesus, continues as a clear theme in the works written by his followers.

However, perhaps the weight of understanding of what “mercy” means as Christians read the New Testament has shifted to a sense of mercy as “loving forgiveness and acceptance”, whether by God or by others, rather than mercy as “acts performed in love to assist people in need”.

Tabitha (or Dorcas)

So, to return to Tabitha (or Dorcas), “the gazelle” (which is what her names means, both in Aramaic and in Greek): she was a disciple who was known for the fact that she was “devoted to good works and acts of charity” (Acts 9:36). She was a faithful, diligent, compassionate person, attending to the scriptural injunction, repeated and reinforced by Jesus, to “do good” and to carry out “acts of charity” in the knowledge that the Lord God “desires mercy, not sacrifice”.

Magic in the Hellenistic world and in Judaism of the time

The New Testament was written in a context where “magic” and “divination” were regular aspects of daily religious life. Belief in an array of deities in an otherworldly realm was complemented by the understanding that it was possible to communicate with such entities—that is, to “divine the will of the gods”—and also to change or modify human behaviour in ways that related to what was learnt through such divination—that is, to perform “magic” through a variety of means.

There is evidence aplenty for this in the New Testament itself. The Gospels report, not only that Jesus communicated with God through prayer, in acts of “divining the will” of his heavenly Father, but also that he performed acts of healing and exorcism which changed the life of individual people, actions which many would have regarded as “magic”. There are also accounts of people who encountered God in dreams or through the visitation of angels; they also were engaging in “divination”.

Such “divination” continues in Luke’s second volume, Acts, recounting the formation and development of communities following “the good news about Jesus” which engaged in “divination” (in prayer and worship) and practised “magic” (through healings and exorcisms). Paul’s letters also give some indication of his abilities in this regard.

The New Testament thus attests to the widespread belief that it was possible, both to contact the divine realm and have communications from them, and to interfere in human behaviour through means generally regarded as “magical”.

In what follows, I draw particularly on the research of my wife, Elizabeth Raine, into the Hebrew Scriptures, the Greek magical papyri, and the practices of ancient magicians, and on my own research from some time ago into “divination” and oracles in the Hellenistic world.

The spread of “magic” in the Hellenistic world

The Greco-Roman world was full of “magic”. In the Encyclopedia of Religion and Society (1998), William Swatos and Peter Kivisto define magic as “any attempt to control the environment or the self by means that are either untested or untestable, such as charms or spells”. This is a somewhat modernist definition, driven by the scepticism of post-Enlightenment rationalism. In the ancient world, magic was a widely-accepted phenomenon.

There is plentiful evidence from ancient Greece, Rome, and Egypt about the practice of magic, from amulets and inscriptions that provide formulas to invoke deities, prayers to offer for health, safety, and all manner of needs, oracle sites where people could go to seek answers from the gods to their various petitions, travelling soothsayers who would provide “words from the gods” (for a price), blessings to be prayed for people and household, and curses to be said over enemies.

In the hellenised world after Alexander the Great, Greek was the common language of trade and commerce—but also of religion. Many Greek papyri documents that survive (the so-called Greek magical papyri) as well as various manuscripts attest to the various techniques employed by magicians and healers. Touch was often employed by such people, along with the utterance strange words from foreign languages, or indeed simply gibberish words, and ecstatic states, as the means of effecting healings in others. Multiple names were employed for addressing the deities (many made up names, or taken from tongues foreign to the speaker).

(You can read some examples at https://hermetic.com/pgm/index and explore a technical academic analysis of these papyri at https://archive.org/details/TheGreekMagicalPapyriInTranslation/page/n9/mode/2up)

Evidence from many archaeological sites today shows that right across the ancient Mediterranean world there were amulets which were used also for “magical” purposes. These amulets most often were used for “apotropaic” purposes—that is, to protect the wearer by warding off evil forces. Many were engraved with the text of a spell to be chanted, or with an image of a deity to whom the petition in the spell might be offered.

Examples of amulets used for “magical” purposes
in the Hellenistic period

During the Hellenistic period, there were a number of oracular sites to which people could travel, to place their requests before the deity or deities in focus at those sites. Delphi was the best-known of these places, where the Pythia, the priestess of Apollo, could be consulted. At Dodona, it was Zeus Naios who was able to be petitioned; other sites of significance included Cumae, near Rome, where the Sibyl offered prophetic words; Olympia, to consult Zeus; Paphos, where the oracle of Aphrodite was located; and countless other sites of local significance. There were also travelling soothsayers who, for a price, would read entrails or produce oracular sayings relating to the person asking.

At Epidauros in Greece, a major Asclepion provided facilities where supplicants could bring offerings to Asclepius, the god of healing; then sleep in a sleeping chamber, hoping to dream, so that the god could speak directly to the supplicant. A complex system of offerings was overseen by a large staff of priests; the whole complex was quite an enterprise! Undergirding it was the form belief that, once appropriate steps had been taken, the god would be contacted and would communicate with the person seeking their healing.

Divination (“divining the will of the gods”) was practised in so many ways that the Roman statesman and philosopher Marcus Tullius Cicero wrote a comprehensive two-volume textbook On Divination in which he treated the various means of divination that were used at the time. In this book, Cicero engages in a philosophical debate with his brother, Quintus.

He allows Quintus to set forth his sympathetic appreciation of a range of methods of divination—auguries, auspices, astrology, lots, dreams, and various species of omens and prodigies—before he then offers his own “scientific” disputation with many of them, drawing particularly on the philosophical critique put forth by his contemporary, the philosopher Cratippus of Pergamon. Philosophical scepticism about magic existed alongside of popular adulation of the craft.

Jewish attitudes towards magicians

Passages in Hebrew Scripture forbid magic. In Leviticus, one commandment is quite clear when it states: “Do not turn to mediums or wizards; do not seek them out, to be defiled by them: I am the LORD your God” (Lev 19:31). Sure enough, in a story told in 1 Samuel, we learn that “Saul had expelled the mediums and the wizards from the land” (1 Sam 28:3)—only to learn a little later that when he saw the massed army of the Philistines, Saul had lamented that he had no means of divination as to what would transpire, “not by dreams, or by Urim, or by prophets” (1 Sam 28:6). So he instructed his servants to find him “a woman who is a medium, so that I may go to her and inquire of her” (1 Sam 28:7).

Excerpt of *The Shade of Samuel Invoked by Saul* (1857)
painted by Nikiforovich Dmitry Martynov

The servants told him “there is a medium at Endor”, so he disguised himself and went to her by night—but she sees through his disguise and also sees “a divine being coming up out of the ground” who had the appearance of “an old man … wrapped in a robe” (1 Sam 28:8–14). Saul immediately recognised this figure as the prophet Samuel, who had died back in ch.25. Saul consults Samuel and learns of his fate (1 Sam 28:15–19). And so “the witch of Endor” (as she is popularly known) proves to be of value.

In the long speech attributed to Moses in Deuteronomy, we find the command, “no one shall be found among you who makes a son or daughter pass through fire, or who practices divination, or is a soothsayer, or an augur, or a sorcerer, or one who casts spells, or who consults ghosts or spirits, or who seeks oracles from the dead” (Deut 18:10–11). Then follows a note that “although these nations that you are about to dispossess do give heed to soothsayers and diviners, as for you, the Lord your God does not permit you to do so” (Deut 18:14). That’s pretty clear!

Nevertheless, there is evidence in Hebrew Scripture that “magic” was known, tolerated, even practised within Israelite society. Narrative texts purporting to tell of older stories presumably reflect the customs and practices of the time when they were compiled (perhaps during and after the Exile). Was it “magic” at Horeb, immediately after Moses was called to his role by the Lord God, when Moses threw his staff onto the ground, and it became a serpent; and then he seized its tail, and it became once more a staff (Exod 4:1–5)?

A depiction of Moses and the brazen serpent (Num 21)

Was it “magic” at Rephidim, in a confrontation with the Amalekites, “whenever Moses held up his hand, Israel prevailed; and whenever he lowered his hand, Amalek prevailed” (Exod 17:8-13)? or in the wilderness near Moab, when Moses made a bronze serpent to heal the sick people (Num 21:4-8)? It would seem that what was a “miracle” for some would be perceived as “magic” by others.

In addition, perhaps “magic” is in evidence right within the Torah, in the provisions included in Numbers relating to “a man’s wife [who] goes astray and is unfaithful to him”. The process presumably includes a “magical” component, when the priest makes the woman drink “the water of bitterness”, made from holy water and “some of the dust that is on the floor of the tabernacle” (Num 5:16–18, 24). This seems suspiciously like a magical potion being concocted and consumed.

In later centuries, both papyri and amulets exist to attest to the presence of “magical” practices amongst Jewish people. Most of this specific evidence comes from the 3rd and 4th centuries CE, however. However, in terms of the first century, there are references to the existence of Jewish magicians in Philo, Josephus, Tobit, Jubilees, and 1 Enoch.

In the late 1st century CE, Flavius Josephus wrote that “God gave him [Solomon] knowledge of the art that is used against daemons, in order to heal and benefit men” (Antiquities of the Jews 8.45). Perhaps this appreciation of magic had also been also evident when “Solomon”, the alleged author of the late 1st century BCE work the Wisdom of Solomon, states that God gave him knowledge of “the powers of spirits and the thoughts of human beings, the varieties of plants and the virtues of roots”. He declares that “I learned both what is secret and what is manifest, for wisdom, the fashioner of all things, taught me” (Wisd Sol 7:21–22).

Later developments in Judaism (the Kabbalah) and on into Freemasonry envisage Solomon as not only instructed by Wisdom, but also as a practitioner of “magic”. The Key of Magic of Rabbi Solomon, for instance, is an 18th-century CE manuscript that remarkably claims to be a work by King Solomon!

King Solomon, author and practitioner of “magic”?

In later rabbinic literature, there are many references to witchcraft. In the Sayings of the Fathers, “Hillel used to say, the more women, the more witchcraft” (Pirke Avoth 2:7). This typically patriarchal—misogynistic view is balanced, nevertheless, by the reality that the various rabbinic texts that refer to magic indicate that there were as many—if not more—men who practised this craft, than women!

In the Talmud, another sage named Abaye is said to have declared “the laws of sorcery are like the laws of Shabbat, in that there are three categories” (Sanh. 67b). (The three categories are forbidden in Torah; forbidden in the later law articulated by the rabbis; and permitted.) Indeed, in the later rabbinic period, there are two works entirely devoted to witchcraft (The Sword of Moses and The Book of Secrets). And much of the content relates to male practitioners—although these men weren’t specifically accused of witchcraft, as the women were!

For a fascinating exploration of magic in rabbinic texts, see “do you believe in magic?” by Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg, at https://www.lifeisasacredtext.com/witchcraft/

*****

This discussion of magic and divination forms an important context for our reading of the New Testament texts that relate to magicians: Simon Magus in Samaria (Acts 8), Bar-Jesus (Elymas) on the island of Cyprus (Acts 13), and the “magicians” in Ephesus whose books were burnt (Acts 19).

Luke notes that, in a Ephesus, “God did extraordinary miracles through Paul, so that when the handkerchiefs or aprons that had touched his skin were brought to the sick, their diseases left them, and the evil spirits came out of them” (Acts 19:11). Again, what was deemed to be a miracle to those who believed, may well be seen as “magic” to others. Likewise, Paul’s resistance to the poison of the viper which attached to his arm on Malta—“he shook off the creature into the fire and suffered no harm”—results in the inhabitants declaring that “he was a god” (Acts 28:1–6). Miracle? or magic?

Finally, our understanding of “magic” might also relate to the story of the “wise ones” (magi) who “read the stars” and travelled to see the infant Jesus (Matt 2)—-and, indeed, to the “magical” elements in the healings performed by the adult Jesus of Nazareth (Mark 7, Mark 10, John 9). Was he yet another first century miracle-worker who practised “magic” like other healers?

See more on Simon of Samaria and magic at

Magic in Samaria: Simon and the Samaritans (Acts 8)

See more on Jesus and magic at

In the most unlikely way … touching the untouchable (John 9; Lent 4A)

The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul (Easter 5C; Acts 16)

Two weeks ago we heard Luke’s account of the speech that Peter gave to the church, gathered in Jerusalem, about the moment when the Spirit fell upon the Gentile household of Cornelius and the conclusion that he drew, that “God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life” (Acts 11:1–18).

Then, last Sunday, we heard a portion of Luke’s narrative from later in the book, which takes place soon after Paul and Barnabas had travelled to Jerusalem to report to a later gathering about their activity about “all the signs and wonders that God had done through them among the Gentiles” (Acts 15:1–21).

This Sunday’s passage (16:9–15) begins in Troas. Paul, Silas, and Timothy had travelled through Asia Minor (16:1–5), bringing to the assemblies they visit the decree of the Jerusalem council (16:4). As they went through the region of Phrygia and Galatia, they hear an instruction not to speak in the southern region of Asia from the holy spirit (16:6). Then they are forbidden by “the spirit of Jesus” to head north and enter Bithynia (16:7), so they go to Troas, where a vision is seen in the night with a petition to “come across into Macedonia” (16:9).

Luke is keen for those who read his work and hear it read to understand that Paul, Silas, and Timothy are guided by the spirit, seeing visions sent by God. These are common occurrences in Acts. The move into Macedonia is supported with the succinct statement that “God has called us to preach the good news to them” (16:10). It is completely consistent with “the plan and purpose of God” that the apostles have consistently been declaring (see 2:23; 4:28; 5:29, 38–39; 10:42). See

Accepting, or rejecting, the purpose of God (Narrative Lectionary for Epiphany 6C; Luke 7)

This statement (16:10) begins the first of the so-called ‘we-sections’ of Acts, which are narrated in the first person plural. Three of these are but brief notes concerning journeys (from Troas to Philippi, 16:10–17; from Troas to Miletus, 20:5–15; from Miletus to Jerusalem, 21:1–18). Each of these passages contain lists of the places visited and the means of travel (16:11–12; 20:5–6,13–15; 21:1–3,7–8,15) and small vignettes concerning one incident that took place on the journey (16:13–15; 20:7-12; 21:4–6, 10– 14).

The fourth ‘we-section’ encompasses the extensive series of journeys by which Paul travels from Caesarea to Rome (27:1-28:16). It includes mention of places and means of travel, as well as a number of particular incidents.

Scholarly opinion over the historical value of the ‘we sections’ is divided. Some have argued that there is evidence for an ancient literary convention, by which an author can alternate third person (“he”, “they”) and first person (“I”, “we”) narratives. In this view, Luke makes use of the first person narrative to strengthen the sense of unity felt between author and audience, and the characters in the events narrated.

However, others have criticised this claim and argued that the use of “we” indicates that these passages, at least, must go back to an eyewitness. The likelihood of ever being able to prove that the author of Acts was himself present with Paul in these journeys is low; at best, we might conclude that Luke had available to him a very brief source which may possibly have had its origins amongst Paul’s fellow travellers. (See also 20:5).

As the group crosses over into Macedonia, an ancient province of Greece which had been the dominant political power four centuries earlier, they arrive in Philippi (16:11–40), a city founded by Philip of Macedonia in 356 BCE, taken under Roman rule in 167 BCE, and declared a Roman colony (as Luke accurately notes, 16:12) in 31 BCE.

The group proceeds, in typical fashion, to find a place of worship on the sabbath (16:13)—not, as expected, a synagogue (see 13:5), but “a place of prayer” (16:13) for some women. (That the place of prayer was, in fact, a synagogue, is argued by a number of scholars. One scholar, Matson, describes the house church in Philippi as “a subversive contrast society”.)

One of this number, Lydia, is singled out for attention. Lydia is a godfearer (16:14), as was Cornelius (10:2) and probably the Ethiopian (8:27); what will occur here will place Lydia in a paradigmatic position akin to that occupied by Cornelius. Lydia is the first individual convert identified once Paul, Silas and Timothy, under divine guidance, have crossed over into Macedonia (16:6–10).

So Lydia presents a paradigm for the process of conversion and leadership; as the first convert in Europe, she models a faithful response to the message of Paul. Indeed, what takes place in this scene is directly interpreted as an act of God, for “the Lord opened her heart” (16:14) to listen eagerly to Paul’s words. The “opening of her heart” (16:14) echoes the discoveries made by the archetypal disciples on the walk to Emmaus (Luke 24:31,32) and by the larger group of followers gathered in Jerusalem later that day (24:45). Her “eager listening” (16:14) repeats the response evoked by Philip in Samaria (8:6).

Lydia is judged as being “faithful to the Lord” and, with her household, is baptised (16:15), in accord with the programmatic declaration of Peter’s Pentecost exhortation (2:38–39). The baptism of her household follows the pattern already seen in Caesarea (10:24–48; 11:13–16) and foreshadows a pattern which will be repeated soon in Philippi (16:31-33), and subsequently in Corinth (18:8).

Her belief leads to the offer of hospitality (16:15), as was also the case with the Gentiles in Caesarea (10:48); this same pattern follows in the story of the conversion of the Philippian gaoler and his household (16:34). Belief, baptism and table fellowship have also been linked in the accounts of the conversion of Saul (9:18-19), Cornelius and his household (10:24-48) and the events on Pentecost in Jerusalem (2:41-47). Lydia’s role as a patroness echoes that of Mary, the mother of John Mark, in Jerusalem (12:12) and prefigures that of Priscilla (with Aquila, 18:13). She is a striking figure in the overall narrative of Acts.

*****

Some of this material is from my commentary on “The Acts of the Apostles” in the Eerdmans Commentary on the Bible (ed. J.D.G. Dunn and John Rogerson; Eerdmans, 2003). I have also explored the theme of the plan of God at greater depth in my doctoral research, which was published in 1993 by Cambridge University Press as The plan of God in Luke-Acts (SNTSM 76).

On Lydia, see also

Lydia, Dorcas, and Phoebe: three significant strategic leaders in the early church

The whole assembly kept silence, and listened (Narrative Lectionary for Easter 5; Acts 15)

This coming Sunday, the Narrative Lectionary presents us with another passage from Acts as the primary reading: the count of the council in Jerusalem (Acts 15:1–18). There had already been a significant meeting held earlier in Jerusalem, which is reported in Acts 11; on that occasion, Peter convinces “the apostles and the believers who were in Judea” about what had occurred when “the Gentiles had accepted the word of God” (11:1).

Although the meeting had begun with a difference of opinion, by the end those gathered were praising God, saying that “God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life” (11:18).

On a later occasion in Jerusalem, the presenting issue as Luke reports it is the requirement that converts had to be “circumcised according to the custom of Moses” in order to be saved (15:1). In one of his early letters, Paul offers a report of this meeting (Gal 2:1–10) which differs significantly from Luke’s account in overall tenor and in specific details. Whilst Paul presents himself as exhibiting great persuasive power in what he portrays as a strongly polemical debate, Luke emphasises the irenic nature of the meeting and focuses more on the contributions made by the Jerusalem leaders, Peter and James.

Raising the issue of circumcision leads to “not a little dispute and discussion” between Barnabas and Paul, in company with others of their group, and some Judean believers (15:2). In their opening report to the meeting, Paul and Barnabas summarise their activities as being “what God did with them” (15:4; cf. 14:27). This reflects the Lukan understanding of how the divine will guides the events reported in Acts; see

Accepting, or rejecting, the purpose of God (Narrative Lectionary for Epiphany 6C; Luke 7)

Some Pharisaic believers present at the council provide a different perspective on the divine will. The sympathetic attitude of Pharisees towards the messianists is critical on two occasions in forensic settings (5:34-39; 23:9), so Luke sees no conflict in the idea that some Pharisees had joined the messianic community in Jerusalem.

Since the assertion of the Pharisaic believers, that “it is necessary to circumcise them” (15:5), is grounded in scripture (Gen 17:1–14,21–27), it appears plausible that this necessity is the divine will. However, Luke’s report of the debate in this council shows that this is not the case. Three speeches are reported, each of which draws on earlier events to rebut the claim advanced by these Pharisaic members.

Peter’s speech (15:7–11) interprets what Paul and Barnabas have done in the light of Peter’s experience in Caesarea. He uses the established Lukan pattern of interpreting what has occurred by reference to God’s actions, when he explains that “God chose through my mouth for the Gentiles to hear the word of the good news and to believe” (15:7). Peter offers a summary of the events already reported in detail at 10:1–48. In this context, such language about God serves to reinforce the validity of the activities of Paul and Barnabas, and to rebut the claims advanced by the Pharisaic members.

This sense is strengthened by the repetition of familiar language about God in the remainder of the speech: “God who knows all hearts” (15:8, cf. 1:24) “gave the holy spirit” (15:8, cf. 10:44-46; 11:17) in a way which exactly parallels “them” with “us” (15:8, cf. 10:47; 11:15,17) and thus “did not distinguish between us and them” (15:9, cf. 11:12). To question this understanding of events would be to tempt God (15:10) and thus to encounter the fate imposed on Ananias and Sapphira (5:9).

Peter concludes by urging acceptance of what Paul and Barnabas have done, since those Jews who believe have received salvation “in the same way as them” (Gentile believers)—that is, “through the grace of the Lord Jesus” (15:11).

In this way, he argues that the “God who is not partial” (10:34–35) has clearly been at work both in events in Caesarea, which Peter experienced, and in the activity of Paul and Barnabas throughout Asia Minor. The assemblies they established are inclusive; Gentiles belong in them just as much as Jews.

The second speech is reported only as a condensed summary of what Barnabas and Paul reply (15:12). This restates their earlier report of “what God did with them” (15:4) and applies that understanding to the signs and wonders which were performed through them among the Gentiles throughout Asia Minor (15:12). Their speech strengthens the argument for inclusive assemblies, for just as God enabled signs amongst Jews (5:12), so too are signs given amongst Gentiles (15:12).

James’ speech (15:13–21) comes next, and proves to be decisive. This demonstrates the prominence of James, the brother of Jesus, in the Jewish community of believers in Jerusalem. He begins by supporting Peter’s explanation through the use, yet again, of language about God.

For a start, the claim of James that “God visited” (15:14; NRSV “God looked favourably”) evokes the blessing of Zecharaiah (“blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them”; Luke 1:68).

James makes the suggestion that by incorporating “a people (laos) from the Gentiles” (15:14), God has brought about “redemption for his people” (Luke 1:68). Careful readers of Luke’s work would know that, in scripture, the term laos has often referred to Israel (Exod 6:7; Deut 4:20,34; 14:2; 26:18–19; 32:9), but the incorporation of the Gentiles into this people now reflects the promise of Zech 2:14–15: “Many nations shall join themselves to the Lord on that day, and shall be my people”.

James then provides further scriptural validation of the inclusion of Gentiles within the messianist assemblies (15:15–18). He cites the agreement of a compilation of scriptural texts (Jer 12:15; Amos 9:11–12; Isa 45:21) which depicts the way that “all the nations … will seek out the Lord”. He affirms that this process is one which “the Lord … has been making known from long ago” (15:18, cf. 15:8). Like the prophetic quotation by Peter at 2:16–21, this prophetic citation is strategically placed to interpret the ensuing narrative about the mission that Paul and others are undertaking.

The selection proposed by the Narrative Lectionary concludes with the speech of James (15:13–18), but Luke’s account continues with some important elements. First, James indicates, “I have reached the decision” that will be crucial in bringing the council to agreement (15:19). He argues that “those among the Gentiles who turn to God” (15:19; cf. 14:15) should not be troubled, and he proposes a compromise position (15:20) with a limited number of prescriptions, each of which has a clear scriptural basis. That was acceptable to the Jews for whom scripture was important; that ought also to have been acceptable to Gentiles who recognised the high moral standards of the new movement.

The prescriptions include: No idol food: Exod 34:11–17; Lev 17:8–9. No sexual immorality: Lev 18:6–29. No strangled animals: Exod 22:31; Lev 17:10–16, equating “what is torn”, 17:15, with “something strangled”. No blood: Gen 9:4; Deut 12:15–16,23–25; cf. Lev 17:11,15.

Luke’s portrayal of James indicates his prominent role amongst the leaders of the assembly, since what James decides (15:19–20) is adopted unchanged by the council (15:28–29). This Lukan view of the authority of James is reinforced later in his account; when Paul returns to Jerusalem, he will report directly to James (21:17–19). Indeed, the Jerusalem community accepts the four requirements without dissent (21:25).

Thus, Luke’s report of these council debates reaffirms the understanding already developed in the narrative of 13:4-14:27, namely, that Paul and Barnabas engage in activities amongst the Gentiles in accord with the divine will. The logical consequence of this perspective is thus worked out in the council’s letter to the assemblies (15:22-29), which is to be distributed amongst the “believers who are from the Gentiles” in assemblies in Antioch and Syria and Cilicia by four chosen delegates: Judas, Silas, Paul and Barnabas (15:22–23).

The letter asserts that it has been worked out by the council and the holy spirit (15:28), thus placing this decision within the stream of events which have been guided and shaped by God. The inclusion of Gentiles within the Jewish messianic assemblies is validated directly by God. The letter is well received in Antioch, where the assembly rejoices (15:31; see 13:48) and receives it as an exhortation (15:31; see 13:15). Paul and Barnabas continue on their way, “teaching and proclaiming the good news” (15:35). All is well that ends well (at least, to this point).

Some of this material is from my commentary on “The Acts of the Apostles” in the Eerdmans Commentary on the Bible (ed. J.D.G. Dunn and John Rogerson; Eerdmans, 2003)

An interview with Luke (an imaginative exercise)

The following “transcript” reports an imagined interview that I conducted with “Luke”, the person claimed to be the author of the third Gospel and its sequel, Acts. (Of course, what the “Luke” of this “interview” articulates is what I have come to think about him and how he saw things.) Wouldn’t it be great if we did have the transcript of an actual interview with the author of this Gospel? Well, for the moment, we will just have to settle for this. Enjoy ………

What motivated you to write about Jesus?

I thought I had something to offer, in short. Lots of stories about Jesus have been passed on by word of mouth for some years now; there have been collections made of his best sayings and parables, as well as sets of well-known miracles. There is also an account of how he met his death (some call it “the passion of Jesus”) which has obviously been put together by someone who knew the psalms, especially the psalms of the righteous sufferer.

