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LIBRARY OF NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES
542 Formerly Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series
Editor Chris Keith
Editorial Board Dale C. Allison, John M.G. Barclay, Lynn H. Cohick, R. Alan Culpepper, Craig A. Evans, Robert Fowler, Simon J. Gathercole, John S. Kloppenborg, Michael Labahn, Love L. Sechrest, Robert Wall, Steve Walton, Catrin H. Williams
LUKE’S CHRISTOLOGY OF DIVINE IDENTITY
Nina Henrichs-Tarasenkova
T&T CLARK Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA BLOOMSBURY, T&T CLARK and the T&T Clark logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in Great Britain 2016 Paperback edition first published 2018 Copyright © Nina Henrichs-Tarasenkova, 2016 Nina Henrichs-Tarasenkova has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work. For legal purposes the Acknowledgements on p. xi constitute an extension of this copyright page. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Henrichs-Tarasenkova, Nina. Luke’s Christology of divine identity / by Nina Henrichs-Tarasenkova. pages cm. – (Library of New Testament studies; volume 542) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-567-66291-0 (hardback) 1. Bible. Luke–Criticism, interpretation, etc. 2. Bible. Acts–Criticism, interpretation, etc. 3. Jesus Christ–Person and offices. 4. Jesus Christ–Divinity. I. Title. BS2589.H437 2015 226.4’06–dc23 2015018726 ISBN: HB: 978-0-56766-291-0 PB: 978-0-56768-394-6 ePDF: 978-0-56766-290-3 Series Library of New Test ament Studies, volume 542 Typeset by Forthcoming Publications Ltd (www.forthpub.com) To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters.
To my family, especially to my great grandparents Ivan E¿movich Borodulin and Maria Nikolayevna Osolodkova
CONTENTS Acknowledgements Abbreviations
xi xiii
Chapter 1 LUKE’S DIVINE CHRISTOLOGY IN SCHOLARLY STUDIES I. Introduction II. Challenging Scholarly Reservations III. Conzelmann’s Negative Contribution IV. Lukan Divine Christology after Conzelmann a. Laurentin b. Turner c. Buckwalter d. Fletcher-Louis e. Rowe V. De¿ning and Defending the Need for this Study VI. Summary
1 1 3 6 11 11 12 14 16 18 21 24
Chapter 2 CONSTRUCTING CHARACTERS’ IDENTITIES IN THE LUKAN NARRATIVE I. Introduction II. Narrative Criticism and the Need for a Revision III. Developments in the Study of Narratives a. Theories of Narrative b. Text and Reader in the Production of Meaning c. Interpretive Constraints IV. Ancient Historical Narratives and Narrative Criticism a. Fictional vs. Factual Narratives b. Luke–Acts and Jewish Historiography V. Constructing Characters’ Narrative Identities a. Relationship between Character and Action b. Reality of Characters c. Characterization Process d. Means of Characterization VI. Summary
26 26 27 28 28 28 31 36 39 42 43 44 45 50 51 54
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Contents
Chapter 3 EXPLORING THE CATEGORIES OF PERSONAL AND DIVINE IDENTITY I. Introduction II. Contemporary Trajectories a. Path of Introspection b. Path of Relationality III. Personal Identity in the First-Century Greco-Roman World a. Hellenistic Perspectives b. Jewish Perspectives c. Personal Identity Relationally and Functionally De¿ned IV. YHWH’s Identity and Monotheism in Second Temple Judaism a. Second Temple Jewish Monotheism b. Jesus and YHWH’s Divine Identity V. Summary Chapter 4 YHWH’S DIVINE IDENTITY IN LUKE–ACTS I. Introduction II. Luke 1.5-25, 57-80: Good News of YHWH’s Mercy and Salvation a. Introduction of Zechariah and Elizabeth b. At the Temple c. Inside the Sanctuary d. At the Temple after the Encounter e. At Zechariah’s House f. Overview III. Luke 1.26-38, 39-56; 2.1-20: YHWH’s Unexpected Ways a. Mary’s Introduction b. In Nazareth c. At Zechariah’s House d. In Bethlehem e. Overview IV. Acts 14.8-18: YHWH’s Claim on the Gentiles a. Introduction of Barnabas and Paul b. Paul Heals a Crippled Gentile c. Barnabas and Paul Proclaim YHWH as the One, Living God d. Overview V. Summary
1
56 56 57 57 59 64 64 69 74 80 80 83 87 89 89 91 92 94 95 104 105 109 112 113 114 117 121 125 127 127 129 130 133 135
Contents
Chapter 5 JESUS’ DIVINE IDENTITY IN LUKE–ACTS I. Introduction II. Luke 1.32-33, 35: Jesus’ Superior Position Is Rooted in his Father’s Identity a. Unique Son of God b. Supposed Son of Joseph c. Overview III. Luke 1.43: Jesus’ Superior Position Recognized a. Elizabeth’s Lord b. John’s Lord c. Overview IV. Luke 1.69, 71, 78-79; 2.11, 30-32, 34-35: Jesus’ Responsibilities De¿ned a. Luke 1.69, 71: Horn of Salvation and Salvation from Enemies b. Luke 1.78-79: Dawn from on High c. Luke 2.11: Savior and Christ Lord d. Luke 2.30-32: Lord’s Christ, Salvation, and Light e. Luke 2.34-35: Cause of Falling and Rising and Sign That Will Be Opposed f. Overview V. Acts 2.1-4, 14-41: Jesus’ Superior Position and Function in Heaven a. Acts 2.1-4: Jesus’ Theophany b. Acts 2.14-41: Salvation Found in Jesus Alone c. Overview VI. Summary
ix
137 137 138 139 142 145 146 147 149 151 152 152 155 159 163 166 168 172 172 178 186 189
Chapter 6 CONCLUSION
191
Bibliography Index of References Index of Authors
197 215 231
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This book is an edited version of my Ph.D. thesis, which would not come to life without support, encouragement, and guidance from others. To all those who walked with me on this journey I am forever indebted. I thank my family and friends, people who continue to form and inform my personal identity more than anyone else in the world, especially (1) my great grandmother Maria who preserved her faith during the years of communist rule in the Soviet Union despite ridicule and who patiently, selÀessly, and prayerfully guided me toward God; (2) my parents, Sergey and Natasha, and my husband, Peter, who offered me their support daily, encouraged me to move forward, and took upon their shoulders all my responsibilities in order to give me time and space to complete my project; and (3) my brother, Vanya, and sons, Fedya, Petya, Sasha, and Misha who taught me how to love and be loved, how to forgive and accept forgiveness, how to see beauty in the midst of chaos, and how to admit my shortcomings and yet look into the future with faith, hope, and joy. I especially thank Dr. Joel B. Green who patiently and graciously guided me toward my goal. The role that he has played in my life far surpassed that of a supervisor. He has been my mentor and my inspiration. He has demonstrated by example how to be a scholar committed to academic excellence, yet carry out his devotion to God in humble service to others. He has my most sincere gratitude and respect. I am also thankful to William P. Atkinson, Max Turner, and Todd Klutz for their helpful comments in the ¿nal stages of the thesis writing. I, ¿nally, thank God for blessing me with an abundant life and pray that in all I do I bring him glory and honor.
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ABBREVIATIONS 1 En. 3 Macc. 4 Macc. 1 QH AB ABD ABib ABRL ACCS Ag. Ap. AGJU Ant. ANTC As. Mos. Ascen. Isa. ASem AsTJ b. BAFCS BARev BASOR BBR BC BDAG
BECNT BETL BHT Bib BIS BNNF BSac BTB BTCB BZAW BZNW CBQ
1 Enoch 3 Maccabees 4 Maccabees Hodayot or Thanksgiving Hymns Anchor Bible David Noel Freedman (ed.), The Anchor Bible Dictionary (6 vols.; New York: Doubleday, 1992) Academia Biblica Anchor Bible Reference Library Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture Against Apion Arbeiten zur Geschichte des antiken Judentums und des Urchristentums Jewish Antiquities Abingdon New Testament Commentaries Assumption of Moses Ascension of Isaiah Advances in Semiotics Asbury Theological Journal Babylonian Talmud The Book of Acts in its First Century Setting Biblical Archaeology Review Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Bulletin for Biblical Research The Beginnings of Christianity Walter Bauer, William F. Arndt, William Gingrich and Frederick W. Danker, A Greek–English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 3rd edn, 2000) Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament Bibliotheca ephemeridum theologicarum lovaniensium Beiträge zur historischen Theologie Biblica Biblical Interpretation Series Biblische Notizen Neue Folge Bibliotheca Sacra Biblical Theology Bulletin Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft Catholic Biblical Quarterly
xiv CCWJCW CD CHANE Cher. CI Cic. CIT Conf. Congr. Contempl. COQG CTL CurBR Decal. Det. Diatr. DOTHB DOTP EBib EDNT ESEC Evag. EvQ ExAud FAT FBBS FF Fin. Flacc. FRC FRLANT GBS Gig. GPT HB Hist. HThe HTR ICC ICT Il. ILBS Int Inv. IST 1
Abbreviations Cambridge Commentaries of Writings of the Jewish and Christian World, 200 B.C.E. to A.D. 200 Cairo Genizah copy of the Damascus Document Culture and History of the Ancient Near East De cherubim Critical Inquiry Cicero Current Issues in Theology De confusione linguarum De congressu eruditionis gratia De vita contemplativa Christian Origins and the Question of God Cambridge Textbooks in Linguistics Currents in Biblical Research De decalogo Quod deterius potiori insidari soleat Diatribai Bill T. Arnold and H. G. M. Williamson (eds.), Dictionary of the Old Testament: Historical Books (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 2005) T. Desmond Alexander and David W. Baker (eds.), Dictionary of the Old Testament: Pentateuch (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 2002) Études bibliques Horst Balz and Gerhard Schneider (eds.), Exegetical Dictionary of the New Testament (3 vols.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1990–93) Emory Studies in Early Christianity Evagoras Evangelical Quarterly Ex auditu Forschungen zum Alten Testament Facet Books, Biblical Series Foundations and Facets De ¿nibus In Flaccum Family, Religion, and Culture Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments Guides to Biblical Scholarship De gigantibus Growing Points in Theology Hebrew Bible Historiae History and Theory Harvard Theological Review International Critical Commentary Issues in Contemporary Theology Iliad Indiana Literary Biblical Series Interpretation De invention rhetorica Issues in Science and Theology
Abbreviations JBL JCSCSH JES JHS JJS Jos. Asen. JPTSup JQR JSHJ JSJSup JSNT JSNTSup JSOTSup JTS JTSNS Jub. KEK L&N LAI LCBI LCL LEC Leg. Legat. Let. Aris. LII LNTS LSJ LTQ LXX
m. MBPS Mem. Metam. Metaph. Migr. MPPB ms./mss. MT
MT Nar Nat. d. NEchtB Nem. NIB NICNT 1
xv
Journal of Biblical Literature Journal of Consciousness Studies: Controversies in Science and the Humanities Journal of Ecumenical Studies Journal of Hellenic Studies Journal of Jewish Studies Joseph and Aseneth Journal of Pentecostal Theology, Supplement Series Jewish Quarterly Review Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism Journal for the Study of the New Testament Journal for the Study of the New Testament, Supplement Series Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, Supplement Series Journal of Theological Studies Journal of Theological Studies, New Series Jubilees Kritisch-exegetischer Kommentar über das Neue Testament J. P. Louw and E. A. Nida (eds.), Greek–English Lexicon of the New Testament: Based on Semantic Domains (New York: United Bible Societies, 2nd edn, 1989) Library of Ancient Israel Literary Currents in Biblical Interpretation Loeb Classical Library Library of Early Christianity Legum allegoriae Legatio ad Gaium Letter of Aristeas Luke the Interpreter of Israel Library of New Testament Studies H. G. Liddell, R. Scott, and H. S. Jones (eds.), A Greek–English Lexicon (Oxford: Clarendon, 9th edn, 1996) Lexington Theological Quarterly Septuagint Mishnah Mellen Biblical Press Series Memorabilia Metamorphoses Metaphysics De migratione Abrahami My People’s Prayer Book: Traditional Prayers, Modern Commentaries Manuscript/manuscripts Masoretic Text Modern Theology Narrative De natura deorum Neue Echter Bibel Nemeonikai The New Interpreter’s Bible New International Commentary on the New Testament
xvi NIGTC NovT NovTSup NSBT NT NTL NTOA NTS NTTh Off. Opif. OT OTL PCNT Per Phaedr. Plant. Pol. Post. Pr. Man. Praem. Pss.Sol. Pyth. RB Rhet. RevScRel RNTS RSR Sacr. Sanh. SBLDS SBLSS SCB Sib. Or. SJLA SJT SNTW SNTSMS SP Spec. ST STDJ t. T. Job TDNT Theaet. THL TI Tim. 1
Abbreviations The New International Greek Testament Commentary Novum Testamentum Novum Testamentum, Supplements New Studies in Biblical Theology New Testament New Testament Library Novum Testamentum et orbis antiquus New Testament Studies New Testament Theology De of¿ciis De opi¿cio mundi Old Testament Old Testament Library Paideia Commentaries on the New Testament Perspectives (Montclair) Phaedrus De plantatione Politics De posteritate Caini Prayer of Manasseh De praemiis et poenis Psalms of Solomon Pythionikai Revue biblique Rhetoric Revue des sciences religieuses Reading the New Testament Series Recherches de science religieuse De sacri¿ciis Abelis et Caini Sanhedrin SBL Dissertation Series SBL Semeia Studies Science and Christian Belief Sibylline Oracles Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity Scottish Journal of Theology Studies of the New Testament and Its World Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series Sacra pagina De specialibus legibus Studia theologica Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah Tosefta Testament of Job Gerhard Kittel and Gerhard Friedrich (eds.), Theological Dictionary of the New Testament (trans. Geoffrey W. Bromiley; 10 vols.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964–76) Theaetetus Theory and History of Literature Theological Inquiries Timaeus
Abbreviations TLZ TNTC TS TSci TStAJ Virt. mor. VT WBC WMANT WPC WTJ WUNT WW ZNW
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Theologische Literaturzeitung Tyndale New Testament Commentaries Theological Studies Theology and the Sciences Texts and Studies in Ancient Judaism De virtute morali Vetus Testamentum Word Biblical Commentary Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament Westminster Pelican Commentaries Westminster Theological Journal Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Word and World Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche
Chapter 1
LUKE’S DIVINE CHRISTOLOGY IN SCHOLARLY STUDIES
I. Introduction Why another study of Lukan Christology?1 Already in 1968 Professor Moule recognized the ‘formidable output of literature’ pertaining to Luke’s Christology.2 But because he understood this wealth of scholarly investigations as ‘evidence of an increasing awareness of the complexity of the subject’ rather than a sign that all christological questions were successfully addressed, he proceeded with his study, rejoicing at the fact that Professor Schweizer and others were contributing to the subject in the same volume and would not leave his ‘errors and de¿ciencies both of fact and of judgment…wholly uncorrected and uncompensated’.3 Almost half a century later, Moule’s wise assessment of the ¿eld of Lukan Christology remains true, and his passionate yet humble pursuit of ‘true insights’ into the meaning of the Lukan narrative continues to inspire one to engage scholarly conversations and ask questions that aim at identifying areas in need of consideration. Since 1968 more studies have been done, resulting in an overwhelming number of monographs, articles, and dissertations available today. They can be classi¿ed based on a number of different criteria: the scope of the study (e.g., Christology of Luke vs. Christology of Acts vs. Christology of Luke–Acts), Luke’s role (e.g., many conÀicting Christologies incorporated by the editor Luke vs. one 1. For convenience, we will refer to the narrator of the Third Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles as Luke. Therefore, when we speak of ‘Lukan’ or ‘Luke’s’ work, we refer to Luke–Acts as a whole. Accordingly, this study intends to test the hypothesis of theological unity of Luke–Acts with respect to the possibility of a divine Christology in both volumes. 2. C. F. D. Moule, ‘The Christology of Acts’, in Leander E. Keck and J. Louis Martyn (eds.), Studies in Luke–Acts (London: SPCK, 1968), pp. 159–85 (159). G. W. H. Lampe, ‘The Lucan Portrait of Christ’, NTS 2 (1955–56), pp. 160–75 (160), also speaks of the complexity of the Lukan Christology due to a large number of themes, to which it is dif¿cult to give coherence. 3. Moule, ‘Christology’, p. 159.
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controlling Christology of the author/narrator Luke), sources of Christology (e.g., speeches vs. statements vs. titles vs. theological themes/ideas vs. narrative), and categories (e.g., adoptionist or subordinationist vs. coequality and coregency, low vs. high), which reÀects the complexity of the ¿eld of Luke’s Christology.4 Despite this abundance of literature and the scholarly consensus that Luke’s Christology is primarily an exaltation Christology,5 the question ‘Does Luke characterize Jesus as God/¿¼ŦË6 in his two-volume narrative?’ remains uninteresting to the majority of scholars even when such an investigation might be anticipated (e.g., in studies of Jesus as the prophet like Moses since God + , Exod. 4.16] and to Pharaoh designated Moses as ‘god’ to Aaron [-'!Y [-'!Y /¿¼ŦÅ, Exod. 7.1]).7 In fact, some openly declare this question to be inappropriate.8 Thus, after not being able to ¿nd the titles ¿¼ŦË or »¼ÊÈŦÌ¾Ë applied to Jesus, Jacob Jervell states, ‘Jesus is not divine, not pre-existent, not incarnated, not the creator or tool of creation, not the
4. To review all these studies would go beyond the scope of this work. For surveys, see Darrell L. Bock, Proclamation from Prophecy and Pattern: Lucan Old Testament Christology (JSNTSup, 12; Shef¿eld: JSOT, 1987), pp. 13–46; François Bovon, Luke the Theologian: Fifty-Five Years of Research (1950–2005) (Waco, Tex.: Baylor University Press, 2nd edn, 2005), pp. 125–224, 534–39; H. Douglas Buckwalter, The Character and Purpose of Luke’s Christology (SNTSMS, 89; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 6–24; Mark Allan Powell, What Are They Saying about Acts? (New York: Paulist, 1991), pp. 42– 50; idem, What Are They Saying about Luke? (New York: Paulist, 1989), pp. 60–81; C. Kavin Rowe, Early Narrative Christology: The Lord in the Gospel of Luke (BZNW, 139; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2006), pp. 1–30. 5. Christopher M. Tuckett, ‘The Christology of Luke–Acts’, in Joseph Verheyden (ed.), The Unity of Luke–Acts (BETL, 142; Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1999), pp. 133–64 (148). 6. We will use the capitalized word ‘God’ exclusively as a reference to the God of Israel and ‘god’ as a reference to any character or thing that can be characterized as divine. 7. E.g., Luke Timothy Johnson, The Acts of the Apostles (SP, 5; Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical, 1992); idem, ‘The Christology of Luke–Acts’, in Mark Allan Powell and David R. Bauer (eds.), Who Do You Say That I Am? Essays on Christology (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1999), pp. 49–65; idem, The Gospel of Luke (SP, 3; Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical, 1991); David P. Moessner, Lord of the Banquet: The Literary and Theological Signi¿cance of the Lukan Travel Narrative (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989). 8. E.g., Hans Conzelmann, The Theology of St. Luke (London: Faber & Faber, 1960); Jacob Jervell, Die Apostelgeschichte (KEK, 3; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), pp. 90–105; idem, The Theology of the Acts of the Apostles (NTTh; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996). 1
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universal reconciler, not the imago dei etc.’.9 Is Jervell stating what many scholars conclude after studying Luke’s Christology, but choose not to voice? II. Challenging Scholarly Reservations Jervell is correct in not seeing the application of the title »¼ÊÈŦÌ¾Ë to Jesus in the Lukan narrative; yet some would say that there is a slight possibility that Luke applies to Jesus the title ¿¼ŦË. First, it was once a common conviction that Acts 20.28 applied ¿¼ŦË to Jesus and could be used as a proof of Jesus’ divinity in the Lukan narrative.10 Most scholars, however, no longer understand this verse as a proof of Jesus’ divinity.11 Second, Bart D. Ehrman observes that Lk. 3.4 can be read as either ‘make straight his paths’ or ‘make straight the paths of our God’ (sy s.c.p), which could imply that the longer text calls Jesus ¿¼ŦË. Ehrman notes that the longer text happens to be more faithful to the OT in its quotation of Isa. 40.3 and less harmonized with Mk 1.3 and Mt. 3.3, which might be a sign of originality—although he quickly rejects this option and says that there is little debate among scholars concerning this issue.12 Consequently, the possibility that the title ¿¼ŦË is applied to Jesus in the Lukan narrative is so insigni¿cant that it does not warrant the argument for Jesus’ divinity in Luke–Acts. Since titles of honor, such as ÁŧÉÀÇË, ÍĎġË ÌÇı ¿¼Çı, or ÂŦºÇË,13 do not guarantee Jesus’ divinity in and of 9. Jervell, Theology, p. 30. 10. Charles F. DeVine, ‘The “Blood of God” in Acts 20:28’, CBQ 9 (1947), pp. 381–408, provides an overview of the history of interpretation of this verse and claims that it can be used as a proof of Jesus’ divinity. 11. See, e.g., Raymond E. Brown, ‘Does the New Testament Call Jesus God?’, TS 26 (1965), pp. 545–73; Ernst Haenchen, The Acts of the Apostles (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1971), pp. 589, 592–93; Murray J. Harris, Jesus as God: The New Testament Use of Theos in Reference to Jesus (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1992), pp. 131–41; Johnson, Acts, pp. 359–67; Jervell, Apostelgeschichte, pp. 507, 511–12; Ben Witherington, III, The Acts of the Apostles: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), pp. 610–27. 12. Bart D. Ehrman, ‘Textual Criticism of the New Testament’, in Joel B. Green (ed.), Hearing the New Testament: Strategies for Interpretation (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), pp. 138, 141. There is no entry for this variant in Bruce M. Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament (New York: American Bible Society, 2nd edn, 1994), which is in itself signi¿cant. 13. Oscar Cullmann, The Christology of the New Testament (NTL; Philadelphia: Westminster, rev. edn, 1963), pp. 195–314, suggests that these titles may imply Jesus’ divinity. 1
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themselves,14 there is no surprise that scholars do not ¿nd the question of Jesus’ divinity in Luke–Acts worth exploring. Must this lead one to conclude that Jesus’ divinity should be discussed only in reference to NT books that call Jesus ¿¼ŦË explicitly?15 There are two dif¿culties with an assumption that only the application of ¿¼ŦË to Jesus can guarantee his divinity. First, even if Luke–Acts did call Jesus ¿¼ŦË explicitly, one would have to determine what such a statement may entail because the way one could understand the statement ‘Jesus is (ĝ) ¿¼ŦË’16 in the ¿rst-century Greco-Roman world could vary signi¿cantly. This comes from the fact that although ¿¼ŦË is used sometimes as an appellative within the NT to refer to YHWH, it is naturally a predicate. That is to say, ‘God’/‘¿¼ŦË’ is not YHWH’s name17 and can be used to refer to different types of individuals, both earthly and heavenly.18 Since out of 289 occurrences of ¿¼ŦË in Luke–Acts, 8 times in Acts it has a referent other than YHWH, it is clear that even within Luke–Acts the meaning of the predicate ¿¼ŦË is not univocal. Consequently even if Luke–Acts explicitly called Jesus ¿¼ŦË, it would be impossible to determine what type of ¿¼ŦË he was without carefully examining the Lukan narrative.19 Thus, the title ¿¼ŦË predicated of Jesus against the 14. See further Birger Gerhardsson, The Mighty Acts of Jesus according to Matthew (Lund: Gleerup, 1979), p. 88; Anthony E. Harvey, Jesus and the Constraints of History (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1982), p. 164; Martin Hengel, The Son of God: The Origin of Christology and the History of Jewish-Hellenistic Religion (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1976). Cf. Wilhelm Bousset, Kyrios Christos: A History of the Belief in Christ from the Beginnings of Christianity to Irenaeus (Nashville: Abingdon, 5th edn, 1970), pp. 320–21. 15. See further, Brown, ‘God’, pp. 545–73; Cullmann, Christology, pp. 306–14. 16. Harris, Jesus, pp. 37–50, argues that the articular and anarthrous uses of ¿¼ŦË in the NT are interchangeable. 17. Contra Charles W. Bibb, ‘The Characterization of God in Luke–Acts’ (Ph.D. diss., Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, 1996), p. 49; Robert Polzin, ‘Divine and Anonymous Characterization in Biblical Narrative’, Semeia 63 (1993), pp. 205– 13 (212). 18. Marianne Meye Thompson, The God of the Gospel of John (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), pp. 17–55, emphasizes that this is true for the word ‘god’ in both Greek and Hebrew languages (¿¼ŦË/+, ³L+ , and -'!Y ). See further H. D. Betz, ‘¿¼ŦË, Çı, ĝ (÷) theos’, EDNT, vol. 2, pp. 140–42; H. Kleinknecht, E. Stauffer, and G. Quell, ‘¿¼ŦË’, TDNT, vol. 3, pp. 65–119 (67); S. R. F. Price, ‘Gods and Emperors: The Greek Language of the Roman Imperial Cult’, JHS 104 (1984), pp. 79–95 (79, 94); N. T. Wright, The New Testament and the People of God (COQG, 1; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992), xiv. 19. Larry W. Hurtado, ‘First-Century Jewish Monotheism’, JSNT 71 (1998), pp. 3–26 (8–9), states, ‘Thus, for example, scholars argue largely about whether ancient Jews conceived of more than one ¿gure as divine, and seek to answer the
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backdrop of ¿rst-century Greco-Roman pagan worship could identify Jesus as a god within a pantheon of pagan deities. Moreover, the title ¿¼ŦË could identify Jesus as an exalted patriarch, judge, or heavenly creature of Jewish faith because there are instances in Second Temple Jewish literature where ¿¼ŦË refers to beings other than YHWH, namely, Moses, Melchizedek, human judges, angels, and the gods of other nations.20 Finally, against the backdrop of Second Temple Jewish monotheism, the title ¿¼ŦË could identify Jesus with YHWH, the God of Israel. Because the application of the title ¿¼ŦË to Jesus would not necessarily place Jesus on the same level with YHWH, one’s argument for or against the possibility that Luke portrays Jesus as God cannot rest exclusively on whether he calls Jesus ¿¼ŦË explicitly. Second, one can argue that although Luke does not tell his readers directly that Jesus is God/¿¼ŦË, the possibility still exists that he shows this indirectly by means of his narrative. That is, if Luke characterizes Jesus in the same way he characterizes YHWH and if he calls YHWH ‘God’, then he claims by means of this indirect characterization that Jesus is God just as YHWH is God. Therefore, the study of the possibility of Jesus’ divinity in Luke–Acts cannot be determined by a word study of ¿¼ŦË or any other title applied to YHWH in isolation from the Lukan question almost entirely on the basis of semantic arguments about the meaning of honori¿c titles or phrases, without always studying adequately how ancient Jews practised their faith. But in the same way that modern principles of linguistics persuasively teach us that the particular meaning of a word in any given occurrence is shaped crucially by the sentence in which it is used, and just as it is a basic principle of exegesis to understand the meaning of phrases and statements in the larger context of a passage or even a whole document, so it should be recognized as a basic principle in the analysis of religious traditions that the real meaning of words, phrases and statements is always connected with the practice(s) of the religious tradition.’ See also Kleinknecht, Stauffer, and Quell, ‘¿¼ŦË’, p. 84, where Quell suggests that ‘for Semites the concept of power was the basic one in terms of which they understood the divine being’ and this concept stands behind the original meaning of the word +, without it being inÀuenced by the character of YHWH. He supports his statement by pointing out parallel appellatives, which imply the possession of power and which are used to denote deity, such as +4 C ‘Owner’, 0L ‘Lord’, and T+ / ‘King’. However, he agrees that no helpful information can be gathered from the inquiry into the etymology of the word itself. 20. In Second Temple Jewish literature, the use of the Greek and Hebrew terms for ‘god’, though similar to the use of ¿¼ŦË in the ‘secular’ Greek, is restricted to ¿gures who are thus referred to in the OT. See further, James D. G. Dunn, Christology in the Making: A New Testament Inquiry into the Origins of the Doctrine of the Incarnation (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2nd edn,1996), pp. 16–22; Kleinknecht, Stauffer, and Quell, ‘¿¼ŦË’, p. 90; Thompson, God, p. 21. 1
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narrative. Only a study of the Lukan narrative with special attention to the characters of God the Father, i.e., YHWH, and Jesus can explain whether Luke portrays Jesus as God. Thus, the question of whether Luke presents Jesus as God goes beyond mere mention of a personal name or title/predicate,21 i.e., telling, and is rooted in the story as it unfolds before the eyes of Luke’s readers, i.e., showing. To answer this question successfully, one must carefully examine the Lukan two-volume narrative and determine how Luke presents YHWH as God in order to eliminate misconceptions of what is necessary in Luke’s presentation of Jesus as God. So, since there is a possibility that Luke characterized Jesus as God by means of his narrative, regardless of whether he called Jesus ¿¼ŦË explicitly, why are so few scholars interested in exploring it? Having analyzed works on Luke’s Christology from the last century, we observe that the source of problems related to this topic lies in the work of Hans Conzelmann, the ¿rst person to demonstrate successfully a distinctly ‘Lukan’ Christology. It is to his work that we now turn. III. Conzelmann’s Negative Contribution Conzelmann’s The Theology of St. Luke, published ¿rst in German under the title Die Mitte der Zeit, has inÀuenced signi¿cantly the way the study of Luke’s Christology has been approached since 1954.22 Not only did it introduce redaction criticism, earning its author the status of a forefather 21. Robert A. Krieg, Story-Shaped Christology: The Role of Narratives in Identifying Jesus Christ (TI; New York: Paulist, 1988), pp. 6–7: ‘The personal direction of the who-question prompts us to respond to it by giving names and titles. A name is person-directed, for it serves as a tag. It singles out people by pointing to them. Titles refer to people in a more complicated way. On the one hand, titles take their meaning from the social structure within which they function… But on the other hand, titles often receive their speci¿c meaning from the conduct of the person to whom they are ascribed… To some extent, the meaning of a title is governed by the person who bears it, and therefore there is a sense in which titles like names are person-directed. We know what the title means by knowing the individual to whom it points.’ Krieg adds that when people do not know the person and cannot link a name/titles to that individual, other forms of description need to be utilized, namely, an account of the person’s physical features and his/her biography. Only biography can help to answer who the person is rather than what he/she is. Ambiguous terms often are de¿ned by other ambiguous terms, and that is why the best way to de¿ne them is to provide an explanatory narrative (pp. 57–58). See also Terrence W. Tilley, Story Theology (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical, 1985), p. 117. 22. Hans Conzelmann, Die Mitte der Zeit: Studien zur Theologie des Lukas (BHT, 17; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1954); ET: Theology. 1
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of redaction criticism and converting a great number of scholars to the validity of this method,23 but it also manifested Luke as a theologian, fully responsible for the Christology of his writings. As a result of this study, Luke could no longer be perceived merely as a faithful transmitter of the primitive Christology of the early church and had to be recognized as a writer who argued for a particular way of understanding Jesus. This, in turn, opened the gates to the study of Lukan Christology.24 However, because Conzelmann concluded that the Lukan Jesus was not God,25 his work, as inÀuential as it was, became a stumbling block for the study of Lukan divine Christology. Conzelmann’s conclusions are not with out weaknesses, though, because they are founded on hermeneutical presuppositions that are no longer plausible. We will now examine Conzelmann’s arguments against Jesus’ divinity in order to point out those presuppositions. First, when Conzelmann examines Luke’s narrative, he hopes to ¿nd ‘systematic considerations’ (planmäßige ReÀexion) of the ontological relationship between the Father and Jesus. Although he does not explicitly state what he means by this expression, one can suspect that Conzelmann expects to ¿nd at least statements of Jesus’ preexistence and possibly other statements that refer to Jesus’ divine nature. Because he can ¿nd neither ‘systematic considerations’ of the ontological relationship between the Father and Jesus in general26 nor the notion of preexistence in particular, he argues against the idea that the Father and 23. Although recent studies of Lukan Christology employ a variety of methods, redaction criticism remains the most popular. See Bovon, Research, pp. 125–224, 534–39. 24. Prior to Conzelmann, scholars thought that the Christology of the apostles and eyewitnesses, i.e., the primitive Christology, was imbedded within the missionary speeches in Acts—e.g., F. J. Foakes Jackson and Kirsopp Lake, ‘Christology’, in F. J. Foakes Jackson and Kirsopp Lake (eds.), Acts of the Apostles: Prolegomena I: The Jewish, Gentile and Christian Backgrounds (BC, 1/1; London: Macmillan, 1942), pp. 345–418. Although Conzelmann was not the ¿rst to recognize Luke’s contribution to the composition of Luke–Acts (e.g., M. Dibelius, P. Vielhauer), he was able to demonstrate successfully that Luke–Acts is a work of an editor, Luke, who is entirely responsible for its composition. Conzelmann’s view was later supported, e.g., by E. Haenchen, C. F. Evans, U. Wilckens, J. Bihler, J. C. O’Neill, G. Loh¿nk, and E. Kränkl. Cf. Jacques Dupont, ‘Les discours missionnaires des Actes des apôtres d’après un ouvrage récent’, RB 69 (1962), pp. 37–60. For an overview of the studies of the Lukan Christology before and after Conzelmann, see Bovon, Research, pp. 125–224, 534–39. 25. See further Conzelmann, Theologie, pp. 161–72; ET: Theology, pp. 173–84. 26. Conzelmann, Theologie, p. 172: ‘Eine planmäßige ReÀexion über das Wesensverhältnis von Vater und Sohn ¿ndet sich nicht’. 1
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the Son share a physical divine nature.27 Thus, he refuses to interpret the relationship between the Father and Jesus in ontological terms as was done in the traditional creeds and patristic literature, and ¿nds it inappropriate to speak of a metaphysical divine nature connecting the Father and the Son. He argues that there is ‘no metaphysical basis’ for Jesus’ status and that it is ‘entirely the gift of God’.28 That he is unsuccessful is unsurprising: he anachronistically attempts to ¿nd patristic or even modern systematic reÀections concerning Jesus in a ¿rst-century document and approaches the Lukan narrative as a collection of doctrinal statements, thus requiring that this two-volume work provide clear-cut, systematic de¿nitions of Jesus’ nature. Luke–Acts as a narrative is interested not in presenting doctrinal statements concerning Jesus’ nature but rather in providing a meaningful account of Jesus’ identity as it unfolds in time.29 Therefore, to determine if Jesus is presented as God in Luke–Acts, one needs to read Luke–Acts using appropriate methodology available for the study of narratives rather than redaction criticism. Second, Conzelmann identi¿es two series of sayings about the relationship between God and Jesus in Luke–Acts, namely, those that show Jesus’ subordination30 to the Father and those that portray them as being identical in terms of their work on earth.31 He therefore concludes 27. See Conzelmann, Theology, pp. 172, 174. Recently Simon J. Gathercole, The Preexistent Son: Recovering the Christologies of Matthew, Mark, and Luke (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), pp. 46–297, has argued, unlike Conzelmann, for Jesus’ preexistence in the Lukan narrative. Gathercole works with the three synoptic Gospels, so he does not study Luke–Acts as a narrative nor is he interested in studying the question of Jesus’ divinity. Rather, he is interested in showing that in the synoptics Jesus is portrayed as preexistent, which, in his view, would guarantee Jesus’ divine status. Preexistence, however, does not guarantee that Jesus is God. 28. Conzelmann, Theology, p. 174. 29. Cf. Haenchen, Acts, p. 91; Tuckett, ‘Christology’, pp. 133–64 (134). 30. Herbert Braun, ‘Zur Terminologie der Acts von der Auferstehung Jesu’, TLZ 77 (1952), pp. 533–36, uses this term prior to Conzelmann (but after J. Weiss). In his work, Braun places the adjective ‘subordinationist’ next to ‘adoptionist’ in reference to Luke’s Christology: ‘Der adoptianische, subordinatianische Charakter der Christologie in den Acta ist öfterer beobachtet worden’ (p. 533). However, not all scholars believe that those adjectives belong together. E.g., Ulrich Wilckens, Die Missionsreden der Apostelgeschichte: Form- und traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen (WMANT, 5; Neukirchen–Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1974), denies any idea of adoptionism, yet he fully supports the view that Jesus as Messiah and Lord was subordinate to God. On ‘adoptionism’ and ‘subordinationism’, see Dupont, ‘Discours’, pp. 55–56. 31. E.g., Conzelmann, Theologie, pp. 172: ‘Wir ¿nden einen klaren Subordinatianismus, der aus der Tradition stammt und in den Lukanischen Historismus glatt
1
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that Jesus is identical to God ‘functionally’ but not ‘ontologically’. This means that although Jesus acts as God, he is not God. There are two dif¿culties with Conzelmann’s conclusions: (1) the emphasis he places on the tension between Jesus’ subordination to the Father and his functioning as God to the world is greatly exaggerated because subordination does not necessarily imply inferiority;32 (2) although Conzelmann is right in trying not to read foreign ‘ontological’ categories into the Lukan text, he goes too far in applying exclusively ‘functional’ categories to Lukan Christology. Conzelmann’s juxtaposition of ‘ontological’ and ‘functional’ categories reÀects his faithfulness to the modernistic thinking of the time that promoted the idea that who a person is should be understood separately from what he/she does. This mode of thinking, however, does not correspond to what Luke–Acts tells us about being and doing. In Lk. 6.43-45, for example, we ¿nd that: No good tree produces bad fruit, nor again does a bad tree produce good fruit; for each tree is known by its own fruit. Figs are not gathered from thorns, nor are grapes harvested from a bramble bush. The good person out of good treasure of the heart produces good, and the evil person out of evil treasure produces evil; for it is out of the abundance of the heart that his/her mouth speaks.33
Moreover, when John the Baptist sends messengers to Jesus to inquire of him regarding his identity, Jesus explains who he is by indicating what he has done: ‘Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: 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. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me’ (7.22b-23).34 In these two passages, one ¿nds no distinction between one’s ontology and function. Rather, one ¿nds that a person is understood holistically and what he/she does is directly connected with who he/she is.35 Based on this, one may eingeht. Jesus ist Werkzeug Gottes, der allein den Heilsplan bestimmt. Von der Gemeinde aus aber erscheint Jesu Werk in völliger Einheit mit dem des Vaters. So können beide als “Herr” bezeichnet und als Urheber der aktuellen Heilsereignisse dargestellt werden, welche die Gemeinde erfährt.’ 32. E.g., R. G. Crawford, ‘Is Christ Inferior to God?’, EvQ 43 (1971), pp. 203–9. 33. Translations of biblical texts are my own. 34. Cf. François Bovon, ‘Le Dieu de Luc’, RSR 69 (1981), pp. 279–300 (283), who notes ‘Refusant tout discours sur son être, Jésus préfère parler de ses actes et surtout accomplir sa mission.’ 35. Oscar Cullmann, ‘The Reply of Professor Cullmann to Roman Catholic Critics’, SJT 15 (1962), pp. 36–43, recognizes that his earlier study, Die Christologie des Neuen Testaments (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1957); ET: Christology, was heavily criticized for its ‘functional’ Christology. In this essay, Cullmann argues that 1
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argue, contra Conzelmann, that Luke does not make a distinction between Jesus’ function and ontology. Rather, when he speaks of Jesus’ actions, he discloses who Jesus is, i.e., his identity, and when he speaks of Jesus’ functioning as God, he characterizes Jesus as God. In fact, all of Conzelmann’s research that indicates the Lukan Jesus as the one functioning as God might be used in support of our thesis. Finally, Conzelmann undoubtedly would ¿nd it highly problematic to speak of Jesus as not only functioning as but also being God. He brieÀy refers to this problem, saying that it would be dif¿cult for a Jew to revere somebody as ‘Lord’ other than God himself.36 Based on this, one may argue that although Conzelmann’s approach disregards Jesus’ character construction by means of the Lukan narrative and relies on an ontologyvs.-function dichotomy that is foreign to the Bible, it provides him with a convenient way to interpret the Lukan text without engaging the question, ‘If God is one and this God is YHWH/the Father, how then should we understand Jesus as being ¿¼ŦË/God as well?’37 ȉhis, however, also implies that if one were successful at showing that the Lukan text allows for the possibility that Jesus is God, one would have to explain how this could be a valid interpretive possibility against the background of Second Temple Jewish monotheism. nature and function are inseparable and states that the NT ‘does not view the nature of Christ independently of His function’ and that ‘the “functional” divinity of the Son of which the New Testament speaks implies in every case the being of His divine Person’ (pp. 41, 42). There are numerous others who have argued successfully that Jesus cannot function as ¿¼ŦË unless he is ¿¼ŦË—e.g., Harris, Jesus, pp. 37– 50, 282; C. F. D. Moule, ‘The Borderlands of Ontology in the New Testament’, in Brian Hebblethwaite and Stewart Sutherland (eds.), The Philosophical Frontiers of Christian Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), pp. 1–11; Christopher Stead, Divine Substance (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977), pp. 88, 247–48. Cf. Klaus Berger, Identity and Experience in the New Testament (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003); Dupont, ‘Discours’, pp. 37–60; Reginald H. Fuller, The Foundations of New Testament Christology (London: Collins, 1969), pp. 247– 57. 36. He sees this as a problem only in the Pauline writings and suggests that it is solved through delegation. However, it is not clear where in the Pauline writings he ¿nds this problem and why he does not ¿nd it in Luke–Acts. 37. Maurice Casey, From Jewish Prophet to Gentile God: The Origins and Development of New Testament Christology (Cambridge: Clarke, 1991), pp. 156–59, argues that the synoptics, unlike the Johannine prologue, do not portray Jesus as ‘fully divine’. Casey states: ‘The deity of Jesus is, however, inherently unJewish. The witness of Jewish texts is unvarying: belief that a second being is God involves departure from the Jewish community’ (p. 176 [italics original]). Harvey, Jesus, pp. 154–73, shares a similar perspective. Cf. Bousset, Kyrios; Rudolf Bultmann, Theology of the New Testament (2 vols.; New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1951). 1
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Conzelmann’s convictions that (1) Luke–Acts has to contain systematic considerations of the ontological relationship between the Father God and Jesus to guarantee Jesus’ being God; (2) statements pertaining to Jesus’ functioning as God are not enough to argue for Jesus’ being God; and (3) it is inappropriate to speak of the Lukan Jesus as God against the background of Second Temple Jewish monotheism ¿nd their corollary in the fact that few scholars have ventured to argue for the possibility of divine Christology in Luke–Acts. We now turn to these scholarly voices (Laurentin, Turner, and Buckwalter) and voices that we ¿nd helpful in framing the question of Jesus’ being God (Fletcher-Louis, Rowe) in order to determine what has already been done to overcome the problems introduced by Conzelmann’s hermeneutical assumptions, what issues still persist, and what still needs to be done to address those issues successfully. IV. Lukan Divine Christology after Conzelmann a. Laurentin In 1957, René Laurentin published Structure et théologie de Luc I–II, which, unlike Conzelmann’s work,38 emphasized the importance of the ¿rst two chapters of the Gospel for Lukan Christology and explicitly identi¿ed Jesus with YHWH.39 Laurentin does not assume that the evidence for the divinity of Jesus in Luke should be sought in the use of the word ¿¼ŦË in reference to Jesus or in the presence of systematic considerations of Jesus’ divine nature. When comparing Luke’s Christology to John’s, he admits that Luke does not openly make statements of Jesus’ preexistence and does not discuss metaphysical issues. He explains this by saying that if Luke explicitly identi¿ed Jesus with YHWH, he would quickly be accused of blasphemy. He argues that Luke was not silenced by this dangerous possibility. Instead Luke manifested his thought concerning Jesus’ divinity intuitively by way of using OT allusions.40 That is why he provides a detailed study of the ¿rst two chapters of Luke, showing how Luke used the OT imagery and titles reserved for YHWH in his description of Jesus. 38. It is hard to know whether Laurentin was aware of Conzelmann’s work because nowhere does he engage Conzelmann’s position. 39. René Laurentin, Structure et théologie de Luc I–II (Paris: Gabalda, 5th edn, 1964), Chapter 5. Laurentin states, ‘En dé¿nitive Luc 1–2 identi¿e Jésus au Seigneur Dieu et Marie à la Fille de Sion, mais il n’exprime pas en termes directs, à l’occidentale, cette double identi¿cation corrélative qui afÀeure partout’ (p. 22). 40. Laurentin, Structure, pp. 139–40. 1
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Laurentin’s work can be praised for its attention to literary context, its thorough work with the Lukan text, and its attempt to use OT imagery for God in clarifying Luke’s portrait of Jesus. However, he does not purport to argue for Luke’s divine Christology because his goal is to study Luke 1–2 rather than Jesus’ divinity within the Lukan narrative. Moreover, despite the fact that he is sensitive in reading Luke’s Gospel as a work of literature, his methodology is not always clear—sometimes he draws conclusions based on his reconstruction of the purported Hebrew source of Luke 1–2 and other times he uses the Greek text. Having shown that Jesus is portrayed by Luke as YHWH, Laurentin does not explain how Jesus can be identi¿ed with YHWH, although he considers this identi¿cation to be important for the Christology of Luke 1–2. One can even claim that he collapses the boundaries between Jesus and the Father and ignores the dynamics of their relationship.41 Finally, because Laurentin does not seem to be aware of the ontology-vs.function dichotomy or dif¿culties with explaining Jesus as God against the background of Jewish monotheism, as suggested by Conzelmann, he does not offer helpful ways to go beyond those issues. b. Turner Max Turner is interested in the origins of ‘divine’ Christology.42 He admits that the term ‘divine’ Christology is ambiguous and can imply ‘anything from the divine agency of any messianic ¿gure to a full trinitarian christology’.43 Thus, he shows awareness of the fact that the term ‘god’ or ‘divine’ can be applied to many individuals. In his study, however, Turner restricts its meaning to a Christology ‘which appears to push the unity between Jesus and the Father beyond anything Judaism could envisage of any (mere) creature, however exalted, and thus
41. Laurentin, Structure, p. 130: ‘Il faut accéder au plan de la théologie allusive pour saisir fermement l’assimilation de Jésus à Yahweh qui est le dernier mot de la christologie de Luc 1–2’. 42. Max Turner, Power from on High: The Spirit in Israel’s Restoration and Witness in Luke–Acts (JPTSup, 9; Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic, 2000), pp. 428–31; idem, ‘The Spirit of Christ and Christology’, in Harold H. Rowdon (ed.), Christ the Lord: Studies in Christology Presented to Donald Guthrie (Leicester: Inter-Varsity, 1982), pp. 168–90; idem, ‘The Spirit of Christ and “Divine” Christology’, in Joel B. Green and Max Turner (eds.), Jesus of Nazareth, Lord and Christ: Essays on the Historical Jesus and New Testament Christology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994), pp. 413–36; idem, ‘ “Trinitarian” Pneumatology in the New Testament? Towards an Explanation of the Worship of Jesus’, AsTJ 57–58 (2002–2003), pp. 167–86. 43. Turner, ‘Christology’, pp. 413–14 (italics original).
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potentially even to breach exclusive monotheism as Judaism understood it’.44 Moreover, Turner observes that the Spirit in Judaism refers to YHWH’s own being, that is, his self-manifesting, transforming, and empowering immanent presence. That is why he argues that when Luke has Peter quote Joel 2.28 concerning the last days when God would pour out his Spirit on all people (Acts 2.17) and then presents Jesus as the one who receives the Spirit from the Father and pours it out on his followers (2.33), he portrays Jesus as God since Jesus is the only other person besides God who is said to pour out the Spirit. Turner also observes that Jesus in Acts is presented as the Lord of the Spirit and that the Spirit becomes known in Acts as the Spirit of Jesus (16.6-7). This implies that Luke depicts Jesus’ relationship to the Spirit in the same way as he depicts God’s own relationship to the Spirit. This relationship with the Spirit enables Jesus to be present among his followers, to empower them, and to direct them through the Spirit, just as YHWH was able to do in the lives of his people Israel. Finally, Turner observes that calling on the name of the Lord Jesus in baptism is equivalent to calling on the name of YHWH, which is necessary for the forgiveness of sins and reception of the Spirit (2.21, 38). Turner takes seriously that Jesus can and should be perceived as God in Luke–Acts. His insightful observations concerning Jesus’ relationship with the Spirit and unprecedented naming of God’s Spirit with reference to Jesus greatly contribute to one’s understanding of what was unique about YHWH and how Jesus participated in that unique identity.45 Moreover, he enables one to see the importance of the Spirit in the relationship of YHWH and Jesus and, in doing so, emphasizes the importance of a trinitarian perspective of Jesus’ relationship to YHWH.46 44. Turner, ‘Christology’, p. 414 (italics original). 45. Turner is not the ¿rst to observe the connection between Jesus and the Spirit. Lampe, ‘Christ’, pp. 160–75, mentions that the ‘Spirit of Jesus’ is the Spirit of God and observes that the word of Jesus is the word of God and that Jesus’ authority and power are divine. However, he stops short of making the same conclusions as Turner. Lampe does not call Jesus ‘God’ because he perceives the bond between Jesus and the Father to be external, despite Lk. 10.22: ‘They are joined by the Spirit on the one side and the human response of prayer, the corresponding element to the Spirit, on the other’ (p. 172). Lampe displays reliance on the ontology-vs.-function category, although he does not disregard the importance of the Spirit in the relationship of the Father and Jesus. 46. Larry W. Hurtado, ‘The Binitarian Shape of Early Christian Worship’, in Carey C. Newman, James R. Davila, and Gladys S. Lewis (eds.), The Jewish Roots of Christological Monotheism: Papers from the St. Andrews Conference on the Historical Origins of the Worship of Jesus (JSJSup, 63; Leiden: Brill, 1999),
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Finally, Turner emphasizes that Christian Jews worshiped the Son and the Father as one God. Following Richard Bauckham, he advocates that Jesus’ divinity has to be explained in light of his participation in YHWH’s divine identity,47 which prevents one from viewing Christian worship as the worship of two separate gods. However, he is more interested in explaining what led the church to perceive Jesus as divine and to worship him, rather than explaining how Jesus is portrayed in the Lukan narrative as participating in YHWH’s divine identity. Thus, although Turner pioneers the argument for Jesus’ divine identity after Conzelmann, his more traditional methodology does not allow him to ask narrative questions of Luke–Acts and to explore how Luke might have constructed Jesus’ divine identity by means of his narrative. Finally, although he relies on Bauckham’s work on divine identity, he still talks about the possibility that the exclusive Jewish monotheism was breached in the articulation of the unity between Jesus and YHWH. c. Buckwalter In his published dissertation and in a more recent essay on Luke’s Christology, Douglas Buckwalter argues that because Luke knew Jesus as Lord, he described Jesus’ identity and activity after the resurrection using concepts that in the OT were applicable to YHWH (cf. Laurentin).48 First, he suggests that Jesus’ post-resurrection manifestations are similar to those of YHWH in the OT and that Luke perceives Jesus as coequal and coregent with God by comparing Jesus’ heavenly reign in Acts and YHWH’s in the OT. Second, he argues that although the name of the Lord is associated with God in Joel 2.32, it is applied to Jesus in Acts 2.21. Third, like Turner, Buckwalter stresses the fact that in Acts Jesus is the only other being, besides YHWH himself, who is said to give the Spirit and whose ministry is perceived as identical to the ministry of the Spirit.
pp.187–213, speaks of binitarian worship of YHWH and Jesus by early Christians, dismissing the importance of trinitarian language in explaining the relationship between YHWH and Jesus. 47. Turner, ‘Pneumatology’, pp. 167–86, assumes that Bauckham’s explanation of this concept is clear enough, so he merely acknowledges that Bauckham is the ¿rst to use this concept. However, Max Turner, ‘Approaching “Personhood” in the New Testament, with Special Reference to Ephesians’, EvQ 77 (2005), pp. 211–33, has a long section on the concept of ‘identity’, which shows that Turner later became aware of the need to de¿ne Bauckham’s concept of ‘divine identity’ in more detail. 48. Buckwalter, Christology, Chapters 8–10; H. Douglas Buckwalter, ‘The Divine Savior’, in I. Howard Marshall and David Peterson (eds.), Witness to the Gospel: The Theology of Acts (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), pp. 107–23. 1
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He argues that in Acts, Jesus’ relationship with the Holy Spirit resembles God’s relationship with the Spirit of God in the OT since Jesus is presented as being in communion with the church through the Holy Spirit just as YHWH was in communion with the people of Israel through the Spirit.49 This has a great signi¿cance for him because it means that Jesus, while enthroned in heaven, can be present on earth and actively participate in the ministry of his followers, just as YHWH did in the OT.50 Because of this gift of the Spirit to the followers of Christ, Jesus is able to reign and guide the believers via the Spirit, although at times he manifests himself personally. Finally, Buckwalter states that in addition to demonstrating Jesus as God in light of his appearances, coregency, sharing of the divine name, presence in the lives of his followers through the Holy Spirit, and ability to keep his promises, Luke depicts Jesus as a deity who ‘by nature’ behaves towards his people as a servant. Buckwalter believes that Luke viewed Jesus as divine in both the Gospel of Luke and in Acts. However, similarly to Turner, the questions that he asks of the text are limited by his methodology, which is why he bases his argument of the divinity of Jesus solely on the book of Acts. Hence, though he is correct in identifying Jesus in Acts with YHWH in the OT and in saying that Jesus’ divinity is manifested through his service to his people, he does not study how Jesus’ divine identity is revealed in the Gospel. Moreover, Buckwalter quotes Lampe, ‘the thought of the OT is interested in the activity of God rather than in the metaphysical problem of his being’, and suggests, ‘May not the kinds of conclusions we draw about God’s nature and being in the OT on the basis of his activity, illustrate how Luke understood the nature and being of Jesus’ Lordship on the basis of his heavenly work?… The Lord Jesus seems for Luke as much God as the Father is on the basis of the kinds of things he does and says from heaven.’51 So, he is right in bringing together ‘being’ and ‘doing’; yet he does not explain if Jesus can be God on the basis of what he does and says in the Gospel or how Jesus can be God against Second Temple Jewish monotheism. His mention of divine identity may suggest that, like Turner, he found Bauckham’s category helpful.52
49. Contra Moule, ‘Christology’, pp. 178–79. Cf. Lampe, ‘Christ’, pp. 172–75. 50. Cf. Jason J. Ripley, ‘ “Those Things That Jesus Had Begun to Do and Teach”: Narrative Christology and Incarnational Ecclesiology in Acts’, BTB 44 (2014), pp. 87–99. 51. Buckwalter, Christology, pp. 279–80. 52. Buckwalter, Christology, p. 279.
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d. Fletcher-Louis Crispin H. T. Fletcher-Louis does not argue that Jesus should be understood as God; yet his work is bene¿cial for our argument. He bases his study of Luke’s Christology on the work of scholars who emphasize the importance of the Jewish background for the development of the NT Christology53 and claim the primacy of the angelic category in understanding mediatorial and messianic ¿gures in Jewish thought.54 He highlights a number of reasons for this emphasis on the angelic category.55 First, he notices that beginning with the Pentateuch one speci¿c angel (Óºº¼ÂÇË ÁÍÉţÇÍ/!#!' (+/) is used to communicate the idea of God’s visible presence in history (e.g., Gen. 16.7-14; 22.11-15; Exod. 3.1-14; Num. 22.22-35; Judg. 2.1-4).56 Second, he observes that the OT speaks of many gods who are subordinate to the one God and who are later perceived as God’s angelic host (e.g., Exod. 15.11; Deut. 3.24; Ps. 82.1). ) have different roles and responsibilities in These angels (Óºº¼ÂÇÀ/-'!Y the created world and in the relationship between humanity and God. They participate in the being of the One God not only by what they do (agency/function), but also by who they are (identity). They are called ¿¼Çţ by Greek-speaking Jews in recognition of their divinity, although they are still perceived as distinguished from and subordinate to YHWH.57 Fletcher-Louis admits that the angelic category is too narrow to describe Jesus because Jesus was both human and divine but not an angel and because this category does not include Jewish ideas of humans who
53. Contra, e.g., Bousset, Bultmann, Casey. 54. E.g., Margaret Barker, The Great Angel: A Study of Israel’s Second God (London: SPCK, 1992); Jarl E. Fossum, The Image of the Invisible God: Essays on the InÀuence of Jewish Mysticism on Early Christology (NTOA, 30; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1995); idem, The Name of God and the Angel of the Lord: Samaritan and Jewish Concepts of Intermediation and the Origin of Gnosticism (WUNT, 36; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1985); Christopher C. Rowland, Christian Origins: An Account of the Setting and Character of the Most Important Messianic Sect of Judaism (London: SPCK, 1985); idem, The Open Heaven: A Study of Apocalyptic in Judaism and Early Christianity (New York: Crossroads, 1982). 55. Crispin H. T. Fletcher-Louis, Luke–Acts: Angels, Christology and Soteriology (WUNT, 94; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997). Other theses that use angelic categories in explaining NT Christology are, e.g., Peter R. Carrell, Jesus and the Angels: Angelology and the Christology of the Apocalypse of John (SNTSMS, 95; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997); Charles A. Gieschen, Angelomorphic Christology: Antecedents and Early Evidence (AGJU, 42; Leiden: Brill, 1998). 56. Fletcher-Louis, Christology, p. 3. 57. Fletcher-Louis, Christology, p. 4. 1
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are greater than angels, who deserve angelic praise, and who inherit the name of YHWH. Consequently, Fletcher-Louis proposes to understand Jesus as an angelomorphic ¿gure who possesses characteristics and status speci¿c to angels yet whose identity cannot be reduced to that of an angel. Thus, Jesus can be ‘more human than would be expected of an angel’ and ‘more fully Divine’ because he receives worship. However, he can still be understood as ‘angelomorphic in the sense that he has angelic attributes’.58 In addition, if Jesus is understood as an angelomorphic ¿gure, his worship can be understood in light of the rabbinic concept of ‘Two Powers in Heaven’, which deals with the worship of a second divine being alongside God.59 Fletcher-Louis perceives Luke’s Jesus as both human and divine and his goal is to explain the Àuidity of Jesus’ human and divine natures. However, he assumes that the categories of human, divine, or angelic/ angelomorphic natures do not need to be de¿ned. He is correct in bringing together concepts of agency and identity in his discussion of angels/ gods. However, he does not explain what made Jesus’ participation in God’s identity different from that of other beings that could be referred to as ‘gods’.60 He is also correct in attempting to read Lukan Christology against the Jewish rather than Hellenistic background; yet he relies on the ‘Two Powers’ concept to explain how Jesus could be worshiped as a divine ¿gure alongside of YHWH, which does not account for the claim that Jewish people during the Second Temple period were monotheistic, nor does it examine Luke–Acts to determine if the ‘Two Powers’ concept would be acceptable for Luke. Finally, in his study of Luke’s Christology, Fletcher-Louis uses a history-of-religions approach; therefore, he is not interested in exploring how Luke develops Jesus’ portrayal as ¿¼ŦË by means of his narrative.
58. Fletcher-Louis, Christology, p. 15. 59. Fletcher-Louis, Christology, pp. 15–16. Cf. Alan F. Segal, Two Powers in Heaven: Early Rabbinic Reports about Christianity and Gnosticism (SJLA, 25; Leiden: Brill, 1977). 60. Richard Bauckham, ‘The Throne of God and the Worship of Jesus’, in Newman, Davila, and Lewis (eds.), Jewish Roots, pp. 43–69 (48–51), distinguishes participating in ‘a species identity which YHWH shared with all heavenly beings (gods)’, all of whom had similar shining appearances, from participating in a unique identity of YHWH, which he shared only with his personi¿cations or hypostatizations, i.e., his Spirit, Word, and Wisdom. Based on Bauckham’s analysis, FletcherLouis explains Jesus’ sharing in YHWH’s identity as a species identity.
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Luke’s Christology of Divine Identity
e. Rowe Kavin Rowe does not argue that Jesus should be understood as God; yet his study is helpful in many ways. He studies Luke’s use of ÁŧÉÀÇË and because he correctly believes that the word ÁŧÉÀÇË does not come loaded with meaning but rather gains its meaning in the process of reading the narrative, he does not aim to reconstruct the history of the word ÁŧÉÀÇË or to produce a mere word study. Thus, he offers an in-depth examination of the occurrences of ÁŧÉÀÇË sequentially from the beginning of the Lukan narrative and allows its meaning as it is applied to both God the Father and Jesus to develop without disrupting the Àow of the Lukan narrative.61 He claims that Luke masterfully crafted his narrative and used the title ÁŧÉÀÇË in such a way as ‘to narrate the relation between God and Jesus as one of inseparability, to the point that they are bound together in a shared identity as ÁŧÉÀÇË’.62 Although he focuses his study on the occurrences of ÁŧÉÀÇË in the Gospel, he provides an excursus to deal with a tension between the Gospel’s use of ÁŧÉÀÇË for Jesus and its use in Acts 2.36.63 Moreover, he speaks concerning the ambiguity of referents for ÁŧÉÀÇË in Acts, ties it to the ambiguity of its referents in the Gospel, and locates it in the ‘act of God by the Spirit in the conception of Jesus as ÁŧÉÀÇË’.64 Rowe observes that because of the ambiguity in the referent of ÁŧÉÀÇË, the coming of Lord Jesus is understood as the coming of Lord God, the mission of Jesus is identi¿ed with the mission of God, and the presence of the God of Israel is experienced in the life of Jesus.65 Rowe concludes: ‘To apprehend the identity of Jesus in the Gospel of Luke is to include God, and the question, Who is God in Luke?, of necessity places Jesus at the center of its answer’.66 61. Rowe thus avoids objections raised against title-dominated Christologies by Leander E. Keck, ‘Toward the Renewal of New Testament Christology’, NTS 32 (1986), pp. 362–77. 62. Rowe, Christology, p. 27. Cf. Bock, Proclamation, pp. 269–70. Bock states that Jesus is Lord, which he understands to imply his divinity, and he attempts to speak of Lukan divine Christology against the background of the OT. However, he does not discuss what it means for Jesus to be understood as divine. Moreover, his understanding of how Luke draws on the OT for presenting a meaningful account of his divine Christology is limited. See also Moule, ‘Christology’, pp. 159–85. Both Bock and Moule speak of the Christology of Acts as more exalted than that of the Third Gospel, which raises the question, Has Jesus become in Acts something he previously was not? 63. Rowe, Christology, pp. 189–96. 64. Rowe, Christology, p. 202. 65. Rowe, Christology, p. 200. 66. Rowe, Christology, p. 201. 1
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When Rowe draws upon the implications of his study, he notes that because Jesus is identi¿ed as ÁŧÉÀÇË, his judgment is superior to that of the prophet John and his status is superior to that of the Son of David. Moreover, because Jesus’ identity as ÁŧÉÀÇË remains the same before and after his death and resurrection, he incorporates the ability to love one’s enemies, endure a violent death, and be raised from the dead into the de¿nition of what it means to be ÁŧÉÀÇË. Finally, Rowe acknowledges that the development of Jesus’ identity in Luke–Acts is dialectical: from Acts to the Gospel the heavenly Lord Jesus is portrayed as a human ¿gure and from the Gospel to Acts the human ¿gure Jesus is portrayed as the heavenly Lord.67 Yet, Rowe is careful to specify that despite the unity of the Father God and Jesus in the identity as ÁŧÉÀÇË, the boundaries between God and Christ or the Father and the Son are never intermixed, i.e., Jesus is not the same character as God the Father (contra Laurentin), who is ‘alone ¿¼ŦË and ȸÌŢÉ for Luke’.68 Rowe’s work is excellent. He is skillful in reading the Lukan narrative as narrative and although he cannot study Acts in as many details, he incorporates helpful insight from Acts throughout his work with the Gospel. He properly rejects the notion that the question of who ÁŧÉÀÇË is can be settled prior to the study of the Lukan narrative and argues that what particular words or concepts mean cannot be settled prior to reading a narrative.69 This is helpful for our study, because we can argue with Rowe that one cannot assume that he/she knows the meaning of speci¿c titles or concepts applicable to God and/or Jesus in isolation from the Lukan narrative. If one were to read Rowe through the lens of studies by Turner and Buckwalter that argue for Jesus’ being God and his sharing of YHWH’s divine identity, one would assume that Rowe perceives the Lukan Jesus as God. Moreover, if one were to read Rowe’s monograph through his article ‘Luke and the Trinity’, where he states, ‘[t]he trinity of the one God emerges from the conception of Jesus as the incarnation of God by the power of the Holy Spirit’, one would assume that Rowe perceives the Lukan Jesus as one God with the Father and the Holy Spirit.70 However, Rowe speaks of Jesus as ‘the movement of God’, ‘the embodied revelation of ÁŧÉÀÇË ĝ ¿¼ŦË’, but he does not call Jesus ‘God’.71 Rowe suggests 67. Rowe, Christology, p. 207. 68. Rowe, Christology, p. 49. 69. Rowe, Christology, p. 19. 70. C. Kavin Rowe, ‘Luke and the Trinity: An Essay in Ecclesial Biblical Theology’, SJT 56 (2003), pp. 1–26 (16). 71. Rowe, Christology, p. 218.
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Luke’s Christology of Divine Identity
that ‘in construing the identity of Jesus as ÁŧÉÀÇË even from the womb, Luke presents the totally human Jesus as the heavenly Lord upon earth’ in order to combat a pagan view of human dei¿cation, because ‘continuity in heavenly or divine identity protects against a divinizing interpretation of Jesus [as] ÁŧÉÀÇË’. He adds: ‘Jesus did not after his death and resurrection become something he was not before, but rather was vindicated precisely in respect to or even because of his identity’.72 That is why it is dif¿cult to determine what Rowe means when he calls Luke’s Christology ‘high’.73 If he uses this phrase in the same way as Richard Bauckham, who suggests that high Christology was possible within the context of ‘strict’ Jewish monotheism by ‘identifying Jesus directly with the one God of Israel, including Jesus in the unique identity of this one God’74 and if he has no problem incorporating Jesus in the trinity of the one God, then why does he shy away from calling Jesus ‘God’? It is possible that Rowe, whose work with the title ÁŧÉÀÇË shows his af¿nity for linguistics, is uncomfortable with speaking of Jesus as God because Luke does not predicate ¿¼ŦË of Jesus. If that is the case, he is guilty of what Stephen Halliwell calls ‘lexical bias’. Halliwell rejects the idea that ‘conceptions can be identi¿ed primarily by reference to particular lexical items in a language’.75 He says: lexical bias—an assumption…that individual lexical items and locutions, or the lack of them, are the most signi¿cant facts about the way in which a language shapes the conceptions expressible within it…is often hazardous, but particularly so in the psychological sphere. It may be right to suppose that the language used to describe or analyse [sic] psychological experience is partly constitutive of the nature of that experience, but it is one-sided to translate this supposition into the principle that individual lexical items in themselves carry a greater weight than the total discourse of which they form a part.76
Accordingly, Jesus’ identity cannot be gleaned entirely from the titles applied to him because, in addition to explicit means of characterization, i.e., the use of titles, the author may also rely on implicit means of 72. Rowe, Christology, p. 206. Cf. C. K. Barrett, The Acts of the Apostles (ICC, 44; 2 vols.; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1994–98), vol. 1, pp. 139–51. 73. Rowe, Christology, p. 220. This work does not ¿nd the high-vs.-low dichotomy helpful for the study of Lukan Christology. 74. Richard Bauckham, God Cruci¿ed: Monotheism and Christology in the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), p. 4. 75. Stephen Halliwell, ‘Traditional Greek Conceptions of Character’, in Christopher Pelling (ed.), Characterization and Individuality in Greek Literature (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), pp. 32–59 (35–36). 76. Halliwell, ‘Character’, pp. 37–38. 1
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characterization in depicting his/her characters, which includes descriptions of what a character does and says and how he/she is like or unlike other characters. This means that the absence of the term ¿¼ŦË in reference to Jesus does not yet mean that the concept of ¿¼ŦË is not used for his description. However, this might not be the reason for Rowe’s refusal to see the Lukan Jesus as God in light of what he says concerning the Holy Spirit. Rowe states: ‘God the Father is alone ¿¼ŦË and ȸÌŢÉ for Luke’; yet prior to that he says that the Holy Spirit is not ‘one of God’s creatures or a semi-divine being. To the contrary, the Holy Spirit is God, but in the character of his animating activity.’77 How does he arrive at the conclusion that the Holy Spirit is God? Is he perhaps thinking of Acts 5.3-4, where Luke through Peter indirectly predicates ¿¼ŦË of the Holy Spirit? Why, then, does he say that God the Father is the only referent of the title ¿¼ŦË only two pages later? Or, perhaps, he allows the Holy Spirit to be characterized as God by means of the Lukan narrative. Would he, then, allow that Jesus might be characterized as God in a similar fashion? Because we cannot answer this question with certainty, we cannot classify Rowe’s work together with that of Laurentin, Turner, and Buckwalter, although he comes the closest in overcoming the problems introduced by Conzelmann’s work. Having looked at the scholarly works of Laurentin, Turner, Buckwalter, Fletcher-Louis, and Rowe, we can conclude that the problems introduced by Conzelmann’s Theology have yet to be fully resolved, despite the fact that each scholar is insightful in his own way and should be praised for his strengths. In what follows we will propose a plan of action for this study that aims at establishing the possibility that Luke characterized Jesus as God by means of his two-volume narrative. V. De¿ning and Defending the Need for this Study We have isolated three presuppositions from Conzelmann’s Theology that have made it dif¿cult to speak of divine Christology in Luke–Acts: (1) the struggle to read Luke–Acts as a narrative, a struggle grounded in Conzelmann’s attempt to ¿nd in Luke–Acts what it was not designed to provide, i.e., systematic considerations concerning Jesus’ metaphysical nature; (2) the reliance on an ontology-vs.-function dichotomy that allows Conzelmann to state that Jesus can function as God yet not be God; (3) the struggle to understand how Jesus could have been depicted as God by Luke against the background of strict Jewish monotheism. 1
77. Rowe, Christology, p. 49, 47.
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Luke’s Christology of Divine Identity
The ¿rst presupposition was not effectively addressed by Laurentin, Turner, or Buckwalter. On the one hand, Turner and Buckwalter are limited by their methodologies and tend not to ask narrative questions of Luke–Acts. On the other, Laurentin is comfortable with reading Luke’s Gospel as a narrative and openly claims that Luke indirectly portrayed Jesus as God; yet his conclusions concerning Jesus’ divinity are different from Rowe’s, who uses a narrative methodology.78 Consequently, to bring clarity to Rowe’s position concerning Jesus’ divinity and to supplement Laurentin’s methodology, in Chapter 2, we will carefully examine (1) how narrative criticism has been used in biblical studies, (2) what is involved in reading narratives in light of research in narratology and the philosophy of history, (3) what can be expected from an ancient historical narrative such as Luke–Acts, and (4) what is involved in constructing characters’ narrative identities. We will not purport to provide an exhaustive analysis of narrative theories; rather, we intend to outline explicitly our presuppositions regarding narratives and character construction to avoid dismissal of our argument for Jesus’ divinity in Luke–Acts on methodological grounds. The second and third presuppositions were addressed by Turner and Buckwalter, who use Bauckham’s notion of divine identity and speak of Jesus as one God with YHWH, i.e., incorporated within YHWH’s divine identity. However, this language needs further clari¿cation if one is to understand in what sense the concept of identity can be applied in the study of Luke’s Christology of divine identity because (1) the concept of 78. Rowe is not the ¿rst to use narrative methodology in the study of Luke–Acts. For the general study of Luke–Acts, see, e.g., Robert L. Brawley, Centering on God: Method and Message in Luke–Acts (LCBI; Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1990); John A. Darr, On Character Building: The Reader and the Rhetoric of Characterization in Luke–Acts (LCBI; Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1992); David B. Gowler, Host, Guest, Enemy, and Friend: Portraits of the Pharisees in Luke and Acts (ESEC, 2; New York: Lang, 1991); Joel B. Green, The Gospel of Luke (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997); William S. Kurz, Reading Luke– Acts: Dynamics of Biblical Narrative (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1993); William H. Shepherd, Jr., The Narrative Function of the Holy Spirit as a Character in Luke–Acts (SBLDS, 147; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1994); and Robert C. Tannehill, The Narrative Unity of Luke–Acts: A Literary Interpretation (FF; 2 vols.; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986–94). For the study of Christology, see, e.g., David Lee, Luke’s Stories of Jesus: Theological Reading of Gospel Narrative and the Legacy of Hans Frei (JSNTSup, 185; Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic, 1999); Gudrun Nassauer, ‘Gegenwart des Abwesenden. Eidetische Christologie in Lk 1.3945’ NTS 58 (2012), pp. 69–87; Mark L. Strauss, The Davidic Messiah in Luke–Acts: The Promise and its Ful¿llment in Lukan Christology (JSNTSup, 110; Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic, 1995). 1
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identity may be perceived in a number of ways, (2) the term identity is not used in the Bible, and (3) biblical scholars vary in how they use identity or even divine identity, as evidenced by the above-mentioned scholars. On the one hand, Fletcher-Louis speaks concerning how Jesus could be understood as ¿¼ŦË against a Jewish background79 and he uses the concept of identity, as does Bauckham, bridging the gap between doing and being. However, he understands Jesus as a divine ¿gure worshipped alongside YHWH. On the other hand, Rowe speaks of Jesus and God the Father sharing identity as Lord and Jesus having divine identity in heaven; yet he does not claim explicitly that Jesus is God. Moreover, although Fletcher-Louis and Rowe try to understand the Lukan Jesus against the Jewish rather than Hellenistic background, there is no clarity concerning how Jesus could be both human and divine; namely, Fletcher-Louis suggests that Jesus was an angelomorphic ¿gure, while Rowe speaks of Jesus as ‘the totally human’ person who was ‘the heavenly Lord’ at the same time. To clarify the use of Bauckham’s concept of divine identity and how Jesus can be understood as God although he was ‘totally human’, in Chapter 3 we will (1) explore contemporary trajectories for speaking of identity; (2) study both Hellenistic and Jewish perspectives on personal identity without relying on modern terminology in order to determine how we might search for the concept of identity in the premodern text of Luke–Acts and undermine the validity of the ontology-vs.-function dichotomy reÀected in Conzelmann’s work; and (3) articulate how YHWH’s divine identity could have been shared by ‘the totally human Jesus’ in light of the contemporary discussion of Second Temple Jewish monotheism. Furthermore, because Rowe has successfully demonstrated that one cannot claim to understand the meaning of the word ÁŧÉÀÇË in Luke in isolation from the Lukan narrative, we assume that one cannot claim to know who the Lukan God is without ¿rst studying YHWH’s identity
79. Despite the fact that Bousset’s view that the divinity of Jesus could have been expressed only via Greek categories has been dominant among scholars and is still present in recent works, the pendulum of scholarly opinion concerning the background of categories for Jesus’ divinity in the NT has swayed towards explaining it in light of Jewish categories available during the Second Temple period. See further Richard Bauckham, Jesus and the God of Israel: God Cruci¿ed and Other Studies on the New Testament’s Christology of Divine Identity (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008); Larry W. Hurtado, How on Earth Did Jesus Become a God? (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), pp. 16–20; idem, ‘New Testament Christology: A Critique of Bousset’s InÀuence’, TS 40 (1979), pp. 306–17. 1
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within Luke–Acts.80 Therefore, in Chapter 4, out of concern for space, we will present our discussion of Luke’s characterization of YHWH as God in Luke–Acts by means of our discussion of Luke 1–2 and Acts 14 and then provide an overview of how this discussion is representative of Luke’s characterization of YHWH as a whole. As a result of our study, we hope to (1) test our conclusions regarding ancient narratives and construction of characters’ identities, (2) establish that Luke–Acts upholds ‘strict’ monotheism and would not allow for Jesus to be understood and worshipped as a second god alongside YHWH (contra Fletcher-Louis), and (3) eliminate faulty expectations for what is necessary in Luke’s characterization of Jesus to allow for the possibility of his sharing YHWH’s divine identity. Finally, in Chapter 5, we will make use of Rowe’s suggestion that ‘future study of Luke’s Gospel will have to deal with a christology that, narratively speaking, binds the identity of Jesus to the identity of the God of Israel’.81 Thus, relying on our ¿ndings in previous chapters, we will explore how Luke develops and binds Jesus’ identity to that of the God of Israel as he unfolds his narrative. Due to space constraints, we will present Luke’s characterization of Jesus as God in Luke–Acts by means of our discussion of Luke 1–2 and Acts 2 and then provide an overview of how this discussion is representative of Luke’s characterization of Jesus as God within his two-volume narrative.82 Having done so, we will be able to claim that although Luke does not explicitly call Jesus ¿¼ŦË, he presents Jesus by means of indirect characterization as the one God of Israel with YHWH and as such worthy of worship reserved for YHWH alone. VI. Summary In this introductory chapter we attempted to defend the need for yet another study of Lukan Christology, particularly, how Luke presents Jesus as God. We anticipated that a reader inÀuenced by Conzelmann’s 80. Cf. Krieg, Story, pp. 57–58; Thompson, God, pp. 1–55. 81. Rowe, Christology, p. 28. 82. We selected to use Luke 1–2 as a lens through which to study Luke’s characterization of both YHWH and Jesus and, in doing so, we reduced our exegetical interaction with Conzelmann to a minimum since Conzelmann ignores Luke 1–2 in his discussion of the Lukan Jesus. However, if we are successful in showing that one’s function is inseparable from one’s ontology, we would argue that Conzelmann’s discussion of Jesus’ functioning as YHWH should be reevaluated in support of our thesis, namely, that Luke indirectly characterizes Jesus as one God with YHWH.
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Theology may question the appropriateness of this study by claiming that Luke presented Jesus as God only functionally, omitting systematic references to his ontology and never applying to him such titles as ¿¼ŦË (or »¼ÊÈŦ̾Ë) and that he would not have portrayed Jesus as God against the background of strict Jewish monotheism. We indicated that Luke’s reluctance to apply the title ¿¼ŦË in reference to Jesus does not deny the possibility that Jesus is characterized as God implicitly. We also indicated that an explicit application of this title to Jesus would not in itself guarantee that Luke presents Jesus as one God together with YHWH since this title did not have a univocal meaning within the ¿rst-century Greco-Roman world. Moreover, we indicated that presuppositions reÀected in Conzelmann’s work are Àawed and, if corrected, the study of the possibility that Luke presents Jesus as God would need to be done since the works of Laurentin, Turner, and Buckwalter, when analyzed against the studies of Fletcher-Louis and Rowe, have left room for the present study despite their strengths. Therefore, we will rely on these works’ strengths as we outline our hermeneutical method and presuppositions to enable our close reading of the Lukan narrative.
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Chapter 2
CONSTRUCTING CHARACTERS’ IDENTITIES IN THE LUKAN NARRATIVE
I. Introduction In 1992, in his On Character Building, John A. Darr stated: ‘biblical critics have largely neglected the subject of Lukan characterization’; moreover, ‘literary questions have seldom been formulated or posed, much less answered, by interpreters of Luke–Acts’.1 He attributed this lack of interest to the dominance of traditional, historical-critical methods, which were not designed for posing or answering literary questions.2 Darr rightly designates character and characterization as literary topics, which should be studied with the help of a literary-critical methodology. In the previous chapter, we have suggested that studies of Lukan divine Christology are almost non-existent due to the fact that Lukan scholars have struggled with how to read biblical accounts as narratives and how to form perceptions of characters’ identity from those narratives. Thus, we can af¿rm with Darr that new history-of-religions and historical-critical methods, though helpful in other respects, are not well-suited for the interpretation of biblical narratives as works of literature. Moreover, we can argue that in order to explore the possibility that Luke portrayed his character Jesus as God,3 a mere literary-critical approach is not enough.4 That is why, before we proceed with our study 1. Darr, Character, p. 11 (italics original). 2. Brawley, God, pp. 11–14, argues that historical-critical scholars focus on historical circumstances behind the text and, therefore, disrupt the narrative’s larger patterns of character and plot formation, rewriting the text they study. 3. Murray A. Rae, History and Hermeneutics (New York: T&T Clark International, 2005), suggests that people tend to read in light of their theological or atheological worldview and ask questions that are reasonable within that particular worldview. The question of the possibility of divinity can be asked only within a theological worldview. 4. See our discussion of Laurentin and Rowe in Chapter 1, section IV.a.
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of the possibility of Jesus’ divinity,5 we need to clarify what should be involved in reading Luke–Acts as a narrative and in constructing Jesus’ identity as God. II. Narrative Criticism and the Need for a Revision Darr’s appeal to literary-critical methodology is not original. The study of the Bible as a work of literature was ¿rst introduced to the ¿eld of biblical studies in the late 1970s, and in the early 1980s it developed into narrative criticism among biblical scholars.6 However, earlier narrative critics were criticized for their lack of concern for thorough research in secular literary studies and historical-cultural matters.7 Even today narrative criticism is generally perceived as ignorant of recent developments in literary studies and ahistorical despite the numerous reevaluations and supplementations provided by contemporary users of the method.8 In light of the criticisms brought against early narrative critics and the reexaminations done by contemporary biblical scholars, it is not enough to use narrative criticism as it has been previously de¿ned.9 That is why this study is interested in investigating the question of character construction in Luke–Acts, i.e., characterization, by relying not only on works of narrative critics, but also on the knowledge and terminology 5. In light of Bauckham’s work on NT Christology of divine identity, we will use the word ‘divinity’ to refer to YHWH’s unique identity, i.e., who YHWH is, and to how Jesus participates in it. See further, Bauckham, God, pp. 40–42. 6. See further Stephen D. Moore, Literary Criticism and the Gospels: The Theoretical Challenge (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1989), pp. 1–13; Mark Allan Powell, What Is Narrative Criticism? (GBS; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990), pp. 1–10; James L. Resseguie, Narrative Criticism of the New Testament: An Introduction (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2005), pp. 17–40; and David Rhoads, ‘Narrative Criticism: Practices and Prospects’, in David Rhoads and Kari Syreeni (eds.), Characterization in the Gospels: Reconceiving Narrative Criticism (JSNTSup, 184; Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic, 1999), pp. 264–85 (264–66). 7. Darr, Character, pp. 13–14; Moore, Criticism, p. 178. 8. E.g., Francis Watson, Text and Truth: Rede¿ning Biblical Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), pp. 33–34. 9. See further Darr, Character, pp. 11–59; Joel B. Green, ‘Narrative and New Testament Interpretation: ReÀections on the State of the Art’, LTQ 39 (2004), pp. 153–66; Petri Merenlahti, Poetics for the Gospels? Rethinking Narrative Criticism (SNTW; London: T&T Clark International, 2002); Petri Merenlahti and Raimo Hakola, ‘Reconceiving Narrative Criticism’, in Rhoads and Syreeni (eds.), Characterization in the Gospels, pp. 13–48; Moore, Criticism; Mark Allan Powell, ‘Narrative Criticism’, in Green (ed.), Hearing the New Testament, pp. 239–55 (253–54). 1
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made available in the study of literature and history. In what follows, we will outline a methodology that will enable us to read Luke–Acts as narrative and to construct the identity of its characters. III. Developments in the Study of Narratives a. Theories of Narrative Wallace Martin observes that the study of literature is a ‘cumulative discipline to which new knowledge is added, but unfashionable ideas that have long been dormant may at any time prove their relevance to new critical concerns or creative methods’.10 Accordingly, literary theories do not become completely outdated with time and can be useful depending on what aspects of narrative are under question. Martin also observes that a shift has taken place in narrative studies from linguistic to communication models for explaining how narratives work because the ‘grammar’ of narratives is more unpredictable and open than the grammar of languages. Instead of trying to ¿gure out the formal structures that underlie all stories, critics are trying to understand why and how the stories are read. Theories that deal with these issues are usually grouped under the label ‘reader-response’ criticism and are intended to explain how all types of literature affect readers.11 Therefore, to choose one theory of narrative over the other is to choose one set of literary questions over the other; it is not a matter of choosing the best literary theory but rather of selecting an appropriate theory for the task—a theory that would enable and constrain what a critic might observe in the text. Consequently, by choosing to consult literary theories based on a communication model, this study limits its inquiry to how Luke–Acts conveys meaning to its readers in light of literary and cultural conventions of the ¿rst-century Greco-Roman world. In the following section, we will sketch how a narrative text conveys meaning, how a reader participates in the production of meaning, and what constrains the interpretation of the text. b. Text and Reader in the Production of Meaning Darr states that ‘each New Testament narrative evokes for its audience a unique narrative world—an ordered whole in which elements mutually condition and illuminate one another—to be studied on its own terms’.12 10. Wallace Martin, Recent Theories of Narrative (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1986), p. 30. 11. Martin, Theories, p. 27. 12. Darr, Character, p. 12.
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However, he does not want to study any narrative completely ‘on its own terms’. Just a few paragraphs later he criticizes literary and postmodern critics for dismissing the importance of the cultural framework and encourages a reader to ask of the text, ‘What literary conventions constrained and enabled its ¿rst reading or hearing? What social norms and values does it presuppose, and how might a knowledge of these illuminate its rhetoric?’13 Darr is right in emphasizing the importance of a cultural framework for the reading of a biblical text, but this means that narratives should not be studied completely on their own terms. The main reason for this is that texts are not sealed containers of meaning. A reader cannot expect to open a narrative and to ¿nd the meaning ‘in’ the narrative without engaging it. Meaning emerges only in the process of reading as the narrative text and the reader interact. However, to conclude that the meaning is ‘in’ the reader despite what the text says is a great misunderstanding of the process of reading.14 Wolfgang Iser, in his attempt to describe the process of reading, noticed that texts have gaps, which play a vital part in initiating communication between the text and the reader during the process of reading. These gaps create imbalance between the text and the reader, which the reader has to ¿ll in order to attain balance—that is, to understand the meaning of the text. As he/she collects the clues fragmented in the text, he/she continuously bombards the gaps with projections, which have to be readjusted in light of the new clues. It is only in the process of these readjustments that the reader can experience something that he/she has not experienced before. Thus, only through this process of readjustments does a frame of reference evolve for understanding the meaning of the text.15 The way the reader ¿lls the gaps is partially determined by the reader’s unique life experiences; moreover, if he/she takes the text out of its linguistic and cultural frame of reference, he/she opens the door to limitless possibilities for how the gaps may be ¿lled. If the reader has no knowledge of the linguistic and cultural framework that constrains and enables the interpretation of the text or if he/she refuses to use that knowledge, he/she is able to manipulate the text and to make it say 13. Darr, Character, p. 13. 14. Martin, Theories, p. 161. 15. Wolfgang Iser, The Act of Reading: A Theory of Aesthetic Response (Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978), pp. 165–69. See also Shlomith Rimmon-Kenan, Narrative Fiction (New York: Methuen, 1983), pp. 117– 129; Daniel Marguerat and Yvan Bourquin, How to Read Bible Stories: An Introduction to Narrative Criticism (London: SCM, 1999), pp. 121–49.
1
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anything he/she wants it to say. Umberto Eco addresses this issue when he states: ‘The limits of interpretation coincide with the rights of the text (which does not mean with the rights of its author)’.16 He also states: Many modern theories are unable to recognize that symbols are paradigmatically open to in¿nite meanings but syntagmatically, that is, textually, open only to the inde¿nite, but by no means in¿nite, interpretations allowed by the context. To recognize this principle does not mean to support the ‘repressive’ idea that a text has a unique meaning, guaranteed by some interpretive authority. It means, on the contrary, that any act of interpretation is a dialectic between openness and form, initiative on the part of the interpreter and contextual pressure.17
According to Eco, to argue that the text has only one meaning intended by the author, independent of the reader’s interpretation, or that the text has in¿nite meanings, is to fall into the trap of ‘epistemological fanaticism’.18 That is why a valid reading of the text cannot be produced when either the text or the reader is in control of meaning because meaning is produced as the interaction between the text and the reader takes place, where the text has the leading role.19 When meaning is de¿ned as a product of a dialogue between the text and the reader, the importance of the text and the responsibility of the reader are emphasized. Thus, the text limits the kind of questions that can be asked by the reader, but it also encourages the reader to use the knowledge of literary and cultural conventions, which, being the product of its culture, the text assumes.20 Moreover, the text provides guidelines according to which an interpretation can be judged as contextually plausible or contextually illegitimate.21 These limits on interpretation are set by the location of the text within its linguistic and cultural framework. So when a reader is attempting to ¿ll the gaps of the text, these constraints, which in discourse analysis are called cotext, intertext, and context,22 set the boundaries for his/her understanding of the text.23 16. Umberto Eco, The Limits of Interpretation (ASem; Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990), p. 7. 17. Eco, Limits, p. 21. 18. Eco, Limits, p. 25. 19. Iser, Act of Reading, p. 163. 20. Umberto Eco, The Role of the Reader: Explorations in the Semiotics of Texts (ASem; Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1979), pp. 3–43. 21. Eco, Limits, p. 41; Meir Sternberg, The Poetics of Biblical Narrative: Ideological Literature and the Drama of Reading (ILBS; Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985), pp. 1–23. 22. Some interpreters use different terms for these constraints. For example, ‘paratext’ is used to refer to the totality of statements that guide the reading. 1
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c. Interpretive Constraints Cotext refers to the ‘string of linguistic data within which a text is set, the relationship of, say, a sentence to a paragraph, a pericope in Luke’s Gospel to the larger Lukan narrative, and so on’.24 If a text under study does not begin the narrative, then its interpretation is constrained by the preceding discourse. What comes immediately before the text inÀuences the way the text is understood. It creates expectations for what is to come and provides necessary information for making judgments about the meaning of the text. Moreover, it constrains the interpretation by the principle of analogy, which assumes that everything will remain as it was before unless some indication of a change is given, since it is natural for readers to assume relevance and coherence of the text unless they are forced not to do so.25 Furthermore, what comes immediately after the text helps to reevaluate the interpretation of that text. As the narrative unfolds, new clues help the reader ¿ll the gaps in a fresh way, adjusting or correcting previous interpretations of the text under study. These procedures may be called ‘progressive discovery’ and ‘retrospective recovery’ and they are vital for the interpretation and understanding of texts.26 In his criticism of structuralists, Wallace Martin says, ‘Assuming that we don’t know the meaning beforehand…we will continually readjust our construal of parts and wholes as we go along, recognizing that they are interdependent’.27 So, in addition to interpreting the text under study based on what comes immediately before and after, it is also important to interpret it in light of the narrative as a whole. It is only at the end of the narrative that the reader has all the information available to him/her to
‘Paratext’ includes ‘peritext’, which is the same as ‘cotext’, and ‘epitext’, which is similar to ‘context’. ‘Intertext’ is a commonly accepted term to refer to the relationship of two texts. See Marguerat and Bourquin, Stories, pp. 106–8, 125–27; Gerard Genette, Paratexts: Thresholds of Interpretation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). 23. See further Gillian Brown and George Yule, Discourse Analysis (CTL; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983); Peter Cotterell and Max Turner, Linguistics and Biblical Interpretation (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 1989), pp. 230–78; and Joel B. Green, ‘Discourse Analysis and New Testament Interpretation’, in Green (ed.), Hearing the New Testament, pp. 175–86. 24. Green, Luke, p. 13. See also Brown and Yule, Discourse, pp. 46–50, 125–52. 25. Brown and Yule, Discourse, pp. 64–67. 26. The terms come from Brawley, God, pp. 34–106. See also Brown and Yule, Discourse, pp. 191–92. 27. Martin, Theories, p. 112. 1
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understand the text. That is why the study of Jesus as God in Luke–Acts has to take into consideration not only the immediate location of the selected texts but also the entire Lukan corpus. Intertext or ‘intertextuality’ refers to the location of a text within the larger linguistic framework, which the author consciously or unconsciously utilizes in his/her work.28 On the one hand, the later texts are shaped by the earlier texts, which are directly quoted, indirectly alluded to, or echoed in the later texts.29 On the other, they, in turn, modify the meaning of the earlier texts by placing them in the new linguistic and cultural frames of reference. Eco says, ‘Every character (or situation) of a novel is immediately endowed with properties that the text does not directly manifest and that the reader has been “programmed” to borrow from the treasury of intertextuality’.30 Accordingly, some may assume that intertextuality renders ‘impossible, undesirable, and irrelevant the terminology that assumes narratorial reliability, omniscience, or suf¿ciency’.31 Although this may be true for contemporary literature, this is not true for Luke–Acts. Since Luke was an ancient historian, he argued for a particular version of the past. His goal was to present his evidence in a convincing way in order to persuade his audience of his credibility and of the truthfulness of his account (Lk. 1.1-4). Thus, to shy away from understanding Luke as an omniscient narrator would take away from his goal and that is why we will treat him as an omniscient narrator.32 Moreover, some may assume that intertextuality undermines the author’s
28. The concept of intertextuality was deduced from the writings of Mikhail Bakhtin. See further L. Juliana Claassens, ‘Biblical Theology as Dialogue: Continuing the Conversation on Mikhail Bakhtin and Biblical Theology’, JBL 122 (2003), pp. 127–44 (130); Margaret Waller, ‘An Interview with Julia Kristeva’, in Patrick O’Donnell and Robert Con Davis (eds.), Intertextuality and Contemporary American Fiction (Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989), pp. 280–93 (280– 86). 29. Seymour Benjamin Chatman, Story and Discourse: Narrative Structure in Fiction and Film (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1978), p. 50, states that previous texts establish the norm for verisimilitude, namely, how things should be and what constitutes appropriate behavior. 30. Eco, Reader; cf. David E. Aune, The New Testament in its Literary Environment (LEC, 8; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1987), p. 21. 31. Barbara Green, Mikhail Bakhtin and Biblical Scholarship: An Introduction (SBLSS, 38; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000), p. 69. 32. See John Marincola, Authority and Tradition in Ancient Historiography (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997); Clare K. Rothschild, Luke–Acts and the Rhetoric of History: An Investigation of Early Christian Historiography (WUNT, 2/175; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004). 1
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role in skillfully creating a narrative, placing the idea of wholeness of texts under ¿re. Yet, Porter H. Abbott argues that the concepts of allusion and imitation tend to do just the opposite, i.e., they emphasize the author’s control and, therefore, the wholeness of the work. We af¿rm Abbott’s argument and attribute any problems with the wholeness of the text or with the author’s ability to incorporate his/her sources well to the author’s humanity and cultural conventions of his/her time.33 Consequently, what is known about intertextuality leads one to conclude that (1) Luke’s readers would intuitively make connections between Luke–Acts and other texts available and familiar to them;34 and (2) earlier texts available to Lukan readers not only shaped the text of Luke–Acts, providing the author and the readers with conventional ways of talking about the issues in question, but also were shaped by this later text as it interpreted them in a different and possibly ‘peculiar and scandalous’ manner.35 Thus, intertextuality can be called reinterpretation of earlier texts—ones that are familiar and most likely important for the author and the readers within a particular cultural setting—in order to produce a speci¿c effect on the readers by defamiliarizing them and endowing them with new meanings.36
33. Porter H. Abbott, The Cambridge Introduction to Narrative (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), pp. 94–95. 34. See further Joel B. Green and Richard Hays, ‘The Use of the Old Testament by the New Testament Writers’, in Green (ed.), Hearing the New Testament, pp. 222–38; Richard B. Hays, Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1989), pp. 18, 20. See also Robert L. Brawley, Text to Text Pours Forth Speech: Voices of Scripture in Luke–Acts (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1995); Joel B. Green, ‘The Problem of a Beginning: Israel’s Scriptures in Luke 1–2’, BBR 4 (1994), pp. 61–85; Kenneth Duncan Litwak, Echoes of Scripture in Luke Acts: Telling the History of God’s People Intertextually (JSNTSup, 282; London: T&T Clark International, 2005); Peter Mallen, The Reading and Transformation of Isaiah in Luke–Acts (LNTS, 367; London: T&T Clark International, 2008); and David W. Pao, Acts and the Isaianic New Exodus (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2002). Litwak follows Brawley, Green, and Hays, and provides a thorough critique of the studies done on the use of Israel’s Scriptures within Luke–Acts by Rebecca I. Denova, Darrell Bock, François Bovon, Thomas L. Brodie, Craig Evans, Martin Rese, Paul Schubert, Gert Steyn, and Charles H. Talbert, to name a few. In this study, we will follow Brawley, Green, Hays, and Litwak, and read Luke–Acts with our ear open to hearing intertextual echoes from the OT. 35. Hays, Echoes, p. 2. 36. On defamiliarization, see Darr, Character, p. 32; Iser, Reading, p. 69; and Resseguie, Narrative, pp. 33–38. 1
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Luke’s Christology of Divine Identity
The task of locating a text under study within the larger linguistic framework is not straightforward, although it is essential for the production of meaning.37 In order to understand in what ways Jesus is characterized as God in Luke–Acts, it is essential for readers to listen to Luke’s description of Jesus with a readiness to hear not only direct citations from the Septuagint38 and Second Temple Jewish Literature but also the allusions, type-scenes, echoes, symbols, images, and metaphors. Moreover, since readers cannot assume that Luke–Acts takes the meaning of the previously written text, they have to not only identify earlier texts that might have echoed in the echo chamber of Luke–Acts but also detect what meaning they acquire as they are used in the new text. Context refers to the cultural presuppositions and socio-historical realities that are reÀected in the text.39 Mieke Bal argues that since narratives are embedded in culture, the task of interpretation of narratives is ‘susceptible to cultural constraints’ and this turns any attempt to interpret narratives into an activity of ‘cultural analysis’.40 This means that when a reader reads the text, he/she reads not only the lines of the text but also what is written between the lines, namely, the knowledge assumed by the author of his/her readers, i.e., the presupposition pool.41 37. On how previously written texts inÀuence the way authors write and construct their model readers, see Eco, Reader, pp. 3–43, 200–260. 38. Litwak, Echoes, pp. 5–7, argues that even if Luke knew classical Greek literature, it is the Scriptures of Israel that were authoritative for him, especially the books that he uses extensively, e.g., ‘the Abrahamic cycle from Genesis and Exodus, Leviticus, Deuteronomy, 1–2 Kingdoms (e.g., all references to David’s life), Psalms, the narrative of Solomon (cf. Lk. 11.31; 12.27), the Elijah-Elisha narrative, Isaiah, and the Twelve (of which Joel, Amos and Malachi are members)’. Moreover, Luke does not clearly use the Apocrypha, with the possible exception of Sirach in Lk. 24.50-53, since Sir. 51.13-30 could have circulated as a separate work and may have had scriptural status. Therefore, Luke does not treat the Apocrypha as authoritative as the books later recognized as canonical. See also Brian S. Rosner, ‘Acts and Biblical History’, in Bruce W. Winter and Andrew D. Clarke (eds.), The Book of Acts in its Ancient Literary Setting (BAFCS, 1; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), pp. 65–82 (67); Roger T. Beckwith, ‘Formation of the Hebrew Bible’, in Martin Jan Mulder (ed.), Mikra: Text, Translation, Reading and Interpretation in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988), pp. 39–86. 39. Brown and Yule, Discourse, pp. 64–67, warn against constructing a context larger than necessary for the interpretation. 40. Mieke Bal, Narratology: Introduction to the Theory of Narrative (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2nd edn, 1997), pp. 11, 220–22; Martin, Theories, pp. 67–71. See also Gowler, Host, p. 9; Powell, Narrative, p. 86. 41. There are two distinct presupposition pools that may be evident in the text— the ¿rst appropriate for the events of the story and the second appropriate for the time of writing. See Cotterell and Turner, Linguistics, p. 259. 1
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Although this knowledge is not explicitly stated in the text, it plays a vital role in the process of reading and understanding the text.42 Without the knowledge of presuppositions shared between the author and his/ her readers, it is dif¿cult to distinguish between the conventions an author upholds and those he/she calls into question. Therefore, without knowledge of the socio-historical setting of the period reÀected in the narrative, readers will not be able to understand the narrative in the manner expected by the text; thus, the ‘more complete and reliable our knowledge of the world from which the Bible sprang, the sharper our insight into its working and meaning as text’.43 Insights into the cultural background of the ¿rst-century Greco-Roman world are made available through the work of numerous scholars. For example, ¿rst-century categories of honor, patronage, purity, and kinship have proven to be useful in studying characterization and have to be incorporated in the study of the characterization of Jesus.44 That is why it is our hope that our study of the category of identity (Chapter 3) would contribute to scholarly understanding of the cultural background of the ¿rst-century Greco-Roman world by articulating how personal identity was understood in general at this time and how one might talk about Jesus’ divine identity against the background of Second Temple Jewish monotheism in particular. To summarize, the meaning of the text is not ¿xed, and this is evident in the fact that different readers are able to produce different readings of the same text, some of which may go beyond what is considered contextually legitimate. That is why readers need, as far as possible, to take on the persona of the model reader,45 bearing in mind the ¿rstcentury linguistic and cultural frames of reference, in order to produce a text-speci¿c reading. A model reader of Luke–Acts is the one who is able to (1) attend to the text as a whole and to the details of that text as it unfolds; (2) decipher the presuppositions of the author concerning the
42. See Brown and Yule, Discourse, pp. 25–67, 223–70. See also Rothschild, Rhetoric, pp. 231–40. Rothschild explains that to state common knowledge in a historical work would detract from its credibility. 43. Sternberg, Poetics, p. 16. 44. E.g., Gowler, Host, pp. 15–26. 45. Eco, Reader, p. 7, de¿nes ‘model reader’ as the type of reader who is ‘supposedly able to deal interpretatively with the expressions in the same way as the author deals generatively with them’. The model reader is the reader created by the text. Other critics refer to this type of reader differently—the virtual reader, postulated reader, or narrative audience, to name a few. See further Martin, Theories, pp. 154–62. In our study, we will rely on Eco’s concept of a ‘model reader’. 1
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literary and cultural conventions of the Roman Empire, including the presuppositions concerning the concept of personal identity; (3) understand the Septuagint and the culture projected by the Septuagint and Jewish writings of the Second Temple period;46 and (4) be open-minded and receptive to the narrator’s guidance, suspending suspicion and antagonism. In this study it is this model reading that we are attempting to analyze. IV. Ancient Historical Narratives and Narrative Criticism While it is widely held that Acts belongs generally to the genre of historiography, the genre of Luke is still being debated. Although one should not overlook the diversity of views on the kind of historical genre to which Luke–Acts belongs, greater speci¿city is not required for this study.47 So, we will read Luke–Acts as a historical narrative and will explore what we can expect of the Lukan historical narrative before we begin to outline the characterization process.48 It almost goes without saying that the kind of history-writing we encounter in Luke–Acts differs from history-writing today. Luke–Acts does not quote the sources it uses, it is written in a narrative form, and it combines both ‘historical’ and ‘supernatural’. Yet, until the end of the eighteenth century, similar to Luke–Acts, history was written in a narrative form and, therefore, shared methods of organization and
46. Darr, Character, p. 28. See also Green, ‘Problem’, pp. 61–85; David P. Moessner (ed.), Jesus and the Heritage of Israel: Luke’s Narrative Claim upon Israel’s Legacy (LII, 1; Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity, 1999). 47. See further, Loveday Alexander, The Preface to Luke’s Gospel: Literary Convention and Social Context in Luke 1.1-4 and Acts 1.1 (SNTSMS, 78; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993); Aune, Environment, pp. 17–157, esp. 77–157; Johnson, Luke, pp. 5–31; Daniel Marguerat, The First Christian Historian: Writing the ‘Acts of the Apostles’ (SNTSMS, 121; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002); John Nolland, Luke (WBC, 35A-C; 3 vols.; Nashville: Nelson, 1989), vol. 1, pp. 3–12; Richard I. Pervo, Pro¿t with Delight: The Literary Genre of the Acts of the Apostles (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987); Gregory E. Sterling, Historiography and Self-De¿nition: Josephos, Luke–Acts and Apologetic Historiography (NovTSup, 64; Leiden: Brill, 1991); Charles H. Talbert, Reading Luke: A Literary and Theological Commentary on the Third Gospel (RNTS; New York: Crossroad, 1986), pp. 7–10. 48. We ¿nd Rothschild, Rhetoric, helpful in showing the rhetoric of history present in Luke–Acts. 1
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presentation with ¿ctional literature.49 It was not until the seventeenth century that history-writing in a narrative form was deemed unreliable and unable to provide certainty and truth because the task of a true historian was equated with Leopold von Ranke’s declaration ‘that he wanted not to pass judgment on the past but simply to report “wie es eigentlich gewesen [how it actually was]” ’.50 Fortunately, for the ¿eld of biblical studies, already in the late 1880s the ability of historians to recreate past realities objectively and the hope that scienti¿c methodology would redeem historical truth were called into question. Moreover, in the twentieth century a search for the philosophical foundations of history and another attempt to explain the possibility of transmitting truths through historical narratives began.51 Thus, although there are still historical critics who reject the methodology used by ancient and medieval historians as inappropriate and ¿nd Luke’s account unreliable, there are others who defend its reliability by rede¿ning the modern ‘scienti¿c’ understanding of history in light of current research in philosophy of history and literature.52 Marguerat offers a helpful reÀection on history: There is no history apart from the historian’s interpretative mediation which supplies meaning: history is narrative and, as such, constructed from a point of view. Over the multitude of facts at his/her disposal, the historian throws a plot, retaining certain facts that are judged signi¿cant, while excluding others, and relating some to others in a relationship of cause and effect… Historiography does not line up bare facts…but only
49. See Ernst Breisach, Historiography: Ancient, Medieval, and Modern (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1983); Samuel Byrskog, Story as History— History as Story: The Gospel Tradition in the Context of Ancient Oral History (Boston: Brill, 2002); Charles W. Fornara, The Nature of History in Ancient Greece and Rome (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983); Marguerat, Historian; Rothschild, Rhetoric. 50. Breisach, Historiography, p. 233. See also Byrskog, Story, pp. 19–23. 51. See Hayden White, The Content of the Form: Narrative Discourse and Historical Representation (Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1987), p. 31. 52. Marguerat, Historian, p. 5, notes that the historical reliability of Luke’s work was not doubted until De Wetter (1780–1849) compared Luke’s accounts of Paul with those of the Pauline epistles. He was supported in his doubts by F. C. Baur, who suggested that Luke intentionally modi¿ed historical truth, and Overbeck, who accused Luke of confusing history and ¿ction when he combined historical and supernatural—something that modern historians ¿nd distasteful. Marguerat says that both Baur and Overbeck, ‘in the direct line of positivism, identify historical truth with hard documentary facts’. 1
38
Luke’s Christology of Divine Identity facts interpreted by means of a logic imposed by the historian… The ‘truth’ of history does not depend on the factuality of the event recounted (even though the historian is required to keep to the facts), but, rather, depends on the interpretation the historian gives to a reality that is always in itself open to a plurality of interpretative options.53
In his work with Luke–Acts, Marguerat suggests using Ricoeur’s three types of historiography to determine what kind of truth one can ¿nd in Lukan historical writings. They are ‘a documentary history, which seeks to establish the veri¿able facts’; ‘an explicative history, which evaluates the event from a social, economic or political horizon’; and ‘a historiography in the strong sense, which rewrites the past in the founding narratives that people need in order to construct their self-understanding’, which is called ‘poetic history’.54 He indicates that poetic history differs from the other two types of history because it cannot be judged as true or false like a documentary history, nor can it be expected to present various evaluations of an event like an explicative history. Rather, poetic history purports to give an interpretation of the past events, namely, to offer an identity for a community in the present. The trustworthiness of the poetic history is judged based on the selfconsciousness that it provides to the community of its readers. Moreover, symbolic expression in poetic history cannot be perceived with suspicion because this type of historiography ‘derives from a need to symbolize and imagine’.55 Therefore, Marguerat considers each type of historiography to be a valid way of writing history, although their aims differ, and suggests that to do justice to a historian, readers should evaluate the truth of his/her account in light of the aim he/she pursues. Marguerat ¿nds poetic and documentary types of historiography in Lukan writings, although they cannot always be clearly distinguished.56 He suggests that Luke’s poetic interest can be seen in his demonstration of divine guidance in history and his documentary interest can be seen in his topographical, socio-political, or onomastic notations. Marguerat notes that Luke’s vocabulary and knowledge of Roman institutions are precise and that some could understand this as an attempt to mimic realism while writing a ¿ction. This raises the question concerning what distinguishes factual and ¿ctional narratives.
1
53. 54. 55. 56.
Marguerat, Historian, pp. 5–6. See also Aune, Environment, pp. 64–66, 80. Marguerat, Historian, p. 8 (italics original). Marguerat, Historian, p. 8. Marguerat, Historian, pp. 9–10.
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a. Fictional vs. Factual Narratives Scholars generally acknowledge a great difference between ¿ctional and historical narratives at ‘their points of origin’.57 Martin states that novelists are free to start their stories with a character, an anecdote, or scene, which they fashion into a narrative.58 Unlike novelists, historians are constrained by historical data they need to represent in and through their narratives.59 The dif¿culty is that there is more data than can possibly be incorporated into a meaningful narrative. Moreover, if there is not enough data for a meaningful account, they are prohibited from speculating freely. All their attempts at ¿lling in the gaps, whether ¿nding missing causal links or personal motives, must stay ‘within the limits of whatever counts as the rules of evidence’.60 Thus, the imagination and creativity of a historian is revealed not in his/her ability to create a story out of nothing, but rather in his/her ability to deduce a common theme that allows him/her to select and arrange relevant data and to write a meaningful account, using the rhetorical devices of the day.61 Without this sort of emplotment, which involves selecting, ordering, and ¿nding causal links between the events, data cannot be perceived as meaningful, and in cultures where oral tradition plays a signi¿cant role such data cannot be deemed as worthy of attention and remembrance.62 Regardless of the difference at the points of their origin, factual and ¿ctional narratives are the same in form and cannot be classi¿ed as factual or ¿ctional based on form alone.63 Both history and ¿ction involve representation of reality and have ¿ctional elements, i.e., selection and ordering of events from a particular point of view, setting them in a relationship of cause and effect, and showing how a situation
57. Martin, Theories, pp. 71–72. 58. Martin, Theories, pp. 65, 71–75. For more on the types of ¿ction and attempts to disguise ¿ctional narratives as true stories, see Martin, Theories, pp. 41– 44. On differences between novelists and historians, see also Edward Morgan Forster, Aspects of the Novel (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1954), pp. 71– 74. 59. Abbott, Introduction, pp. 130, 100–102. 60. Sternberg, Poetics, p. 29. Sternberg’s insight is helpful for this study although when he speaks of biblical narrative, he refers to the HB. 61. On emplotment of history, see Jonathan A. Carter, ‘Telling Times: History, Emplotment, and Truth’, HThe 42 (2003), pp. 1–27; White, Content. Cf. Robert Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative (New York: Basic, 1981), pp. 35–45. 62. Martin, Theories, pp. 38–39. 63. See Abbott, Introduction, pp. 42–44; Sternberg, Poetics, pp. 23–35.
1
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changes over a period of time from the beginning to the end.64 By making decisions concerning the beginning (how and where to start their narration), middle (what events and characters to include and in what order to present them), and end (how and where to conclude their narration, and the narrative’s telos), both novelists and historians determine the plot for their narratives. Thus, by rooting his narrative in the story of Abraham and Sarah, Luke chose to show that the story of Jesus is not a new story but a continuation of the story of how God works to bring about his redemptive purpose as this is recounted in the Septuagint.65 Moreover, by leaving the end of the story open, Luke showed that a proper ending should extend into the future and incorporate God’s working out of his purpose after the Lukan narrative comes to an end.66 Rimmon-Kennan states, ‘It is arguable that history books, news reports, autobiography are in some sense no less ¿ctional than what is conventionally classi¿ed as such. In fact, some of the procedures used in the analysis of ¿ction may be applied to texts conventionally de¿ned as “non-¿ction” ’, although non¿ctional narratives have their own distinctive characteristics.67 She is not the only one to notice that the distinction between what used to be understood as ¿ctional and factual has been reduced. James Clifford also states, ‘the word [¿ction] as commonly used in recent textual theory has lost its connotation of falsehood, of something merely opposed to truth. It suggests the partiality of cultural and historical truths, the ways they are systematic and exclusive.’68 Clifford suggests that stories are not merely made or fashioned but actually made up, creating something that does not fully correspond to reality because narratives have to be organized around a certain theme, limiting the number of events included within the narrative.
64. Martin, Theories, pp. 72–73. 65. See Green, ‘Problem’, pp. 61–85. 66. See further Daniel Marguerat, ‘The Enigma of the Silent Closing of Acts (28:16–31)’, in Moessner (ed.), Jesus and the Heritage of Israel, pp. 284–304. 67. Rimmon-Kenan, Narrative, p. 3. See also Alter, Art, p. 23: ‘if the text is history, seriously purporting to render an account of the origins of things and of Israelite national experience as they actually happened, is it not presumptuous to analyze these narratives in the terms we customarily apply to prose ¿ction, a mode of writing we understand to be the arbitrary invention of the writer, whatever the correspondences such a work may exhibit with quotidian or even historical reality?’ 68. James Clifford, ‘Introduction: Partial Truths’, in James Clifford and George E. Marcus (eds.), Writing Culture (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986), pp. 1–26 (6). See also Alter, Art, p. 24; Iser, Reading, pp. 53–54; Marguerat, Historian, p. 12.
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Since ¿ctional and factual narratives are the same in form, when readers encounter them they interpret them in the same way, namely, by reconstructing events and characters from the clues available in the text.69 This means that the methodology available from the study of literature is equally appropriate for studying both ¿ctional and historical narratives. However, it is important to remember that (1) although ¿ctional and factual narratives share the same form, they cannot be collapsed into one another and (2) the requirements for what a good factual or ¿ctional narrative should look like depend on the conventions of the time when that narrative is being written.70 Thus, what some view as essential for a well-written historiography is exactly what others perceive as a sign of ¿ctionality. However, as Sternberg correctly observes, ‘bad historiography does not yet make ¿ction’.71 Thus, he suggests that to distinguish between the two different types of narratives, ‘one must relate the forms of narrative to the functions that govern them in context and assign them their role and meaning’,72 implying that historical and ¿ctional narratives should be distinguished based on their overall sense of purpose. Similarly to Sternberg, Marguerat says that the criterion for distinguishing historical and ¿ctional narratives is ‘the character of reality’, namely ‘the textual presence of realities (topographical, cultural, socio-political, economic) of the world described by the narrator’.73 Moreover, he observes that the amount of factual material present in Luke–Acts is unprecedented for a ¿ction,74 which can be explained by the fact that novel has little concern for credibility, while Luke is intentional in providing his readers with a credible account.
69. Abbott, Introduction, pp. 127–31; Chatman, Story, p. 126; Baruch Hochman, Character in Literature (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1985), pp. 59–85; Martin, Theories, pp. 116–22. 70. It is dif¿cult to distinguish ¿ctional from factual narratives. Martin, Theories, p. 42, says, ‘Almost every factual narrative—history, biography, autobiography, account of travels—generates an eponymous ¿ctional counterpart’. These counterparts are rarely said to be ¿ctional because authors wanted to set their works apart from improbable, frivolous, and often immoral novels or romances. They are being passed off as true writings. Rothschild, Rhetoric, pp. 60–98, shows how Luke followed the conventions for writing a credible historical account of his day. She also mentions this dif¿culty in separating ancient historical accounts, something that deserved to be believed, from ¿ctions. 71. Sternberg, Poetics, p. 25. 72. Sternberg, Poetics, p. 30. 73. Marguerat, Historian, p. 8. 74. Marguerat, Historian, p. 11. 1
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At the beginning of Luke–Acts, model readers are required to make a commitment not usually required of those reading ¿ctional narratives. The author claims to have followed everything carefully from the beginning and to have incorporated testimonies of eyewitnesses in his account. Accordingly, he expects his readers to read in order that they ‘may know the truth concerning the things in which [they] have been instructed’ (Lk. 1.4).75 Having stated his expectations for the readers and claims for trustworthiness, Luke de¿nes the purpose of his account as that of instruction and formation of his readers’ Christian identity.76 There is no way of knowing with certainty if Luke actually used sources and eyewitness accounts or pretended to do so; however, as model readers we are to read his historiography as a historiography, following its ordered sequence of events and collecting clues that constitute the characters’ identity. b. Luke–Acts and Jewish Historiography The primary aim of the Lukan historical account is to de¿ne the community and give it an identity. To this end, Luke constructs his account in part by following norms for writing ancient Greco-Roman historiography. Marguerat notes that the subject of Luke’s historiography would not be considered interesting to a Greek or a Roman although he tries to connect it to history outside of his account (e.g., Lk. 2.1-2; 3.1). The subject of Lukan historiography is Jewish and it resembles biblical historiography, devoted to narrating God’s relationship with his people. Moreover, Luke’s account is written from a believer’s perspective, by one who belongs to the community he is addressing. That is why his account shows his af¿nity not only with Greco-Roman historians but also with Josephus and authors of Maccabees.77 Finally, as Marguerat indicates, although both Greco-Roman and Jewish historians search for truth, ‘the former establish the plausibility of the event, while the latter expose the truth of the God who rules the world’.78 Therefore, in Jewish historiography, the narrator does not intrude into the narrative to guide 75. See David P. Moessner, ‘The Appeal and Power of Poetics (Luke 1:1-4): Luke’s Superior Credentials (ȸɾÁÇÂÇÍ¿¾ÁŦÌÀ), Narrative Sequence (Á¸¿¼ÆýË), and Firmness of Understanding (÷ ÒÊΊ¼À¸) for the Reader’, in Moessner (ed.), Jesus and the Heritage of Israel, pp. 84–123. 76. Alter, Art, p. 46: ‘The Bible presents a kind of literature in which the primary impulse would often seem to be to provide instruction of at least necessary information, not merely to delight’. 77. Marguerat, Historian, pp. 20–23. 78. Marguerat, Historian, p. 22 (italics original). 1
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readers, unlike the narrator of Greco-Roman historiography, and the fact that there is no authorial voice in Acts can be viewed as a sign of Luke’s connection with Jewish historiography. Given that Luke–Acts is ancient historiography, model readers cannot expect it to provide mere facts about Jesus, although it is based on the events that took place. Nor can they perceive the facts about Jesus recorded in Luke–Acts as polluted by Luke’s interpretation stemming from his faith and theological commitments, since it is impossible to separate the event that took place from its interpretation, which played a valuable part in writing ancient historiography—only those events were remembered and written down for the future generations that were deemed important and to judge one event as more important than the other is to interpret it.79 Luke’s account, based on eyewitness accounts and other sources, is written by a competent writer and is meant to provide truth about Jesus. Therefore, it cannot be stripped of its partiality, subjectivity, and narrativity, that is, of the signi¿cation of the facts provided by Luke, in the construction of Jesus’ narrative identity.80 V. Constructing Characters’ Narrative Identities In order for us to proceed with our investigation, we need to know not only what to expect when reading Luke–Acts as an ancient historiography but also how to construct narrative identities of YHWH and Jesus. However, as Abbott strikingly puts it, ‘there is not yet a consensus on any of the key issues in the study of narrative’, and characterization is one of the most dif¿cult literary concepts.81 Comparing characters and action, Abbott says that characters are harder to talk about and to
79. Cf. Richard Bauckham, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses: The Gospels as Eyewitness Testimony (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), p. 4, rightly notes, ‘The historical Jesus of any of the scholars of the quest is no mere collection of facts, but a ¿gure of signi¿cance. Why? If the enterprise is really about going back behind the Evangelists’ and the early church’s interpretation of Jesus, where does a different interpretation come from? It comes not merely from deconstructing the Gospels but also from reconstructing a Jesus who, as a portrayal of who Jesus really was, can rival the Jesus of the Gospels. We should be under no illusion that, however minimal a Jesus results from the quest, such a historical Jesus is no less a construction than the Jesus of each of the Gospels.’ 80. See also Hans W. Frei, The Identity of Jesus Christ: The Hermeneutical Bases of Dogmatic Theology (Eugene, Ore.: Wipf & Stock, 1997). 81. Abbott, Introduction, p. xii. See also Rimmon-Kenan, Narrative, pp. 29–31.
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understand than action. In light of the dif¿culties in the study of characters, it is not surprising that different literary scholars provide different answers in regards to characters and their importance for the narrative. In the following section, we will present a brief summary of the discussion concerning the relationship between character and action, the reality of characters, and the process of characterization. Then, we will specify the position on characterization that we will assume in this study. a. Relationship between Character and Action Abbott observes that theorists can be divided into three camps based on how they view the interplay between character and action within narrative. Some give priority to action over character (e.g., Aristotle). Others believe that the purpose of a narrative action is to reveal a character (e.g., Leslie Stephen). However, Abbott prefers the third position that argues for the interdependency of the two, which was voiced ¿rst by Henry James: ‘What is character but the determination of incident? What is incident but the illustration of character?’.82 Abbott states: Characters, to put this in narratological terms, have agency; they cause things to happen. Conversely, as these people drive the action, they necessarily reveal who they are in terms of their motives, their strength, weakness, trustworthiness, capacity to love, hate, cherish, adore, deplore, and so on. By their actions do we know them.83
This position rightly highlights that every event in a narrative is brought about by characters, and the outcomes of the events are constrained by what characters are involved in those events. Therefore, we will assume this position in our study and investigate the identities of YHWH and Jesus in light of their actions.84 As we work through the Lukan plot we will study their identities without separating the study of character, plot, setting, and point of view into separate sections.85 Now we turn our attention to the other important issue in studying characters, i.e., what characters are and what can be said of their reality.
82. Henry James, ‘The Art of Fiction’, in Leon Edel (ed.), The Future of the Novel: Essays on the Art of Fiction (New York: Vintage, 1956), pp. 3–27 (15–16). See also Chatman, Story, pp. 107–16. 83. Abbott, Introduction, p. 123 (italics original). See also Frei, Identity; Simon Goldhill, ‘Character and Action, Representation and Reading: Greek Tragedy and its Critics’, in Pelling (ed.), Characterization and Individuality, pp. 100–127. 84. Gowler, Host, p. 46, also shares this view of character and action. 85. Martin, Theories, p. 116, argues against a compartmentalized treatment of narrative.
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b. Reality of Characters According to Edward M. Forster, characters can be classi¿ed as ‘Àat’ or ‘round’.86 Flat characters are developed around a single idea or quality and as the story unfolds they stay undeveloped. There is no mystery about these characters and it takes almost no imagination to construct them. On the other hand, round characters are complex—they have more than one quality and develop as the story unfolds. The rounder the character, the more he/she resembles real people, tempting readers to identity with him/her and to forget that he/she is only a character who cannot exist outside of the constraints of the text. Rimmon-Kennan critiques Forster’s classi¿cation for placing complexity and development under the same category because a character may be complex, yet he/she may not be developing and vice versa.87 She claims that this dichotomy is ‘highly reductive, obliterating the degrees and nuances found in actual works of narrative ¿ction’.88 Martin also suggests that there is no need to distinguish ‘Àat’ or ‘round’ characters because there are times when characters are emphasized and there are times when action is emphasized.89 Although the way Forster classi¿es characters does not allow for different nuances and degrees of characterization to stand, it highlights an interesting issue—characters that are more complex and developed resemble real people more closely and cause some readers to treat them as real people. When Bal speaks of reality of characters, she points out that narratives are written ‘by, for, and about people’ and yet people, who are depicted in narratives, are not real Àesh-and-blood people even though they resemble human beings. Characters are constructs who are created from the author’s ‘fantasy, imitation, memory’. They have ‘no real psyche, personality, ideology, or competence to act’ even if, on account of their characteristics, it is possible to describe them in psychological or ideological terms. Consequently, characters are often subject to projection
86. Forster, Aspects, pp. 103–18. 87. We are not interested in classifying the character of Jesus, because this discussion would be overly subjective and hardly necessary for one’s understanding of Jesus as God in Luke–Acts. For eight descriptive axes, i.e., stylization/naturalism, coherence/incoherence, wholeness/fragmentariness, literalness/symbolism, complexity/simplicity, transparency/opacity, dynamism/staticism, and closure/openness, see Hochman, Character, p. 89. 88. Rimmon-Kenan, Narrative, p. 40. 89. Martin, Theories, p. 118. Cf. Rimmon-Kenan, Narrative, pp. 35–36, who notes that the character can be subordinated to action and vice versa depending on where the emphasis lies at the moment of reading.
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and fallacy.90 Bal notes that while some readers clearly distinguish between characters and real people, others tend to treat characters as real people and identify with them. As a result, they tend to ask questions that are irrelevant and reductionistic—a pitfall that can be avoided if one restricts his/her study to the actual words of the text. Seymour Chatman would agree that some questions are not bene¿cial in studying characters. However, he warns against restricting the study of a character91 simply to the words on the page. For him an interpretation of a character, whether ¿ctional or historical, ‘requires reconstruction, inference, and speculation’.92 Therefore, he argues that images of characters become independent of the text after they have been generated in the readers’ minds in the process of reading and are not directly tied to the speci¿c words on the page. Chatman, relying on Barthes for whom to read is to name elements in the text, suggests that a reader has to make decisions concerning how best to name traits that are described indirectly because, unlike those that are presented directly, they are open to a variety of names.93 Thus, naming an indirectly stated trait requires going beyond the words on the page and drawing on the reader’s personal experiences of knowing people. We will explore this further when we discuss means of characterization, i.e., indirect presentation. Baruch Hochman expands and revises Chatman’s view by stating that there is a similarity between how people perceive characters, both ¿ctional and historical, and people in real life. He explains that people generate in their minds images of characters in literature (homo ¿ctus) and people in real life (homo sapiens) in light of their general understanding of what people are and how they operate, and the clues that they collect and process in their construction of characters and real people in their lives are practically identical.94 These clues are collected through a number of ways: ‘the characters’ “own” speech, gesture, actions, thoughts, dress, and surroundings; the company they keep and the objects and subjects they desire, abhor, and equivocate about; the images and associations they stir in our consciousness, including the epithets that 90. Bal, Narratology, p. 115. See also P. E. Easterling, ‘Constructing Character in Greek Tragedy’, in Pelling (ed.), Characterization and Individuality, pp. 83–99. 91. Chatman, Story, p. 32, speaks of ‘existents’ that can be characters or parts of setting depending on whether they perform plot-signi¿cant actions. Chatman’s distinction of characters’ role in advancing the plot is signi¿cant; however, in this study only the term ‘character’ will be used with attention given to his/her signi¿cance to the plot. 92. Chatman, Story, pp. 117–18. See also Abbott, Introduction, p. 126. 93. Chatman, Story, p. 116. 94. Hochman, Character, pp. 28, 36, 59–85. 1
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we apply to them’.95 Hochman dismisses the fact that in literature characters may be presented through a reliable or unreliable narrator or character because the information given about people in real life may also be reliable or unreliable. Thus, no matter whether a person is constructing a perception of a character in literature or a person living next door, he/she has to sort through a great number of reliable and unreliable clues in order to accomplish that task. Consequently, Hochman allows characters in literature to be read through the categories of real people, although they are not identical because the sphere of the characters’ existence is limited to the literary medium.96 For Hochman, characters are a lot like dead people because the readers cannot interact with them as they do with living beings and because once they are written they are at the mercy of their readers who make judgments about them only based on the clues in the text.97 Moreover, he notes that information that readers gather about characters is constrained by the text and is usually very limited and highly organized, unlike information they gather about real people, which is very diverse and usually cannot be organized and interpreted within any single system. Therefore, readers may have a feeling that they know characters in literature better than real people because the clues that they gather are more easily organized into coherent images. Finally, Hochman suggests that the concept of character is a paradoxical concept because characters exist only in the readers’ minds as they are encountered through the text, although their image in the readers’ consciousness is extremely vivid.98 Abbott is similarly interested in answering the question of the reality of characters. It is important, for Abbot, to decide ‘how and where’ characters exist—whether they live in the real world of people or only in the minds of people that come in contact with narratives. He concludes that characters of ¿ctional narratives, having no referents in the real world, exist only in people’s minds. However, in order to provide a model that would explain the construction of characters of non¿ctional narratives, one has to venture outside of the realm of imagination. He states, ‘However poorly they are composed or however poorly we may read or view them, histories, biographies, newspaper reports, legal briefs, 95. Hochman, Character, p. 38. We would also add social roles and similarities/ differences that are found in comparing those characters to others. 96. Hochman, Character, p. 59. 97. Hochman, Character, pp. 59–60. 98. Hochman, Character, pp. 32–33, 86. To help his argument, Hochman uses Rawdon Wilson, ‘The Bright Chimera: Character as a Literary Term’, CI 5 (1979), pp. 725–49.
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documentaries, ¿lm biographies all purport to tell us about real people’.99 He acknowledges that his position is not shared by all critics and those who oppose it believe that (1) characters in non¿ctional narratives create illusions; (2) there are no true stories; and (3) no character, no matter how round he/she might be, can reach the complexity of a real person. However, he is not ready to say that narratives only create illusions of real people, although, similarly to Hochman, he agrees that characters in non¿ctional narratives cannot incorporate the complex and alwayschanging nature of real people and that any characterization of real people would involve some degree of ‘Àattening’. He relies on the concept of ‘types’ to explain his position. Abbott observes that in all cultures people use types to describe characters in a variety of both ¿ctional and non¿ctional narratives. He also observes that when a person uses types to describe real people, he/she denies them their capacity to surprise and to be individualistic. However, he argues that it is dif¿cult for people to avoid using types when representing human beings; the only way one can avoid that is by eliminating narrative.100 Consequently, if it is impossible without narrative to know oneself and others as active individuals that operate through time, it is impossible not to use types when thinking of or characterizing oneself and others. Despite limitations, characterization by type can incorporate a great deal of human complexity because characters may be described by one or a number of types, i.e., a synthesis of types, allowing them to be more or less individualistic.101 In her study, Rothschild treats Jesus as a synthesis of types, although she uses the term ‘paradigm’ rather than ‘type’:
99. Abbott, Introduction, p. 128. 100. Abbott, Introduction, p. 123, states, ‘it is only through narrative that we know ourselves as active entities that operate through time’ (italics original). 101. See further Abbott, Introduction, pp. 129–31. Hochman, Character, pp. 123–24, has expressed a similar view: ‘Our assumption of a sharp polarity between individual and type is highly misleading’. However, Gowler, Host, pp. 79, 173, 174; Christopher Pelling, ‘Conclusion’, in Pelling (ed.), Characterization and Individuality, pp. 245–62; and Marianne Meye Thompson, ‘ “God’s Voice You Have Never Heard, God’s Form You Have Never Seen”: The Characterization of God in the Gospel of John’, Semeia 63 (1993), pp. 177–204 (178–79), are reluctant to use types to evaluate ancient characters, showing concern that a category of ‘type’ can be used narrowly, excluding a possibility that ancient characters can be presented as complex individuals with a variety of traits. In this study, we will both use a category of ‘type’ as de¿ned by Abbott and uphold the notion that ancient narratives are complex and allow for both simple and complex characters. See also Alter, Art, p. 21.
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The author of Luke–Acts associates his portrait of Jesus in the Third Gospel not, for example, as many have argued, with a single all-pervasive ideal, but with a wide variety of Jewish and Graeco-Roman paradigms including the Messiah or ideal king in 2 Samuel (Lk. 9:20; cf. 2 Sam. 7:516, Ps. 89), the Son of Man ¿gure from Daniel (Dan. 7:13-14), a Mosaic Prophet from Deuteronomy (Deut. 18:15; Lk. 9:31; Acts 3:22; 7:37), an Isaianic suffering servant (Isa. 42:1-4; 29:1-6; 50:4-11; 52:13–53:12), Elijah (Mal. 4:5), and from the Graeco-Roman side, the philosopher, divine man, and benefactor.102
In our study, we are not concerned with all the possible types/paradigms that compose the synthesis of Jesus’ identity. We are interested only in how Jesus is characterized as God, i.e., how he shares the synthesis of types with YHWH. However, we anticipate that as we explore Jesus’ characterization, we will encounter other types/paradigms that are not attributed to YHWH but are inseparable from Jesus’ identity. If we succeed in showing that Luke presents Jesus as God/¿¼ŦË, Rothschild’s list of paradigms will need to be expanded. To conclude, it is important to make a distinction between characters in literature and real people, because characters are generated and sustained by the text and cannot exist outside of it. Speculation about information not contained in the text is only speculation and cannot be treated on the same level as the clues found in the text. Nevertheless, these clues do not come only from the words on the page but also from inferences spawned by the text. The task of naming character traits from inferences is crucial for constructing characters’ identities although it is ambiguous because readers may name them differently due to their personal experiences and backgrounds. Accordingly, it is important to remember that although Jesus was a real historical ¿gure, Luke–Acts cannot present its readers with the real person Jesus. Rather, it presents a highly organized and structured portrait of its character Jesus who cannot contain the complexity of the historical ¿gure Jesus although the former is inspired by the latter. Moreover, since Luke–Acts purports to tell its readers about the real person Jesus, irrespective of how one judges its success in doing so, the Lukan character Jesus is not simply the fruit of Lukan imagination but is ¿rmly rooted in the real person Jesus. Since it already has been observed that Jesus in Luke–Acts is characterized by a number of types/paradigms, it is safe to conclude that he is a complex character who is presented by a synthesis of types and if we succeed in showing that Luke presents Jesus as God, this will not detract from his characterization as a prophet, Messiah, or the like. 1
102.
Rothschild, Rhetoric, pp. 104–5.
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c. Characterization Process Thus far, we have talked about the relationship between characters and action and the reality of characters. Now we turn to a discussion of the process of characterization and character construction. In a narrative, where events are arranged in sequence and where events are assumed to lead to each other and to follow on from each other, any sequence of events implies process.103 So, characterization is not a simple action of naming a particular character, although naming is the ¿rst step in characterization; it is rather a process through which a named character is endowed with descriptive attributes or qualities. As the narrative unfolds, the traits mentioned under a speci¿c proper name are collected and remembered by readers. The further into the narrative, the more traits can be recalled as that proper name is mentioned.104 Moreover, gaps and discrepancies in the description of that character may be ¿lled or explained differently as readers become more familiar with the narrative or as they acquire new experiences from their own lives. Most contemporary scholars would agree that character construction process calls readers to redraw their understanding of events and characters every time new clues are given in the text.105 This implies that we, as model readers, should be ready to reevaluate and expand the portrait of the Lukan Jesus in the process of reading. Moreover, since Luke–Acts claims to provide a continuation of the story that started in Genesis, we need to pay close attention to whether it provides new clues in its characterization of God. If it does, it encourages us to incorporate new information in the familiar understanding of God’s identity. Therefore, in the process of character construction, readers collect speci¿c character traits that are associated with a speci¿c proper name106 into a network of traits that constitutes a type/paradigm. The way the author characterizes his/her characters may vary signi¿cantly from one work to another and from one character to another; however, it is generally accepted that textual character-indicators can be either directly 103. Hochman, Character, p. 142. 104. Chatman, Story, pp. 130–31. 105. E.g., Chatman, Story, pp. 126–27, 137–38; Martin, Theories, pp. 116–17; Rimmon-Kenan, Narrative, p. 36. Darr is under question. He voices the need for redrawing the picture of the character, but does not put that into practice. Compare Darr’s and Gowler’s characterization of Pharisees. Darr, Character, pp. 85–126; Gowler, Host, pp. 177–296. Also see Thomas Docherty, Reading (Absent) Character: Towards a Theory of Characterization in Fiction (New York: Oxford University Press, 1983), pp. xiv, 10–11, for a discussion of the ‘becoming’ of a character. 106. For a discussion of names, see Docherty, Reading, pp. 46–56.
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de¿ned or indirectly presented. Therefore, sometimes these traits appear directly in the text and they are named by an adjective, a noun, or part of speech, and at other times they are not named and have to be inferred from the character-indicators scattered throughout the text.107 In the following section, we will look at these two methods of characterization. d. Means of Characterization The two means of presentation of characters, direct de¿nition and indirect presentation, can also be referred to as telling and showing respectively. Telling is a straightforward technique that refers to a mediated characterization108 presented via an authoritative narrator109 or reliable characters who speak directly to the readers, providing them with interpretations, de¿nitions, general or moral observations, and summaries of characters’ words and deeds that guide the readers’ perception of those characters. It is more explicit than showing, but it requires readers to evaluate the reliability of the voice that speaks against reliable voices within the narrative before direct de¿nition of the character’s qualities/traits is accepted as trustworthy. The most trusted direct presentation is that of the omniscient narrator, who knows more than characters in the narrative. He/she is above the narrative. Usually this narrator is not a character within the narrative he/she is telling and is able to know everything characters do, say, or think. Moreover, everything he/she presents should be accepted as being of highest validity and importance. Sternberg argues that the Bible ‘always tells the truth in that its narrator is absolutely and straightforwardly reliable’ although he does not tell the whole truth.110 Moreover, he says, ‘Anonymity in ancient narrative validates supernatural powers of narration; and in Israelite culture, which not only institutionalized prophecy but invested its writings with canonical authority, the narrator’s claim to omniscience dovetails rather than conÀicts with his claim to historicity’.111 He argues that this practice is very different from the modern because in modern narrative omniscience is understood as a sign of ¿ctionality, while in the ancient tradition it ensures authenticity.112 So, the fact that the author of Luke–Acts is unknown does not take away from the authenticity of the omniscient presentation of the account. 107. Rimmon-Kenan, Narrative, pp. 59–60. 108. It is not limited to characterization but also includes plot, setting, and other aspects of narrative. 109. On reliable and unreliable narrators, see Chatman, Story, pp. 147–49. 110. Sternberg, Poetics, p. 51. 111. Sternberg, Poetics, p. 33. 112. Sternberg, Poetics, pp. 33–34.
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As we analyze the direct presentation of characters, it is important to separate focalization from voice, i.e., who sees and who speaks/ narrates.113 The narrator is often a focalizer; however, a character may be a focalizer as well. When we see what is taking place through the eyes of a character, it may be mediated and, therefore, evaluated via narrator’s voice or presented in his/her own voice, i.e., reported plainly. Unlike the narrator, a character can be ‘unreliable’ only to him/herself, so when he/she speaks or thinks, his/her words/thoughts are truthful. The narrator and a character may focalize what takes place differently, which makes the reading process more complicated. In contrast to focalization, voice refers to speech or other explicit means through which information about any aspect of the narrative is communicated to the audience. So, focalization does not refer to an expression but only to a perspective in terms of which the expression is made. Moreover, the perspective and the expression need not be lodged in the same person. Because it is the more explicit method of characterization, direct de¿nition provides a clear picture of a character and is useful at the beginning of the narrative when readers begin to form their perceptions of characters. However, biblical accounts rarely use it. In addition, directly presented information is not necessarily left without quali¿cations, complications, or challenges, for its trustworthiness depends on the trustworthiness of the voice that offers it.114 That is why direct presentation of characters is often expanded and clari¿ed with the subsequent disclosures and often through indirect characterization. Showing refers to a supposedly unmediated presentation of events and conversations that encourages readers to make their own conclusions concerning characters based on what they see and hear in the narrative. It is not as explicit as telling; yet it is a preferred technique of characterization in biblical narratives. When a narrator shows his/her readers what takes place, readers feel they can be a part of the action and observe what is taking place personally, although this type of ‘direct witnessing’ is controlled by what the narrator allows them to witness.115 This method of characterization does not allow for an explicit presentation of character traits; therefore, readers have to pay close attention to how characters’ identities are constructed. 113. See further Abbott, Introduction, pp. 62–75; Bal, Narratology, pp. 142–61; Chatman, Story, pp. 151–57; Martin, Theories, pp. 130–51. 114. See further Alter, Art, pp. 36, 70–71, 81, 126; Sternberg, Poetics, pp. 315, 324, 326, 328, 347, 479; For an extensive study of direct and indirect presentation in ancient literature, see Gowler, Host, pp. 77–176. 115. Chatman, Story, pp. 146–47, 166–68.
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First, traits may be implied by both one-time actions, which suggest dynamic and crucial qualities of the character, and habitual actions, which reveal character’s unchanging qualities. These actions include those that the character performs, does not perform even though he/she should, thinks about performing, and those that are directed at him/her.116 Second, what a character says or thinks and how he/she articulates his/her thoughts may indicate certain character traits.117 What the character says or thinks about other characters may be indicative not only of his/her own qualities but also of the qualities of those he/she speaks about, unless he/she cannot be deemed a reliable character.118 Third, external appearance, referring to what the character wears, how he/she looks, moves, and so on, may indicate certain character traits because even though some things are beyond the person’s control, others do depend on him/her. There are times when references to external appearance are easy to connect to a trait and there are times when the narrator has to help the reader; however, when the narrator speaks, indirect presentation turns into direct de¿nition.119 Fourth, character traits may be implied by the character’s physical and social surrounding, or environment, which refers to where an action takes place and who is present during that action.120 Physical and social environment helps character traits to stand out and indicate how the character behaves in different settings. Finally, a character’s speci¿c traits may be emphasized when 116. Halliwell, ‘Character’, p. 45: ‘Character…centres on a man’s actions and on the personal direction which motivates and shapes them: his mind and thought…, his choice and will, his practical intelligence…, and the habits, practices, and way of life…which the exercise of thought and choice generates’. 117. See further Chatman, Story, pp. 161–66, 173–94. 118. Martin, Theories, p. 51: ‘Traditional theorists assume that narrators use words to represent or convey a picture of “reality” (factual or ¿ctional) to an audience. But when a character speaks, the words are not a substitute for, or representation of, something else. The language of the character is the character, just as the words you and I speak are ourselves, in the eyes of others.’ However, Gowler, Host, p. 34, notes that the tendency of postmodern critics to equate the characters with their speech is a result of the rejection in the postmodern era of the Cartesian idea of selfhood. He states, ‘the Cartesian individual, “I am that which thinks”, is replaced by the Todorovian homme-récit, “I am that which speaks” ’. This, he argues, is reminiscent of how characters were portrayed before Descartes. See also Docherty, Reading, pp. xvi, 28. 119. Halliwell, ‘Character’, p. 44: ‘A sculptured portrait might communicate a striking sense of some aspects of a personality, but it could hardly be expected, unaided, to offer extensive insight into the nature of an individual’s mind or life as a whole’. 120. Chatman, Story, pp. 138–45. 1
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he/she is compared with/contrasted from other characters, showing him/ her to be like or unlike others in the above-mentioned four categories.121 This category of indirect presentation does not help readers discover characters’ new traits; rather, it draws their attention to the traits that have already been displayed and guides them in understanding the importance of these traits for the characters’ identities. Of the four categories, action and speech are the most useful factors for character construction, while appearance and environment are helpful in creating a setting for the scene.122 Of the two methods of characterization, neither one is a better one. However, showing may be more problematic because no text can actually ‘show’ what takes place since it uses language rather than pictures to do so. Narrative can only create a semblance of mimesis through diegesis. So, the distinction in the presentation of characters and events is not between telling and showing but rather between different degrees and kinds of telling.123 VI. Summary In this chapter, we have outlined what is involved in using narrative criticism124 as an approach to explore the possibility that Luke portrayed Jesus as God. Although narrative criticism as we have outlined it (as with any other analytical method that seeks to study ancient texts) has its limitations, its validity rests in its attempt to study the original text without attempting to fragment it or to overemphasize some elements at the expense of others. This approach allows and enables one to ask questions of the text concerning the historical person Jesus as a character within the Lukan narrative without reducing Jesus to a mere object of the writer’s imagination, yet understanding the limitations that the text sets on learning about historical ¿gures. As we prepare to explore the possibility that Jesus is characterized as God in the Lukan narrative, there are a few things of which we should be mindful. First, we need to recognize textual gaps and ¿ll them in light of 121. Gowler, Host, p. 172. See also Richard P. Thompson, Keeping the Church in its Place: The Church as Narrative Character in Acts (New York: T&T Clark International, 2006), pp. 17–28. 122. Rimmon-Kenan, Narrative, pp. 39, 61–70; Gowler, Host, pp. 72–73. 123. See further Rimmon-Kenan, Narrative, pp. 107–9. 124. Since the name ‘narrative criticism’ is a well-accepted name, we will continue to use it, although this method cannot be used as it has previously been de¿ned.
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clues available in the text, taking into consideration textual constraints— cotext, intertext, and context. Second, we need to look for both direct and indirect ways of characterization and to allow the process of characterization to take place gradually. Third, since our task is to understand if and how Luke characterizes Jesus as God, which involves understanding how he binds Jesus’ identity to the divine identity of YHWH, we ¿rst need to understand how he characterizes YHWH as God in order to provide guidelines for how Luke may speak of Jesus as sharing YHWH’s divine identity. In order to do so, we need to provide a sketch of how we are going to de¿ne ‘divine identity’ in this study.
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Chapter 3
EXPLORING THE CATEGORIES OF PERSONAL AND DIVINE IDENTITY
I. Introduction In Chapter 1, we observed that Conzelmann denies the possibility that in Luke–Acts Jesus can be understood as God. First, he denies that Jesus can be perceived as YHWH ontologically because he cannot ¿nd systematic metaphysical references to Jesus’ divinity. Second, he cannot af¿rm Jesus’ divinity on the basis of Jesus’ functioning as YHWH in the world because this position is given to him by YHWH, whom he calls ‘Father’ and to whom he is subordinate. Conzelmann thus introduces a foreign ontology-vs.-function dichotomy into the study of Lukan Christology, a dichotomy that prevented him and others from arriving at a coherent argument regarding Jesus’ divinity in Lukan writings. We noted that a number of scholars ¿nds the reliance on this dichotomy problematic because universally humans assume that function is ¿rmly rooted in ontology, although, as Klaas Runia suggests, in presenting Jesus as equivalent to God functionally, NT scholars avoided the embarrassment previously caused by their attempts to ‘justify the origins of ontological christology on historical grounds’ in response to the questions raised by the historical-critical method, the history of religions, and mythology.1 To bridge the gap between ontology and function in the ¿eld of Lukan Christology, we suggested, relying on Turner and Buckwalter, that Bauckham’s concept of divine identity would be helpful. However, we also suggested that to use it without necessary clari¿cations may be more problematic than helpful.2 In this chapter, we 1. Klaas Runia, The Present-Day Christological Debate (ICT; Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 1984), p. 95. 2. For discussion of the dif¿culty of de¿ning concepts such as human nature, personality, identity, individuality, character, personality, and self in literature, due to the fact that there is no consensus on what constitutes a person in the real world, see Easterling, ‘Character’, pp. 83–99; Goldhill, ‘Action’, pp. 100–105.
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will address the areas in need of clari¿cation. First, we will review various contemporary views of identity and theorize which is most at home in the ¿rst-century world. Second, since the term identity is not used in biblical literature, we will examine how personal identity was construed at the time of Luke’s writing by investigating different worldviews present during the Greco-Roman period and how they contributed to people’s perception of who they are. Third, because Fletcher-Louis’s conclusion regarding how Jesus can share YHWH’s identity differs from that of Turner and Buckwalter, we will place our discussion of the identity concept against the background of Second Temple Jewish monotheism. As we explore our presuppositions and those found in particular ancient texts, we hope to establish parameters that both enable our interpretive work and set limits for what interpretation can be deemed appropriate in reading Luke–Acts. II. Contemporary Trajectories It has been recognized that there are two dominant contemporary trajectories for speaking of personal identity in the West, namely, the path of introspection, or depth, and the path of relationality, or breadth.3 a. Path of Introspection The trajectory characterized by a sense of introspection, which was employed by Conzelmann and his followers, emerged during the period of Enlightenment. It is rooted in the writings of René Descartes, who, in response to the Copernican revolution, rejected the then-widespread notion of the soul as a form of the body or principle of life, positing instead his view of persons as compounds of two distinct substances: material body and immaterial mind. Accordingly, Descartes was faced with a problem of how to explain the body–mind relationship. That is, if the person were composed of two different substances, then the senses of the material body could not be trusted in the perception of reality by the immaterial mind. This led him to accept that only the ideas/thoughts generated by the mind could be true. Moreover, relying on Augustine’s notion of interiority,4 i.e., that we know our souls/minds directly, he 3. William C. French and Robert A. Di Vito, ‘The Self in Context: The Issues’, in David E. Aune and John McCarthy (eds.), The Whole and Divided Self (New York: Crossroad, 1997), pp. 23–45 (25). 4. Charles Taylor, Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1989), p. 140, observes that Plato’s writings set the conditions for the rise of the notion of inwardness, but he locates the 1
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concluded that a person could know his/her true identity directly through the faculties of the mind and without reference to the external world. Descartes’ mind–body dualism was later summarized by the phrase the ‘ghost in the machine’,5 since it allowed the mind to have a private, inaccessible existence, disengaged from the body and the world. This Cartesian notion of identity was later expanded by other Enlightenment philosophers and became associated not only with a sense of inwardness and self-suf¿ciency but also with liberation from custom/traditional authority and individual particularity.6 Since personal identity (1) was linked to some sense of uniqueness, which stemmed from the immaterial mind ‘within’, (2) was characterized by unity through time, and (3) had clearly de¿ned boundaries with the material world, it was concluded that a person’s function within a society did not necessarily reÀect who that person was. Thus, embodied actions of a person directed toward others and the world ceased being the indicator of his/her true nature. Although this understanding of identity was birthed in the ¿eld of modern philosophy, it penetrated into various ¿elds of study, including theology, biblical studies, and modern psychology, giving ‘this introspective location of the self a powerful modern idiom and broad cultural appeal’.7 Therefore, it continues to dominate Western cognition and is capable of inÀuencing one’s philosophical thought without one’s rise of this notion in the writings of Augustine, who was the ¿rst to distinguish the goods of the soul ‘within’ over goods of the body ‘without’ and to encourage people to look within themselves in order to ¿nd God. Krister Stendahl, ‘The Apostle Paul and the Introspective Conscience of the West’, HTR 56 (1963), pp. 199–215 (203), also attributes introspective conscience to Augustine. However, he warns against calling Augustine the father of the modern introspective understanding of personal identity because, for Augustine, the journey inward was a step toward preparing oneself for going outward. See also Pamela Bright, ‘Singing the Psalms: Augustine and Athanasius on the Integration of the Self’, in Aune and McCarthy (eds.), The Whole and Divided Self, pp. 115–29. 5. A phrase coined by Gilbert Ryle, The Concept of Mind (London: Century Hutchinson, 1949). 6. See further Charles Davis, ‘Our Modern Identity: The Formation of the Self’, MT 6 (1990), pp. 159–71; French and Di Vito, ‘Context’, pp. 23–45; Stanley J. Grenz, The Social God and the Relational Self (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 2001), Chapters 3–4; Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory (Notre Dame, Ind.: Notre Dame University Press, 3rd edn, 2007); Taylor, Sources; Michael Welker, ‘Is the Autonomous Person of European Modernity a Sustainable Model of Human Personhood?’, in Niels Henrik Gregersen, Willem B. Drees, and Ulf Görman (eds.), The Human Person in Science and Theology (IST; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), pp. 95–114. 7. French and Di Vito, ‘Context’, p. 25. 1
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awareness,8 although some consider this modern approach incomplete and harmful.9 That is why the use of ontology-vs.-function dichotomy in reading biblical narratives can be explained but not justi¿ed—this way of understanding identity is a modern innovation, limited in inÀuence only to those cultures affected by the Enlightenment, and cannot account for how the concept of identity was de¿ned prior to the rise of modernity or outside of Western cultures.10 Therefore, we now turn to those approaches that critique theories of this modern introspective self. b. Path of Relationality F. LeRon Shults observed that, after Hegel, relying on Kant’s critique of an Aristotelian treatment of relationality, challenged the separation between substance and accident, taken for granted by most Western philosophers, and argued that relationality is essential to being, dynamic relational ways of understanding reality and personal identity began to emerge in various disciplines.11 As a result, criticisms of the introspective self of modernity that undermined the value of relationships began to appear. Starting with Nietzsche, postmodern philosophers12 have called the modern quest for a true self an illusion.13 They recognized that each individual is subject to unconscious internalization of a variety of aspects of his/her society, which he/she learns from childhood into adulthood. Moreover, they recognize all individuals as socially and historically constructed—how a person thinks, speaks, makes judgments, and orders 8. See further John C. Haughey, ‘Narratival Selfhood’, in Aune and McCarthy (eds.), The Whole and Divided Self, pp. 182–98 (183); Taylor, Sources, pp. 160, 176. 9. See further French and Di Vito, ‘Context’, pp. 25–26; Fraser Watts, ‘The Multifaceted Nature of Human Personhood: Psychological and Theological Perspectives’, in Gregersen, Drees, and Görman (eds.), Human Person, pp. 41–63 (60). 10. Taylor, Sources, p. 40, shows that Indian culture tends to encourage a kind of identity in which what a person wants and where he/she stands on an important range of subjects is determined in communication with the people close to him/her, while American culture encourages just the opposite. 11. F. LeRon Shults, Reforming Theological Anthropology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), pp. 11–32. 12. Many postmodern philosophers of the twentieth century have been inÀuenced by Søren Kierkegaard, who in turn was inÀuenced by Hegel. So, postmodern philosophers’ turn to relationality can be traced to Hegel’s thought. See further Martin J. Matuštík and Merold Westphal (eds.), Kierkegaard in Post/Modernity (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1995). 13. See further Paul Ricoeur, Oneself as Another (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), pp. 11–16. 1
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his/her experiences cannot be absolutely unique or take place outside of particular time and space. This is a helpful critique. However, one cannot substitute the modern introspective view with the postmodern one simply because it recognizes that the identity of a person cannot be de¿ned apart from his/her community. In its extreme, postmodern thought understands individuals as mere sums of aspects of their society, in which they exist in a state of Àux, continuously constructing and reconstructing themselves.14 Thus, it argues that there is no self and refuses to acknowledge that people have a sense of self-awareness and control over what they become in the process of absorbing various aspects of their cultures.15 A corrective to this view arose when it was emphasized that individuals do have a sense of self-awareness and that they are capable of controlling the outcome of the process of their becoming.16 Especially helpful was the publication of Ricoeur’s Time and Narrative,17 which emphasized the importance of narrative for how one understands the nature of the world and personal identity.18 Ricoeur argues that since 14. E.g., Clavin O. Schrag, The Self after Postmodernity (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1997), p. 8: ‘If one cannot rid oneself of the vocabulary of self, subject, and mind, the most that can be asserted is that self is multiplicity, heterogeneity, difference, and ceaseless becoming, bereft of origin and purpose. Such is the manifesto of postmodernity on matters of the human subject as self and mind.’ See also Grenz, God, pp. 128–37. 15. Jean-François Lyotard, The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge (THL, 10; Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1984), p. 15: ‘A self does not amount to much, but no self is an island; each exists in a fabric of relations that is now more complex and mobile than ever before…one is always located at a post through which various kinds of messages pass. No one, not even the least privileged among us, is ever entirely powerless over the messages that traverse and position him at the post of sender, addressee, or referent’ (italics original). 16. See further Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi and Eugene Rochbert-Halton, The Meaning of Things: Domestic Symbols and the Self (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), pp. 2–3; Grenz, God, pp. 322–31; George Herbert Mead, Mind, Self and Society: From the Standpoint of a Social Behaviorist (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1934), pp. 135–226. 17. Paul Ricoeur, Time and Narrative (3 vols.; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984–86). See further Raymond Martin and John Barresi, The Rise and Fall of Soul and Self (New York: Columbia University Press, 2006); Grenz, God, pp. 328–31. 18. That narratives are foundational to the understanding of life in general has gained broad appeal in a variety of ¿elds—e.g., Rita Charon, ‘Narrative Medicine: Attention, Representation, Af¿liation’, Nar 13 (2005), pp. 261–70; Arthur Frank, The Wounded Storyteller: Body, Illness, and Ethics (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995); Green, ‘Narrative’, p. 155; Charles E. Gutenson, ‘Time, Eternity, and Personal Identity: The Implications of Trinitarian Theology’, in Joel B. Green (ed.), 1
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people are situated in time, any understanding of personal identity must account for how a person remains the same despite the changes that happen to him/her from birth to death and the only way to do this is by means of story. Consequently, it is only through self-narratives that people articulate their goals, values, and commitments and assess whether they are able to uphold them. It is only by locating their present life experiences within a particular story, connecting them causally to their past life experiences, and making projections for what to expect and how to act in the future, that people make sense of who they are. Finally, it is only in dialogue with the ‘other’ that people become self-aware and can speak of themselves as individuals.19 That is, as people encounter stories of others, whether ¿ctional or factual, they interpret them in light of their life experiences; yet they understand their life experiences, goals, values, and commitments in light of stories that they learn from their culture.20 This implies that people’s identity is shaped by the stories they deem meaningful and the stories they choose to tell about themselves. Ricoeur’s narrative understanding of identity is opposed to a ‘metaphysical view of self as the substance or the essence to which accidents like narratives can be added or subtracted without violating the prior given substance’.21 Moreover, it provides a middle ground between the private disengaged self of modernity and the postmodern self, which is a mere product of its society. On the one hand, it highlights that personal What about the Soul? Neuroscience and Christian Anthropology (Nashville: Abingdon, 2004), pp. 117–32; Haughey, ‘Selfhood’, p. 186; Lyotard, Postmodern, p. 15; Donald E. Polkinghorne, Narrative Knowing and the Human Sciences (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1988), pp. 107–19; Shlomith RimmonKenan, ‘The Story of “I”: Illness and Narrative Identity’, Nar 10 (2002), pp. 9–27; Dieter Teichert, ‘Narrative, Identity and the Self’, JCSSCH 11 (2004), pp. 175–91; Hayden White, ‘The Value of Narrativity in the Representation of Reality’, in W. J. T. Mitchell (ed.), On Narrative (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981), pp. 1– 24; Richard Zaner, Conversations on the Edge: Narratives of Ethics and Illness (Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 2004). 19. Ricoeur, Oneself, p. 36, says that it is necessary to ‘consider the person from the outset as a “thing” that possesses a body; as we said, there is no pure consciousness at the start. We shall now add: there is no self alone at the start; the ascription to others is just as primitive as the ascription to oneself. I cannot speak meaningfully of my thoughts unless I am able at the same time to ascribe them potentially to someone else…’ 20. Lyotard, Postmodern, p. 15: ‘Even before he is born, if only by virtue of the name he is given, the human child is already positioned as the referent in the story recounted by those around him, in relation to which he will inevitably chart his course’. 21. Haughey, ‘Selfhood’, p. 186. 1
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identity is constructed in the process of assimilating and integrating various aspects of its culture. On the other, it emphasizes the person’s active involvement in the process of evaluating where he/she stands in the present in light of the past and what he/she intends to become in the future in light of a plot he/she assumes for his life. Finally, by emphasizing the importance of relationships and culture, a narrative way of understanding personal identity acknowledges the self as embodied, which implies that one can no longer de¿ne the self apart from what the self does or the self’s predicates.22 In the discussion of identity as embodied, one cannot omit research done in the neurosciences, which argue that it is no longer possible to speak of human mind as separate from human brain. Human capacities— intellectual, emotional, and moral—that were in the past attributed to the soul/mind have now been shown to be rooted in the neural and biological systems of human bodies.23 Without simply equating mind and brain, it is possible to claim that the body’s neural systems are implicated in a person’s ability to think, have emotions, feel, participate in relationships, and learn his/her role within a society.24 This implies that rational, emotional, and ethical beings are essentially embodied beings. Consequently, a person cannot be de¿ned apart from his/her body, just as he/she cannot be de¿ned apart from his/her relationships within society. This may lead some to say that individuals are nothing but their bodies.25 However, 22. Ricoeur, Oneself, pp. 16, 35, 55. 23. In today’s world, scientists and scholars who speak on the mind–body problem situate their differing positions on a continuum between monism and dualism. See further, e.g., Joel B. Green (ed.), What about the Soul? Neuroscience and Christian Anthropology (Nashville: Abingdon, 2004); William Hasker, The Emergent Self (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1999); A. A. Howsepian, ‘Sowing the Seeds of Christian Anthropology: Contributions from Scriptures, Philosophy, and Neuroscience’, ExAud 13 (1997), pp. 41–56; Malcolm A. Jeeves, Human Nature at the Millennium: ReÀections on the Integration of Psychology and Christianity (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1997); Paul K. Moser, ‘Human Persons: Their Nature, Faith, and Function’, ExAud 13 (1997), pp. 17–36; Robert John Russell, Nancy Murphy, Theo C. Meyering, and Michael A. Arbib (eds.), Neuroscience and the Person: Scienti¿c Perspectives on Divine Action (Berkeley, Calif.: Center for Theology and the Natural Sciences, 2002). 24. Nancy Murphy, ‘The Resurrection Body and Personal Identity: Possibilities and Limits of Eschatological Knowledge’, in Ted Peters, Robert John Russell, and Michael Welker (eds.), Resurrection: Theological and Scienti¿c Assessments (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), pp. 202–18 (209–10). 25. For an argument against such a position, see Nancy Murphy, Bodies and Souls, or Spirited Bodies? (CIT, 3; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006); idem, ‘Nonreductive Physicalism: Philosophical Issues’, in Warren S. Brown, Nancy 1
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because human identity is rooted in a body affected by time, space, and a network of relationships, it is not enough to observe the body apart from those variables if one is to make conclusions concerning human identity. Under the inÀuence of those variables, the physiology of both body and brain undergoes changes; that is, their development is not complete at birth and continues to various degrees throughout one’s life. Thus, even if one’s genetic makeup sets certain limits on what a person can become, it does not determine human identity. Rather, it determines a potential for what a person could become when he/she is motivated by his/her life experiences and meaningful relationships repeatedly to act in particular ways as to form recognizable patterns of behavior.26 Therefore, when we speak of identity in light of research in the neurosciences, we speak of genetic potentiality that must be actualized through action. We do not speak of ‘substance’.27 Having examined the introspective and relational approaches to the concept of human identity, we theorize that the relational approach, characterized by its emphasis on narratival and embodied understanding of identity, will be surprisingly at home in premodern world of Luke– Acts since, according to Robert Higbie, an understanding of identity that was generally equated with social roles is still present in baroque romance, where a protagonist’s character is equated with his/her virtue and his/her acceptance of social authority.28 We will now turn to a discussion of the concept of personal identity in the ¿rst-century GrecoRoman world in order to begin to justify our claim. Murphy, and H. Newton Malony (eds.), Whatever Happened to the Soul? Scienti¿c and Theological Portraits of Human Nature (TSci; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998), pp. 127–48. 26. For a concise review, see Murphy, ‘Identity’, pp. 202–18. See also, e.g., Niels Henrik Gregersen, Willem B. Drees, and Ulf Görman (eds.), The Human Person in Science and Theology (IST; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000); Joseph LeDoux, Synaptic Self: How Our Brains Become Who We Are (New York: Viking, 2002); Russell et al. (eds.), Neuroscience; Daniel J. Siegel, The Developing Mind: How Relationship and the Brain Interact to Shape Who We Are (New York: Guilford, 1999). 27. Polkinghorne, Narrative, pp. 150–55. 28. Robert Higbie, Character and Structure in the English Novel (Gainesville: University of Florida Press, 1984), pp. 64–66, following Sir Thomas Overbury, notes that ‘character’ originally signi¿ed a letter in a word and, therefore, was de¿ned in relation to other such ‘characters’, similar to the way a letter in a word takes its meaning from other surrounding letters. Thus, the person was what he/she appeared to be and this appearance was indistinguishable from that person’s identity. It was only in modern culture that the character’s identity developed into something private, hidden, and (possibly) existing in opposition to his/her apparent identity. 1
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III. Personal Identity in the First-Century Greco-Roman World The term ‘identity’ is a modern term not found in ancient literature. However, this does not imply that the concept of identity is not present in ancient texts.29 The question arises then, where and how should one look for the concept of identity that would serve as a background for understanding the question of identity reÀected in Luke’s narrative? Since Luke is writing in the ¿rst-century Greco-Roman world, it is necessary to survey perspectives on personal identity that were available during that time. We will ¿rst explore Hellenistic perspectives on personal identity, which will include discussions of positions articulated by Plato, Aristotle, and the Stoics; then, we will explore Jewish perspectives, which will include discussions of positions articulated in the OT, Second Temple Jewish literature, and the NT. a. Hellenistic Perspectives Even though Plato (424–348 B.C.E.) and Aristotle (384–322 B.C.E.) lived over three centuries prior to our period, their work continued to exercise inÀuence in the ¿rst-century world dominated by Hellenism. That is why we will ¿rst present an overview of their views before we examine Stoicism, the most popular philosophy of the ¿rst century. Plato believed that god, the father of the universe, created this world in perfect harmony to be a reÀection of the true world of ideal forms, the realm of the divine, and that the goal of humanity was to become like god: righteous, holy, and wise.30 The ability to know god’s will and to be like god Plato connected to the soul. He upheld that soul was immortal and preexistent, connected humans with heaven, the divine realm, and served as a proof that humans were heavenly creatures rather than
29. Scholars have used the concept of identity when studying both Jewish and Hellenistic ancient texts. See further Bauckham, God, p. 8; Robert A. Di Vito, ‘Here One Need Not Be Oneself: The Concept of “Self” in the Hebrew Scriptures’, in Aune and McCarthy (eds.), The Whole and Divided Self, pp. 49–88 (49–50); Halliwell, ‘Character’, p. 37; Paul Joyce, ‘The Individual and the Community’, in John Rogerson, John Barton, David J. A. Clines, and Paul Joyce (eds.), Beginning Old Testament Study (St. Louis, Mo.: Chalice, 1998), pp. 77–93 (81); Turner, ‘Personhood’, pp. 211–12; Hans Walter Wolff, Anthropology of the Old Testament (MifÀintown, Pa.: Sigler, 1996), pp. 23–25. Cf. H. Wheeler Robinson, Corporate Personality in Ancient Israel (FBBS, 11; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1964); Robert Scholes and Robert Kellogg, Nature of Narrative (New York: Oxford University Press, 1966), p. 164. 30. Plato, Theaet. 176b; idem, Tim. 28c–30c. 1
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earthly.31 Although Plato distinguished the soul from the body, he did not have a clear understanding of how soul and body relate, nor did he undermine the value of bodily life for the formation of the soul.32 Thus, he argued for a three-fold division of the soul: rational (immortal), spirited, and appetitive, which could be inÀuenced by sensory experiences of the body. Until the body and soul were separated, a person had to ¿nd ways to control the body, which could feed the irrational passions of the appetitive component of the soul. He, like his followers after him, believed that the desires of the soul’s appetitive component would lead to action, action to patterns of conduct, and conduct to the formation of character—who a person is was determined by what he/she does and what he/she does is determined by who he/she is. However, he did not allow people whose choices were overpowered by vice to remain in their vice and to de¿ne their identity by it; rather, he argued that this vicious cycle of being could be broken when a person continuously acted on virtuous desires.33 Therefore, he understood human life as embodied in the sense that the body had a direct effect on the formation of the soul; that is, if the body were allowed its vices, it would keep the soul from achieving its god-given goal. For Plato, human life was not only embodied, but also embedded within society. That is why he emphasized the importance of virtuous living in pursuit of one’s god-given goal and, therefore, happiness, and believed that a person could neither critically evaluate his/her actions nor cultivate virtuous character in isolation. Only through education and critical evaluation from his/her friends and mentors could a citizen learn
31. Plato, Tim. 90a. 32. David E. Aune, ‘Two Pauline Models of the Person’, in Aune and McCarthy (eds.), The Whole and Divided Self, pp. 89–114, speaks of Plato’s having a more positive understanding of the body than what is usually believed. T. M. Robinson, ‘The De¿ning Features of Mind–Body Dualism in the Writings of Plato’, in John P. Wright and Paul Potter (eds.), Psyche and Soma: Physicians and Metaphysicians on the Mind–Body Problem from Antiquity to Enlightenment (Oxford: Clarendon, 2000), pp. 37–55, indicates complexities in Plato’s de¿nition of how body and soul relate. See also Paul S. MacDonald, History of the Concept of Mind: Speculation about Soul, Mind and Spirit from Homer to Hume (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003), pp. 37–54. 33. Max J. Lee, ‘Greco-Roman Philosophy of Mind and Paul: Passion, Power, and Progress according to the Platonists, the Stoics, and the Epicureans of the Early Imperial Period (1st Century B.C.E.–2nd Century C.E.) and the Ideology of the Epicurean Wise in Paul’s Corinthian Correspondence’ (Ph.D. diss., Fuller Theological Seminary, 2002), pp. 51–52. 1
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to be virtuous, i.e., like god.34 Thus, despite his interest in metaphysical issues, Plato was just as interested in ethics and politics, evident in the Republic and the Laws. So, even though Plato was a dualist, he was not a dualist in a modernist sense. Plato understood everything to exist in a hierarchical structure. He explained the structure of the universe as a hierarchy, with god at the top, in the realm of the forms; humans in the middle, connected to the divine realm through the soul’s rational component and to the created world through the body; and everything else was at the bottom. He also explained hierarchically the relationship of the soul and body and the interrelationships among the soul’s three components. Since he perceived the structure of the soul to be the model for a well-run city-state/polis, he placed the ruling class of philosopher-kings, i.e., the soul’s rational component, at the top, the guardians, i.e., the spirited component, in the middle, and the rest—children, women, slaves, and freedmen, i.e., the appetitive component, at the bottom. Accordingly, Plato believed that a human being obtained his/her identity from his/her divinely ordained hierarchical position within both the universe and society. Aristotle’s view of the human relationship with nature was more positive than Plato’s due to his extensive research in the biomedical ¿eld. He observed that human mental capacities were connected to the body; hence, he viewed the body as essential for human existence and perceived humans as interrelated with the natural world. Moreover, he believed that all living things had a soul, i.e., the principle of life, which gave form to matter, and organized humans, animals, and plants hierarchically in accordance with the type of soul/s they possessed: plants with the nutritive soul at the bottom; animals with the nutritive and sensitive souls in the middle; and humans with the nutritive, sensitive, and rational souls at the top. Even though, unlike Plato, he did not believe that souls were preexistent, he entertained the possibility that the rational soul of humans, and more precisely the mind, which he connected with the divine realm, could survive death. Aristotle did not have a personal view of god. He believed that god did not know the world but only knew god’s self.35 However, he also believed that god, an Unmoved Mover, set everything in motion and the goal of created beings was to learn their purpose/potential, i.e., their place in the universe ordered by god, and to realize it through action. For humans, this involved the pursuit of the Good through virtuous living, which could be achieved through (1) education, which nurtured the mind,
1
34. Plato, Phaedr. 230d. 35. E.g., Aristotle, Metaph. 12.1072b.
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and (2) friendships based on virtue rather than on pleasure or usefulness. Moreover, he believed that social hierarchical order was good because it was given by god, who was at the top of the universal hierarchical order.36 Thus, he believed that the ideal society would not be a democracy, but would have Greek philosophers at the top and slaves, barbarians, and women at the bottom. Consequently, even though Aristotle was interested in metaphysical speculations about the soul and explored the nature of living beings in his Soul and Metaphysics, he also explored the questions of how people can live virtuous lives and how they can function as responsible members of society in Nichomachean Ethics and Politics. Hence, human identity in Aristotle’s view was not only embodied and relational but also derived from one’s position within a hierarchical structure of society. Stoics developed their views in dialogue with Platonists and Aristotelians and perceived the world, similarly to Heraclitus, as ordered and logical, where everything was governed by god/Logos. Furthermore, Stoics perceived reason/logos as the de¿ning human characteristic that distinguished them from animals and earned them a special place in the middle of the hierarchical ladder between the realm of the cosmic Logos and the rest of the living beings, who derived their purpose from serving humanity. Accordingly, they believed that humans were the most perfect of god’s creatures37 who were to live a virtuous life in accordance with reason in order to become like god/gods.38 This constituted the highest good—the goal of the moral life—because it brought humans in harmony with cosmos/nature.39 To do that one had to learn to perceive reality in accordance with what was genuinely (1) good, i.e., that which was in accordance with nature/logos, (2) evil, i.e., that which was contrary to nature/logos, or (3) neither.40 Moreover, Stoics were monists/materialists and viewed both mind and body as good.41 Therefore, their goal of becoming wise/a Stoic sage, i.e., like god/gods, was connected not only to exercising their rational ability, participating in the divine realm, comprehending god/Logos/Zeus, but also to being in control of their judgments, passions,42 and impulses that 36. Aristotle, Pol. 1.1254b-1255a. 37. Cicero, Nat. d. 2.62-64. 38. Epictetus, Diatr. 1.3; 1.9. 39. Cicero, Off. 1.14-22; Fin. 3.6.20-21. 40. Cicero, Fin. 3.18.59. 41. David E. Hahm, The Origins of Stoic Cosmology (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1977). 42. Lee, ‘Paul’, p. 110, explains that good emotions like joy, willfulness, and caution did not need to be overpowered but only the ones considered harmful. These
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originated in their bodies and to acting virtuously43 within their communities. Alternatively, not to exercise reason over passions, to have a distorted view of reality, or to fail to live virtuously was equated to being like animals rather than gods.44 Finally, because the Stoics perceived god as the father of all, they professed to be citizens of the world and broke all boundaries between slave and free, Greek and barbarian.45 However, this perception did not annihilate the hierarchical view of reality—they severed their ties with the masses, driven by their passions, and only recognized the kinship of the wise as real. The society to which they belonged was that of philosophers. Consequently, despite the fact that they upheld a monistic/ materialistic view of people and differed from Plato’s and Aristotle’s teachings on a number of points, they, like Plato and Aristotle, viewed personal identity as embodied and de¿ned by one’s position within both the universe and human society.46 In general, in Greek anthropology, humans were perceived not as free but as responsible members of a society, who are to pursue virtue for its own sake rather than for its rewards, to increase in knowledge through education, and to live in a society based on just laws. Even though there was no uni¿ed ‘Greek thought’ and philosophers’ positions varied, they were similar in that they understood the world to be structured hierarchically and perceived this structure as good and natural. Moreover, they perceived personal identity as deriving from people’s social and legal roles, i.e., rights and responsibilities that people had in relation to
harmful passions were classi¿ed in a hierarchical fashion: (1) desire, (2) grief, (3) fear, and (4) pleasure. Lee indicates that this way of understanding harmful passions became widespread and is reÀected in Plutarch, Virt. mor. 6–7; Philo, Contempl. 1.2; 4 Macc. 1.22-23. 43. Epictetus, Diatr. 1.1; 4.4. 44. Epictetus, Diatr. 1.28; 2.10; Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 4.16; 5.20. 45. Kathleen Freeman, God, Man and State: Greek Concepts (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood, 1970), p. 164. 46. See further Hahm, Origins; A. A. Long, Stoic Studies (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996); Tuomas Rasimus, Troels Engberg-Pederson, and Ismo Dunderberg (eds.), Stoicism in Early Christianity (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2010); Gretchen Reydams-Schils, The Roman Stoics: Self, Responsibility, and Affection (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005). See also Keimpe Algra, Jonathan Barnes, Jaap Mansfeld, and Malcolm Scho¿eld (eds.), The Cambridge History of Hellenistic Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005); Burkhard Reis (ed.), The Virtuous Life in Greek Ethics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006). 1
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the divine realm47 and to each other. Finally, even though they explored the issues of metaphysical composition of humans, Greek philosophers were more interested in human beings as embodied and relational, which can be evidenced by their interest in exploring the ethical and moral aspects of the human soul through human involvement in the functions of society.48 b. Jewish Perspectives Perspectives that can be called Jewish in the ¿rst-century Greco-Roman world can be found in the OT and the literature inÀuenced by it, i.e., the writings of Philo, Josephus, Apocrypha, Pseudepigrapha, Dead Sea Scrolls, and the NT. However, one cannot assume that because all of these writings were inÀuenced by the OT, they express the same views. In fact, because they were written over a vast span of time, they express a variety of views, which can be situated on a continuum from ones that are much more oriented toward traditionally Hebrew commitment to Torah and the worldview that it offers to ones that are much more Hellenistic.49 In this section, we are interested not in providing a detailed study of all Jewish perspectives available in the ¿rst-century GrecoRoman world but rather in making broad observations concerning Jewish perspectives on personal identity without negating their diversity. It is generally accepted that the OT provides a monistic understanding when it says that God created a human being, Adam, as a totality (Gen. 2.7). He is formed out of dust and is not considered a living being until God breathes the breath of life into his nostrils. The result of this inbreathing cannot be understood as a placement of the soul inside 47. Although in Greco-Roman literature the presence of gods plays an important role in human lives, within the scope of this study we will not be able to examine such popular beliefs. However, to understand what Greco-Roman sources say about gods, one has to be aware of the divine realm’s hierarchical structure, where Zeus is the father of all gods and humans. 48. See Lee, ‘Paul’, p. 2. 49. One can no longer sharply distinguish Palestinian Judaism from Hellenistic Judaism due to the spread of Hellenization. However, one cannot overlook the fact that there were Jews who displayed uncompromising commitment to Torah, evidenced by the Maccabean revolt (1–2 Maccabees). See further Theo K. Heckel, Der innere Mensch: Die paulinische Verarbeitung eines platonischen Motivs (WUNT, 2/53; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1993); Martin Hengel, Judaism and Hellenism: Studies in their Encounter in Palestine during the Early Hellenistic Period (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1974); Graham J. Warne, Hebrew Perspectives on the Human Person in the Hellenistic Era: Philo and Paul (MBPS, 35; Lewiston, N.Y.: Mellen, 1995). 1
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Adam’s body,50 because animals have the breath of life in them, just like Adam.51 However, this does not imply that Jewish thought in the ¿rst century was exclusively monistic. In fact, evidence of a body–soul duality can be found in some of the Jewish writings of this time52 and sometimes scholars are unable to determine whether a Jewish writer upheld a holistic or dualistic anthropology, as is evidenced by the studies of Pauline writings.53 Despite this variety of views, some of which were more interested in metaphysical questions than others, Jewish thought valued embodied existence, which was judged as righteous or unrighteous based on how a person acted in accordance with God-given law, and perceived the relationship between God and human to be a centerpiece of human life.54 Therefore, even though some Jewish writers who were interested in asking metaphysical questions favored anthropological duality, their understanding of anthropology cannot be equated with that of Descartes and modernism. Similar to Greek philosophers, Jews organized the universe hierarchically and placed humans in the middle between the realm of God and other created beings. In Jewish writings, the exalted status of humans is 50. Robert A. Di Vito, ‘Old Testament Anthropology and the Construction of Personal Identity’, CBQ 61 (1999), pp. 217–38 (226); Lawson G. Stone, ‘The Soul: Possession, Part, or Person? The Genesis of Human Nature in Genesis 2:7’, in Green (ed.), What about the Soul?, pp. 47–61 (51–57); Wolff, Anthropology, pp. 10, 22. Tertullian, Augustine, Origen, and Aquinas understood this verse as a reference to breathing of an intellectual soul into the human being, i.e., something that separates a human from other creatures and characterizes him/her as God’s image. See further Anthony C. Thiselton, ‘Human Being, Relationality and Time in Hebrews, 1 Corinthians and Western Traditions’, ExAud 13 (1997), pp. 76–95 (77–78). 51. See further Stone, ‘Soul’, pp. 51–53. 52. E.g., Jer. 1.5; Wis. 8.19-20; T. Job 20.3; Josephus, Ant. 1.34; Philo, Det. 1.23; Opif. 1.64-69; Leg. 1.105; Mt. 10.28. 53. Some argue that Paul, unlike his contemporaries, was more inÀuenced by holistic anthropology—e.g., Theo K. Heckel, ‘Body and Soul in Saint Paul’, in Wright and Potter (eds.), Psyche and Soma, pp. 117–31; Udo Schnelle, The Human Condition: Anthropology in the Teachings of Jesus, Paul, and John (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996), pp. 102–7; Warne, Perspectives. See also Aune, ‘Person’, pp. 89– 114; Hans Dieter Betz, ‘The Concept of the “Inner Human Being” (ĝ ìÊÑ ÓÅ¿ÉÑÈÇË) in the Anthropology of Paul’, NTS 46 (2000), pp. 315–41; Brian G. Edgar, ‘Paul and the Person’, SCB 12 (2000), pp. 151–64; Moser, ‘Human’, pp. 17–36; Stendahl, ‘Conscience’, pp. 199–215. 54. E.g., Exod. 20–23; Lev. 1–27; Deut. 5–28; Wis. 1.1–3.19; 1 Macc. 1.20-64; 1 En. 99.10; Ps. Sol. 9.4-7; Josephus, Ant. 4.294; Rom. 12.1-2. See also Heckel, ‘Paul’, pp. 117–31; Thiselton, ‘Relationality’, pp. 76–95; Turner, ‘Personhood’, pp. 211–33. 1
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reÀected in the idea that God personally decided to create humans in his image (1.26-27), which emphasizes the relationality of humans,55 placed them only a little lower than God/angels, and crowned with glory and honor (Ps. 8.5).56 This exalted status of humans over the rest of the creation cannot be associated with anything that humans deserve based on their constitution. In fact, human constitution is weak and prone to failure, which is evidenced by a recurrent theme of people’s inability to do on their own what is right, as de¿ned by God. Only through the study of Torah, i.e., God’s Law/Word, can people learn their proper place in relation to God and to the rest of the created order. Furthermore, only through relationship with God can they be empowered to attain that proper place. This can be demonstrated by the tendency of Jewish writers to speak of human abilities—whether they concern craftsmanship, wisdom, or charismatic leadership—with reference to God.57 Consequently, if humans are to attain their proper place within the created order, they must fully submit to God. This submission involves human beings as a whole and is expressed through their righteous behavior within society. Likewise, to fail to depend on God for guidance through Torah/Word and the Spirit, i.e., to act in accordance with one’s own understanding of the world and to rely on one’s weak Àesh, eventually leads to people’s inability to sustain their proper place within the created order.58 The failure to depend on God was a real possibility since God set humans apart from the rest of his creation by giving them a choice whether to heed his caring, guiding, and empowering presence. No matter what they chose, they were responsible for their actions and had to live with the consequences of their choices. While in Hellenistic 55. Niels Henrik Gregersen, “Varieties of Personhood: Mapping the Issues’, in Gregersen, Drees, and Görman (eds.), Human Person, pp. 1–17 (12). See also W. Randall Garr, In his Own Image and Likeness: Humanity, Divinity, and Monotheism (CHANE, 15; Leiden: Brill, 2003); Meredith G. Kline, ‘Creation in the Image of the Glory-Cloud’, WTJ 39 (1977), pp. 250–72 (268); J. Richard Middleton, The Liberating Image: The Imago Dei in Genesis 1 (Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2005); Daniel L. Migliore, Faith Seeking Understanding: An Introduction to Christian Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), pp. 123–28; Shults, Anthropology, pp. 235–42; Stone, ‘Soul’, pp. 60–61; Gordon J. Wenham, Genesis 1–15 (WBC, 1; Waco, Tex.: Word, 1987), p. 61. 56. See further Patrick D. Miller, ‘What Is a Human Being? The Anthropology of Scripture’, in Green (ed.), What about the Soul?, pp. 63–73; Wolff, Anthropology, pp. 159–61. 57. E.g., Exod. 31.1-6; Deut. 34.9; Judg. 14.19; Job 32.8; Isa. 59.21; Ezek. 36.27; Zech. 4.6. 58. E.g., Rom. 1.18–2.29; 1 Cor. 8; 10; 2 Cor. 4.16. 1
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philosophy, humans could attain their proper place within the universe by nurturing reason—the divine element of their constitution—through education, Jewish thought advocates that the exalted status of humans is God’s gift, which proceeds from his initiative and which can be exercised only through a relationship with him.59 Since to be human is to be made in the image of God, i.e., to be like God, speaking of humans apart from who God is and of God apart from his covenantal relationship with Israel, his chosen people, becomes impossible.60 This implies that what God does for Israel has a direct impact on Israel’s identity and what Israel does has a direct impact on God’s identity as he responds in accordance with his covenantal promises.61 Moreover, since one cannot achieve exalted status on his/her own but only through the study of God’s Law and through God’s empowerment, it becomes dif¿cult to establish clear boundaries between what people do and what God does.62 Thus, boundaries between God and humans are not as clearly de¿ned as one may think, although these boundaries are never collapsed. This is evidenced by the fact that God is the eternal Creator of the universe who is always at the highest position, represented by his enthronement on the glorious heavenly throne,63 and has unlimited power over his creation unless he chooses to limit it, as in the case when he gave humans free will64 or when he came to the patriarchs as a man (Gen. 18.1-16; 32.24-30).65 59. See also Heckel, ‘Paul’, p. 129; Greg Clark, ‘Persons without Identity, Moral Agents without Souls: A Response to Paul Moser’s “Human Persons” ’, ExAud 13 (1997), pp. 37–40. 60. See further Garr, Image, p. 231. 61. For overviews of God’s relationship with the people of Israel, see, e.g., Walther Eichrodt, Theology of the Old Testament (OTL; 2 vols.; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1961–67); John Goldingay, Old Testament Theology (3 vols.; Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 2003–2009); Larry R. Helyer, Exploring Jewish Literature of the Second Temple Period: A Guide for New Testament Students (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 2002); Wright, New Testament. 62. E.g., Philo, Plant. 1.39. 63. E.g., Isa. 6.1; Ezek. 10.1; Ascen. Isa. 10.7-31. 64. E.g., Gen. 2.16-17; Deut. 30.15-20; Sir. 15.11-15; Ps. Sol. 9.4-7. 65. Recently, the notions that God has no body or that he cannot appear to humans as a fellow human being have been questioned—e.g., Esther J. Hamori, ‘When Gods Were Men’: The Embodied God in Biblical and Near Eastern Literature (BZAW, 384; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008); Mark S. Smith, How Human Is God? Seven Questions about God and Humanity in the Bible (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical, 2014), Chapter 1; Benjamin D. Sommer, The Bodies of God and the World of Ancient Israel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009). M. F. Rooker, ‘Theophany’, DOTP, pp. 859–64, also notes that theophanic references to 1
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There can be observed some continuity between this way of thinking and thought expressed in Greco-Roman literature, starting with Homer, where speaking of human beings in metaphysical terms is avoided and relationships between humans and gods/goddesses are emphasized (e.g., Homer, Il. 1.54; Isocrates, Evag. 9.25-26; Xenophon, Mem. 1.1.2). Although people are presented as capable of making choices and responsible for those choices, gods/goddesses are perceived as playing a part in seemingly human actions. Some writings speak of gods/goddesses as capable of invading the human mind, inÀuencing human actions, overriding human judgment, and causing tragedy. Others, as in the case of Isocrates’s Evagoras, share more optimistic beliefs, asserting that human beings and divine support can be interweaved in perfect harmony. This implies that both Jewish and Hellenistic thought could not speak of humanity apart from human relationships with God/gods/ goddesses and with each other.66 Just like Plato, Aristotle, and Stoics, in Jewish writings humans draw their identity from their place within the hierarchically organized universe. That is, humans are like other living beings—made of dust and sustained by the breath of God—yet they are made in the image of God and exalted to a position just below God/angels. Luke shares this Jewish perception of humans, evidenced by his reference to Adam as God’s son (Lk. 3.38), and displays his awareness of the similar view among Greeks/ Romans when he quotes their poets: ‘We are his [god’s] offspring’ (Acts 17.28b). Moreover, while some more Hellenistic Jewish writers were interested in metaphysical questions (e.g., Philo, Josephus) and other more traditionally oriented writers were not,67 all Jewish writers shared similarity with Hellenistic writers in that their focus was never on human beings in isolation but on people as embodied and embedded in their the angel of the Lord in the early writings of the OT are understood as references to God himself and that the angel of the Lord has a physical likeness to humans. Cf. Kline, ‘Creation’, p. 268:‘formal-physical glory-likeness is man’s bodily reÀection of the theophanic and incarnate Glory’. 66. See also Di Vito, ‘Anthropology’, pp. 217–38; Halliwell, ‘Conceptions’, pp. 32–59. Cf. Shults, Anthropology, p. 89. 67. Heckel, ‘Paul’, p. 123: ‘Much more dif¿cult to understand are the anthropological categories of the Old Testament in their own context. Generally, the categories that de¿ne the individual tend to be put in relational terms, whether to other human beings or to God. By contrast, statements about what is in the person do not occur. The few passages that refer to the survival of the individual after his earthly death (e.g. Psalm 73:23–8; Daniel 12:2) emphasize only that his relationship to God continues. Reference to any kind of soul as agent of this persisting connection is not found.’ This position does not include Philo’s views. 1
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relationships with the world, with each other,68 and with God/god/gods. This is also true for the Lukan writings, for when Luke presents his characters, they are always identi¿ed in reference to their community and characterized through their words and actions within those particular communities (e.g., Lk. 1.5-25; Acts 16.1-3; 18.24-28; 22.3-21). Having looked broadly at how personal identity was understood in the ¿rstcentury Greco-Roman world and having determined that ancient texts, despite their differences in reference to how they understood God/gods or what constituted righteous/virtuous living, shared similar perspectives, we now turn to the question of how personal identity was constructed within ancient communities. c. Personal Identity Relationally and Functionally De¿ned Since people in the Greco-Roman world were community oriented, their sense of identity was embedded in the identity of their communities.69 The most signi¿cant of those communities were family/household70 and polis/clan.71 Unlike Western societies that consider a nuclear family to be the smallest societal unit, a family among the ¿rst-century inhabitants of the Greco-Roman world was understood as an extension of a man and had no signi¿cance apart from its belonging to a larger family unit, i.e., the household. Thus, households rather than nuclear families functioned as the basis of one’s personal identity. Household size varied, but it could include up to three or four generations of men with their wives, children, unmarried women, and slaves.72 68. E.g., Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.195-196. 69. F. F. Bruce, The Book of the Acts (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, rev. edn, 1988), pp. 52–53; Di Vito, ‘Anthropology’, pp. 221–22; Warne, Perspectives, p. 58; Wolff, Anthropology, p. 214; C. J. H. Wright, ‘Family’, ABD, vol. 2, pp. 761– 69. 70. E.g., Achan, the individual responsible for the loss of battle at Ai, is identi¿ed as ‘the son of Carmi, the son of Zabdi, the son of Zerah, from the tribe of Judah’ (Josh. 7.1). Paul is ‘a Jew from Tarsus in Cilicia, a citizen of an important city’ (Acts 21.39). See also Gen. 24.24; Num. 27.1; Josh. 7.14-18; Judg. 6.15; 12.8; Ruth 1.1-2; 1 Sam. 10.20-21; Tob. 1.1; Jdt. 8.1; Sir. 50.1, 27; Mt. 16.17; Lk. 4.34; 5.10; 8.3; Jn 11.1; Acts 4.36; 16.1; 18.2; Phil. 3.5; Homer, Il. 1.1; Isocrates, Evag. 9.12-18; Plutarch, Cic. 1.1. 71. Since tribes and clans in Israel were connected with speci¿c geographical locations, to refer to a person by his/her tribe/clan was to locate him/her geographically (Josh. 13.15–19.51). See also Aristotle, Rhet. 1.5.5; Cicero, Inv. 1.24.34-36; Goldhill, ‘Action’, pp. 101–2; Wright, ‘Family’, p. 761. 72. Wright, ‘Family’, p. 763, says that the Decalogue gives a de¿nition of a household when it prohibits against coveting one’s neighbor’s household (Exod. 20.17; Deut. 5.21). See also Philip J. King and Lawrence E. Stager, Life in Biblical 1
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All people within the household derived their identity from the head of the household, i.e., paterfamilias or lord. The father was responsible for (1) defending the honor of his household, because when the honor of any household member was threatened, his honor was threatened by extension, and it was his obligation to defend his family’s honor (e.g., Judg. 6.25-32);73 and (2) securing economic stability, which guaranteed posterity for his lineage/name.74 Even freed slaves continued to derive their identity from that of their masters by taking upon themselves their masters’ names. Therefore, everyone who drew his/her identity from his/ her paterfamilias could potentially bring honor or shame to the household and the paterfamilias himself. That is why it was the responsibility of the paterfamilias to educate and discipline those who belonged to his household.75 This position gave the paterfamilias an unquestionable authority over the members of the household; in fact, his household’s members had few rights, if any at all, apart from the rights that he bestowed.76 The authority over the household and responsibility for continuation of its lineage/name was usually passed down to the oldest son of the paterfamilias after his death, who often functioned as his father’s representative, fully embodying his father’s presence and authority even while his father was alive.77 However, it was not always the ¿rst-born who inherited the task of continuation of the name. In a case when a man Israel (LAI; Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 2001), p. 36; Philip J. King and Lawrence E. Stager, ‘Of Fathers, Kings and the Deity: The Nested Households of the Ancient Israel’, BARev 28 (2002), pp.42–45, 62 (44); Lawrence E. Stager, ‘The Archeology of the Family in Ancient Israel’, BASOR 26 (1985), pp. 1–35 (22). 73. See further A. C. Hagedorn, ‘Honor and Shame’, DOTHB, pp. 497–501 (499); V. H. Matthews, ‘Israelite Society’, DOTHB, pp. 520–30 (521). 74. Wright, ‘Family’, p. 767. 75. It was commonly believed by Greeks, Romans, and Jews alike that children behave as their parents—e.g., Aristotle, Rhet. 1.9.33; Isocrates, Evag. 9.62, 77-79; 2 Kgs 9.22; Isa. 57.3-13; Ezek. 16.44; Sir. 23.24-26. Parents are supposed to instruct their children—e.g., Deut. 6.7-9; Prov. 1.8-16; Sir. 30.1-13. Moreover, if education was received from someone other than a parent, the teacher or school of thought could be mentioned in individual’s identi¿cation—e.g., Acts 22.3; 23.6; 1 Cor. 1.12—because education, i.e., what was acquired through habit and practice, was as important as being born of honorable parents since only through nurture and education could innate potential be brought to fruition. See, e.g., Aristotle, Rhet. 1.5.318; 1.9.33; 2.6.12; Cicero, Inv. 1.24.34-36; 1.25.35-36; Philo, Legat. 1.142-151. See also Halliwell, ‘Character’, pp. 32–59. 76. Di Vito, ‘Anthropology’, pp. 221–25; idem, ‘Concept’, pp. 52–59, 71–72; Stager, ‘Archeology’, p. 23; Wolff, Anthropology, pp. 216–22. 77. Harvey, Jesus, pp. 154–73. 1
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could not produce a son to continue his name, another man belonging to his household—free or slave—could become his heir78 and, therefore, a son by means of receiving his name and inheritance (e.g., Gen. 15.2; Prov. 17.2).79 Thus, the next paterfamilias was not chosen exclusively based on his blood relations to the current paterfamilias or on his birth order among the paterfamilias’ sons but rather on his endowment with the authority of the paterfamilias and his ability to properly carry out the paterfamilias’s obligations.80 Since the household was the basic unit of society, it provided language for describing other social relationships, whether legal, political, or religious. Consequently, ‘brotherhood’ language indicated a relationship between people of equal status and ‘father’/‘son’ indicated a relationship between people of different social positions.81 Moreover, the language of love and loyalty,82 which was used to describe relationships of obligations and duties among kinsfolk, was also used to describe international relationships between states bound by treaties.83 Thus, kings and God/ 78. Lack of concern with genetics is seen in the Jewish custom of fathering an heir for a deceased family member by a kinsman-redeemer. The heir bore the name of the man who died childless rather than the name of the child’s ‘real’ father. See Di Vito, ‘Concept’, pp. 56–57; John H. Walton, ‘Genealogies’, DOTHB, pp. 309–16; Wright, ‘Family’, p. 763. 79. Beryl Rawson, ‘The Roman Family’, in Beryl Rawson (ed.), The Family in Ancient Rome: New Perspectives (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1986), pp. 1–57; Wolff, Anthropology, p. 186. 80. See further W. K. Lacey, ‘Patria Potestas’, in Rawson (ed.), Family in Ancient Rome, pp. 121–44; Carolyn Osiek and David L. Balch, Families in the New Testament World: Households and House Churches (FRC; Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1997); Rawson, ‘Family’, pp. 1–57; Paul Veyne, The Roman Empire (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap, 1997). 81. Frank Moore Cross, From Epic to Canon: History and Literature in Ancient Israel (Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998), pp. 10–11; Wolff, Anthropology, p. 186. 82. When love and loyalty were extended to people outside of the kinship group, whether determined by blood or a covenant, the behavior was perceived as ‘gracious’ or ‘altruistic’. See further Cross, Epic, pp. 3–11; Di Vito, ‘Concept’, p. 58; Wolff, Anthropology, p. 186. 83. Followers of Jesus describe themselves as a household, a ¿ctive family—e.g., Mk 3.31-35; 1 Pet. 4.17. Moreover, people belonging to different types of clubs, organized around different purposes, could use kinship language as well. See further Jerome H. Neyrey and Eric C. Stewart (eds.), The Social World of the New Testament: Insights and Models (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2008), pp. 260–67; Osiek and Balch, Families, pp. 36–102; John E. Stambaugh and David L. Balch, The New Testament in its Social Environment (LEC; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1986), pp. 124–26. 1
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gods were called ‘fathers’ because they occupied the highest position of authority in their respective households rather than because they were related by blood to those who belonged to their households.84 This lack of concern for genetics in application of family-related language among ancient people can be evidenced by the fact that the people of Israel, who could trace their ancestry to Jacob/Israel and, therefore, could be called ‘sons/children of Israel’, were not all related by blood. Rather, the people of Israel comprised a conglomeration of different people groups united by their covenant relationship with YHWH and commitment to his law, which provided a universal system of values and de¿ned people’s obligations and privileges in their relationship with YHWH and with each other.85 This allegiance to YHWH was above and beyond blood ties and determined who was kin and who was not.86 All who were committed to YHWH were incorporated into the people of Israel by means of segmented genealogies. Thus, a kin could be either a ‘blood’ relative or an outsider legally incorporated into the kinship group by marriage,87 adoption, or other types of covenants,88 which were sworn before YHWH as their witness.89 Consequently, there was no distinction between real and ¿ctive kinship relationships. People incorporated into the tribal genealogies became true ‘bone and Àesh’ or ‘blood’ kinsfolk, and were endowed with both obligations and privileges that came with that status. This implies that the ontology of an Israelite was de¿ned relationally through his/her commitment to YHWH and, therefore, his/her belonging to a particular tribe, clan, and household, and functionally through his/her ability to carry out his/her obligations. What William F. Albright says is of particularly importance here:
84. Diane G. Chen, ‘God as Father in Luke–Acts’ (Ph.D. diss., Fuller Theological Seminary, 2004); King and Stager, ‘Households’, pp. 45, 62. 85. See further Cross, Epic, pp. 11–12; George E. Mendenhall, The Tenth Generation: The Origins of the Biblical Tradition (Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1973); Wolff, Anthropology; Wright, ‘Family’, pp. 761–69. 86. Wolff, Anthropology, pp. 186–99. 87. Wenham, Genesis, p. 71, says that a kinship relationship established through marriage was a permanent relationship, which could not be terminated by death or divorce. 88. Covenants of friendship enabled people from different kin/clan groups to establish a relationship of brotherhood, which sometimes was stronger than a bond between brothers related by blood (e.g., Prov. 18.24; 27.10). See further Cross, Epic, pp. 7–9. 89. Wolff, Anthropology, p. 167. 1
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Luke’s Christology of Divine Identity The Levites were thus a class or ‘tribe’ which was kept distinct from other tribes because of its function. In practice we may safely suppose that the Levites were constantly being increased in number by the addition of children vowed by their parents to YHWH, but that the total number was kept down by the defection of Levites scattered through the country, either through intermarriage or because of inability to make a living as sanctuary attendants. Seen from this point of view the question of whether Moses and Aaron were members of the tribe of Levi loses all signi¿cance; they were Levites by virtue of their priestly function. In other words, one could either be born into the Levite tribe or one could be adopted as a full member of it… In short, we are not justi¿ed either in throwing overboard the standard Israelite tradition regarding priests and Levites, or in considering these classes as hard and fast genealogical groups.90
Albright, thus, bears witness to the fact that there was no dichotomy between ontology and function among the ancient Jewish people. Rather, one’s ontology was explained by one’s function—as in the case of Moses and Aaron, who were priests, i.e., Levites, not because it can be proven with certainty that they were blood descendants of Levi, but because they functioned as priests. This practice of extending kinship ties via segmented genealogies was not limited to the Jewish people but rather was common to Greeks, Egyptians, Persians, Romans, and others and continued into the Hellenistic times.91 Hence, kin in the Greco-Roman world was not necessarily a blood relative, but rather a person who was included within a particular community of people and who dutifully followed the laws prescribed by that community. In both Hellenistic and Jewish thought, family and society regulated all human relations and individuals were expected to align their behavior in accordance with what was considered proper for them as determined from birth by their gender, age, and social status.92 Therefore, being born of a good family did not guarantee that a person would be righteous/just;
90. William F. Albright, Archaeology and the Religion of Israel (Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2nd edn, 1946), p. 109 (italics added). 91. Erich S. Gruen, ‘Kinship Relations and Jewish Identity’, in Lee I. Levine and Daniel R. Schwartz (eds.), Jewish Identities in Antiquity: Studies in Memory of Menahem Stern (TStAJ, 130; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), pp. 101–16. 92. People were generally stereotyped—e.g., Isocrates, Evag. 9.47; Philo, Legat. 1.162, 166; Flacc. 1.29; Leg. 2.103; Tit. 1.12. However, they were responsible for their actions—e.g., Aristotle, Rhet. 1.10.3, 7—and presented as individuals, who are different from each other even if they ¿t the same type. See further Halliwell, ‘Character’, pp. 43–49; Pelling, ‘Conclusion’, pp. 245–62. Cf. Aune, Environment, pp. 28, 34–36; Turner, ‘Personhood’, p. 214.
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rather, it set a potential for what a person could become.93 Only a person who aligned his/her behavior with the type of person he/she was supposed to represent was believed to have brought his/her innate potential to fruition. This entitled him/her to receive honor appropriate for his/her social position. By giving proper honor to an individual, people showed their recognition of his/her ability to function as determined by his/her social standing; yet by not offering him/her suitable recognition, people challenged his/her honor and threatened to bring shame upon his/her name, unless his/her honor was properly defended. Hence, to give a person his/her due honor was perceived as honorable because it helped to maintain proper societal order. Likewise, not to give proper honor to the one who deserved it was perceived as a challenge not only to his/her honor but also to societal order as a whole and to God/gods who ordained this order. This way of thinking is different from the modern ideal of the selfsuf¿cient private self. First, to claim within the Greco-Roman honordriven world that one had a right to de¿ne his/her life independently from his/her family and society would be equated with a claim to lead a miserable life of an expendable, a person with no status/honor, because even slaves enjoyed a social status derived from the status of their masters and could not be perceived as people without honor. Rather, an individual was praised for his/her compliance and blamed for his/her noncompliance within the social roles determined for him/her by birth rather than for his/her unique life choices. Second, neither in Hellenistic nor in Jewish circles was acting in accordance with the type/role prescribed by the society viewed as mere conformity of action since it was believed that repeated action led to the transformation of the heart/ mind and that through action one’s true intentions and qualities were revealed.94 Hypocrisy, though possible, was not a concern, especially since God/gods was/were the ultimate judge/judges of human behavior.95 93. E.g., Aristotle, Rhet. 2.15.1-3; Isocrates, Evag. 9.80-81; Xenophon, Mem. 1.2.19; 1.3.21-34. 94. E.g., Xenophon, Mem. 1.2.12-16. See further Easterling, ‘Character’, p. 99; Goldhill, ‘Action’, pp. 114–19; Halliwell, ‘Character’, pp. 47–51; Pelling, ‘Conclusion’, p. 251. 95. Jewish writings portray God as the only one who knows the thoughts—e.g., Pss. 44.21; 94.7-15; 139.23; Josephus, Ant. 6.230-231, 262-263, 318; Philo, Conf. 1.24; Congr. 1.170; Migr. 1.115; Acts 15.8. Greco-Roman literature does not seem to be interested in emphasizing that gods have knowledge of human thoughts. However, gods are capable of knowing human secrets and revealing them—e.g., Pindar, Nem. 7.40-44; Pyth. 3.25-34; Anonymous, Hymn to Hermes 4.535-544. See also Di Vito, ‘Concept’, pp. 63–71; Wolff, Anthropology, pp. 40–58.
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Consequently, an individual’s identity was not understood in abstract terms but rather as displayed through overt, publicly recognizable activities and behavior. Having looked at how identity was understood among the inhabitants of the ¿rst-century Greco-Roman world, we now turn to the discussion of how Jesus could be understood as God against the background of Second Temple Jewish monotheism. IV. YHWH’S Identity and Monotheism in Second Temple Judaism It is generally accepted that the primacy of monotheism in Second Temple Judaism would necessitate that the question of Jesus’ deity be resolved prior to the appearance of Paul’s writings that present the earliest evidence for the use of monotheistic language in reference to Jesus (e.g., 1 Cor. 8.6; Phil. 2.9-11).96 However, how one should understand the deity of Jesus has been a subject of much debate. In Chapter 1, we observed that scholars who have attempted to argue for the possibility of divine Christology in Luke–Acts (except Laurentin) used the concept of identity in overcoming the ontology-vs.-function dichotomy. We also noticed that the way Fletcher-Louis used this concept differed from those scholars who relied on Bauckham’s category of divine identity. In this section, we will look at Second Temple Jewish monotheism in order to establish a background for determining which of the two ways of explaining Jesus’ divinity is more appropriate. a. Second Temple Jewish Monotheism The nature of Jewish monotheism has been a subject of scholarly discussion for about thirty years. Issues that are being raised concern (1) the appropriateness of the term ‘monotheism’ in reference to Jewish faith, which incorporated belief in angels/gods in addition to YHWH;97 (2) variations in cultic practices of Jewish people from the preexilic to postexilic time in light of the predominantly ‘polytheistic’ background
96. Contra Bousset, Kyrios; Casey, Prophet; Conzelmann, Theology. It is not appropriate to speak of Jesus’ divinity against Greek paganism. See further Larry W. Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003). 97. See further Bauckham, Jesus, pp. 60–126; Peter Hayman, ‘Monotheism—A Misused Word in Jewish Studies?’, JJS 42 (1991), pp. 1–15; Nathan Macdonald, Deuteronomy and the Meaning of ‘Monotheism’ (FAT, 2/1; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003); Sommer, God, pp. 145–74. 1
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of their neighbors and relatively recent archaeological discoveries;98 and (3) an explanation of Jesus’ divinity against the background of Jewish faith in YHWH in the ¿rst-century Greco-Roman world.99 In this study we are interested predominantly in the third issue, so we will make only brief comments on the ¿rst two issues before proceeding with a discussion of the third. Despite the fact that the term ‘monotheism’ was only coined in 1660 and carries with it associations that are inappropriate to Second Temple Judaism, it can still be used to speak of the distinct character of Jewish faith especially after the exile. Regardless of variations that may have existed in the religious practices of ancient Israel, it is generally accepted that Jewish faith in the ¿rst century was monotheistic and aniconic— Jews worshiped one God, YHWH, whom they believed to be unique and to have incontestable power over the world that he alone created. This commitment to the worship of one God aniconically was symbolized by one centralized place of worship, i.e., the Jerusalem temple, which contained no image of YHWH, and was af¿rmed by daily recitations of Shema and the Decalogue.100 This commitment to the unique God YHWH was foundational for Jews and can be evidenced by their refusal to alter their beliefs or ritual practices despite the cost, namely, persecution and even martyrdom, and a reputation as an antisocial and atheistic nation (e.g., Tacitus, Hist. 5.4-5; 1–2 Maccabees). 98. See further Bob Becking, Meindert Dijkstra, Marjo C. A. Korpel, and Karel J. H. Vriezen, Only One God? Monotheism in Ancient Israel and the Veneration of the Goddess Asherah (London: Shef¿eld Academic Continuum, 2001); Robert Karl Gnuse, No Other Gods: Emergent Monotheism in Israel (JSOTSup, 241; Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic, 1997); Hershel Shanks and Jack Meinhardt (eds.), Aspects of Monotheism: How God Is One (Washington, D.C.: Biblical Archaeology Society, 1997); Mark S. Smith, The Origins of Biblical Monotheism (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001). 99. Bousset, Kyrios, argued that to understand Jesus as God was possible only in light of the emerging inÀuence of pagan Gentiles in the formation of Christian views on God. Today this notion is widely rejected and Jesus in the NT is described predominantly in Jewish rather than Gentile categories (e.g., Son of Man, Son of God, and Christ). Therefore, Hellenized Judaism has replaced pagan Hellenism as the background for the emergence of Christian views on Jesus. See further Hengel, Son; Hurtado, Lord. 100. Description of Jewish faith during the Second Temple period as monotheistic can be found in various Jewish and Hellenistic sources—e.g., Josephus, Ant. 4.200-201; Philo, Spec. 1.67; Let. Aris. 132-142; Sib. Or. Prologue 93-99; 3.11-19; 5.284-85, 493-500; Tacitus, Hist. 5.5. For Greco-Roman views of Jews and Christians, see Molly Whittaker, Jews and Christians: Graeco-Roman Views (CCWJCW, 6; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1984). 1
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Second Temple Judaism allowed for the existence of other heavenly beings, and some members of upper-class Jewish nobility believed there was no difference between Jewish monotheism and ‘monotheisms’ of other nations, evidenced by their participating in pagan worship at the Jerusalem temple (e.g., 1 Macc. 1.43).101 They perceived YHWH as no different from other supreme gods. Namely, he was the paterfamilias of a divine family—one among many even though supreme in power.102 This understanding of monotheism, i.e., inclusive monotheism, was not a traditional understanding. It is true, YHWH was presented in Jewish writings as a supreme heavenly being; however, YHWH was unlike any other supreme god of neighboring cultures since he is never presented as having a rival. None of the Jewish writings offer accounts of theogony or cosmogony, implying that YHWH alone has created everything—even the heavenly creatures called gods and worshiped by other nations. Although Jews—some more than others—believed in the existence of angels/gods and could speak of human beings as gods (e.g., Moses), they perceived YHWH as unique, as one who had a unique relation to the universe, i.e., that of a creator to his/her creation.103 Thus, although YHWH could be called Zeus by some, he was not Zeus and would never have been worshipped as Zeus by the Jews who upheld traditional beliefs (e.g., 2 Macc. 6.2). This more traditional Judaism, i.e., exclusive monotheism,
101. See further Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, p. 21. 102. William Horbury, ‘Jewish and Christian Monotheism in the Herodian Age’, in Loren T. Stuckenbruck and Wendy E. S. North (eds.), Early Jewish and Christian Monotheism (JSNTSup, 263; London: T&T Clark International, 2004), pp. 16–44. 103. Fletcher-Louis, Stuckenbruck, and North discuss worship in Second Temple Judaism—see Loren T. Stuckenbruck and Wendy E. S. North (eds.), Early Jewish and Christian Monotheism (JSNTSup, 263; London: T&T Clark International, 2004). North highlights that it is not clear what constituted worship and how worship of God was different. The other two scholars point out that some Jewish writings allow for worship of angels and human beings as long as they function as representatives of God. One can also point out that Philo spoke of veneration of Tiberius in terms that are not readily explainable (Legat. 1.141-151). However, despite his encouragement to show honor to Tiberius, Philo can speak of worshipping God and honoring him alone (Decal. 1.65). When considering the works of Fletcher-Louis, Stuckenbruck, and North, one has to remember that in the ¿rst-century Greco-Roman world honor had to be given in accordance with one’s status. In a limited-goods society, this allows one to give honor to people only in accordance with their status, even within Judaism (e.g., Acts 23.2-5). However, since God’s position/status within the universe is the highest of all, the highest honor belongs only to him—although he himself is the source of honor (e.g., 1 Sam. 2.30; 1 Chron. 17.18; Pss. 24.7; 29.3). See further Hagedorn, ‘Honor’, pp. 499–500.
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considered YHWH alone as the eternal God, Creator, and Ruler over his creation, both heavenly and earthly, and placed him at the highest position of the universal hierarchy.104 Although YHWH alone was God and YHWH’s worship was connected to one place to symbolize his oneness, he could reveal himself in a number of different ways and in a number of different places. The multiplicity of his revelations and personi¿cations of his aspects did not detract from his oneness, since it was natural for ancient people to speak of oneness despite a multiplicity of expressions. Ancient people, whether Greeks, Romans, or Jews, spoke of different body parts and organs, e.g., heart, soul, Àesh, spirit, ear, mouth, hand, and arm—which could enjoy relative independence and be capable of spiritual and ethical impulses— as references to the whole person, similar to pronouns, although one would be hard-pressed to ¿nd references to self-division or self-doubt.105 That is why Jewish writings may speak of God in a variety of ways— presenting him in anthropological terms (e.g., Ps. 8) or speaking of him as a man (e.g., Gen. 18.1-16; 32.24-30), Wisdom, Spirit, or Word— without compromising his oneness. Having speci¿ed in what sense the Jewish faith of the Second Temple period was monotheistic, we now turn to our main issue, i.e., how Jesus can be understood as God against this background. b. Jesus and YHWH’s Divine Identity When Fletcher-Louis speaks of Jesus’ sharing YHWH’s identity, he presents Jesus as the highest among the lesser divine beings, yet he does not place Jesus on the same level with YHWH. Fletcher-Louis does not discuss how he understands the concept of identity, yet one can gather from his work that he is aware of how identity was understood among the people of the ¿rst-century Greco-Roman world. That is, he is aware that all those who belonged to a particular household/community were identi¿ed in relation to the head of that household/community and, therefore, their identity was rooted in their paterfamilias’s identity. He is even aware of the fact that not all who belonged to the same household/ community had the same status, which can be seen in his speaking of 104. See further Cross, Epic, pp. 76–83; Sommer, God, pp. 145–74. 105. E.g., Deut. 26.5: ‘A wandering Aramean/Syrian was my father. He went down to Egypt and lived there as an alien, few in number, and there he became a great nation, a great multitude of people.’ See further Di Vito, ‘Anthropology’, pp. 226–29; Halliwell, ‘Character’, pp. 32–59; Joyce, ‘Individual’, pp. 77–93; Warne, Perspectives, pp. 59–61; Wolff, Anthropology, pp. 8, 59–79. Cf. Robinson, Personality.
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Jesus as having higher status when compared to other heavenly beings. Therefore, the position that Jesus has, based on Fletcher-Louis’s understanding, is high but not as high as that of YHWH. One may conclude from Fletcher-Louis’s work that Jesus is a god among other gods, i.e., angels or exalted human beings.106 He is even a god with more power than the rest; yet he is not God. In light of this position, worship of Jesus by the early Christians would be understood as worship of a second divine being alongside God and would be acceptable only to those Jews who would accept the rabbinic concept of ‘Two Powers in Heaven’ and who would be more willing to allow for inclusive monotheism under the inÀuence of Hellenism.107 On the contrary, Bauckham’s concept of divine identity does not extend to the lesser divine beings. It is possible that Bauckham believes that heavenly beings shared in the identity of YHWH, but he clearly excludes them from sharing YHWH’s unique identity, which he extends only to YHWH’s personi¿cations, i.e., Spirit, Word, and Wisdom.108 One may even argue that Bauckham reserves a term ‘divine’ to describe God’s uniqueness over against the rest of the created order, since he uses the terms ‘semi-divine’ or ‘subordinately divine’ in reference to Jewish intermediary ¿gures that could be called gods.109 Bauckham shows that he is aware of contemporary discussions of the concept of identity when he says that identity has to be ‘understood not as a mere ontological subject without characteristics, but as including both character and personal story (the latter entailing relationships)’, since ‘[t]hese are the ways in which we commonly specify “who someone is” ’.110 Moreover, Bauckham is working with a narrative understanding 106. The interest in a Jewish category of semi-divine or divine intermediary beings as a background for explaining Jesus’ divinity in the NT can be observed in the writings of a number of biblical scholars. See further Carey C. Newman, James R. Davila, and Gladys S. Lewis (eds.), The Jewish Roots of Christological Monotheism: Papers from the St. Andrews Conference on the Historical Origins of the Worship of Jesus (JSJSup 63; Leiden: Brill, 1999); Stuckenbruck and North (eds.), Monotheism. 107. Fletcher-Louis is not convinced that Jesus has to be God to receive the veneration given him by the early Christians. See further Crispin H. T. FletcherLouis, ‘The Worship of Divine Humanity as God’s Image and the Worship of Jesus’, in Newman, Davila, and Lewis (eds.), Jewish Roots, pp. 112–28; idem, All the Glory of Adam: Liturgical Anthropology in the Dead Sea Scrolls (STDJ, 42; Leiden: Brill, 2002); idem, ‘Alexander the Great’s Worship of the High Priest’, in Stuckenbruck and North (eds.), Monotheism, pp. 71–102. 108. Bauckham, God, p. 17. 109. Bauckham, God, pp. 5, 16–22. 110. Bauckham, God, p. 7 n. 5. 1
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of identity, which is compatible not only with a contemporary relational understanding of identity but also with a premodern understanding. Thus, he says, ‘Jesus’ identity is, like all human identity, a narrative identity… his story is not yet ¿nished and cannot be while the meta-narrative of creation also remains un¿nished’ and ‘[i]f it is in Jesus that God’s sovereignty comes to universal effect…then Jesus’ own story belongs to the narrative identity of God himself’.111 Moreover, he speaks of God as known by the name YHWH and identi¿ed by his gracious acts in history on behalf of Israel (e.g., Exod. 20.2; Deut. 4.32-39; Isa. 43.15-17). He is the sole Creator of all things and sovereign Ruler of all things who will reveal himself as the only true God to all nations and who will establish his universal kingdom in the eschatological future. Bauckham emphasizes the supremacy of God YHWH, depicted through the powerful imagery of height—God rules from his great throne exalted over many heavenly realms and even the most exalted angels are not allowed to approach his throne (e.g., 1 En. 14.18-22)—and argues that this supremacy was what separated God from other heavenly beings because none of them participated with God in creation and none participate in his rule over the universe. To conclude, the participation in YHWH’s identity that Fletcher-Louis speaks of is that of a household member’s participation in paterfamilias’ identity. This understanding would allow Jesus to be a divine being subservient to God but not God himself and would be more acceptable to those Jews who under the strong inÀuence of Hellenism were sympathetic to more inclusive monotheism. On the contrary, the sharing in YHWH’s unique identity that Bauckham speaks of can be compared to speaking of many organs or body parts of one and the same individual, who does not differ whether he/she is identi¿ed in reference to his/her kidneys, heart, or spirit. Despite its complexity, this model of identity would be at home in the ¿rst-century Greco-Roman world that allowed for multiplicity to be understood as unity/oneness. Moreover, Sommer ¿nds witness in the Jewish sources to one God YHWH presented through multiple representations and argues that the problem of understanding Jesus as God is not theological:
111. Richard Bauckham, ‘The Future of Jesus Christ’, in Markus Bockmuehl (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Jesus (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), pp. 265–80 (269, 278). Moreover, he states, ‘According to the faith of the Christian church, Jesus is God’s human identity. He is both God’s truly human identity and truly God’s human identity’ (p. 275, italics original). See also Bauckham, God, p. 7; idem, Jesus, p. 6. 1
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Luke’s Christology of Divine Identity Some Jews regard Christianity’s claim to be a monotheistic religion with grave suspicion, both because of the doctrine of the trinity (how can three equal one?) and because of Christianity’s core belief that God took bodily form. What I have attempted to point out here is that biblical Israel knew very similar doctrines, and these doctrines did not disappear from Judaism after the biblical period. To be sure, Jews must repudiate many beliefs central to most forms of Christianity… No Jew sensitive to Judaism’s own classical sources, however, can fault the theological model Christianity employs when it avows belief in a God who has an earthly body as well as a Holy Spirit and a heavenly manifestation, for that model, we have seen, is a perfectly Jewish one.112
If one takes Sommer’s position seriously, one will see that Christian monotheism that speaks of Jesus as one God with YHWH is an acceptable form of Jewish monotheism although not acceptable to all Jews. Consequently, when compared against the background of Second Temple Jewish monotheism, Bauckham’s explanation of how Jesus could share YHWH’s divine identity seems to be more appropriate for those Jews who upheld more traditional exclusive monotheism. Therefore, we theorize that in Luke–Acts the characterization of God is oriented towards a more traditional exclusive monotheism and that Jesus, if he is presented as ¿¼ŦË, is characterized as one God with YHWH, rather than as a second god subservient to YHWH, even if that presupposes a concept of identity that is confusing for a modern/postmodern mind. However, we cannot assume that what we learn about God from the OT and Second Temple Jewish literature provides a complete explanation of who God/¿¼ŦË is in Luke–Acts. In fact, if we are successful in showing that Luke–Acts characterizes Jesus as one God with YHWH, we will automatically show that despite the continuity it may have with the OT and Second Temple Jewish literature in how it characterizes God, it claims to provide a more complete understanding of who that God is and encourages its model readers to incorporate new information concerning God’s human identity, i.e., Jesus’ identity, into their traditional understanding of God’s identity.113
112. Sommer, God, p. 135. 113. Thompson, God, p. 6: ‘To say that Christian faith shares with Judaism basic beliefs about God, including an understanding of God as just, merciful, compassionate, holy, and righteous, is undoubtedly true; but to leave it at that is to discount the fact that early Christians argued that the fullness of God’s mercy and righteousness had now been manifested through and in Jesus, the Messiah, of Israel. Such an argument does not and cannot leave “basic beliefs” about God unaltered.’
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V. Summary In this chapter, we attempted to de¿ne how we will use the category of divine identity in our study. First, we examined various contemporary views of identity and distinguished two trajectories for speaking of personal identity. We noticed that the modern introspective model, reÀected in Conzelmann’s ontology-vs.-function dichotomy, locates human identity within an individual and promotes disengagement from one’s body and society. This model has been predominant in the West but can account neither for how the concept of identity was de¿ned prior to the rise of modernity nor for how it was understood outside of Western cultures affected by modern thinking. Therefore, if not revised, it will continue to be incomplete and even harmful. We also noticed that the relational model understands identity of an individual in connection with his/her participation/function in his/her communities, situated in time and space. Even though postmodern philosophers may perceive people as products of their cultures who remain passive in the process of becoming who they are, those who follow Ricoeur acknowledge that people are actively involved in the construction of their personal identity as they apply culturally available plots to their lives. This relational and narratival way of understanding identity requires an embodied view of humans, which is supported by current research in the neurosciences. Second, we examined how personal identity was understood in the ¿rst-century Greco-Roman world and concluded that Greeks, Romans, and Jews could refer to individuals with a number of references to internal organs without compromising their unity as individuals. Moreover, they de¿ned personal identity relationally and functionally and valued humanity as embodied and embedded in their relationships with the world, with each other, and with God/god/gods. Thus, we established that a relational model, characterized by its emphasis on narratival and embodied understanding of identity, is more at home in the premodern world of Luke–Acts than an introspective one. Finally, we analyzed the concepts of identity employed by FletcherLouis and Bauckham in light of our discussion on identity. We noticed that both scholars rely on the relational model to form their understanding of God’s identity. However, because they use it differently, they reach different conclusions concerning how Jesus could share God’s identity. Fletcher-Louis sees Jesus as a second god, as someone who was below YHWH hierarchically and who derived his identity from YHWH, just as a member of a household derived his/her identity from the paterfamilias. On the contrary, Bauckham incorporates Jesus within YHWH’s 1
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unique identity and perceives him in a similar manner as other personi¿cations of God, such as Word, Wisdom, and Spirit. We anticipate that Bauckham’s understanding provides a more appropriate explanation of Jesus’ divinity against the background of the exclusive Jewish monotheism of the Second Temple period (contra Fletcher-Louis) without collapsing the boundaries of the relationship between Jesus and YHWH (contra Laurentin). In the following chapter, we will examine how Luke characterizes YHWH in order to clarify the conclusions of this chapter.
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Chapter 4
YHWH’S DIVINE IDENTITY IN LUKE–ACTS
I. Introduction Thus far we have argued that another study of the possibility of divine Christology in Luke–Acts is necessary in order to address problems that have prevented scholars from speaking of the Lukan Jesus as God and we attempted to address weaknesses in the studies of scholars who spoke of a Lukan divine Christology despite the extensive inÀuence of Conzelmann’s Theology. Now we need to outline how Luke–Acts constructs YHWH’s identity in order to eliminate faulty expectations for what is necessary in Luke’s characterization of Jesus to allow for the possibility of his sharing YHWH’s divine identity.1 Based on our ¿ndings in Chapters 2 and 3, we theorize that Luke will not limit his characterization of YHWH to direct titles; rather, in addition to using titles, he will employ indirect means of characterization to demonstrate YHWH’s traits, encouraging his readers to use titles that he predicates of YHWH and also a variety of titles available in their culture in their construction of YHWH’s identity. Moreover, we theorize that he will not be interested in presenting metaphysical considerations when constructing YHWH’s divine identity; rather, he will speak of YHWH (1) relationally, in light of his hierarchical position within the universe and in comparison with others who may claim the same position; and (2) functionally, with regard to how he carries out responsibilities prescribed to him by his position within the universe and his covenant with Israel.
1. We have already established in Chapter 1 that although the word ¿¼ŦË is important for the characterization of YHWH’s identity, ‘God’ is not YHWH’s name. Therefore, the study of YHWH’s divine identity cannot be limited to the word study of ¿¼ŦË; rather, it has to be rooted in the study of discourse concerning the character YHWH, whether or not it contains the word ¿¼ŦË. On avoiding lexical bias, see also Halliwell, ‘Character’, p. 37.
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As we begin our study of YHWH’s characterization in Luke–Acts, we are faced with a major dif¿culty.2 The task of bringing together all the aspects of Luke’s characterization of YHWH is complex and must be rooted ¿rmly in a thorough analysis of the entire Lukan narrative as it unfolds. However, a detailed presentation of this analysis is beyond the scope of our study.3 Therefore, after carefully investigating Luke–Acts as a whole from beginning to end, we have identi¿ed three chapters that might serve as a lens for the presentation of our ¿ndings, i.e., Luke 1–2; Acts 14, for the following reasons. First, since our goal is to examine if and how Jesus’ identity is bound to YHWH’s divine identity, we chose Luke 1–2 because they contain the gist of what Luke wants his readers to know about YHWH,4 although information Luke presents in these chapters is expounded elsewhere in Luke–Acts. Second, most of the information concerning YHWH that Luke 1–2 present is not communicated through what Jesus says and does, which allows us to examine YHWH’s characterization apart from that of Jesus. Third, although Luke 1–2 contain the gist of YHWH’s characterization, it is important to include in our study how Luke characterizes YHWH for a predominantly Gentile audience in order to achieve a balanced portrait of YHWH in Luke–Acts. Hence, we include Acts 14 in our analysis, which contains what is for the Lukan narrative the ¿rst proclamation of YHWH to a Gentile population on Gentile soil. 2. Brawley, God, pp. 110–11, provides a defense for treating God as a character in Luke–Acts. Cf. Brian Wicker, The Story-Shaped World: Fiction and Metaphysics: Some Variations on a Theme (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1975), pp. 94–106. 3. A number of dissertations have been published that deal just with the questions of God’s characterization in Luke–Acts—e.g., Bibb, ‘Characterization’; Chen, ‘God’; Christian Dionne, ‘L’annonce de la Bonne Nouvelle de Dieu: Une analyse de la ¿gure narrative de Dieu dans les discours pétriniens d’évangélisation des Actes des Apôtres (Ac 2,14-40; 3,12-26; 4,8-12; 5,29-32 et 10,34-43)’ (Ph.D. diss., University of Ottawa, 2001). Yet, even Dionne, who only deals with God’s characterization in Peter’s speeches in Acts, ¿nds the task to be complex (pp. 19–24). 4. Not all scholars consider the ¿rst two chapters of the Gospel to be authentic and, therefore, important for the Gospel as a whole—e.g., Conzelmann, Theology, pp. 118, 172. However, the importance of these two chapters for the Lukan narrative has been argued successfully—e.g., Raymond E. Brown, The Birth of the Messiah: A Commentary of the Infancy Narratives in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke (ABRL; New York: Doubleday, 2nd edn, 1993), pp. 239–50; Mark Coleridge, The Birth of the Lukan Narrative: Narrative as Christology in Luke 1–2 (JSNTSup, 88; Shef¿eld: JSOT, 1993), pp. 18–24; Green, Luke, pp. 47–58; Talbert, Luke, pp. 15–17; Tannehill, Unity, vol. 1, pp. 15–44; Joseph B. Tyson, ‘The Birth Narratives and the Beginning of Luke’s Gospel’, Semeia 52 (1990), pp. 103–20. 1
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As we study these three chapters, we will focus on individual pericopes that contain pertinent information concerning YHWH and explore them in detail. As we examine YHWH’s characterization, we will attend closely to what means of characterization Luke utilizes. When he relies on direct de¿nition, we will note the titles he uses and how they are endowed with further meaning through indirect presentation. When he relies on indirect presentation, we will note what he says about YHWH’s actions, words, and appearance, and about the physical and social surroundings being described, i.e., where the action takes place and who is present. As we bring together the clues concerning YHWH’s divine identity, we will identify the traits of YHWH’s character. At the end of our inductive analysis, we will summarize our ¿ndings and trace YHWH’s traits found in the three chapters throughout the Lukan narrative in order to demonstrate how these traits function in the construction of YHWH’s divine identity. Having outlined how we are going to present our ¿ndings, we now proceed to the examination of YHWH’s divine identity in (1) Lk. 1.5-25, 57-80; (2) Lk. 1.26-38, 39-56; 2.1-20; and (3) Acts 14.8-18. II. Luke 1.5-25, 57-80: Good News of YHWH’s Mercy and Salvation The story of Zechariah and Elizabeth takes up much of Luke 1;5 however, it does not take up the entire chapter, as Luke switches his focus from Zechariah and Elizabeth to Mary in 1.26-38 in order to encourage his readers to treat the stories of annunciation and birth of their sons side by side.6 Moreover, in 1.39-56, 67-79, Luke intertwines the lives of Zechariah, Elizabeth, and Mary, making it dif¿cult to speak of those characters separately. Despite this, we choose not to take our focus off Zechariah and Elizabeth until we have explored what Luke has to say about YHWH through his relationship with them; this is because our goal is to sketch how Luke characterizes YHWH rather than to recognize Luke’s literary creativity.7 After we have dealt with the story 5. Since the prologue (1.1-4) provides no information concerning YHWH but is concerned with the purpose for the writing of the Lukan narrative, we will skip over it. 6. See further Brown, Birth, pp. 250–53; Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Gospel according to Luke (AB, 28–28A; 2 vols.; Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1981–85), vol. 1, pp. 313–21; Green, Luke, pp. 47–51. 7. I. Howard Marshall, The Gospel of Luke: A Commentary on the Greek Text (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), p. 86, observes that the prose section 1.57-66 could have formed the original continuation to 1.5-25, since it does not presuppose 1.26-56. 1
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of Zechariah and Elizabeth, we will treat the story of Mary and the shepherds also without interruption. a. Introduction of Zechariah and Elizabeth Luke starts this section by situating his narrative historically in the time of Herod’s rule over Judea (1.5a), i.e., a time of foreign oppression by the Romans and socio-economic hardship, which he later equates with oppression by Satan himself (4.6; Acts 26.18).8 Then he introduces Zechariah and Elizabeth both relationally and functionally. Descendants of Aaron, the ¿rst high priest of YHWH (Lk. 1.5b),9 they are ‘both righteous before God’ (ëŸÅÌţÇÅ ÌÇı ¿¼Çı, 1.6a) and ‘blameless in accordance with all the commandments and requirements of the Lord’ (ÌÇı ÁÍÉţÇÍ, 1.6b), yet they have no apparent blessing from YHWH (e.g., Deut. 7.12-14)—that is, they are unable to have children due to Elizabeth’s barrenness (1.7a).10 This problem is more complicated when Luke announces that they are both getting on in years, highlighting the length of time they have endured this condition and their inability to address this need by human efforts (1.7b). Thus, Luke introduces Zechariah and Elizabeth in light of their relation to YHWH and ability to carry out their functions determined by YHWH. In doing this, he makes YHWH the focal point in their characterization; however, he omits any introduction to YHWH as a character per se, implying that YHWH is not a new character and encouraging his readers to treat the OT as a cotext. In this brief introduction, Luke is able to accomplish at least three things. First, in his presentation of Zechariah and Elizabeth, he emphasizes their unity and presents them as having one identity, ¿rmly rooted in YHWH, whom Luke calls both ¿¼ŦË and ÁŧÉÀÇË (1.6). Only one distinction is made, i.e., Elizabeth is barren, which may imply that she is 8. Kazuhiko Yamazaki-Ransom, The Roman Empire in Luke’s Narrative (LNTS, 404; London: T&T Clark International, 2010), pp. 70–105, argues that Luke presents both Jewish and Roman authorities under the authority of the Roman emperor, who is ultimately under the authority of Satan, and that dichotomies between Jewish/ Roman, supernatural/earthly, political/religious must be avoided in reading Luke’s narrative. 9. Zechariah belongs to the priestly order of Abijah, who are descendants of Aaron unlike other Levites (1 Chron. 24, esp. vv. 10, 20). See also Paul Winter, ‘The Cultural Background of the Narrative in Luke I and II’, JQR 45 (1954–55), pp. 159–67, 230–42, 285 (160–65). 10. Lynn H. Cohick, Women in the World of the Earliest Christians: Illuminating Ancient Ways of Life (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2009), p. 152, indicates that during the ¿rst century husbands usually did not divorce due to infertility and that women typically were not tormented by society for failure to produce children. 1
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perceived by their community as more responsible than Zechariah for their lack of children and, possibly, as deserving more disgrace associated with this lack of blessedness than Zechariah does (cf. 1.25).11 Second, by identifying Zechariah and Elizabeth as righteous and blameless before ¿¼ŦË/ÁŧÉÀÇË and by placing them in Judea (1.5), Luke establishes that he speaks of YHWH, the God of Israel, whose name in out of respect and was substituted with a Hebrew was read as ' 1 /‘Lord’ title ÁŧÉÀÇË/‘Lord’ in the Greek OT. By avoiding the mention of YHWH’s name and instead using the predicates ¿¼ŦË and ÁŧÉÀÇË when identifying YHWH, Luke demonstrates his conformity with this traditional Jewish practice, yet opens up a possibility that other characters within his narrative may share the same predicates. This does not imply, however, that he uses those titles thoughtlessly, allowing anyone called ‘god’ or ‘lord’ to share YHWH’s divine identity. As Luke–Acts unfolds, Luke will continue to specify indirectly what those titles mean when predicated of YHWH. Even now, he does not allow them to stand alone, but connects them to YHWH’s giving the law to Israel and judging every person belonging to Israel as righteous or sinful in light of his law—functions usually carried out by a king, judge, or paterfamilias, i.e., the lord and benefactor of a household.12 Consequently, he identi¿es YHWH as a ¿gure of highest authority, from whom everyone belonging to Israel should derive his/her identity, as do righteous Zechariah and Elizabeth; and who can appropriately be called King, Judge, and Father/Paterfamilias, based on the functions he carries out in relation to Israel. By choosing to mention righteousness and blamelessness in regard to YHWH’s law as Zechariah’s and Elizabeth’s identifying traits, Luke draws attention to the importance of YHWH’s covenant with Israel, which established a kinship relationship between YHWH and Israel and provided the system of mutual obligations and responsibilities for YHWH and Israel.13 Third, by portraying Zechariah and Elizabeth as highly honorable in view of their priestly heritage and righteous standing before YHWH and yet living in shame among people due to the apparent lack of YHWH’s blessing (1.7a, 25), Luke highlights people’s inability to evaluate the 11. Cf. Elizabeth V. Dowling, Taking Away the Pound: Women, Theology and the Parable of the Pounds in the Gospel of Luke (LNTS, 324; New York: T&T Clark International, 2007), p. 120. 12. Laws are the outcomes of the theophanies that present God as King (Exod. 19–24; Ps. 132; Isa. 2.2-4). See Rooker, ‘Theophany’, p. 863. For a description of a paterfamilias’s responsibilities, see Chapter 3, section III.c. 13. See further Cross, Epic, pp. 3–21. 1
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situation correctly and introduces a need for YHWH to carry out his responsibilities as Israel’s Lord and God by intervening in human history and vindicating the righteous couple. Since in their presentation Luke echoes a number of the OT stories of barrenness, especially that of Abraham and Sarah (Gen. 18.11),14 he encourages his readers to anticipate YHWH’s intervention on their behalf. Moreover, since he situates his narrative historically and roots Zechariah’s and Elizabeth’s identity in the identity of their people, Luke prevents his readers from dealing with their need for liberation from disgrace in isolation from Israel’s need for liberation from disgrace and oppression under the Roman rule and encourages them to anticipate YHWH’s intervention not only of behalf of Zechariah and Elizabeth but also on behalf of Israel in accordance with his covenantal promises. b. At the Temple15 Having introduced Zechariah and Elizabeth, Luke locates Zechariah in a public setting on temple duty ‘before God’ (ìŸÅÌÀ ÌÇı ¿¼Çı), together with other priests of his division (1.8). There, YHWH begins to act on Zechariah’s behalf, just as readers anticipate. YHWH publicly bestows on him a high honor and blessing by choosing him from among other priests through the casting of lots to offer incense inside his sanctuary (ÌÇŧ ÁÍÉţÇÍ, 1.9a), which is symbolic of offering prayers on behalf of the believing community.16 Zechariah responds with obedience, evidenced
14. E.g., Judg. 13.2; 1 Sam. 1.1-2. Cf. Gen. 25.21; 29.31; 30.22. 15. G. B. Caird, Saint Luke (WPC; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1977), p. 50, mentions that the OT contains many promises of blessings that God has prepared for Israel, one of which has to do with God himself coming to his people in his ‘chastening, cleansing, redeeming, and sanctifying power’, despite the fact that Israel believed that God as King was already in their midst. He notes that Malachi speaks of the Lord who will suddenly come to his temple, preceded by the coming of Elijah who will return to inaugurate a great repentance (3.1; 4.5-6). Caird then states, ‘It was appropriate, then, that the temple worship should provide the setting for the opening of the gospel story, as it does also for its close’. 16. Casting lots was a common way of determining God’s will (cf. Josh. 7.14-18; 1 Sam. 10.20-21; Acts 1.17). See further Herman Hanse, ‘¸ºÏŠÅÑ’, TDNT, vol. 4, pp. 1–2; m. Tam. 1.2; 3.1; 5.2, 4. Moreover, burning of incense was considered a special honor enjoyed only by those chosen by lot (cf. Jub. 4.25). So, this once-in-alifetime opportunity was allotted to Zechariah by God with no cooperation on his part. On temple offerings, see m. Tamid. On burning incense, see Exod. 30.1-10; Sir. 50.1-24; Philo, Spec. 1.276; m. Tam. 3.6-9; 6.1-3; 7.2. See also Brown, Birth, p. 259; Fitzmyer, Luke, vol. 1, pp. 303–33; Genette, Paratexts, pp. 68–71; Dennis Hamm, ‘The Tamid Service in Luke–Acts: The Cultic Background behind Luke’s Theology
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by his leaving the praying multitude outside and going inside YHWH’s sanctuary (1.9b-10). Luke does not offer a detailed account of who else goes inside the sanctuary with him or how the ceremony of incense offering takes place, implying that it is unimportant for the narrative.17 Instead, Luke focuses exclusively on the righteous priest Zechariah and his experience as he ¿nds himself inside the sanctuary at YHWH’s initiative. c. Inside the Sanctuary 1. Gabriel’s appearance and Zechariah’s fear. In the private setting of YHWH’s sanctuary, the place where heaven and earth meet,18 YHWH’s messenger Gabriel (Óºº¼ÂÇË ÁÍÉţÇÍ, 1.11),19 whose identity is derived from his service to YHWH (1.19), appears to Zechariah, whose reaction upon seeing him is distinguished by distress and fear (ë̸ɊϿ¾ Á¸Ė ÎŦ¹ÇË ëȚȼʼŠëÈ’ ¸ĤÌŦÅ, 1.12). In the OT, fear is a common human reaction to someone who poses a threat to personal safety or life and has authority and power to carry out that threat.20 Since YHWH commands to fear parents (Lev. 19.3) and speaks of fearing and honoring fathers and masters as a right thing to do (Mal. 1.6), fear is an appropriate reaction toward those who are in a position of authority. In fact, not to fear them is a sign of arrogance and disobedience (e.g., Ps. 36.1). However, reactions of fear that jeopardize one’s relationship with YHWH, Israel’s Lord and Paterfamilias, placing fear of others above the fear of YHWH, of Worship (Luke 1:5-25; 18:9-14; 24:50-53; Acts 3:1; 10:3, 30)’, CBQ 65 (2003), pp. 215–31 (220–21); Winter, ‘Luke’, pp. 165–67, 230–36. 17. Five priests were supposed to take care of the inner altar, candlestick, and incense offering. When they accomplished their task, they were to leave the sanctuary. It is possible that Zechariah was left alone inside the sanctuary since incense offering was the ¿nal task of the ¿ve described in m. Tam. 6.1–3, esp. v. 3. 18. See further, Margaret Barker, ‘Beyond the Veil of the Temple: The High Priestly Origins of the Apocalypses’, SJT 51 (1998), pp. 1–21. Cf. J. Glen Taylor, Yahweh and the Sun: Biblical and Archaeological Evidence for Sun Worship in Ancient Israel (JSOTSup, 111; Shef¿eld: JSOT, 1993), pp. 136–64. 19. In the OT, ‘the angel of the Lord’ (Óºº¼ÂÇË ÁÍÉţÇÍ) often translates ‘the angel of YHWH’ (!#!' T + / )—e.g., Gen. 16.7; Exod. 3.2; Judg. 13.3; 1 Chron. 21.18; Zech. 1.12. 20. The threat can be posed by a single individual (e.g., Gen. 42.35; Exod. 34.30; 1 Sam. 21.12-13), a group (e.g., Gen. 26.7), foreign gods (e.g., Ep. Jer. 1.4), or YHWH (e.g., Gen. 3.10; 18.15). See further Horst Balz and Günther Wanke, ‘ÎǹšÑ ÁÌÂ.’, TDNT, vol. 9, pp. 189–219; Martti Nissinen, ‘Fear Not: A Study on an Ancient Near Eastern Phrase’, in Marvin A. Sweeney and Ehud Ben Zvi (eds.), The Changing Face of Form Criticism for the Twenty-First Century (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), pp. 122–61. 1
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are inappropriate (e.g., Isa. 57.11), as evidenced by numerous warnings not to fear other nations and their gods (e.g., Num. 14.9; Deut. 7.18; 2 Kgs 17.37). This implies that for a righteous Israelite fear is an appropriate response only to his/her parents, masters, kings (e.g., 1 Kgs 3.28), and YHWH (e.g., Gen. 18.15; Exod. 20.18; Deut. 5.5; Jdt. 8.8). Moreover, since YHWH is a ¿gure of the highest authority, fear of YHWH should be above all other fears. However, fear of YHWH should not be understood merely as a negative reaction. This is because it is meant to (1) encourage an Israelite to show his/her complete reliance on YHWH’s power and covenantal promises; (2) free him/her from fearing others (e.g., Exod. 20.20; Lev. 26.6; Deut. 10.12, 20; Ps. 27.1; Isa. 54.14; Tob. 4.21);21 and (3) help him/her grow in wisdom and ful¿ll YHWH’s law (e.g., Prov. 1.7; Sir. 19.20). That is why people who are God-fearing are pious, righteous, and faithful. They love YHWH, learn his word, keep his commandments, submit to his will, have a special relationship with him, and become recipients of his mercy and blessings.22 Moreover, they are privileged to have friendship with YHWH (e.g., Ps. 25.14), his fatherly compassion (e.g., Ps. 103.13), and his salvation (e.g., Ps. 145.19). It is in these people that YHWH takes pleasure (e.g., Ps. 147.11), which explains why they are truly the ones who lead a happy life (e.g., Ps. 112.1). Zechariah’s encounter with YHWH’s messenger Gabriel inside YHWH’s sanctuary enables communication between YHWH and Zechariah and may be viewed as a theophany,23 in which Gabriel represents YHWH fully, although Luke discourages his readers from equating Gabriel with YHWH. That is, his presence is YHWH’s presence, his message is YHWH’s message, and response to him is a response to YHWH himself. 21. See also Shults, Anthropology, pp. 71–76, 106, 164. 22. God’s full revelation can destroy a human, so fear and trembling is a natural reaction (Exod. 20.18-19; Deut. 18.16; Sir. 16.18-19). Fear is associated not only with seeing/hearing God, but also with people/places that reÀect God’s presence (Exod. 34.30; Lev. 19.30; Josh. 4.14). Fear in the presence of God is understood as a sign of obedience and piety (Deut. 10.12-20; Prov. 14.16; Jdt. 16.15; As. Mos. 10.36; 1QH 3.32-36). Those who fear YHWH are blessed (Deut. 6.2; Sir. 1.13; 2.7-18; Pss. Sol. 2.33), and those who do not are punished (Deut. 28.58-62). See also Balz and Wanke, ‘ÎǹšÑ’, pp. 192–217; Brown, Birth, p. 260. 23. In the OT, the angel of the Lord is often identi¿ed with God, speaks for God with authority attributed to God, is described in terms associated with God, accepts worship and sacri¿ces as God, and refers to himself as God (Gen. 16.7-13; 22.10-18; 31.11-13; Exod. 3.2–4.17; Judg. 2.1-5; 6.11-24; 13.20-23; esp. Exod. 23.20-23). On theophany, see further Rooker, ‘Theophany’, pp. 859–64; Hamori, God, pp. 1–25; Mendenhall, Origins, pp. 60–66. 1
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Therefore, Luke’s readers are encouraged to understand Zechariah’s reaction of distress and fear (1.12) at the encounter with Gabriel as a con¿rmation of Luke’s previous characterization of Zechariah as righteous and blameless before God (1.6), reinforcing readers’ expectations for YHWH’s intervention in Zechariah’s life. 2. YHWH’s message. Before Gabriel begins to proclaim YHWH’s message to Zechariah, he addresses Zechariah’s fear. With the words ‘Do not fear, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard’,24 he intends to calm Zechariah25 and to explain the reason for his appearance. These comforting words indicate that YHWH not only knows Zechariah by name but also is able to see what people do not (cf. 1.25), namely, that Zechariah is righteous and blameless despite his childlessness. YHWH has already honored him by selecting him to come inside the sanctuary and now he is honoring him further by responding to his prayer. From this point on Zechariah’s righteousness before YHWH can no longer be doubted.26 Although Luke does not present Zechariah’s prayer,27 readers can deduce its contents based on how YHWH answers it. YHWH begins by addressing Zechariah’s personal need. He promises that Elizabeth will bear him a son, whom he should call John (1.12b-13), which can be rendered ‘God is gracious’ or ‘God has shown favor’. In giving John a name with such meaning, YHWH identi¿es himself as a gracious God,28 24. The passive voice is used where God is the obvious agent—see Daniel B. Wallace, Greek Grammar beyond the Basics: An Exegetical Syntax of the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1996), pp. 435–38. 25. To tell someone ‘Do not fear’ is a common way to counteract terror associated with a potential threat to their safety and to comfort them. One cannot utter these words of comfort unless one has appropriate authority to ensure the trustworthiness of those words by a human (Gen. 43.23; Judg. 4.18; Ruth 3.11; 1 Sam. 23.17; 28.13) or by God (Gen. 15.1; Josh. 8.1; Isa. 41.10, 13). This implies that God has proper authority to guarantee the trustworthiness of his comforting words and that he desires to eliminate any obstacle to ensure that his message does not fall on deaf ears. Elsewhere in Luke–Acts, this expression is used to communicate the certainty of God’s care—see Green, Luke, p. 72. For the use of the phrase as a formula, see Nissinen, ‘Fear’, pp. 122–61. 26. Cf. Wis. 3.12; 4.1, 8-9. 27. Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.195-196, says that prayer for others should come before prayer for personal concerns, especially in a setting when sacri¿ces are offered. 28. Scholars who doubt that Luke or his audience would have known the meaning of John’s name would be reluctant to attribute any signi¿cance to the meaning of John’s name for YHWH’s characterization—e.g., Brown, Birth, p. 272; Paul Winter, ‘Some Observations on the Language in the Birth and Infancy Stories of the Third Gospel’, NTS 1 (1954), pp. 111–21 (120–21). However, their reluctance is not well1
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echoing his previous self-identi¿cation as compassionate and merciful.29 This self-identi¿cation directly de¿nes YHWH as a merciful God; yet when taken on its own it does not provide enough detail to be meaningful. Therefore, it has to be understood in light of its immediate cotext and intertext. We will now explore how Luke begins to endow this selfidenti¿cation of God with meaning by looking at Daniel’s prayer because in the OT Daniel is the only one to whom Gabriel appeared to announce that YHWH has heard his prayer (»š¾ÊÀË) and is about to answer it (Dan. 8–10) and because Luke’s account provides multiple parallels between the two encounters.30 In his prayer, Daniel uses »š¾ÊÀË (Dan. 9.17, 23)31 synonymously with ÈÉÇʼÍÏŢ (9.3, 17, 18, 20, 21) and ì¼ÇË (9.3), which can be understood as a request for YHWH’s mercy.32 He understands foreign oppression as Israel’s punishment given by YHWH in accordance with the law (9.1114) and associates the disgrace (÷ ¸ĊÊÏŧž, 9.7, 8; ĚżÀ»ÀÊÄŦË, 9.16) that Israel is experiencing with her sin. Thus, he confesses sin and ignorance founded due to the fact that names in the OT usually have signi¿cance (e.g., Gen. 3.20; 4.1, 25; 17.5, 15; 32.28, 30; cf. Gen. 17.19 echoed in Gen. 17.17; 18.12, 13, 15; 21.3, 6), evidenced by the practice of translating them into Greek to carry over their signi¿cance (e.g., Gen. 17.5, 15-16; 32.30; 35.8, 18) or transliterating when the meaning can be understood from the cotext or is well known (e.g., Gen. 35.15, 18). This practice can also be observed in Luke–Acts when the Aramaic name Tabitha is translated into Greek as Dorcas (Acts 9.36; cf. 4.36; 15.37), implying that even in Luke–Acts names continue to have signi¿cance. Someone might object that, if the signi¿cance of John’s name had been important to Luke, he would have provided its meaning. This is true unless its meaning was already well known—which may well have been the case. Bauckham, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, p. 85, lists it as the ¿fth most popular male name among Palestinian Jews between 330 B.C.E. and 200 C.E. See also H. Bietenhard, ‘ěÅÇĸ ÁÌÂ.’, TDNT, vol. 5, pp. 242–83; René Laurentin, ‘Traces d’allusions étymologiques en Luc 1–2’, Bib 37–38 (1956–57), pp. 435–56, 1–23 (438–39, 441). 29. Exod. 34.6; Num. 14.18. Cf. Neh. 9.17; Ps. 86.15; Joel 2.13; Jon. 4.2; Sir. 2.11; 4 Ezra 7.132-140; Jos. Asen. 11.10; Pr. Man. 7. 30. Similarities: the time of appearance (Lk. 1.9-11; Dan. 9.20-21), mention of prayer (Lk. 1.13; Dan. 9.3-21), focus on one person (Lk. 1.9-20; Dan. 10.7-8), fear associated with seeing Gabriel (Lk. 1.12; Dan. 8.17; 10.7-11, 16b-17), Gabriel’s admonition not to fear (Lk. 1.13; Dan. 10.12, 19), Gabriel’s position as the one sent to deliver God’s message (Lk. 1.19; Dan. 10.11), and muteness of the recipients of the vision (Lk. 1.20; Dan. 10.15). See Brown, Birth, pp. 270–71; Fitzmyer, Luke, vol. 1, pp. 315–16. 31. In the LXX, »š¾ÊÀË is used predominantly to translate 0K1% k or ! ^% k, which are cognates of John’s name. On connecting John’s name to YHWH’s answering prayers, see Laurentin, ‘Traces’, p. 441. 32. Cf. Solomon’s prayer of the temple dedication (1 Kgs 8.30-52). 1
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(9.15), which he attributes not only to his people of past and present generations (9.16) but also to himself, ¿rmly rooting his identity in the identity of his people (9.20); and anticipates that YHWH will show mercy in accordance with his covenantal promises (e.g., Deut. 30.1-10) and on account of his servants (Dan. 9.17), his mercy (9.18), and his name, which is associated with Jerusalem and the people of Israel (9.19). Daniel asks YHWH to turn away his wrath (9.16), listen, look with favor, see the desolation of his city and people, and show mercy (9.17-19) although people have turned away from him (9.13) and did not listen to his voice (9.5, 6, 9b, 10, 11, 14). Thus, Daniel characterizes YHWH as great, mighty, and terrible, who keeps his covenant and mercy (Ìġ ì¼ÇË) for those who love him and follow his commandments (9.4). Moreover, he emphasizes YHWH’s righteousness (÷ »ÀÁ¸ÀÇÊŧž, 9.7, 9, 16; cf. 9.14) and mercy (Ìġ ì¼ÇË, 9.3, 4, 9, 18) throughout his prayer because YHWH remains compassionate and merciful despite human rebellion (9.9) or human merit (9.18; cf. Exod. 33.19; Deut. 30.1-8; Ruth 1.1; Isa. 44.2128; Jer. 2–16). Through this intertextual connection, Luke encourages his readers to understand Zechariah’s prayer as a request for YHWH’s mercy on Israel’s sin and disgrace, evidenced by foreign oppression (cf. Lk. 1.5). He insists that YHWH’s self-identi¿cation as a gracious and merciful God should not depend on the faithfulness of Israel as a nation, for it continues to fail to listen to his voice. Nor should it depend on the faithfulness of its individuals who, like Daniel and Zechariah, may live blamelessly in accordance with YHWH’s law yet indirectly participate in the nation’s sinfulness, as stated by Daniel and possibly evidenced by Zechariah’s childlessness. Rather, it should be rooted in YHWH’s faithfulness to his covenantal promises reÀected in Israel’s Scripture and his determination to care for his people despite their rebellion or merit. Having speci¿ed how Luke begins to endow God’s self-identi¿cation as gracious with meaning, we return to our discussion of YHWH’s message. After YHWH announces John’s birth through Gabriel, he declares that John will become great before him. First, he will be a Nazarite (Num. 6.1-21), dedicated to YHWH from birth like Samson and Samuel, which is implied in YHWH’s instructions for John to abstain from wine or strong drink (Lk. 1.15a). Second, he will be a prophet, ¿lled with the Holy Spirit (ÈżŧĸÌÇË ÖºţÇÍ), i.e., YHWH’s Spirit (Ps. 51.11 [50.13, LXX]; Isa. 63.10-11; Wis. 9.17) from his mother’s womb (1.15b).33 Third, he will be 33. The Spirit of God comes to enable one to prophesy, i.e., speak God’s message—e.g., Isa. 61.1; Ezek. 11.5; Joel 2.28. See further Max Turner, ‘The Work of the Holy Spirit in Luke–Acts’, WW 23 (2003), pp. 146–53. 1
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YHWH’s instrument in turning Israel to the Lord their God (ëÈÀÊÌɚмÀ ëÈĖ ÁŧÉÀÇÅ ÌġÅ ¿¼ġÅ ¸ĤÌľÅ, 1.16).34 This will involve going ‘before him with the spirit and power of Elijah’ (ëÅŪÈÀÇÅ ¸ĤÌÇı ëÅ ÈżŧĸÌÀ Á¸Ė »ÍŊļÀ DÂţÇÍ) in order to turn the hearts of fathers to their children and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous with the purpose of making ready a ‘people prepared for the Lord’ (ÁÍÉţĿ, 1.17). Stated in this way (cf. 1.76), John’s mission echoes Mal. 2.6; 3.1; 4.5-6 [3.22-23, LXX] (cf. Sir. 48.1-10), which bring to the fore the themes of the dawning of the messianic age, the coming of the Day of the Lord, and the coming of the Lord to his temple; identi¿es John as the forerunner of the messianic age; and thus reinforces the connection between Gabriel’s encounter with Zechariah and Gabriel’s encounter with Daniel (Dan. 9.24-27).35 This description of John’s mission raises two questions. First, to what does ‘the spirit and power of Elijah’ refer? In 1.15 Èżıĸ refers to the Holy Spirit. In 1.17, Èżıĸ is in a parallel construction with »ŧŸÄÀË,36 which appears again in 1.35 in reference to the Holy Spirit and the power of the Most High (ĨÐţÊÌÇÍ), i.e., YHWH (e.g., Gen. 14.22; Deut. 32.8; Isa. 57.15; 1 Esd. 2.3 [2.2, LXX]; Tob. 1.4). Since in the OT only YHWH can give his power (e.g., Deut. 8.18) and spirit (e.g., Isa. 42.1; Ezek. 11.5; Joel 2.28), the phrase ‘the spirit and power of Elijah’ cannot be understood apart from YHWH’s empowerment.37 So, although John’s 34. Turning to God means turning from one’s sins, i.e., repentance, and is followed by God’s deliverance (e.g., Deut. 4.30; 1 Sam. 7.3; 1 Kgs 8.33; 2 Kgs 23.25; 2 Chron. 30.6-9; Neh. 9.26-29; Job 22.23; Pss. 7.13; 51.13; Isa. 19.22; Jer. 4.1; Lam. 3.40; Ezek. 14.6; Hos. 3.5; Joel 2.12-14; Zech. 1.3; Tob. 13.6-8; Sir. 5.7; Bar. 4.28). However, turning away to other gods is associated with disobedience and followed by punishment—e.g., Deut. 31.18; 1 Kgs 13.33; 2 Chron. 24.19; Jer. 3.10; Hos. 7.10; Amos 4.6; Hag. 2.17; Mal. 3.7. In Acts 3.18; 26.20, it is equated with repentance (ļ̸ÅÇšÑ), i.e., turning from power of Satan to God (26.18), and it has this sense in Lk. 22.32; Acts 9.40; 11.21; 14.15; 15.19; 28.27. See further Mihamm Kim-Rauchholz, Umkehr bei Lukas: Zu Wesen and Bedeutung der Metanoia in der Theologie des dritten Evangelisten. (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2008); Fernando Méndez-Moratalla, The Paradigm of Conversion in Luke (JSNTSup, 252; London: T&T Clark International, 2004); Guy D. Nave, Jr., The Role and Function of Repentance in Luke–Acts (ABib, 4; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2002). 35. See further Brown, Birth, p. 271; Fitzmyer, Luke, vol. 1, pp. 315–16. 36. In Exod. 12.41; Josh. 4.24; Job 37.14, the power is that of the Lord. In 2 Macc. 3.24, 38, the power is attributed to God. In many other cases the powers of the Lord/God refer to the heavenly hosts. 37. Elijah describes himself, similarly to Gabriel, as one standing before God. He is YHWH’s messenger to Ahab, like Gabriel is to Zechariah, and, therefore, he is empowered for this mission by YHWH’s Spirit. That is why his spirit cannot be understood apart from YHWH’s Spirit (1 Kgs 18.12; 2 Kgs 2.15-16). 1
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mission echoes that of Elijah,38 he will perform his mission only through YHWH’s empowerment (1.15). Second, how should one understand ëÅŪÈÀÇÅ ¸ĤÌÇı (1.17a)? Before whom will John go? Thus far, Gabriel announced that John would be great ‘before the Lord’ (ëÅŪÈÀÇÅ [ÌÇı] ÁÍÉţÇÍ, 1.15) and later he characterizes himself as standing ‘before God’ (ëÅŪÈÀÇÅ ÌÇı ¿¼Çı, 1.19). Moreover, in 1.76 Zechariah says that John is to go ‘before the Lord’ (ëÅŪÈÀÇÅ ÁÍÉţÇÍ) to prepare his ways and in 1.17b Gabriel says that John is to prepare people for the ‘Lord’ (ÁÍÉţĿ). Therefore, it is reasonable to assume that ëÅŪÈÀÇÅ ¸ĤÌÇı means ëÅŪÈÀÇÅ ÌÇı ÁÍÉţÇÍ/¿¼Çı.39 Consequently, just like his parents, John is introduced relationally and functionally in reference to YHWH. Moreover, since John’s birth is supposed to bring joy and gladness not only to Zechariah and Elizabeth but also to many people who will rejoice at his birth (1.14) and who will later partake of his ministry, it is impossible to construct John’s identity in isolation from his relationship to and function within his family or nation, just as it is impossible to separate YHWH’s answer to Zechariah’s personal need for a son from his answer to Israel’s need for repentance, reconciliation, and ultimately restoration.40 By choosing to show mercy to one righteous couple within sinful Israel, oppressed by Satan through the power exercised by the Roman Empire, YHWH declares that he is ready to forgive sin, show mercy to the people as a whole, and declare his power within the territory claimed by Satan.41 In fact, his readiness to forgive and show mercy is a part of his salvi¿c plan that he had 38. On John’s mission and the Elijah motif, see also Brown, Birth, pp. 272–79. For the position that identi¿es Elijah with Jesus rather than John, see Joseph G. Kelly, ‘Lucan Christology and the Jewish–Christian Dialogue’, JES 21 (1984), pp. 688–708; Christophe Pichon, ‘Un parallèle entre Jésus, Jean-Baptiste et Élie: présupposés méthodologiques’, RevScRel 82 (2008), pp. 497–516 (515–16). 39. Cf. Brown, Birth, pp. 261–62. 40. See further Richard Bauckham, ‘The Restoration of Israel in Luke–Acts’, in James M. Scott (ed.), Restoration: Old Testament, Jewish, and Christian Perspectives (JSJSup, 72; Leiden: Brill, 2001), pp. 435–87; Michael E. Fuller, The Restoration of Israel: Israel’s Re-gathering and the Fate of the Nations in Early Jewish Literature and Luke–Acts (BZNW, 138; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2006); Alan J. Thompson, The Acts of the Risen Lord Jesus: Luke’s Account of God’s Unfolding Plan (NSBT; Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 2011), Chapter 3. 41. François Bovon, Luke 1: A Commentary on the Gospel of Luke 1:1–9:50 (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2002), p. 34, notes that in the OT the proclamation of an extraordinary birth to a childless couple was ‘always an expression of initiative on the part of the saving God; in each case the saving event happened for the good not only of individuals but of the whole nation’.
1
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prepared and announced long ago and now has begun to put into action by (1) showing initiative in selecting Zechariah to go inside his sanctuary to offer prayers before him, (2) announcing the conception of the messenger of the messianic age, (3) giving that messenger the mission of preparing people for reconciliation with him, and (4) promising to empower him to be successful. 3. Zechariah’s objection and Gabriel’s response. Having heard the message, Zechariah raises objections, pointing out his and Elizabeth’s old age as an obstacle to the ful¿llment of YHWH’s plan and, thus, doubting YHWH’s ability to accomplish what he promises. As a response, Gabriel presents his credentials as the ‘one standing in the presence of God’ (ĝ ȸɼÊ̾ÁĽË ëÅŪÈÀÇÅ ÌÇı ¿¼Çı),42 who is sent to function as YHWH’s personal messenger and to communicate the good news (1.19) of YHWH’s care and mercy for Zechariah in particular and for his people in general (1.13-17). Furthermore, Gabriel emphasizes Zechariah’s disbelief and declares that Zechariah will become mute43 until the day when YHWH’s message is ful¿lled (1.20). In the OT, physical deafness was regarded as a judgment from YHWH (e.g., Exod. 4.11; Mic. 7.16) and later in Luke (11.14) dumbness is understood as demon possession, which is healed through exorcism. That is why Zechariah’s muteness can be understood as a sign of judgment for doubting YHWH’s message.44
42. ĝ ȸɼÊ̾ÁĽË ëÅŪÈÀÇÅ can refer to the one who is simply standing (1 Sam. 16.21; Acts 4.10) or the one who is serving and has a certain kind of relationship with the one before whom he/she stands—as in the case of Solomon’s servants (1 Kgs 10.8) or as in the case of priests, prophets, and angels serving before YHWH or before his ark of the covenant (Judg. 20.28; 1 Kgs 17.1; 18.15; 2 Kgs 3.14; 5.16; Job 1.6; Jdt. 4.14). Here we ¿nd an interesting connection to Elijah, since he presented his credentials in a similar fashion (1 Kgs 17.1; 18.15; 2 Kgs 3.14; 5.16). 43. Muteness is a physical condition of speechlessness, often associated with deafness, which can be used ¿guratively to refer to one’s submission and humility before a higher authority (Ps. 39.2, 9; Isa. 53.7; Acts 8.32). 44. This is a common view among the Church Fathers. See Brown, Birth, pp. 279–80; Arthur A. Just, Jr. (ed.), Luke (ACCS, 3; Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity, 2003), pp. 7, 10–11; Klemens Stock, ‘Die Berufung Marias’, Bib 61 (1980), pp. 457–91 (480). Cf. Bovon, Luke 1, p. 39; Caird, Luke, p. 51; Coleridge, Luke, pp. 38–40; Fitzmyer, Luke, vol. 1, p. 328; Green, Luke, p. 89; Jakob Kremer, Lukasevangelium (NEchtB, 3; Würzburg: Echter, 1988), p. 26; David T. Landry, ‘Narrative Logic in the Annunciation to Mary (Luke 1:26-38)’, JBL 114 (1995), pp. 65–79 (76); John B. F. Miller, Convinced That God Had Called Us: Dreams, Visions, and the Perception of God’s Will in Luke–Acts (BIS, 85; Leiden: Brill, 2007), p. 116; Tannehill, Unity, vol. 1, p. 15. 1
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Readers may wonder why Gabriel interprets Zechariah’s response of doubt as disbelief when it can be compared to (1) Abraham’s objection to YHWH’s promise of the land (Á¸ÌÛ Ìţ ºÅŪÊÇĸÀ, Gen. 15.8), repeated by Zechariah verbatim (Á¸ÌÛ Ìţ ºÅŪÊÇĸÀ ÌÇıÌÇ, 1.18); (2) Sarah’s doubt of YHWH’s promise concerning Isaac’s conception due to her barrenness and Abraham’s old age (Gen. 18.12); (3) Moses’ recurring objections to YHWH’s choosing him to play a role in YHWH’s salvi¿c plan due to his slowness of tongue (Exod. 3.11; 4.10, 13); and (4) Mary’s question concerning Jesus’ conception (Lk. 1.34). Readers may also wonder why Zechariah’s muteness should be understood as a sign of judgment when Daniel’s muteness during his encounter with Gabriel (Dan. 10.15) and Ezekiel’s temporary dumbness during his encounter with YHWH (Ezek. 3.26-27; 33.22) are not understood as signs of judgment.45 Luke does not answer those questions. However, because he characterizes YHWH as the one who knows hearts (e.g., Acts 15.8; cf. Isa. 29.13), he encourages his readers to accept Zechariah’s muteness as an appropriate consequence for his objection and, thus, disbelief. Furthermore, readers may wonder how Zechariah’s muteness may function within the story of John’s annunciation and birth when they notice that Zechariah’s encounter with Gabriel follows a convention of biblical annunciations of birth, which usually includes an objection and a sign from YHWH.46 First, it can be understood as YHWH’s way to enable Zechariah to overcome his doubts, just as the phrase ‘Do not fear’ was used to overcome his terror of the divine presence (1.13). Second, it can be viewed as YHWH’s way to teach Israel that he is, indeed, the same YHWH he has always been, as in Ezekiel’s story (Ezek. 24.27), since the ¿rst words that come from Zechariah’s mouth are the words of prophecy that praise YHWH for his gracious acts in the present and in the past (1.64, 67). Finally, it can be a combination of the two possibilities, which would imply that having seen the sign at work and having overcome his doubts and repented of his disbelief, Zechariah will be enabled to embrace the message wholeheartedly and to testify to everyone at the
45. In the OT, God allows people to ask for a sign or gives them a sign prior to their asking—e.g., Judg. 6.37-40; 2 Kgs 20.8-11; Isa. 7.11. 46. Brown, Birth, p. 156, provides a useful ¿ve-step table of biblical annunciations of birth, analyzing the birth announcements of Ishmael (Gen. 16.7-12), Isaac (Gen. 17.1-21; 18.1-15), Samson (Judg. 13.3-23), John (Lk. 1.11-20), and Jesus (Mt. 1.20-21; Lk. 1.26-37). Type-scenes usually contain a number of stereotypical elements, which can be freely used by the narrator in order to communicate the story in a meaningful way. See also Alter, Art, pp. 47–62. 1
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appointed time that YHWH is the merciful and gracious God he has always been (1.67-79). Therefore, despite its being a sign of judgment, Zechariah’s muteness may also be understood as an enabling sign and yet further evidence of YHWH’s compassion and mercy—for despite Zechariah’s objection, YHWH does not change his promise, i.e., Zechariah is still going to have a son who will be great before the Lord and who will function as a forerunner of the messianic age. Accordingly, Luke continues to endow YHWH’s self-identi¿cation as merciful with meaning when he shows that YHWH is capable of understanding human weaknesses and powerful enough to work toward the ful¿llment of his plan without breaking his promises. d. At the Temple after the Encounter When Zechariah rejoins the people outside, where they wait for him, astonished47 at his delay (1.21), they recognize Zechariah’s inability to speak as evidence of his otherworldly encounter inside the sanctuary (1.22).48 However, there is no indication that they are aware of the content of YHWH’s message. Although the text does not directly mention this, it is possible that there was a sense of shame attributed to Zechariah, since his muteness could have been understood as a divine con¿rmation of his guilt implied by his childlessness (cf. Jn 9.2). Shame also could have been attributed to him due to his inability to perform the priestly duty of pronouncing the Aaronic blessing over the people,49 since honor and shame were assigned in accordance with how one performed his/her socially assigned role. If this is the case, Zechariah’s public disgrace is now equivalent to that of Elizabeth, which allows the identity of the husband to be conformed fully to that of the wife. Since Luke’s mention of Zechariah’s immediate muteness con¿rms YHWH’s ability to accomplish his promises, readers begin eagerly to anticipate how YHWH’s promised intervention will play out in the life of this righteous-yetdisgraced couple and in the life of Israel as a whole.
47. Astonishment in this case anticipates the signi¿cance of the event that took place inside the sanctuary. See G. Bertram, ‘¿¸ŧĸ ÁÌÂ.’, TDNT, vol. 3, pp. 27–42 (37). 48. It is not unusual to have visions and encounters with YHWH inside his sanctuary—e.g., Josephus, Ant. 13.282-83. 49. According to m. Tam. 7.2, the ¿ve priests were to pronounce the Aaronic blessing (Num. 6.24-26) from the steps of the sanctuary. 1
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e. At Zechariah’s House 1. John’s conception. At the end of his time of service, Zechariah joins his wife in the private setting of his house, where the focus moves to Elizabeth who soon conceives (1.24) in accordance with YHWH’s promise (1.13b). Elizabeth attributes this miraculous conception to the work of the Lord,50 interpreting it as a sign of YHWH’s favor since he took special attention to address her need in order to remove her disgrace among the people (1.25) and vindicate her as the righteous woman she has always been (1.6).51 Because Elizabeth understands her pregnancy as a blessing, she shows unshaken trust in YHWH and his promise, showing concern neither for her life, considering the dangers of this late pregnancy, nor for her child’s life, despite the high rate of infant and child mortality.52 By echoing the response of Rachel to her pregnancy (Gen. 30.23) in Elizabeth’s response, Luke demonstrates that this caring and compassionate behavior of YHWH on behalf of his people is ¿rmly rooted in his divine identity and cannot be understood as mere caprice— through his gracious acts on behalf of particular righteous individuals and Israel as a whole, he demonstrates that he is the same gracious God in the present as he was in the past.53 Luke further contributes to the description of YHWH as merciful when he speaks of John’s birth, which ful¿lls YHWH’s earlier promise (1.13b) and which is publicly acknowledged by Elizabeth’s neighbors and relatives as an act of YHWH’s great mercy on Elizabeth’s behalf (cf. ëļºŠÂÍżŠÁŧÉÀÇË Ìġ ì¼ÇË, 1.58).54 2. John’s birth. Zechariah remains mute until the moment he writes on a tablet that his son’s name should be John (1.63), just as Elizabeth insisted earlier (1.59-60). This shows that despite Zechariah’s disability, the couple could communicate with each other55 and live righteously in unison as they eagerly sought to obey YHWH’s will in naming their son.
50. Wolff, Anthropology, pp. 97–98, points out that in the OT, conception is attributed to YHWH’s will. 51. Because of Luke’s parallel presentation of Zechariah and Elizabeth, it is possible that Elizabeth voices both hers and (the mute) Zechariah’s acknowledgement of YHWH’s merciful presence in their lives. 52. King and Stager, Life, p. 41. 53. Cf. Dowling, Pound, p. 122; Barbara E. Reid, Choosing the Better Part? Women in the Gospel of Luke (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical, 1996), p. 62. 54. Marshall, Luke, p. 88, observes that ļº¸ÂŧÅÑ is used here of ‘God’s activity in manifesting his mercy’, as in Gen. 19.19; 1 Sam. 12.24; Ps. 126.2-3 [125.2-3, LXX]. 55. Cf. Marshall, Luke, p. 88. 1
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What is more, both of them were ¿lled with the Holy Spirit and enabled to prophesy (1.41-42, 67), presenting a reliable perspective, i.e., YHWH’s perspective, on the things that YHWH had begun to accomplish among his people.56 Since Elizabeth’s prophecy concerns Mary and Jesus, it will be examined in Chapter 5. Now we turn to YHWH’s characterization in Zechariah’s prophetic song, the Benedictus.57 3. Benedictus. Zechariah’s ability to speak has returned as promised, producing fear in all the neighbors, as they recognized YHWH’s activity in Zechariah’s life and considered John’s future (1.65-66), and indicating that John has already begun to turn people back to YHWH, since their reaction of fear at YHWH’s activity implies their recognition of YHWH’s authority over their lives. Filled with YHWH’s Spirit, Zechariah prophesies, blessing the Lord God of Israel for having visited and liberated his people (ëȼÊÁšÐ¸ÌÇ58 Á¸Ė ëÈÇţ¾Ê¼Å ÂŧÌÉÑÊÀÅ ÌŊ ¸Ŋ ¸ĤÌÇı, 1.68b).59 The reason for Zechariah’s blessing YHWH in 1.68 is closely related to that of Elizabeth in 1.25 because (1) both ëȼÊÁšÐ¸ÌÇ (1.68) and ëȼė»¼Å (1.25; cf. Acts 4.29) express the idea that YHWH is concerned with humans—he thinks about them with care and is ready to respond appropriately to their 56. Green, Luke, p. 115, observes that the ¿lling of the Holy Spirit was accomplished for the purpose of prophecy, ‘so that the prophet would be recognized as providing God’s perspective on events’. Cf. J. Massyngbaerde Ford, My Enemy Is My Friend: Jesus and Violence in Luke (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis, 1984), pp. 13–28; Miller, Convinced, p. 123. 57. The Benedictus can be divided into two sections: a blessing (1.68-75) and a prophecy (1.76-79). One can also observe that in 1.64 Zechariah’s speech is understood as a praise of God and in 1.68-75 this praise/blessing is articulated. Moreover, in 1.67 it is mentioned that Zechariah prophesied, which could refer to 1.76-79 of the Benedictus. On the structure of the Benedictus, see further Pierre Auffret, ‘Nouvelle étude structurelle de Benedictus’, BNNF 135 (2007), pp. 55–69 (55); Brown, Birth, pp. 378–84; Stephen Farris, The Hymns of Luke’s Infancy Narratives: Their Origin, Meaning and Signi¿cance (JSNTSup, 9; Shef¿eld: JSOT, 1985), pp. 127–42; Green, Luke, pp. 112–14; Marshall, Luke, p. 86; Ulrike MittmannRichert, Magni¿kat und Benediktus: Die ältesten Zeugnisse der judenchristlichen Tradition von der Geburt des Messias (WUNT, 2/90; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996), pp. 170–81. 58. This verb can also be translated with ‘to come to help’ since it is used here as well as in 7.16; Acts 15.14 (cf. Gen. 21.1; Exod. 3.16; Ruth 1.6; Ps. 106.4 [105.4, LXX]) of God coming to save and bless his people. 59. Brawley, God, p. 65, critiques those who contrast Zechariah’s silence (together with his inability to bless the people) with Jesus’ blessing of his disciples. This may lead one to believe that he understands the Benedictus as Zechariah’s priestly blessing. 1
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needs;60 and (2) both Elizabeth and Zechariah speak of YHWH as the agent of liberation. In Elizabeth’s case, the meaning is straightforward, i.e., YHWH has liberated her by taking away her disgrace. In Zechariah’s, the explanation of how YHWH has liberated his people is open to more possibilities. Readers can immediately think of Zechariah’s having been liberated from his embarrassing muteness or childlessness. However, the liberation of YHWH’s people cannot be limited to Zechariah’s household since through John’s mission YHWH desires to prepare people for the messianic age intended for the liberation of many (1.16). By echoing Elizabeth’s words in Zechariah’s, Luke continues to emphasize YHWH’s gracious care on behalf of his people and his intent to show favor though their liberation at the time of need. As the Benedictus continues, YHWH’s visitation, indeed, extends beyond Zechariah’s household and is connected with the ‘mighty savior’ whom YHWH has raised up in the house of his servant David for Zechariah and the people of his time (1.69), just as he had declared through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old (1.70).61 Furthermore, it is connected with salvation from their enemies and from the power of all those who hate them (1.71) in order that they may fearlessly worship YHWH in holiness and righteousness before him as long as they live (1.74-75).62 YHWH’s liberation de¿ned in this way brings to mind imagery of Israel’s exodus from Egyptian slavery (Exod. 4.23; 7.16; cf. Acts 7.34) and may encourage readers to theorize that because of the foreign oppression experienced by the people during the time of King Herod (1.5), the salvation with which Luke is concerned is of a sociopolitical nature, and enemies are the foreign oppressors who prevent Israel from worshiping YHWH in holiness and righteousness. However, since Luke does not allow Zechariah to specify the enemies and since he continues to expand what YHWH’s salvation entails, he discourages his readers from de¿ning YHWH’s salvation only in terms of socio-political liberation.
60. L&N, vol. 1, pp. 355–56, does not list ëÈÀÊÁšÈÌÇĸÀ and ëÎÇÉŠÑ in the same semantic domain, but includes ëÈÀÊÁÇÈšÑ and ëÎÇÉŠÑ in the same domain. Since ëÈÀÊÁšÈÌÇĸÀ and ëÈÀÊÁÇÈšÑ are closely related in meaning and since ëÎÇÉŠÑ may refer to divine visitation and care (so also ëÈÀÊÁšÈÌÇĸÀ), it is possible to conclude that YHWH’s care is expressed in similar ways in 1.25, 68. See Hermann W. Beyer, ‘ëÈÀÊÁšÈÌÇĸÀ, ëÈÀÊÁÇȚђ, TDNT, vol. 2, pp. 599–605; LSJ, pp. 656–57, 746. 61. Cf. Marshall, Luke, p. 91. 62. Cf. Auffret, ‘Benedictus’, pp. 56–60. 1
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In 1.76-79, Luke presents through the mouth of the inspired righteous priest two more explanations of how YHWH might accomplish his liberation and bring about the salvation and restoration of Israel. The ¿rst one is connected with John, a prophet of the Most High (1.76), i.e., YHWH’s prophet (cf. 1.15), who is to teach YHWH’s people salvation that will be accomplished through the forgiveness of their sins (1.77). The second is connected with the dawn from on high who is to give light to those who sit in darkness/the shadow of death and to guide their feet into the way of peace (1.79), equating YHWH’s salvation with enlightenment. Therefore, in the Benedictus Luke de¿nes salvation as liberation not from foreign oppressors, as readers might expect, but from enemies, sins, and darkness, echoing de¿nitions of YHWH’s salvation found in the OT.63 Moreover, since Luke emphasizes that YHWH will accomplish this multifaceted salvation in order to enable his people to have a proper relationship with him, manifested by their holy and righteous worship (1.74-75), and since later he explains all earthly power as being under the power of Satan (4.6), he implies that YHWH’s liberation will involve liberation from the oppression by Satan expressed through people’s oppression by enemies, sins, and darkness. In the Benedictus, Luke once again characterizes YHWH as a gracious and merciful God and emphasizes his faithfulness to his promises. That is, YHWH raises up a mighty Davidic savior (1.69) to show mercy (ÈÇÀýʸÀ ì¼ÇË) promised to Israel’s ancestors and to remember his holy covenant, the oath he swore to Abraham (1.72-73).64 It is because of YHWH’s tender mercy that the dawn from on high will visit Zechariah and his community (»ÀÛ ÊÈŠºÏŸ ëšÇÍË ¿¼Çı ÷ÄľÅ, 1.78). Consequently, although the way YHWH’s liberation should best be understood in light of the Benedictus is open to possibilities, Luke leaves no doubt that YHWH’s liberation is rooted in his divine identity, characterized by grace, mercy, and power, and in his covenantal promises to Israel’s ancestors, starting with Abraham.
63. YHWH redeems from foreign oppressors—e.g., Exod. 1.1–14.31; Judg. 1.1– 16.31; YHWH accomplishes redemption from all iniquities—e.g., Ps. 130.7-8; Jer. 31.34; YHWH’s salvation is connected to enlightenment—e.g., Ps. 27.1). Green, Luke, p. 119, observes that this understanding of salvation as enlightenment is further developed in 2.29-32; Acts 26.17-18. One may also note that in Acts 26.18 salvation is understood as both enlightenment and forgiveness of sins. 64. YHWH’s liberation of Israel from the Egyptian slavery was also accomplished in order that YHWH might keep the oath that he had sworn to their ancestors (e.g., Deut. 7.8) and to allow people to worship YHWH (e.g., Exod. 4.23). 1
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f. Overview In the account of Zechariah and Elizabeth, YHWH is characterized as the highest power and authority in heaven and on earth because everyone and everything in heaven and on earth derives his/her/its identity and function from YHWH. That is, Zechariah and Elizabeth are righteous before YHWH because they keep all his commandments as outlined in his covenant with Israel, Zechariah is a priest because he serves YHWH at YHWH’s temple, Gabriel is an angel because he serves as YHWH’s messenger, and the sanctuary is YHWH’s throne room/house because YHWH is present there and uses it to convene his affairs.65 This indirectly identi¿es YHWH as a Father/Paterfamilias, King, and Judge of the heavenly realm and of Israel and gives meaning to the titles God, Lord, and Most High that YHWH predicates.66 Thus, although other characters, like King Herod, may predicate the same titles and claim authority implied in these titles, they are not YHWH and cannot be equated with him in the extent of their authority and power. This portrayal of YHWH is consistent with the OT understanding of him as God and King67 and is essential to how YHWH is understood throughout Luke–Acts, where he is characterized both directly and indirectly as the Father/Benefactor of the Israelites who provides and protects (e.g., Lk. 6.35-36; 11.2-4, 13; 12.28, 30, 32), the King whose kingdom is proclaimed through his messengers (e.g., Lk. 2.10; 4.43; 8.1; 11.2; 16.16-17; Acts 1.3; 8.12; 28.23) and whose law will remain forever (e.g., Lk. 10.28; 16.17-18), the Judge who has authority to forgive sins and justify the humble (e.g., Lk. 1.77; 3.3; 5.21; 11.4; 18.14; Acts 5.31; 26.18), and the Most High God who has the highest position not only on earth in Judea but also in heaven (e.g., Lk. 2.13-14; 8.28; Acts 7.48-49). Due to his position of authority, which presupposes power, YHWH inspires fear and awe, as seen in Zechariah’s response to his encounter with Gabriel inside the sanctuary and Zechariah’s neighbors’ responses to YHWH’s healing of Zechariah’s muteness. Throughout his narrative,
65. YHWH announces his plan of salvation to Zechariah through Gabriel inside the sanctuary, YHWH’s throne room. This echoes a custom of ancient kings who announced their plans inside their throne rooms (e.g., Est. 5.1-8 [LXX]) and then proclaimed them outside for everyone to hear (cf. Lk. 2.10). 66. See further King and Stager, ‘Households’, pp. 42–45, 62; Meredith G. Kline, Treaty of the Great King: The Covenant Structure of Deuteronomy: Studies and Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1963). 67. Timo Eskola, Messiah and the Throne: Jewish Merkabah Mysticism and Early Christian Exaltation Discourse (WUNT, 2/142; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001).
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Luke continues to emphasize fear as an appropriate response to YHWH because it leads people to give him proper honor and praise, enables them to follow his commandments, and frees them from fear of others (e.g., Lk. 1.74; 5.26; 7.16; 12.4-5; Acts 10.2; 13.26; cf. Lk. 18.2; 23.40). Despite this, Luke reminds his readers that YHWH does not want to terrify people; rather, he wants them to know him as a gracious and merciful God68 who comforts with his words (e.g., Lk. 1.30; 2.10; 18.9; 27.24) and liberates through his deeds, as he has done in the past.69 Thus, although YHWH shows his special favor to the righteous by blessing them and answering their prayers, his favor is not limited to the righteous but impacts all who come in contact with that favor. This is not because YHWH is unaware of who is or is not righteous—his intimate knowledge of people is evidenced by his knowledge of their names and hearts, i.e., thoughts (Lk. 16.15; Acts 1.24; 15.8; cf. Deut. 8.2; Pss. 7.8; 139.23). Rather, he shows care for all regardless of what they deserve or how they respond (Lk. 6.27-36; 15.21-32)70 because his care is rooted in his promises to Israel’s ancestors and, therefore, in his divine identity, rather than in human merit (Lk. 1.72-73; 11.2; Acts 3.25; 7.5, 17).71 That is why people who turn away from sin and turn toward him in humility can trust that he will act in accordance with his promises for his name’s sake and that he will answer their prayers with power and generosity, evidenced in his enabling an elderly couple to conceive not just a child, but the messenger of the messianic age of YHWH’s salvation
68. E.g., the appearance to Abraham is interpreted as the establishment of the covenant (Gen. 15.17-21) and the appearance to Moses is interpreted as an explanation of his leadership role in leading the Israelites out of Egypt (Exod. 3.1-10). Moreover, Green, Luke, p. 67, notes that Zechariah’s time of service at the temple is structured chiastically, placing the highest importance on YHWH’s message. 69. E.g., Ps. 25.22; Prov. 23.11; Isa. 62.12; Dan. 6.27; Zech. 10.8; Sir. 48.20; 50.24. 70. Cf. Chen, ‘Father’, pp. 251–301; she explores the expression of YHWH’s ‘fatherly mercy’ to Israel in his attentive and providential care, promises of the kingdom, eternal life and inheritance, empowerment through the Holy Spirit, and forgiveness of sins for those who turn to him. She also stresses YHWH’s fatherly authority, expressed through his punishment of sin by foreign powers and hiding of his revelation from the arrogant. 71. Dennis J. McCarthy, Old Testament Covenant: A Survey of Current Opinions (GPT; Atlanta: John Knox, 1972), pp. 45–52, distinguishes promissory/absolute kinds of covenants established between God and the Patriarchs and David’s line from God’s covenant with Israel at Sinai, which was formulated in terms of stipulations, brought with it curses and blessings depending on the keeping of those stipulations, and had to be renewed if broken. 1
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(cf. Lk. 11.1-13; 12.32; Acts 4.24-31; 12.5-9; 16.25-30).72 In characterizing YHWH as merciful and generous in this fashion, Luke presents YHWH as a Lord/Paterfamilias/Benefactor of all Israel, who not only de¿nes rules and regulations for his household but also has authority to show unconditional care within his household without concern for loss of honor or goods because he is the source of all honor and all goods. Jason A. Whitlark observes that Greco-Roman benefactors were advised to choose their bene¿ciaries with care and give to them in accordance with their social standing to insure reciprocity, i.e., exchange of bene¿ts of equal value (e.g., Cicero, Off. 1.45-46).73 Following Victor M. Matthews, he notes that benefactors who gave gifts that were too generous to reciprocate properly brought shame to their clients and were considered hostile. Thus, he argues that Philo (see also Ephesians), who portrays YHWH as a free giver of all things who seeks no return (Cher. 123) because all humans are in need of his benefaction (Spec. 1.152) and because there is nothing they can give back to YHWH to enrich him (Leg. 3.78), uses the Greco-Roman benefactor–bene¿ciary model to describe YHWH’s relationship with humans, yet undermines the logic of reciprocity.74 He is correct in his observations; however, he fails to distinguish expectations for gift-giving inside kinship groups from those outside kinship groups. Gary Stansell observes that within a kinship group generosity brought honor to the benefactor without placing expectations for bene¿ciaries to reciprocate to maintain their honor while gift exchanges outside of kinship groups could function as challenges to one’s honor and required ripostes.75 Therefore, based on Luke’s presentation of YHWH, one could call YHWH a Benefactor because kings/ fathers were perceived as benefactors, whose honor was tied to how generously they gave to the members of their respective households.
72. Geir Otto Holmås, Prayer and Vindication in Luke–Acts: The Theme of Prayer within the Context of the Legitimating and Edifying Objective of the Lukan Narrative (LNTS, 433; London: T&T Clark International, 2011), p. 76: ‘…Luke begins his narrative with spotlighting how the inauguration of the age of salvation comes as the answer to the long-standing prayers of pious Israel. It sets a tone that carries through the entire work.’ 73. Jason A. Whitlark, ‘Enabling ŠÉÀË: Transformation of the Convention of Reciprocity by Philo and in Ephesians’, in Charles H. Talbert and Jason A. Whitlark (eds.), Getting ‘Saved’: The Whole Story of Salvation in the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011), pp. 35–57. 74. Victor H. Matthews, ‘The Unwanted Gift: Implications of Obligatory Gift Giving in Ancient Israel’, Semeia 87 (1999), pp. 91–104. 75. Gary Stansell, ‘The Gift in Ancient Israel’, Semeia 87 (1999), pp. 65–90. 1
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However, one can understand YHWH as a Benefactor only if one understands him as Israel’s Paterfamilias, whose kinship to Israel is established by his treaties starting with Abraham and whose endless giving is rooted in his responsibilities determined by his position within the household. Because, as Israel’s Paterfamilias, YHWH occupies the highest position of authority in heaven and in Israel, no one can challenge his actions as dishonorable because no one is equal to him in authority.76 Finally, Luke displays YHWH’s unparalleled power and authority as he speaks of YHWH promising, preparing, initiating, and realizing his salvi¿c plan,77 despite human and demonic opposition (Lk. 4.2-13; Acts 5.38-39; 7.38-43, 51-53) and human weaknesses (Lk. 1.18; Acts 4.31). As YHWH guides and empowers humans in realizing their role in his plan through his Spirit (Lk. 1.67; 4.14; 5.17; 24.49; Acts 1.8; 10.38; 13.4, 9; 19.21; 21.4) and eliminates obstacles through the help of his angels (Lk. 22.43; Acts 12.7-9) or nature (Acts 16.26), he demonstrates himself as God who crosses boundaries of time, space, laws of nature, jurisdictions, and social norms to bring about his salvation. III. Luke 1.26-38, 39-56; 2.1-20: YHWH’s Unexpected Ways Having looked closely at how YHWH is characterized through his relationship with Zechariah and Elizabeth, we now turn to examine how he is characterized through his relationship with Mary and the shepherds in the annunciation and birth of Jesus. We theorize that Luke will continue to rely on indirect means of characterization, i.e., what YHWH says and does in the life of Mary and the shepherds as individuals and as
76. Carol Schersten LaHurd, ‘Re-viewing Luke 15 with Arab Christian Women’, in Amy-Jill Levine and Marianne Blickenstaff (eds.), A Feminist Companion to Luke (Cleveland, Oh.: Pilgrim, 2004), pp. 246–68 (260–63), indicates that even if one quali¿es the father’s interaction with his the two sons (Lk. 15.11-32) as a challenge– riposte exchange with potential loss of honor despite its de¿nition, i.e., an exchange between equals, one will notice that the father’s responses remove the interaction from the challenge–riposte mode and renew possibilities for both sons for a proper relationship with him and with each other. LaHurd is correct in observing that the father is not equal to his sons in authority despite the scholarly tendency to apply the challenge–riposte hypothesis to the parable’s interpretation and that the father remains unaffected by the ‘dishonor’ implied in the son’s behavior. 77. One can connect YHWH’s plan/purpose with the phrase ÷ ¹ÇÍÂŢ ÌÇı ¿¼Çı (e.g., Lk. 7.30; Acts 2.23; 4.28; 5.38-39; 13.36; 20.27); however, it is not limited to it since Luke 1 does not contain the expression but is able to communicate YHWH’s careful planning and bringing of his plan to fruition. 1
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representatives of Israel, in order both to present YHWH’s divine identity and clarify titles that YHWH predicates. Here we will not discuss Jesus’ identity since that is the focus of Chapter 5. a. Mary’s Introduction After Luke announces Elizabeth’s pregnancy as an outpouring of YHWH’s favor (1.24-25), he skips forward in time and declares that Gabriel was sent ‘from God’ (1.26)78 to the Galilean city Nazareth to a virgin betrothed to Joseph, David’s descendent, whose name was Mary (1.26-27) to announce the birth of her son. Comparing the setting of Gabriel’s encounter with Mary with that of Zechariah, readers may observe that Nazareth, situated on the outskirts of the land of the Jews and to a certain degree populated by Gentiles (1 Macc. 5.9-23), stands in sharp contrast with Jerusalem’s sanctuary in terms of religious holiness, purity, or cultural signi¿cance; and that the hour of this encounter is not mentioned, which also contrasts with the time of public worship mentioned at Gabriel’s ¿rst appearance.79 This unexpected setting for a divine–human interaction brings to mind YHWH’s interactions with the patriarchs in the course of their ordinary lives, highlighting the fact that although YHWH chose to be present at Jerusalem’s sanctuary, he is not limited by it (cf., e.g., 1 Kgs 8.27-29; Acts 7.48-50),80 and, consequently, is capable of employing any means of communication he ¿nds appropriate. Just as there are points of contrast between the places and times of these two encounters, there are points of contrast between Mary and Zechariah. First, Mary is a young virgin,81 unlike Zechariah, a man advanced in years (1.7). Second, he is Aaron’s descendent (1.5), while 78. The agent of sending is not clearly stated, yet, as in 1.19, YHWH is implied. 79. Hamm, ‘Tamid’, pp. 215–31, points out that Luke uses ‘an hour of prayer’, a reference to the time of Tamid service at the temple as described in 1.9-22, as the setting for a number of his pericopes (18.9-14; 24.50-53; Acts 3.1). For example, Cornelius’s prayer and Cornelius’s meeting with Peter take place at home, yet they are synchronized with the Tamid service at the temple (Acts 10.3, 30). 80. Joseph Sievers, ‘ “Where Two or Three…”: The Rabbinic Concept of Shekhinah and Matthew 18,20’, in Asher Finkel and Lawrence Frizzell (eds.), Standing before God: Studies on Prayer in Scriptures and in Tradition with Essays: In Honor of John M. Oesterreicher (New York: Ktav, 1981), pp. 171–82 (171–79), says that the presence of God is connected not only with his sanctuary but also with the assembly of believers or individuals regardless of location. 81. Rawson, ‘Family’, p. 21: ‘The legal minimum age of marriage was 12 for girls and 14 for boys, and betrothal could take place some time before that: Augustus ¿xed the minimum age for betrothal at 10’. See also Veyne, Empire, p. 20. 1
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she seems to have no ties to a family since there is no mention of her father’s household.82 Third, he is a model of religious piety (1.6), while Mary’s piety is not mentioned.83 Consequently, Zechariah is presented as deserving honor due to his gender, age, high social status, and righteousness—especially now after Elizabeth was enabled to conceive in her old age like to Sarah—while Mary is presented as having no particular signi¿cance, as judged by human standards. The only two things that are stated in Mary’s characterization and, therefore, are important in de¿ning her identity are her virginity (1.27 [2×], 34) and her legal connection to David’s household by means of her betrothal to Joseph (1.27)—the household she has not yet entered (1.56). b. In Nazareth 1. Gabriel’s appearance and Mary’s fear. Having introduced Mary, Luke draws attention to the dialog between Gabriel and Mary by allowing it to unfold almost without mediation. Gabriel begins by greeting Mary, although he did not greet Zechariah: ‘Rejoice, favored one, the Lord is with you’ (ϸėɼ,84 Á¼Ï¸ÉÀÌÑĚž, ĝ ÁŧÉÀÇË Ä¼ÌÛ ÊÇı, 1.28).85 In this greeting, Mary is addressed by name, like Zechariah. Moreover, she is called Á¼Ï¸ÉÀÌÑĚž, identifying Mary as a recipient of YHWH’s favor and bringing to mind YHWH’s previous characterization as merciful in his showing favor to Elizabeth. Mary, like Zechariah, is terri¿ed by this encounter. She does not respond to this greeting, yet she is perplexed by it and ponders its meaning (1.29), which is clari¿ed by what Gabriel says next.
82. Joel B. Green, ‘The Social Status of Mary in Luke 1,5–2,52: A Plea for Methodological Integration’, Bib 73 (1992), pp. 457–72 (465), states that Mary’s relationship to Elizabeth is too vague to guarantee her an honorable status enjoyed by people of the priestly line (1.36). 83. Virginity may imply purity and, therefore, piety; yet in and of itself it does not guarantee a pious lifestyle. 84. Because this verb occurs only 4 times in the LXX—i.e., Lam. 4.21; Joel 2.21; Zeph. 3.14; Zech. 9.9—and because Luke’s phrase has in common with those passages the exhortation to joy and the appeal not to be afraid, some have argued that the OT daughter of Zion is being alluded to in this verse. Most connections are found with Zeph. 3.14-17. However, one of the serious downfalls of those who see the connections is inconsistency in using both MT and LXX. See further Fitzmyer, Luke, vol. 1, p. 345; cf. Laurentin, Structure. 85. In the OT, people do well when the Lord is with them (e.g., Gen. 21.22; Exod. 18.19; Deut. 31.8; Josh. 1.9, 17; Judg. 6.12; 1 Sam. 10.7; Isa. 58.11) and do not do well without him (e.g., 1 Kgs 22.23). 1
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2. YHWH’s message. With words ‘Do not fear’86 Gabriel comforts Mary, as he comforted Zechariah, and then explains that her honored status (1.28) is due to her ¿nding ‘favor with God’ (ÏŠÉÀŠȸÉÛ ÌŊ ¿¼Ŋ, 1.30). Since Gabriel does not say how Mary has found favor, it is possible that she is simply the recipient of the favor YHWH chose to show her, despite her apparent lack of distinction. Gabriel continues by explaining that YHWH is with Mary so that she may conceive and give birth to a son, whom she should name Jesus, i.e., ‘YHWH saves’. Jesus’ name, just like John’s, has signi¿cance for YHWH’s characterization because in giving Jesus his name, YHWH identi¿es himself as Savior; yet, as in John’s case, it is not self-explanatory and requires readers to attend to the cotext in determining its meaning. Furthermore, Gabriel announces: (1) Jesus ‘will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High’; (2) ‘the Lord God will give him the throne of his father David; and, therefore, (3) Jesus will reign over the house of Jacob forever and his kingdom will have no end’ (1.32-33). This reference to David’s household brings to the forefront what YHWH has done for David and what YHWH has promised him (2 Sam. 7.1-29). That is, YHWH took David from sheep stables, made him a ruler over his people Israel, destroyed all of David’s enemies, and made him famous as compared to great people of the earth (2 Sam. 7.8-9). Moreover, YHWH promised that after David died, he would raise David a descendent after him, who would build a house to YHWH’s name, who would become YHWH’s son, whose kingdom YHWH would prepare (7.12b), whose throne YHWH would restore forever (7.13), and from whom YHWH would not withdraw his mercy (ì¼ŦË) even after YHWH disciplined him for his unrighteousness (7.14-15). Because this covenant with David is an eternal covenant (2 Sam. 7.16), it is given without conditions, although it mentions discipline for unrighteous living. Consequently, it is as binding in the present as it was in the past despite the elapse of time and the fact that David’s descendants lost the throne when taken into Babylonian exile. That is why this eternal covenant has been referenced and reinterpreted throughout the OT and the Second Temple Jewish literature.87 Furthermore, in exilic and 86. Nissinen, ‘Fear’, pp. 159–60, states that ordinary people only in two cases receive oracles from God that start with ