Luke’s Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles – “The New Testament In It’s World” – Wright and Bird

The gospel of Luke, and the Acts of the Apostles, are regularly seen as a double work from a single author. For that reason people today regularly refer to them together, as ‘Luke-Acts’. This two-volume work has enormous significance in the New Testament and within early Christianity as a whole. First, it is the largest sub-corpus of the New Testament. Luke-Acts makes up a massive 28 per cent of the New Testament. Paul’s letters comprise only 24 per cent; the Johannine corpus covers a mere 20 per cent—and that’s assuming the authenticity of the authorship of all the writings attributed to Paul and John, which is disputed. Second, Luke is both an evangelist (in the sense of ‘a gospel-writer’) and the first church historian. He has his own unique depiction of Jesus as the ‘Lord’s Messiah’ and he narrates the beginnings of the church with emphasis on the ministries of Peter and Paul. In fact, Luke’s two-volume work is something of a New Testament in miniature, telling the story of Jesus and the apostles in one continuous narrative.

If Luke-Acts has one central theme, it might be ‘salvation’—though that word has become such a Christian cliché that saying this may carry less weight than it ought. Luke-Acts is the story of the ‘Saviour’, the story of ‘those who are being saved’,6 and traces how salvation extends from Israel to the ends of the earth.

I (MFB) have often imagined Luke as a cross between the Anglo-Irish literary critic and Christian apologist C. S. Lewis and the Scottish archaeologist and biblical scholar William M. Ramsay. Luke writes in stylish prose, contends for faith in Jesus, defends Paul, and interprets Israel’s scriptures through a messianic grid, all while being immersed in the history and culture of the Roman empire. There are many questions we might wish to ask him. Exactly which sources did he use in his composition? (He tells us up front that he has compared things that other people have written.) How might he explain some of the apparent discrepancies between the Paul he describes in Acts and the Paul of the actual letters? What would he say about the continuing Jewish people who have not recognized Jesus as Messiah? Is he biased—either against them or for them? Or is that the wrong question? Are the sermons by the apostles in Acts a reliable account of their preaching, or did he just make them up? What might he say to those who have called him an ‘early Catholic’? Is there more to be said about women in the church? Was the early church really a proto-socialist movement? What was an average worship service actually like? And so on.

Tradition has identified the author of the third gospel and the Acts of the Apostles as Paul’s travelling companion Luke, a physician, who was with Paul on many of his missionary journeys and also during Paul’s imprisonments in Ephesus and Rome. Sources in the late second century (including Irenaeus, the Muratorian canon, and the anti-Marcionite prologues) ascribe authorship to this Luke.

A more promising line of enquiry can be found in Acts. During Paul’s second missionary journey, the author abruptly starts using the first-person plural, ‘us’ and ‘we’, starting when Paul and his friends are in Troas. This feature is then repeated, ending with Paul’s dramatic voyage and shipwreck. These sections are usually referred to as the ‘we’-passages. At first glance they appear to indicate that the author of Acts accompanied Paul during this phase of his missionary travels.19 This would correspond to Paul’s noting of Luke’s presence in some of his letters.

Most scholars today would insist that Luke-Acts is to be dated after AD 70. First, Luke is dependent upon Mark’s gospel, and Mark is normally dated sometime around AD 70. Second, a post-70 dating corresponds with the view that Luke 19 and 21 seem to regard the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple as a past event that has now ushered in the ‘times of the Gentiles’. Some suppose that a pre-70 date is possible, because Luke would have recorded the deaths of Paul and perhaps Peter if he knew about them. Without the result of Paul’s forthcoming trial before the emperor, Acts has appeared to many as truncated—though there could be many reasons for the author stopping where he does. The omission of the apostles’ martyrdoms is normally seen as meaning either that Luke’s audience already knew what fate had befallen Paul and Peter, or else—and more likely—that his purpose was not to write Paul’s biography but to show the spread of Christianity from Jerusalem to Rome, which by Acts 28 he had already done.

Lukan authorship of both works has largely been affirmed across church history and in modern scholarship, but treating these two books as a literary unity with a coherent theology is a relatively recent phenomenon, starting with Henry Cadbury’s monograph of 1927 which first introduced the phrase ‘Luke-Acts’ into scholarly parlance.

First, the evidence garnered from the prologues in Luke 1.1–4 and Acts 1.1–2 signifies that we have two parts of the one work. Second, the gospel of Luke is constructed specifically to prepare the way for Acts by omitting materials from Mark (like those about gentile inclusion) which are set out in Acts, while also foreshadowing several themes that will be developed later, such as the holy spirit, discipleship, the scope of salvation, and Jewish hostility to the gospel. Third, it is hard to go past the observation that there are deliberate parallels developed between Jesus, Peter, and Paul in terms of proclamation and miracles performed. Fourth, at the macro-level, Luke-Acts is united in its depiction of the single purpose of God. As Joel Green puts it:

Luke’s agenda is not to write the story of Jesus, followed by the story of the early church . . . Rather, his design is to write the story of the continuation and fulfillment of God’s project—a story that embraces both the work of Jesus and of the followers of Jesus after his ascension. From start to finish, Luke–Acts brings to the fore one narrative aim, the one aim of God.

Luke’s motives for writing his two-volume work were clearly complex. Among the many scholarly proposals are: to catechize gentile converts; to chronicle the church’s mission; to defend Paul at his trial; to attempt a synthesis of Jewish and Pauline Christianities, resulting in an ‘early Catholicism’; to account for the delay of Jesus’ return by periodizing history into ‘salvation history’; to commend Christians to pagan onlookers as a strange but peaceful sect while indicting the Jews as incendiary rabble-rousers; to legitimate Christians as God’s people; to respond to criticism of Paul from the Jewish Diaspora and from Jewish-Christian groups; to justify the division between Christianity and Judaism; to refute, albeit indirectly, the heresies of Docetism and Gnosticism; to exonerate Jesus while giving an account of the church as the ideal collegium; or, more simply and perhaps naively, to explain how Christianity spread from Jerusalem to Rome.

Luke’s motives for writing his two-volume work were clearly complex. Among the many scholarly proposals are: to catechize gentile converts; to chronicle the church’s mission; to defend Paul at his trial; to attempt a synthesis of Jewish and Pauline Christianities, resulting in an ‘early Catholicism’; to account for the delay of Jesus’ return by periodizing history into ‘salvation history’; to commend Christians to pagan onlookers as a strange but peaceful sect while indicting the Jews as incendiary rabble-rousers; to legitimate Christians as God’s people; to respond to criticism of Paul from the Jewish Diaspora and from Jewish-Christian groups; to justify the division between Christianity and Judaism; to refute, albeit indirectly, the heresies of Docetism and Gnosticism; to exonerate Jesus while giving an account of the church as the ideal collegium; or, more simply and perhaps naively, to explain how Christianity spread from Jerusalem to Rome.

It is worth remembering that Luke was writing in a context where the Jewish people had for a long time been put in a special category by the Romans. As far as the Romans were concerned, the Jews were anti-social atheists. But they were not persecuted by Rome simply for being Jews; they had been granted the status of a permitted religion. Luke’s massive two-volume work can be read as claiming, among many other things, that this status ought now to belong to the Christians. They are the ones who have inherited the Jewish promises of salvation; they are the ones to whom accrues the status proper to a religion of great antiquity. They, time and again, are shown to be in the right, to be innocent, even when magistrates have pronounced them guilty: from Jesus on the cross, to the apostles before the Sanhedrin, to Paul (in Philippi, then before Agrippa and Festus, or, later, on the voyage to Rome), the Christians are declared to be innocent of the charges of sedition or subversion that are laid against them.

Thus, while Luke-Acts has several utilities, didactic, polemical, and evangelistic, it is principally an apologetic work. Luke’s gospel extols and exonerates Jesus, while Acts presents Paul as a divinely chosen agent, a faithful herald of Jesus Christ, warmly received by Jewish Christian leaders like James, slandered and menaced by Jews, and treated unfairly by Roman officials. In Luke’s narration, the church is radical but harmless, the proper heirs of Judaism’s religious heritage. Luke engages in a form of ethnic reasoning that legitimates the multi-ethnic churches as God’s new-covenant people. In the end, Christians retain what pagans respected about Judaism (antiquity, homogeneity, monotheism, and ethics), while jettisoning what pagans found unattractive about Judaism (ethnically based social separation and strange customs). There is more to Acts than this, but not less.

1. Prologue of the Gospel According to Luke (1.1–4)
   Luke’s prologue stresses both the historical accuracy of his investigation and the theological content of his book, focused as it is on the ‘word’ that has been ‘fulfilled’ in the community to which both Luke (the author) and Theophilus (the dedicatee) belong (see ‘Portals and parallels: ancient prefaces’).
2. Precursor and the saviour (1.5—2.52)
   Luke’s infancy narrative concentrates on the intertwining destinies of John the Baptist and Jesus. He crafts his story around the hope for Israel’s restoration, the outpouring of eschatological joy that accompanies the appearance of both figures, and the identification of Jesus as the promised Davidic saviour. The stories of their births are joined to three hymns of praise in the form of Mary’s Magnificat, Zechariah’s Benedic tus, and Simeon’s Nunc Dimittis. The journey of Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem comes about because of a census during the reign of Augustus, with Joseph probably returning to register his claim on ancestral lands. The holy family is presented as faithful and devout, illustrated by Jesus’ parents in their undertaking of the rites of purification after childbirth and presenting Jesus in the Temple. After returning to Nazareth, the family makes a regular pilgrimage to Jerusalem for Passover where Jesus’ greatness is foreshadowed by his teaching in the Temple as a child and astounding the audience. Luke rounds off Jesus’ infancy with the report that Jesus grew in wisdom and divine favour.

3. Preparation for Jesus’ ministry (3.1—4.13)
   Luke introduces John the Baptist as the prophetic forerunner to Jesus. He fulfils the words of Isaiah 40.3–5 by warning that ethnic heritage (descent from Abraham) will not save people from the coming judgment. Rather—in line with the warnings and promises in Deuteronomy and elsewhere—the people must repent, bear fruit, and ready themselves for the coming deliverer who will baptize with the holy spirit and fire (Lk. 3.1–20).

Jesus is then baptized by John; Luke adds the detail that the holy spirit descended on Jesus in ‘bodily form like a dove’ (3.21–22). Luke then offers a genealogy of Jesus which traces his ancestry back to Adam—and thence to God!—rather than simply to Abraham as Matthew does (3.21–38). There follows Luke’s version of the temptation story (4.1–13).

4. Jesus’ Galilean ministry (4.14—9.50)
   Luke recounts the Galilean phase of Jesus’ ministry with a general snapshot of Jesus as empowered by the spirit and teaching in various synagogues to wide acclaim (4.14–15).

Jesus enters his home village of Nazareth and delivers a sermon in the synagogue, quoting Isaiah 61.1–2 and declaring its immediate fulfilment. The passage from Isaiah 61 is unambiguously Davidic, and explicitly messianic: YHWH’s spirit has anointed the messenger to bring good tidings to the poor. Despite their initial enthusiasm, Jesus’ hearers become alarmed and then angry, probably because Jesus is speaking, not about Israel’s vengeance on its enemies as they might have expected, but about God’s welcome to outsiders. He comments on their smug indignation by quoting the proverb about a prophet being rejected in his own home town, and backs up his main point by citing the biblical stories of two foreigners, the widow of Zarephath and Naaman the Syrian.48 Luke 4.16–30 offers a programmatic description of Jesus’ ministry, introducing the various motifs of Luke-Acts: spirit, mission, christology, Israel’s rejection of Jesus, and God’s acceptance of outcasts.

Jesus’ ministry continues in Capernaum where he performs exorcisms and healings that demonstrate his power and authority (4.31–44). Thereafter Jesus gathers disciples, performs healings, arouses opposition over sabbath observance, and generally displays his remarkable authority (4.31—6.16).

This opens up the way for Luke’s second major presentation of Jesus’ teaching: a ‘sermon’ on a ‘level place’, corresponding in some ways to Matthew’s ‘sermon on the mount’ (6.17–49). This address, opening with balanced ‘blessings’ and ‘woes’ (again, like Deuteronomy), urges the way of love, of non-retaliation, of the transformed heart, and of taking Jesus’ words as the foundation for a new way of life. Jesus then returns to Capernaum where, impressed by the faith of a Roman centurion, he heals the man’s slave (7.1–10). This is followed by the raising of a dead man, a widow’s son in Nain (7.11–17), at which the crowds declare that God has ‘visited’ his people—an echo of Zechariah’s song in 1.68 and 1.78, and an anticipation of the fateful moment when Jesus arrived in Jerusalem (19.44), all of them echoing what the Israelites had said on hearing the news of the forthcoming exodus (Ex. 4.31). To the consternation of onlookers Jesus then praises a sinful woman who sneaks in to a dinner-party in a Pharisee’s house in order to anoint him (7.36–50). In between these stories is Luke’s account of John the Baptist’s delegation, questioning whether Jesus really is ‘the one who was to come’; Jesus describes his own activity in terms which echo Isaiah, then stressing that John really was the advance messenger for the ‘coming one’—in other words, that Jesus himself is indeed the one who was to come, which in Malachi 3.1 was of course Israel’s God himself (7.18–35). Finally, Jesus continues his itinerant travels, proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom of God, accompanied by the Twelve and by female followers who financially supported him (8.1–3).

This brings us to Luke’s presentation of some of the parables found in Mark 4 and Matthew 13, starting with ‘the sower and the seed’. The kingdom of God is indeed arriving, but it is mysterious as well as powerful. It will encounter opposition, but will take root in receptive hearts (8.4–15). The kingdom is like light: it radiates, and does not retreat (8.16–18), even from opposition by family members (8.19–21).

Further indications of Jesus’ identity and power are seen in the stilling of the storm, echoing God’s power over the sea (8.22–25). He is confessed as the ‘son of the Most High God’ by a demoniac in the Decapolis (8.26–39); he raises a girl from the dead and heals a woman with constant bleeding (8.40–56). He grants his disciples the power and authority to duplicate his miraculous deeds (9.1–9), and feeds the five thousand (9.10–17). All this leads up to Peter’s confession that Jesus is ‘God’s Messiah’ (9.18–20), at which Jesus at once speaks of his forthcoming death and resurrection (9.21–27). This double message—Jesus’ secret messianic identity and his coming death—is dramatically emphasized in the transfiguration (9.28–36), pointing to Jesus’ coming ‘glory’ (9.32) but stressing that Jesus’ vocation was to ‘his departure’ (the Greek word is exodos) ‘which he would accomplish in Jerusalem’ (9.31): in other words, Jesus’ death will be the new, true, ‘exodus’, consequent upon Israel’s God ‘visiting’ his people at last. Immediately afterwards comes another challenge in the form of a demon-possessed boy whom the disciples couldn’t cure. Jesus, however, succeeds, and the crowds are ‘amazed at the greatness of God’ (9.37–45). Luke’s account of Jesus’ public work in Galilee then closes with a second prediction of Jesus’ death, followed absurdly by the disciples arguing about who would be the greatest in the kingdom. Jesus corrects them by stating that kingdom-greatness is defined by humility (9.46–50).

‘Jesus is making a bold claim that the salvation hoped for by generations of Israelites has arrived and he is the Spirit-anointed agent through whom all forms of oppression will be lifted.’

Diane Chen, Luke, 62.

5. Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem (9.51—19.48)
   Once Jesus’ intention to go to Jerusalem is disclosed, opposition to him increases and is intertwined with instruction to the disciples. The Samaritan rejection of him (9.52–56) is juxtaposed with a passage on the cost of discipleship (9.57–62). Jesus then sends out seventy-two disciples, warning them to expect a mixture of triumph and rejection (10.1–24). Faced with a challenge from a lawyer (‘Who is my neighbour?’) Jesus undermines the normal ethnic divisions by telling a parable with a Samaritan as the hero (10.25–37). In a similar reversal, he commends Mary of Bethany for choosing ‘what is better’ by listening to his teaching along with his other disciples rather than doing domestic work (10.38–42), and he instructs his followers that they should pray shamelessly and expect to receive good things from their father in heaven (11.1–13).

Jesus’ kingdom-work once again arouses controversy. Pharisees attribute his powerful deeds to the prince of demons, and demand more ‘proof ’ of his authority; Jesus responds by denouncing them and warning against hypocrisy and its consequences (11.14—12.12). He adds a further warning against storing up riches instead of being rich towards God (12.13–21), and extends that by urging his followers to trust in God’s provision, freeing them up for generosity (12.22–34). God’s future is coming, heavy with warning and promise, and it is vital to be ready, to interpret the present time and take appropriate action (12.35–59). The warnings are highlighted by current events, Pilate’s massacre of Galilean pilgrims and the collapse of the tower of Siloam, from which Jesus draws the conclusion that unless the people repent there will be far more yet who are cut down by Roman swords or crushed by falling stonework. God’s people are like a fig tree which, after several years of patient gardening, remains fruitless and can only be cut down (13.1–9). God’s kingdom, though, is making its way, with further healings to celebrate God’s new day (13.10–17), coming like a small seed producing a great plant or the yeast that transformed a whole loaf (13.18–21). The door to the kingdom, however, remains narrow, and it is the outsiders, those despised, who will have entry (13.22–30).

The Pharisees warn Jesus of Herod Antipas’s intention to seize him, but Jesus replies that nothing will deter him from his destiny in Jerusalem. Jerusalem is where all prophets die, and while Jesus longs to gather the city under his wings like a hen gathering her chicks to protect them, he knows that rejection awaits him when he gets there (13.31–35). This saying is remarkable both for Jesus’ obvious self-identification as a prophet (as more than a prophet, to be sure, but not less) and for the implicit understanding of Jesus’ forthcoming death. Judgment is coming upon Israel, and Jesus, like the hen protecting the chicks, is determined to take its full weight upon himself.

The confrontation with the Pharisees is amplified in the following chapters. Jesus challenges their sabbath-interpretation and their pride; he warns that the way to the kingdom is costly; and, in perhaps the best known of all parable-chapters, he speaks of a lost sheep, a lost coin, and the ‘prodigal son’ in order to explain that his own regular kingdom-celebrations with all the ‘wrong’ people are a clear reflection of the celebration which the angels are having when people repent (14.1—15.32).

The critique of the Pharisees continues with the parable of the shrewd manager, which challenges the disciples on how to prioritize their use of wealth for the sake of the kingdom. Instead of hoarding money and land, Jesus’ advice was to use it, as far as one could, to make friends. A crisis was coming, in which alternative homes would be needed. The Pharisees were attempting to divide their loyalties between God and money, but this cannot be done (16.1–15). The law and the prophets remain as pointers to God’s eventual purpose, with the prohibition on divorce as an example of their continuing validity (16.16–18). But those who will not hear the law and the prophets will not be convinced, according to the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, even if someone were to rise from the dead (16.19–31). As with the ‘prodigal son’ (15.24, 32), ‘resurrection’ is happening already through Jesus’ work in welcoming penitent sinners, but the Pharisees are determined not to see it.

As Jesus journeys towards Jerusalem, the next two chapters collect together various scenarios and sayings which highlight the importance of faith, obedience, and trustful hope (17.1—18.30). Jesus adds a further warning of his coming death and resurrection, which once again the disciples fail to grasp (18.31–34). This brings us to Jericho, where a blind man, hailing him as ‘son of David’, is healed and commended for his faith (18.35–43). In Jericho itself Jesus invites himself to dinner with a chief tax-collector named Zacchaeus, who then epitomizes the repentant rich man, the exact opposite of the rich young ruler in 18.18–25: he gives half of his possessions to the poor, and promises to repay fourfold anyone he has wronged. His story summarizes the fact that ‘the son of man came to seek and to save the lost’ (19.1–10 NTE/KNT [adapted]).

As Jesus and his entourage approach Jerusalem itself, some of the party clearly think that God’s kingdom is about to appear—meaning, it seems, that Jesus will sweep all before him as the new Davidic king, free Israel from the Roman oppression, and set up a new regime of justice and peace—which might well involve, as the Maccabean revolt had involved, a cleansing of the Temple so that Israel’s God could return to dwell there in glory. In response to this expectation, Jesus tells the parable of the ten pounds, given by a nobleman to three servants to trade with until his return (19.11–27). Some have seen this as a way of saying that the kingdom was not going to appear immediately, since Jesus himself was going to go away like the nobleman, leaving his followers with tasks to do until his return. This is not how Luke understands it.50 The idea of a king going away and returning, with servants either obedient or disobedient in his absence, would be heard in Jesus’ day as a story about Israel’s God himself, leaving the Temple at the time of the exile but promising to return at last (as in Isaiah, Zechariah, and Malachi), with Israel represented by the servants who might, or might not, be trustworthy in his absence. This is Luke’s point: Jesus is embodying the return of YHWH to Zion. The disobedient servant in the parable corresponds directly to the impenitent Jerusalem which must now hear the word of judgment ‘because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God’ (19.44), another echo of 1.68; 7.16; and similar passages.51 The point is rammed home both by Jesus’ royal entry into the city (19.29–40), his stark warnings in 19.41–44, and his symbolic ‘cleansing’ of the Temple (19.45–48), clearly to be seen as an acted parable of the destruction he had just foretold. His action is a solemn prophetic warning, echoing those of Jeremiah and others, that if the Temple becomes a hide-out for brigands, literally or metaphorically, it will come under God’s judgment. The chief priests and scribes are instantly incensed and plan to kill him. Such a plot proves what Luke has been saying: this is how it ‘must’ be. This is how God’s plan of salvation must be accomplished.

‘For every Zacchaeus who is found, there are many scribes and Pharisees who do not even acknowledge their lostness. No rupture of the divine-human relationship is so irreparable that the call to repentance and offer of forgiveness are withdrawn, yet it takes both gracious divine initiative and humble human response for reconciliation to occur.’

Diane Chen, Luke, 252.

6. Explaining Jesus’ Temple-action (20.1—21.38)
   The next two chapters collect together, mostly following Mark, a succession of sharp discussions with what amounts to a who’s who of important people in Jerusalem: priests, scribes, Herodians, Pharisees, and Sadducees. The key questions are all related: what did Jesus’ Temple-action mean? Where did he get the authority to do such a thing? Is he really claiming to be bringing in the ‘age to come’—and, if so, what does that imply about paying taxes to Rome and indeed about the ‘resurrection’ itself? Does he think he is Israel’s Messiah, and if so, what does he mean by it? (At that point Jesus takes the initiative with his own exposition of Ps. 110 in 20.41–44.) These discussions occupy chapter 20; then, in 21, after the little scene of the widow putting two tiny coins into the treasury, Jesus addresses the disciples’ question about the coming destruction of the Temple. This focuses on a coded ‘apocalyptic’ warning about how the prophecy of Daniel 7 (the vindication of the ‘son of man’) would be accomplished. Jesus is casting the Temple and its present hierarchy in the role of the ‘monsters’ or ‘beasts’ from Daniel: when they are overthrown, that will be the sign, that he, ‘the son of man’, has indeed been vindicated by God. In the meantime his followers must not be deceived by the terrible events that will come. They are to hold fast and pray for strength to persevere (21.34–36). Luke does, of course, believe in the ‘second coming’ of Jesus (see Ac. 1.11), but this passage is not about that. It is about the vindication of Jesus, and the rescue of his people from the system that has oppressed them (21.5–38).
7. The Passion of Jesus (22.1—23.56)
   The narrative quickly accelerates with the report of Judas’s plot to betray Jesus (22.1–6), followed by the Last Supper with the disciples, where Jesus describes how he will become the new Passover lamb: he will die to establish the new covenant by the shedding of his blood (22.7–38). Jesus then retreats to the Mount of Olives to pray (22.39–46), and is arrested (22.47–53). The description of Peter’s denial (22.54–62) is matched with the scene of cruel mocking (22.63–65). When Jesus says (reported only by Luke) ‘this is your hour, and the power of darkness’ (22.53 NRSV), we sense his utter aloneness in the face of the destructive force of evil.

The council of elders, chief priests, and scribes gathers for an impromptu trial, whose outcome is predictably predetermined. They want a capital charge against Jesus, and Jesus responds to their questioning by stating that ‘from now on, the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of the mighty God’, which seems sufficient from their point of view to deliver him to Pilate (22.66–71). The charge is threefold: subverting the nation, opposing the payment of taxes, and claiming to be a king (23.1–2). Pilate declares Jesus innocent, but, learning that he is a Galilean, refers him to Herod Antipas, who treats him cynically and sends him back. (This double meeting of Jesus with Herod and with Caesar’s representative foreshadows the confrontations in Acts. There, Jesus is first heralded as king of the Jews, ending with the death of (a different) Herod (Ac. 1—12), and is then announced as ‘another king’ (Ac. 17.7), that is, a rival to Caesar, with the gospel finally reaching Rome itself (Ac. 13—28). By this time the mob has gathered and demands Jesus’ death. Barabbas, a murderous brigand, is released, and Jesus dies in his place (23.25). This sense of the innocent dying the death of the guilty is enhanced by Jesus’ cryptic comments to the lamenting women (23.26–31) and the insistence of one of the two men crucified alongside him that Jesus really was guiltless (22.39–43)—with Jesus’ astonishing response that ‘today you will be with me in paradise’. (That ‘paradise’, we should note, is not ‘heaven’ as in popular Christian parlance, but the idyllic part of Hades, the place where the dead wait for final resurrection. Jesus will not be there for long.)

At the heart of Luke’s picture of the cross is the mocking of Jesus as king of the Jews, which draws into a single stark sketch the meaning expressed by the various characters and the small incidents elsewhere in the narrative. Jesus has stood on its head the meaning of kingship, the meaning of the kingdom itself. He has celebrated with the wrong people, offered peace and hope to the wrong people, and warned the wrong people of God’s coming judgment. Now he is hailed as king at last, but in mockery. Here comes his royal cupbearer, only it’s a Roman soldier offering him the sour wine that poor people drank. Here is his royal placard, announcing his kingship to the world, but it is in fact the criminal charge that explains his cruel death. Unlike traditional martyrs, who died with a curse against their torturers, Jesus prays for their forgiveness. Like a king on his way to enthronement, Jesus promises a place of honour and bliss to one who requests it (23.32–43).

Jesus’ death is accompanied by the portent of darkness and the tearing of the curtain in the Temple. Jesus expires, not with a whimper, but as a faithful prophet committing his life to God. A nearby centurion sees how Jesus dies, praises God, and then—unlike in Matthew and Mark where he declares him to be ‘Son of God’—he says, ‘Surely this was a righteous man.’ Luke says it again: Jesus was innocent, dying the death of the guilty (23.44–49). After this, Jesus is buried by Joseph of Arimathea. Some of Jesus’ female followers are there too, seeing the place where Jesus was buried (23.45–56).

8. The resurrection and ascension of Jesus (24.1–53)
   When the women return to the tomb to complete the burial process, they discover the stone rolled away. An angel in shining clothes announces that Jesus has been raised, and urges them to remember his predictions about rising from the dead (24.1–8). The women tell this to the eleven disciples who regard it as a bit of folly (grief-stricken women with crazy mutterings), though Peter rushes to the tomb, finds it empty except for the linen, and is himself confused (24.9–12).

Luke next introduces the two travellers, Cleopas and an unnamed companion, on the road to the nearby village of Emmaus. As they are discussing the recent tragic events, they are joined by a stranger, the risen Jesus, whom they do not recognize.52 The scene is quietly comical: Jesus pretends not to know about recent events, and the two travellers explain about the Jesus they have followed, who they had hoped would ‘redeem Israel’. Then the narrative takes a dramatic twist as the stranger responds: ‘How foolish you are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?’ To which Luke adds: ‘And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself ’ (24.13–27).53

When they reach Emmaus, Jesus seems to be going further, but the two ask him to join them, it being already late. At table, Jesus breaks bread, gives thanks, and gives it to them—evoking, no doubt, several earlier bread-breakings, climaxing in the Last Supper itself. ‘Their eyes’, says Luke, ‘were opened, and they recognised him.’54 He disappears, and the two rush back to Jerusalem to tell the Eleven what had happened, only to be informed that Jesus has already appeared to Simon Peter (24.28–35).

Jesus then appears to all of them with a greeting of peace. To reassure them that he is not a ghost, and perhaps to assure Luke’s readers that Jesus’ resurrection body was no incorporeal phantasm, Jesus invites them to touch him, and then eats some grilled fish. He explains that his suffering and rising were the focal point of God’s messianic purpose, as written in the scriptures. Now that this has happened—exactly in line, once more, with scriptural prophecy—the message must go out to the nations. The disciples are the key witnesses; they must remain in Jerusalem until they are clothed with heavenly power for this task (24.36–49).

Luke closes by describing the ascension (24.50–53); unlike in Acts, where he speaks of forty days of Jesus appearing to the disciples, in the gospel account he makes it seem as though everything happens on the same day. Jesus leads his followers out to Bethany, blesses them, and is taken up into heaven. The Jerusalem Temple had always been seen as the place where heaven and earth were joined; Luke’s description of the ascension assumes that now it is Jesus himself who joins heaven and earth in one (though the Temple remains for a while, and the disciples worship in it for the moment). Thus the first instalment of Luke’s diēgēsis about Jesus ends with Jesus having fulfilled God’s plan, as announced in the scriptures, for the Messiah to suffer and enter his glory. The ancient and millennia-long story has reached its goal; the new story is about to begin

ACTS OF THE APOSTLES:

Prologue and recapitulation (1.1–2)
Luke’s narrative continues in the Acts of the Apostles. He refers back to his gospel as the story of ‘all that Jesus began to do and to teach’ (1.1); the story he now tells is of what Jesus continued to do and to teach, through the presence and power of the holy spirit operating in the apostles (1.2).

The story of the Jerusalem church (1.3—8.1a)
Luke tells how the risen Jesus spent time with his disciples, teaching them, and readying them to receive the holy spirit, before describing the ascension more fully than he had done in the gospel (1.2–11). Verse 8 of chapter 1 functions as a ‘virtual table of contents’ for Luke’s second volume: the story moves outwards, beginning in Jerusalem, spreading into Judea, then into the contested territory of Samaria, and then onwards into the wider world, ending up with Paul in Rome announcing God as king and Jesus as lord ‘openly and unhindered’ under the nose of Caesar himself. It is easy to be disappointed when reaching the end of Acts, because when Paul gets to Rome the reader naturally wants to know ‘what happened next?’ But the hero of Luke’s story is not Paul, but the Jesus-gospel itself. All roads in Luke’s world led not only to Rome but also from Rome. Once the gospel has taken root there, it will spread to the rest of the world.

The first task of the disciples was to elect a replacement for Judas, and Matthias was chosen by lot (1.1–26). Then, on the day of Pentecost, while the disciples were gathered together, the spirit descended upon them, clothing them with power as Jesus promised, and enabling them to speak in foreign languages about the wonders of God. As heaven and earth were joined in the person of the ascended Jesus, so now the breath of heaven comes to earth, constituting Jesus’ followers as the new Temple, the people in whom the powerful divine presence truly dwells. The cacophony of praise in distant tongues amazes the many visitors to Jerusalem who heard their own language being spoken with, it seems, a Galilean accent. Their explanation is that the disciples must be drunk (2.1–13).

Peter then stood up, giving one of the most pivotal speeches of the entire book of Acts. He explained that the sudden dramatic multi-lingual speech was not drunken revelry, but the fulfilment of prophecy! Peter’s sermon is built around the biblical quotations of Joel 2.28–32 and Psalms 16.8–11; 132.11; 110.1. He explained how the outpouring of the spirit proved that the ‘last days’ had arrived, with Jesus himself dispensing the spirit to his followers. All this had happened through God’s foreknowledge and plan, evidenced in God’s raising Jesus from the dead and exalting him to the position of world sovereignty at his right hand, making Jesus both ‘lord’ and ‘Messiah’. Peter then urged the crowd to repent and be baptized in the name of Jesus for the forgiveness of sins, with the promise that they would themselves receive the holy spirit (2.14–41). All this makes the sense it makes within the larger Jewish expectation of covenant renewal, focused on actual personal renewal.

Luke recounts the aftermath with an idealized portrait of the church. He describes the first believers as being devoted to the apostles’ teaching and committed to fellowship and prayer, performing many miracles, selling their possessions and giving to those in need, worshipping in the Temple and in private homes, enjoying the favour of the locals, and growing daily in number. To our eyes, the church looks charismatic, sacramental, and evangelical all at once (2.42–47).

The stress is both on the radical new thing that was happening and on the fact that this was what had been promised all along.

We watch as Luke depicts the church in transition from its early mode as a renewal movement into a persecuted sect. The apostles continue performing many signs and miracles among the people, particularly healings; people are in awe of them but frightened to join them (5.12–16). The persecution steps up as the jealous high priests arrest and imprison the apostles.

A Pharisee named Gamaliel then dissuades the Sanhedrin from reacting with violence. Crazy movements, he says, come and go; but if this one really is from God one should not be found opposing it. The disciples thus escape with a flogging, which unsurprisingly has no effect on their continuing gospel-announcement (5.33–42).

External trouble gives way to internal: a complaint arises that the Aramaic-speaking widows are being cared for while the Greek-speaking widows are neglected. (This speaks volumes for the fact that the first Christians were living as family, with mutual responsibilities, especially for the needy.) The Twelve delegate the distribution of food to seven ‘deacons’ (that is, ‘servants’), so that they can continue to focus their energies on the ministry of prayer and the word (6.1–7).

Attention turns to Stephen, one of the Seven, who, though appointed to an administrative task, seems to have turned into a powerful speaker and teacher as well. He arouses the indignation of fellow hellenistic Jews who are offended by his teaching about Torah and Temple—probably emulating Jesus’ own teaching on these topics—with the consequence that Stephen is seized by a mob and brought before the Sanhedrin. His speech before the council gives a synopsis of Israel’s history and has three foci: God’s faithfulness to his promises; God’s mobile presence, meaning that he is not limited to either Israel or the Temple; and Israel’s repeated acts of disobedience. This enrages the council, and Stephen is rushed out of the city and stoned to death, but not before he shouts out that he can see Jesus standing at God’s right hand—perhaps to intercede, or perhaps to welcome him into his presence. Unlike all pre-Christian martyrs, Stephen copies Jesus by dying with a prayer for his killers (7.60). Luke comments that a young man named Saul was there, approving of the stoning (6.8—8.1a).

The gospel spreads to Samaria, Ethiopia, and Syria (8.1b—9.31)
Stephen’s death marks the beginning of wide-scale persecution of the believers, with everyone except the apostles—who decided to remain and tough it out—scattered across Judea and Samaria. We then read that Saul tried to crush the church, going from house to house, dragging people off into prison (8.1b–3).

Philip, one of the seven Greek-speaking ‘deacons’, fled to a city of Samaria to take the gospel there. He encountered a sorcerer known as Simon Magus, who believed and was baptized. Peter and John visited Samaria, laying hands on the Samaritan believers so that they would receive the holy spirit. When Simon Magus asked to buy, as it were, the Samaritan franchise on this ability to bestow the holy spirit on people, he was sternly scolded by Peter for having such a thought and for the bitterness of heart it demonstrates (8.4–25).

Philip was then instructed by an angel to go south, where he came upon an Ethiopian eunuch in his chariot, heading home after worshipping in Jerusalem. He was reading Isaiah 53.7–8; the line about ‘who can speak of his descendants’ might be of particular interest to a eunuch. Beginning with this passage—which became, unsurprisingly, one of the early Christians’ favourite texts about Jesus—Philip explained the gospel of Jesus, and, when the man professed faith, baptized him in some nearby water. The Ethiopian presumably took the gospel message home to Ethiopia; Philip, meanwhile, was transported to the Palestinian coastal town of Azotus, where he began preaching in the adjacent areas until he settled in Caesarea (8.26–40).

In the meantime, Saul continued his ruthless campaign against the church, pursuing believers as far as Damascus in Syria. However, while on the way to Damascus, Saul experienced a vision of the risen lord, and heard the now famous words, ‘I am Jesus whom you are persecuting.’ Saul was of course persecuting Jesus’ followers, but Jesus was identifying them with himself. Blinded, Saul was led into Damascus. There, a Jesus-follower named Ananias had a vision, instructing him to find Saul and pray for his sight to be restored. Ananias was naturally frightened, but the lord assured him that he had plans for Saul and all would be well. Ananias carried out the commission: Saul’s sight was restored, he received the spirit, and was baptized (9.1–19a).

Saul at once began a powerful ministry, explaining to the Jews in Damascus that Jesus was the Messiah. Forced to flee for his own safety, he went to Jerusalem, where the believers were understandably wary of his story. Barnabas, however, protected him and introduced him to the other Jesus-followers. There too, however, Saul’s powerful speaking was too hot to handle, and the believers sent him off home to Tarsus in Cilicia (9.19b–30). Luke rounds off this section of the book by describing the churches in Judea, Galilee, and Samaria as enjoying peace, being encouraged by the spirit, and growing in number (9.31).

Persecution of the church and Peter’s gentile breakthrough (9.32—12.25)
The scene then changes and we pick up Peter’s story. Peter visited the towns of Lydda and Joppa, down by the coast, and replicated the miracles of Jesus by healing a paralytic and raising a dead woman back to life (9.32–43). While he was lodging with Simon the tanner in Joppa, a God-fearing centurion in Caesarea named Cornelius had a vision of an angel who told him to send for Peter; Peter, meanwhile, had a vision of a large sheet filled with unclean animals for him to eat. Peter refused: he had kept the food regulations all his life. But the voice in the vision told him not to call anything impure if God had made it clean. Right away Cornelius’s messengers arrived, and Peter went with them, explaining on arrival how he was obeying a vision and being taught that God has no favourites. As he then began to tell Cornelius and his friends about Jesus, the holy spirit came on all who heard the message and they began to praise God in tongues, just like the first apostles on the day of Pentecost. Peter therefore ordered that they be baptized (not, we note, circumcised—though that question would come up later): God had given them the same gift as the early believers62 (10.1–48). Peter’s dramatic action—crossing the line of ethnic division and eating with gentiles—came in for criticism from the Christians in Jerusalem.

All the material above is quoted directly from “The New Testament In Its World,” by NT Wright and Mike Bird, SPCK publishing, 2019