But beyond hearing these oral accounts, I have become aware more recently that some others have written about Jesus. I wanted to provide an extended version of the story of Jesus that highlighted both his connection to his Jewish heritage, and also how what he said and did provided the foundation for the development of the church. To achieve this I actually had to write a second volume, which some have called “the acts of the apostles”. But because I am convinced that the whole life of Jesus was guided by the Spirit, and that has continued on into the church, I prefer to think of it as “the acts of the holy spirit”.

At any rate, I wanted to provide my personal understanding of this important figure and the movement that he instigated. For everything that took place, I believe, is on accord with the predetermined plan of God. This plan involves both the very good things that took place, as Jesus drew people to him and as the movement spread across the world, as well as things that seemed to be quite a setback, such as the crucifixion of Jesus, the stoning of Stephen, and the trials of Paul. They are all part of this overall plan. We know that God confirmed all of this by raising Jesus from the dead—and by blessing the spread of the movement as the number of disciples grew—why, even some priests became followers!

So I think that my account, which is orderly and accurate, will stand well alongside these other works that I know of. Indeed, it is presented as a consistent work with an overarching theme of divine providence, which has been a favoured theme of numerous historians in the past, and much considered by philosophers in every age. So I am quite sure that the corrections and expansions that I offer in my work, as well as the deepened theological understandings that it contains, are all important to put on the public record.

Finally, I must express again my thanks to my patron Theophilus, whom I have acknowledged in the prefaces to each volume of my work. I am indebted to him for his provision of lodging, access to his wonderful library, and material support during the months when I was researching and writing my two volumes. I am most grateful to him for all of this. He has served me well as a fine patron.

Where did you get your information from? How well did you know Paul, for instance?

Well, I stated right at the start of my work that I was drawing from people who were actually with Jesus and were eyewitnesses of what took place, right from the very first. These people subsequently made sure that the words of Jesus and stories about him were remembered and passed on by word of mouth. The remembrances that they provided were very helpful, because I didn’t actually see anything in person of what I wrote about.

As well as stories from these eyewitnesses, I also drew from the recollections and writings of those who were part of the growing movement that developed in the years after the time of Jesus, as word spread around the various provinces of the Roman world—and beyond, down to Ethiopia, even. It has been important for me to receive and assess a whole host of stories from these “servants of the word”, as I call them. Even if some of them were, well, a little rough and unformed. So, I have worked diligently to put them in an order that conveys the truths that Jesus and the apostles each in turn spoke. All inspired by the Holy Spirit, of course.

Paul? Well, I’ve heard of him, of course; who hasn’t? Quite a character he was, it seems. Rather divisive, it is said; people either loved him or hated him. But I have never met him. Never travelled with him. Never heard him speak. Just heard about him, where he went, what he did, who he travelled with, what he said; and what eventually happened to him when the might of the Roman Empire caught up with him, despite his best efforts to defend himself. So I have tried to capture this in my second volume.

I have heard that Paul was quite a letter writer—although for myself, I haven’t seen many of his letters. What I have read seems to have been quite sharp and polemical. Perhaps that reflects his rabbinic upbringing at the feet of Gamaliel; he learnt how to argue hard! But I am not sure how helpful his polemical stance has been for the development of the movement.

I know that Paul was a faithful follower of Jesus in the years after his conversion, so I have given him the benefit of the doubt, making sure that any of his words that I included were consistent with what the apostles in Jerusalem had preached in earlier years. Harmony and consistency across the movement is important, I believe, despite the conflicts we have experienced over the years. That’s why I provided a careful account of the council held in Jerusalem in my second volume, when a major tension within the movement was resolved by the leaders coming together—and the spirit, of course.

It is said that you are a doctor. Where did you learn your medical skills?

Ah, yes, this old chestnut. So let’s be clear: I have no medical qualifications. I have never provided trained medical assistance to anyone. I do, however, know about medical things—like anyone who takes the time to read and think about these things does. I know technical medical terms. I know how healers operate. Indeed, I had to learn about this in order to give an accurate portrayal of Jesus as he went about healing people.

However, the medical insights you can see in my work don’t come from my own particular training or experience. No, it’s because I have read widely in literature that includes technical discussions of ailments and illnesses and healings, that I know about these things. As would any well-read person, I assume.

But this whole matter has not been helped, no doubt, by the fact that there are references to a person with the same name as me in letters associated with Paul. Although I haven’t seen these letters, I am told that in one letter written while he was imprisoned in Rome, Paul sends greetings from “Luke the beloved physician” to Nympha and Archippus, and those in their household gatherings.

That’s all well and good, but I can assure you that this particular person is not me. It’s simply a case of sharing the same name—a common-enough occurrence. I mean, how many people do you know named Paul? Or John? Or Mary? As I said before: I have never travelled anywhere with Paul. So I am not a physician, as this particular companion was. Although I am quite happy to be known as “beloved”. Someone amongst the followers of Jesus surely deserves this appellation!

Your story about Jesus is often called “the Gospel for the Gentiles”. What do you think about this description?

It’s true that I really wanted to offer an explanation to the wider world in which we live—beyond the Judaism of the land of Israel itself—about the relevance and the importance of the movement that Jesus initiated for everyone in that wider world. He fulfils the prophetic word that “all flesh” shall see the salvation that God is bringing through Jesus.

So I am undertaking the process that some call “apologetics”; writing a work that “speaks out” the meaning of the faith (that’s what “apologetics” means), reaching across the divisions of language and culture to explain a message from one context in a way that makes sense in another context. Like others who have done this before. I try to anticipate the difficulties and objections that might be raised, and try to provide ways that people of the Way can respond to these objections.

Yes, it is true that Jesus was a Jewish man, from Galilee, who taught in parables and debated Torah interpretation with the scribes, and went on pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem—presumably to offer sacrifices to the Lord God. There’s no doubting his Jewishness. Nevertheless, I am certain that his teachings about the reign of God are applicable to people who do not know the God of Israel. So my two volumes show how the words of this Galilean prophet offer hope and salvation to Gentiles across the world.

And, you know, for a long time now, Jews have lived in many places beyond Jerusalem. There are many Jews that live in diaspora (in the Dispersion), and they have done so ever since the time of the Exile, when the people of Judea were taken away into captivity by the Babylonians. Many of them stayed where they were taken, married locals, learnt the language, planted vineyards, and established family businesses. And they emigrated elsewhere around the Mediterranean Sea—not just back to Israel, but to Egypt and to many other provinces which are under Roman rule.

So those of us who follow the Torah while we live in Diaspora have a particular interest in the teachings and the vision of this Galilean prophet.

Wait a minute: you said “those of us who follow the Torah while we live in Diaspora”, did you? But I thought you were a Gentile!

Yes, that’s a common misunderstanding. Just because I speak and write Greek, live outside Israel, in a strongly hellenised city amongst people who continue to worship many gods, and participate in public ceremonies along with other well-to-do citizens, does not mean that I am not one who keeps Torah. I believe in the one God, I follow the high ethical standards set out in Torah, and I take part in gatherings in the synagogue as often as I can, given my other civic duties.

Some people say that I am a “godfearer”, thinking that I am a Gentile who is attracted to the synagogue because of its high ethical standards. And that makes for a fairly easy transition to follow the way of Jesus, I must admit. I actually included a number of such characters in my second volume, you know: Cornelius, Lydia, some men attached to the synagogue in Antioch, Titius Justus and Crispus in Corinth, some leading women in Thessaloniki, and a group of some significant women and men in Beroea, for instance.

However, I was born, in diaspora, into a Jewish household. I was taught Torah as well as reading the literature of Greece and Rome. I have read from the scroll in the synagogue, just as I report Jesus doing—although I have never said “today this scripture has been fulfilled”, as he did! And yes, since you undoubtedly want to know, I am circumcised. I can read Hebrew, obviously, and can also speak our local language of Aramaic, just as Jesus did. And I am so pleased that I could report how Jesus, speaking in the synagogue after he read from the scroll, affirmed that God wants “release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, [and] to let the oppressed go free”, just as the prophet declared.

But all of this has not stood in the way of my reading and learning from Greek philosophers and historians, enjoying plays and poems by Greeks and Romans, as well as studying Torah and the teachings offered in the synagogue. I am a Jew, but I suppose you would say a very hellenised Jew. In fact, if there’s anyone in the work that I have written that I admire, and who I identify with—apart from Jesus himself—is Apollos of Alexandria. He’s quite cosmopolitan, well educated, and has a way with words. He was raised a Jew but has known about the Way of Jesus since the early days of John. I’d like to think I am rather like him.

If you had your time over again, what would you do differently with the story that you wrote?

There’s a couple of minor glitches that eagle-eyed readers of my work have drawn to my attention. The reference made by the Pharisee, Gamaliel, to the revolutionary Theudas was a slip of the pen: Gamaliel was speaking in the early 30s, but Theudas was active in the 40s. His uprising, which did not last long, was some years after the speech that I placed on the lips of Gamaliel! And I would remove the reference to the census that took place in Syria under Quirinius, as this confuses the matter. Some of my critics have said, wasn’t Jesus born when Herod was still alive? So I regret that error.

I think I should also clarify that the description of the Temple being surrounded and destroyed by the Roman army that I placed on the lips of Jesus was actually informed by my own knowledge of those events, as I have learnt about it from others closer to that event itself. I shouldn’t have had Jesus speak in such detail. I know that he was a prophet, and that he saw the ways that our people had become disobedient, but I don’t think his prophetic insight stretched quite as far as the specific details I provided.

And in contrast to those who say that I have confused the order of things in the account of the last supper that Jesus had with his disciples, I maintain that I got it right. A blessing over a cup of wine comes before a blessing over the bread—and then other blessings follow, including another blessing over another cup. At least, that’s the practice that I am used to.

In the same vein, to those who have criticised me for retaining the saying by Jesus about how “this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place”: I simply note that he said it! I think I have made it clear in other speeches of Jesus just how this expectation has already been modified and altered within the movement. Such reinterpretation is going on all the time!

Any final comments?

Thanks for giving me the chance to talk about my work, to explain some key things, and to set a few things right. I appreciate that. I hope everyone who reads it enjoys it and learns from it.

*****

What did “Theophilus” think about the work that “Luke” wrote? I have also written a series of Letters to Luke in which I imagine how his writings might have been received. You can find the links to these six letters at

Letters to Luke (an imaginative exercise)

*****

The above “interview” and these “letters” draw on the research on Luke and Acts that I have undertaken over the years, which has been published as:

The plan of God in Luke—Acts (CUP 1993)

“The plan of God in Acts” in The Witness of the Gospel: the Theology of Acts (ed. I.H. Marshall and D. Peterson; Eerdmans, 1998)

At table with Luke (UTC Publications, 2000)

A commentary on “The Acts of the Apostles” in the Eerdmans Commentary on the Bible (ed. J.D.G. Dunn and John Rogerson; Eerdmans, 2003)

“The Gospel of Luke” in the Cambridge Companion to the Gospels (ed.Stephen C. Barton and Todd Brewer; CUP, 2006)

Many of the blogs on this website also reflect this continuing research.

Letters to Luke (an imaginative exercise)

I have written series of posts offering imaginary letters from the ancient world, only recently “discovered”. The letters, we might imagine, could reflect what the recipient of the “orderly account of the things that have come to fulfilment ” (what we know as the Gospel of Luke), the man named Theophilus, wrote to the author of that work, as he received sections of the “orderly account” in sequence.

I make prayers on your behalf (Letters to Luke #1; Year C)

I rejoice in the gift of writing (Letters to Luke #2; Year C)

How exciting it was! (Letters to Luke #3; Year C)

I write briefly (Letters to Luke #4; Year C)

I am happy to report that we have held another reading (Letters to Luke #5; Year C)

I was astonished to receive your brief note (Letters to Luke #6; Year C)

These six “letters” formed one session of my presentations at a conference held at St Hilda’s College, University of Melbourne, in November 2000. The conference was entitled “Preaching and Teaching in the Year of Luke: a national conference on preaching, teaching and learning”. It was sponsored by the national Uniting Church agency, Uniting Education, in association with Otira, the Continuing Education agency of the Synod of Victoria. The keynote addresses were subsequently published as AT TABLE WITH LUKE (UTC Publications; UTC Bible Studies 2, 2000) ©John T. Squires 2000

Preaching “the cross” to a divided community (Acts 18 and 1 Cor 1; Narrative Lectionary for Easter 5)

The passage from Acts that was proposed for last Sunday (Acts 17) and that proposed for this coming Sunday (Acts 18) come from the third main section of Acts, where the narrative tells of how Paul and various co-workers established messianic communities in towns throughout Asia Minor and around the Aegean Sea.

These communities contain many elements of the pattern of community life which has become evident in the earlier sections of Acts. In particular, this section consolidates the inclusive character of the community, for each newly-established assembly comprises Gentiles as well as Jews. In this way the section particularly builds on what has been established in the previous section.

In Corinth this week, as in Thessalonica last week, the tensions that exist between Jews and Gentiles in this community are evident. Paul had been travelling with Timothy and Silas, as we saw last week in Thessalonica; they had left him in Beroea (Acts 17:14) while he went on to Athens (17:16–34) and then to Corinth (18:1). Corinth was just 60km from Athens; it was a strategic trading city because of its two ports, one on each side of the isthmus. The old city had been sacked by the Romans in 146 BCE; they rebuilt it and declared it a colony in 44 BCE.

Whilst in Corinth, Paul meets with a new set of co-workers, Aquila and Priscilla (18:2). This married couple is well-known from Paul’s letters, where the mention of the female, in the shortened form, Prisca, in first place ahead of Aquila, is noteworthy (Rom 16:3; 2 Tim 4:19; see also 1 Cor 16:19). Luke notes that they are Jews who had recently moved from Italy to Corinth, as a result of the expulsion of Jews from Rome under Claudius (18:2); this probably took place in 49 CE (Suetonius, Claudius 25.4).

They work as tentmakers (18:3), an occupation often considered to indicate significant means (however, an alternative reading, that tentmakers were craftspeople of lower social status, is offered by some interpreters). This shared trade means that they can provide both hospitality and a place for Paul to carry out his trade whilst he is in Corinth. When Paul travels on, they accompany him to Syria (18:18) and Ephesus (18:19), where they remain while Paul continues on further; in Ephesus they instruct Apollos (18:26).

Paul’s familiar pattern (18:1–6) is evident as he argues in the synagogue on the sabbath, in an attempt to persuade his audience (18:4). As Paul here bears witness (18:5), a typical activity of his (20:21), he fulfils the promise made by Jesus (1:8), as also did Peter (2:32; 5:32). Paul’s message is the familiar refrain: “the Messiah, he is Jesus” (18:5; see 9:22; 17:3). Just as this claim provided the foundations for the community in Jerusalem (2:36), so in Corinth the declaration that Jesus is Messiah will form the basis for the Corinthian assembly.

Paul collaborated in the writing of many of his letters—of the seven agreed authentic letters, only two are written by Paul alone. The others are written in association with Timothy (2 Cor, Phil, 1 Thess and Phlm), Silvanus (1 Thess), and Sosthenes (1 Cor). It is an excerpt from this latter letter that the creators of the lectionary, in their wisdom, have offered us for this coming Sunday (1 Cor 1:10–18), alongside the short report (Acts 18:1–4) of Paul’s visit to Corinth.

Sosthenes and Paul tell the Corinthians that they write to “give thanks” (1 Thess 1:4) and also to “appeal to you” (1:10); and later, to “admonish you as my beloved children” (4:14). The constructive approach that they bring is made clear in the opening prayer of thanksgiving (1:4–9).

In the passage we hear this Sunday (1 Cor 1:10–18), there is an unequivocal statement about what undergirds the constructive intention that Sosthenes and Paul bring as they write. It is “the cross of Christ” (1:18) that shapes the discussion and directions that Paul will present to the believers in Corinth in the ensuing 16 chapters. (This letter is longer than all other Pauline letters, except for Romans—also 16 chapters in length.)

Acts reports that Paul left Corinth in company with Priscilla and Aquila (Acts 18:18), moving to Ephesus, in which city the letter to Corinth was written (1 Cor 16:8). There is no further mention of Sosthenes, although the co-authorship of 1 Corinthians might suggest that Sosthenes also left his home town of Corinth—at least for a time, to escape the persecution he had experienced there.

Sosthenes, like Crispus, would have been high-status in the Jewish community in Corinth. Sosthenes and Paul indicate that they have received other high-status visitors from Corinth, travelling to Ephesus: Stephanas, Fortunatus, and Achaicus (16:17), as well as “the people from Chloe” (1:11)—were they, perhaps, slaves from the household in which Chloe was patron? Female patrons, of course, were known at the time—witness Phoebe (Rom 16:1–2), and see the excellent overview of Marg Mowczko at https://margmowczko.com/new-testament-women-church-leaders/

So Paul and Sosthenes were well-informed as they write this letter to the Corinthians. There are problems aplenty in Corinth. In the few verses set for this coming Sunday, they write about division and the quarrels that have resulted. They plead for agreement and unity. They remind the Corinthians about baptism.

In subsequent chapters, they will range over a long list of matters, often introducing them with the formulaic “now concerning …” (7:1, 25; 8:1; 12:1; 16:1, 12). That formula may suggest they are responding to specific information brought by their visitors. It certainly points to vigorous discussions about a number of matters where there were divergent opinions amongst the Corinthians.

So, in verse 18, the last verse of the selection offered for this Sunday, Sosthenes and Paul sound out the key theme of this letter, which is about the cross of Christ: “foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God” (1 Cor 1:18). The verses immediately following develop this motif of the paradox inherent in the cross with rhetorical finesse.

Given the reference to an earlier letter to the Corinthians (1 Cor 5:9), there may already have been discussion of the cross of Christ—either in that letter, or in a presumed response from the Corinthians, or in personal discussions and sermons during the period that Paul and others were in Corinth. Acts 18 indicates that Paul was there for 18 months, along with Aquila and Priscilla, Silas and Timothy, as well Titus Justus, a godfearer and Crispus, the leader of the synagogue (archisynagogos), and also Sosthenes, also identified as a leader of the synagogue (archisynagogos) who was seized and beaten in the presence of Gallio, the proconsul (Acts 18:17). Was the cross the focus of any of his preaching during this 18 months? It seems quite a plausible speculation.

“The cross” is certainly a theme that was sounded by Paul in his preaching and his writing. He had written to the Galatians, “may I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world” (Gal 6:14).

He had written to the Philippians, urging them to “have the same mind” as Christ Jesus, who “humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross” (Phil 2:8), and warning them that those who opposed Paul’s preaching were “enemies of the cross” (Phil 3:18).

He would later inform the Corinthians that he models his own ministry on that of Christ; “he was crucified in weakness, but lives by the power of God; for we are weak in him, but in dealing with you we will live with him by the power of God” (2 Cor 13:4)—just as he had told the Galatians that “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me” (Gal 2:19–20).

He would also later exhort the believers in Rome to see their baptism as the means by which they were linked with Jesus in his death and resurrection, instructing them that “our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved to sin” (Rom 6:3–6). In the central theological argumentation of this important letter, Paul places the cross as the means by which the good news is known: “God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8).

He would remind them that “Christ died and lived again, so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living” (Rom 14:9), and he deals with the conflict in Rome between weak and strong by proposing that the quarrelling parties follow the pattern established by Christ, who “did not please himself; but, as it is written, ‘The insults of those who insult you have fallen on me’” (Rom 15:3). The cross informed his instructions to the Romans for their daily living.

The same process is employed in the earlier letter to the Corinthians. The cross is the benchmark for understanding how believers are to behave, how they are to relate to one another, and how the community that they form is to be described. All of this is worked out in the first two chapters of the letter (1 Cor 1:18–31; 2:1–12).

There, Paul will remind the Corinthians that “we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles” (1:23), that “I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified” (2:2), and that the paradoxical wisdom that is at the heart of the story of Jesus, “none of the rulers of this age understood this; for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory” (2:8).

For this passage, however, the message is focussed on the centrality of the cross, as the way that God (in Paul’s mind) has chosen to communicate with the people of his time.

Turning the world upside down in Thessalonica (Acts 17 and 1 Thess 1; Narrative Lectionary for Easter 4)

The readings from Acts that are proposed for this Sunday (Acts 17) and the following Sunday (Acts 18) come from the third main section of Acts, where the narrative tells of how Paul and various co-workers established messianic communities in towns throughout Asia Minor and around the Aegean Sea.

These communities contain many elements of the pattern of community life which has become evident in the earlier sections of Acts, in Jerusalem (1:12—6:7) and in the household of Cornelius (10:1—11:18). In particular, this section consolidates the inclusive character of the community, for each newly-established assembly comprises Gentiles as well as Jews. In this way the section particularly builds on what has been established in the previous section.

Thessalonica, the capital of the Roman province of Macedonia, was a port city strategically situated on the Egnatian Way, the main transport link between Rome and the eastern part of the empire. It was an important trading post in Greece, second only to Corinth.

Evidence of its cosmopolitan nature includes an Egyptian settlement, a strong Jewish presence, and a Samaritan community in the city. Religion was a part of everyday life, and so worship of all manner of gods and goddesses thrived. There were also schools to learn philosophy, travelling preachers, and synagogues for worshipping Yahweh.

Paul, Silas and Timothy arrived in Thessalonica in the year 50 CE. The account in Acts 17 indicates that they went to the synagogue, as was Paul’s custom (17:1–2) where Paul declared that the Jewish scriptures pointed to Jesus as Messiah (Acts 17:2–3). In Thessalonica, the tensions that exist between Jews and Gentiles in this community are evident. Arguing with the synagogue attenders (17:2) was a practice in evidence in Paul’s subsequent synagogue visits (17:17; 18:4,19; 19:8) as well as in the assembly in Troas (20:7,9) and when he is before Felix (24:25).

Paul bases his argument in the Hebrew scriptures (17:2), as was done earlier by Philip (8:35), Peter (2:25–31) and Paul himself (13:33–37). Paul’s message contains elements which are familiar, not only from his own speeches, but also from those of Peter and Jesus. First of all, he states that “the Messiah must suffer” (17:3; see 3:18) “and be raised from the dead” (17:3; see 5:30, 10:40). Then, Paul defines the Messiah as “Jesus whom I proclaim to you” (17:3; see 2:36). The author of Acts thus shapes Paul’s message so that it stands in clear continuity with the message that has been proclaimed from Pentecost onwards, reported in the preceding chapters of Acts.

This message brings success amongst the devout Greeks and leading women, who believe (17:4). Success amongst godfearers has already occurred in Antioch (13:43,50) and Philippi (16:14), and will occur in Athens (17:17) and Corinth (18:7). Women of high social status become believers in Antioch (13:50), Philippi (the description of Lydia’s trade in 16:14 infers such high status) and Beroea (17:12). Again, the author of Acts shapes the narrative to reflect consistency of method and result.

However, a pattern of divided response (see 13:4–12) continues, for opposition is stirred up by Jews who exhibit jealousy (17:5), like those who were similarly antagonistic in Jerusalem (5:17) and Antioch (13:45), and like Paul himself when he was a persecutor (22:3–4). Paul and Silas are brought before the politarchs (17:6); Luke accurately employs an uncommon term which inscriptional evidence suggests was reserved for city authorities in Macedonia only.

A long list of such historical accuracies in Acts 13—28 can be cited (the most comprehensive list is provided in Colin Hemer’s 1989 work, The Book of Acts in the Setting of Hellenistic History). This does not, however, remove concerns about Luke’s inaccuracies at times (see 5:36–37 for a most obvious anachronistic reference), nor does it negate the claim that Luke’s own interests shape the way that he presents and interprets events in his narrative. Thus, the accusations levelled against Paul and Silas reflect Lukan motifs.

In particular, “turning the world upside down” (17:6) has been a common theme in Luke’s story of Jesus (Luke 1:46–55; 6:20–26; 9:23–24;13:30; 14:7–11; 16:19–31; 18:9–14; 22:25–26). Acting contrary to Roman practice (17:7) was a charge levelled against Paul and Silas in Philippi (16:20–21); Paul later defends himself against this charge in Caesarea (25:8).

Paul’s own description of his time in Thessalonica refers to the “distress and persecution” which he experienced (1 Thess 3:7); this appears to concur with Luke’s account of opposition there. By contrast, Paul comments that the Thessalonian converts “turned to God from idols” (1 Thess 1:9) and uncharacteristically fails to quote from Hebrew Scripture in his letter to them, suggesting that they were a wholly gentile community of believers. This differs from Luke’s account of the community’s origins from the synagogue.

In the opening thanksgiving of this letter (1:1–8), Paul characterizes the Thessalonians as undertaking a “work of faith and labour of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ” (1:8). These terms summarise the key issues to be addressed later in that letter; all three return at 1 Thess 5:8, where Paul exhorts the Thessalonians to “be sober, and put on the breastplate of faith and love, and for a helmet the hope of salvation”.

Paul writes more about the faith of the Thessalonians at 3:1–10; he commends them for their love at 3:6 and 4:9–10, and prays for it to increase at 3:12. He strengthens them in their hope at 2:19 and 4:13–18. Also in the thanksgiving, he affirmed them for being “imitators of us and of the Lord” (1:6)—a central motif in Paul’s theology (see 1 Cor 4:16; 11:1; Gal 4:12; Phil 1:7; 3:13–15; 2 Thess 3:7; 2 Tim 1:13).

The language which Paul uses in this letter (and especially in chapter 2) is reminiscent of discussions of rhetoricians and philosophers of the time, a number of whom were accused of having base motives, an interest in self-promotion and a desire for immediate financial rewards!

In particular, Paul’s itinerant way of life could easily leave him open to such a criticism. How he defends himself is similar to the way that the better class of philosophers and rhetoricians of the day tried to defend themselves. My own doktorvater, Prof. Abraham Malherbe, demonstrated how there are many resonances, for instance, with Oration 32 by the second century writer, Dio of Prusa (nicknamed Chrysostom, “golden mouthed”, for his own skill in oratory).

See a good summary of Abraham Malherbe’s analysis of 1 Thess 2 in this vein, at http://www.religion.emory.edu/faculty/robbins/SRI/Examples/textures/inter/echo2.cfm

Times of refreshing, of universal restoration (Acts 3; Easter 3B)

This Sunday, the lectionary proposes a selection of verses from Acts 3, containing most (but not all) of a speech by Peter (Acts 3:12–19). That speech (3:12–26) follows an account of how Peter heals a lame man (3:1–11); a miracle that provides a specific instance of the “many wonders and signs” which the apostles performed (2:43). In this blog, I will range beyond these explore the speech in its context.

As this particular healing takes place in the grounds of the temple (3:2), the heart of the Jewish capital, Jerusalem. Peter and John come to the temple to pray (3:1), in keeping with both the community practice of prayer (2:42) and of regularly attending the temple (2:46). The temple remained a focal point for prayer until its destruction in 70 CE.

The juxtaposition of the lame man and the temple setting is striking. Lame animals were decreed to be unsuitable as offerings to God (Deut 15:21; Mal 1:8,13) and lame people were amongst those forbidden from drawing near to offer sacrifice in the temple (Lev 21:18; 2 Sam 5:8). Yet amongst the prophets, the lame are included among the outcasts gathered by God as the faithful remnant (Jer 31:8; Mic 4:6-7; Zeph 3:19), and the vision of the return of the redeemed to Zion (Isa 35:1–10) includes the assertion that “the lame shall leap like a deer” (Isa 35:6).

Jesus has followed in this prophetic tradition by healing the various categories of outcast; by his activity, “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have good news preached to them” (Luke 7:22, par Matt 11:5; see also Luke 4:18; Matt 15:30–31; 21:14).

In parables told only by the Lukan Jesus, the lame are included in the outcasts invited to the banquets (Luke 14:13,21). This compares with the account of how Mephibosheth, the lame grandson of Saul, son of Jonathan, ate regularly at the table of King David (2 Sam 4:4; 9:1–13).

Although no account of a specific healing of a lame person is found in Luke’s Gospel (cf. John 5:1–9), the healing of this lame man (the first specific healing incident in Acts) places the apostles in continuity with Jesus who heals the lame (Luke 7:22). A similar healing is later performed by Paul (14:8–10), whilst Philip is described as healing “many others who were paralysed or lame” (8:7).

The lame man’s expectation that he would receive alms (3:2–3) is reasonable. Caring for the needy was integral to Jewish piety (Deut 15:7–11). By the hellenistic period, almsgiving had become highly valued as a religious duty (Sir 3:30; 7:10; 29:9–12; 40:24; Tob 4:7–11,16; 12:8–10; 14:8–11; cf. Matt 6:2–4). The Lukan Jesus commended almsgiving (Luke 11:41; 12:33) and subsequent characters in Acts practice almsgiving—notably, Cornelius (Acts 10:2,4,31) and Paul (24:17).

However, as Peter and John “look intensely” at the man (3:4; on such intense scrutiny, see 14:9), they sidestep this responsibility, for the focus in this account is to be on their exercise of divine power. Peter commands the man to stand, revealing that his power comes from “the name of the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth” (3:6).

This name has already been declared as the source of salvation (2:21) and forgiveness (2:38); “the name” remains a constant emphasis in the ensuing scenes (3:16; 4:7,10,12,17–18,30; 5:40-41) and appears subsequently in connection with proclamation (8:12; 9:15–16,27–28; 10:43; 15:14,17; 21:13), baptism (8:16; 10:48; 19:5; 22:16) and exorcism (16:18; 19:13,17).

As Peter raises up the lame man (3:7), he is healed and strengthened, and enters the temple (3:8). The healed man immediately recognises the source of this miracle, for he is portrayed as “praising God” (3:8,9). The man joins himself with the community members whose regular life is typified by an attitude of praise towards God (2:47). Seeing this healing, the people show “wonder” (3:10), a questioning attitude also displayed towards Jesus (Luke 4:36; 5:9), and “amazement” (3:10), a more insightful appreciation of the incident, as also displayed towards Jesus (Luke 5:26).

Having reported the healing, Luke shifts his focus to Peter, who addresses the people, providing an interpretation of what has taken place, just as he did on the day of Pentecost. Peter’s third speech (3:12–26) begins by accusing the people of thinking “as if by our own power or piety we have made him walk” (3:12). Peter asserts that it is God—“the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, the God of our ancestors” (3:13)—who has enabled the miracle.

The speech echoes key elements of Peter’s Pentecost speech. The healing took place in the name of “the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth” (3:6; see 2:36). Jesus is the one whom God glorified (3:13) and God raised (3:15; see 2:24); he is the one of whom the apostles are witnesses (3:15; see 2:32) for of him they “see and know” (3:16).

Peter also says that Jesus is the suffering Messiah, in fulfilment of “what God announced beforehand through the mouth of all the prophets” (3:18). This extends the fulfilment of prophecy from Jesus’ resurrection (2:25–31) and exaltation (2:34–35) to his crucifixion. Paul makes the same affirmation, that the suffering of the Messiah fulfils scripture, at 26:23. So the speech both reprises and develops the explicit things said about Jesus in 2:22–36, as well as the prophetic and apostolic witness which characterises the apostolic proclamation.

Luke has Peter call for a response of repentance (3:19), as he did at 2:37–39. Repentance is an integral element in the eschatological scenario. The eschatological hope for the coming times had often been proclaimed by Jesus (Luke 4:43; 9:26-27; 10:1–16; 12:49–56; 13:22–30; 17:20–37; 19:11–27; 21:5–36). This continues as an essential element in the apostolic proclamation.

Luke reports Peter as describing this future time in some detail (3:19–21). God is in control of this process: God will wipe out sins (3:19b) because people will have already repented and turned to God (3:19a); “times of refreshing” will come “from the presence of the Lord” (3:20a); and God will then send the appointed Messiah (3:20b).

After this, during an interim period, the ascended Jesus remains in heaven (cf. 1:11; 2:33), awaiting “the time of universal restoration” which will implement what God has long ago promised (3:21). The delay occasioned by this waiting does not mean that God has lost control of events, however. Jesus remains in heaven by divine decree; the word “must”, 3:21, indicates this.

The “times of refreshing” may refer to Jesus’ teaching that “the Lord will cut short the end” (Mark 13:20, but omitted in Luke 21); the sense of “refreshing” is of a breathing space before the next event in sequence takes place (see Exod 8:15). The “time of universal restoration” transcends the earlier question of the disciples concerning the restoration of the kingdom to Israel (1:6); here, restoration has a universal scope. This is the broadest expression of eschatological hope in all of Acts.

This time of restoration may thus correlate with the eschatological events which Peter has already reported at 2:17-21 (citing Joel 2:28-32; see also Mal 4:5-6); and which is later mention in Peter’s Caesarea speech (10:42) and in Paul’s Areopagus speech (17:31). On these occasions, however, the description of that time is limited to noting the role that Jesus will perform, as the one “ordained” (10:42) or “appointed” (17:31; cf. 3:20) to carry out God’s judgement. This speech thus provides the most detailed look into the promised future time of judgement and redemption.

The time of universal restoration which Peter declares is that which “God spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets” (3:21; cf. Luke 1:70). The way that Peter here expresses the future role of Jesus evokes the prophetic words of Mary (Luke 1:54–55) and Zechariah (Luke 1:68–75). Justice and salvation will come about at this time.

It is this still-awaited future act of God which provides the springboard for Peter’s demand for repentance (3:19). Peter concludes his speech by urging the people to “turn, each one, from your sins because God raised up his son and sent him as a blessing to you” (3:26, as a fulfilment of the promise to Abraham cited in 3:25).

Conflict erupts, however, when the authorities object that Peter is teaching the people, primarily (in their eyes) about the resurrection of the dead (4:2). Luke has already documented the opposition of the Sadducees to this idea (Luke 20:27-40). Here, they join with the priests and the temple police, the same group which Luke noted as having plotted against Jesus (Luke 22:4) and arrested him (Luke 22:52).

Together, they initiate the arrest of Peter and John (4:1-3). This is the first of many scenes of judicial conflict in Acts; the pattern has already been established in the story of Jesus (Luke 22:47-23:25). A very brief second summary description of the community (4:4) follows, picking up from 2:41 the motif of increasing numbers within the messianic community.

Seven words of the risen Jesus (Luke 24; Easter 3B)

The story of the empty tomb, early in the morning of Easter Sunday, is well known. The story of the appearance of Jesus as a stranger, walking alongside the couple who were heading out of Jerusalem towards the village of Emmaus, is also very well known.

What happened after that? Did the disciples huddle in fear in their house in Jerusalem (as John reports, John 20:19–31)? Did they head north to Galilee, as the young man in the empty tomb had instructed the women to do (Mark 16:7)? Was it in Galilee, on a mountain, that Jesus delivered his “Great Commission” to the eleven (Matt 28:16–20)? Or beside the Sea of Galilee, where some of the disciples had returned, disheartened and focussed on getting back to life as they once knew it, fishing for a living once again, when Jesus surprised them by the fire (John 21:1–14)?

The author of Luke’s Gospel offers us the first two stories in his Gospel: the empty tomb (Luke 24:1–12) and the road to Emmaus (24:13–35). But he does not report any of the subsequent stories we have in these other Gospels. In his narrative, the disciples remain in Jerusalem, forming a community of believers who had gathered in the room where the travellers to Emmaus had returned and were sharing “what had happened on the road” (24:35).

It is noteworthy that in the Lukan narrative, there is no change of scene, no change of characters, no breathing space at all between the return of the Emmaus travellers and the appearance of the risen Jesus. Luke’s narrative simply pushes on immediately to report that “while they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them” (v.36).

It is what ensues in this scene that forms the passage proposed by the lectionary for this coming Sunday, the Third Sunday of Easter (Luke 24:36–48). This scene is notable for a series of words which Jesus speaks to the group of those who were gathered together at that time—not just “the eleven and their companions” (v.33), but also the travellers returning from Emmaus (v.35).

In this post I will highlight seven words of Jesus that the author of this narrative reports in this final scene of his Gospel. In these seven words, the author of this Gospel both draws together threads from the preceding narrative, bringing this work to a climax, and brings us to the point of anticipating what will follow in the second volume that he writes.

“Peace be with you” (v.36). Peace (Hebrew shalom) was the standard Jewish greeting, as seen in the words of the old Ephraimite man (Judg 19:20), Eli’s word to Hannah (1 Sam1:17), Jonathan’s word to David (1 Sam 20:42), David’s instruction to his messengers to Nabal (1 Sam 25:5–6), and the song of Amasai (1 Chron 12:18).

The blessing of peace is encouraged by the psalmists (Ps 122:8;128:6) and the prophets (Isa 52:7; Nah 1:15), although Jeremiah warns of its abuse by false prophets in his day (Jer 6:14; 8:11–15; 14:13). Paul, of course, incorporates this traditional Hebraic greeting into the start of each of his letters, in the formulaic “grace to you and peace” (Rom 1:7; 1 Cor 1:3; 2 Cor 1:2; Gal1:3; Phil 1:2; 1Thess 1:1; Phlm 3).

Given this widespread usage, it would seem therefore the natural thing for Jesus to say to his friends when he came to them in that room: “peace be with you”.

More than that, Jesus speaking a greeting of peace in the Lukan narrative evokes the double offering of peace in John’s narrative of what may well be seen as the same scene (John 20:19–21). The second word, “Touch me and see” (v.39a), also evokes the scene in John 20, where Jesus showed the ten disciples his hands and his side (John 20:20) and then, a week later, said to Thomas “put your finger here and see my hands; reach out your hand and put it in my side” (John 20:27).

Both Luke and John provide an apologetic demonstration that the resurrection of Jesus involves his earthly body, with Luke providing the clarity of the claim, “a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have” (Luke 24:39b). This line of argument differs from that found in Paul’s extended discussion of the resurrection, where he notes that whilst a person is “sown a physical body, it is raised a spiritual body” (1 Cor 15:44) and then claims that “flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable” (1 Cor 15:50).

The implication of Paul’s line of argument is that the resurrection body of Jesus, whilst it bears the marks of the cross, will nevertheless be in a transformed state—and so will the bodies of believers be, after they are raised to be with Jesus. He states this explicitly in another letter: “he will transform the body of our humiliation that it may be conformed to the body of his glory” (Phil 3:21). That quasi-Platonic contrast between the earthly body of humiliation and the heavenly body of glory seems quite different to the understanding conveyed by Luke.

“Have you anything here to eat?” (v.41) is the third word of the risen Jesus. Only in Luke’s account does the risen Jesus show any interest in consuming food. That is not surprising, since Luke locates the earthly Jesus at table, sharing in a meal, more often than the other evangelists.

Mark tells us that as Jesus sat at dinner (or more accurately, reclined beside then table, leaning on his elbow) in Levi’s house, “many tax collectors and sinners were also sitting with Jesus and his disciples” (Mark 2:15–16; in Matthew’s account, he is renamed as Matthew, Matt 9:10–11).

In Luke’s narrative, this scene is replicated (Luke 5:29–31); yet Jesus also eats with with a Pharisee and a sinful woman (7:36–50); with Pharisees, a lawyer, and scribes (11:37–54); and with tax collectors and sinners (15:1–32; verses 1–2 infer the additional presence of Pharisees and scribes). After he shares a final meal with his closest followers (22:14–38), the risen Jesus then shares a meal with his fellow travellers on arrival in Emmaus (24:30). So this request should not be a surprise!

“Everything written about me must be fulfilled” (v.44) then follows as the fourth word. The fulfilment of prophecy in what is taking place during the lifetime of Jesus is a common claim in all four Gospel narratives, sounding forth from the baptism of Jesus (Mark 1:2 and pars) to the arrest of Jesus (Mark 14:49; Matt 26:53–56) and the events that follow (Luke 22:37; John 19:24, 36–37).

Indeed, the author of Luke’s Gospel has set the whole story of Jesus in relation to Hebrew Scripture, beginning with numerous scriptural allusions in the songs sung by Mary (Luke 1:46–55), Zechariah (1:68–79), and Simeon (2:29–32) and highlighting this in the words that Jesus spoke in his hometown synagogue (4:16–21) and in later sayings (6:20–26; 8:10; 12:52–53; 20:17–18, 41–44). The note of fulfillment sounded in the closing scene of the Gospel (24:44) gathers these threads into a cohesive climax.

For the fifth word, Jesus declares that “repentance and forgiveness of sins” are to be “proclaimed … to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem” (v.47). The activity of proclamation that he undertook during his life (Luke 4:43) was a charge that he gave his followers (9:2, 60;10:8–11). Throughout Acts, those followers continue to proclaim this message (Acts 5:42; 8:5, 35, 40; 9:20; 13:5, 38; 14:21; 15:35–36; 16:10; 17:13, 23).

The message of repentance, sounded both by John the baptiser (Luke 3:3, 8) and by Jesus (Luke 5:32; 13:1–5), is continued by Peter (Acts 2:38; 3:19), Philip (8:32), and by Paul (17:30; 26:19–20). In like manner, Jesus preaches forgiveness (Luke 5:24; 6:37; 7:47–48; 17:3–4), exhorts this as central to prayer (11:4), and exemplifies it even in his dying hour (23:34).23:34). Then, in Acts, forgiveness is indeed proclaimed by Peter (Acts 2:38; 5:31; 8:22; 10:43) and by Paul (13:38; 26:18).

The sixth word of the risen Jesus in Luke’s narrative sounds yet another key Lukan theme. “You are witnesses of these things” (v.48), Jesus tells his followers. The author then begins the second volume of his account by repeating and expanding this commission which Jesus gave his followers: “you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). The missionary impulse is clear.

Jesus foresees the “opportunity to testify” that his followers will have in the times of trial when they are persecuted, arrested, and “brought before kings and governors because of my name” (Luke 21:12–13). The book of Acts then reports on that testimony is given about Jesus at many places, in the witness offered by Peter (Acts 1:22; 2:32; 3:15; 5:32; 10:39–42) and by Paul (13:31; 20:24; 22:15; 23:11; 26:16).

“I am sending upon you what my Father promised” (v.49). This seventh and final word stands at the end of the Gospel, but does not provide full “closure” to that narrative. Rather, it takes us to the brink, as we anticipate the departure of Jesus (narrated at vv.50–51) and the ongoing work of bearing witness, for which the disciples have just been commissioned (v.48). The author would have us look immediately for the sequel to this Gospel.

And, indeed, the promise is subsequently seen to come to fruition when “the day of Pentecost had been filled to completion, when they were all together in one place” (Acts 2:1, my translation). The promise is fulfilled a second time in the house of Cornelius, when “the gift of the Holy Spirit [was] poured out even on the Gentiles” (Acts 10:45), and Peter rejoices that “God gave them [the Gentiles] the same gift that he gave us [Jews] when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ” (Acts 11:17).

The Spirit continues as an active presence within all that the followers of Jesus do throughout much of Acts (4:8, 31; 6:10; 7:55; 8:29, 39; 9:17, 31; 10:19, 44–48; 11:12, 15, 24, 28; 13:2, 4, 9, 52; 15:8, 28;16:6–10; 19:6, 21; 20:22–23, 28; 21:4, 11). It is not without reason that some have proposed that “The Acts of the Apostles” would be more accurately named “The Acts of the Holy Spirit”.

Together, then, these seven words of the risen Jesus draw together key strands in the Gospel, anticipate important aspects of Acts, and provide a pivot point from the first volume to its sequel. It is a very rich passage.

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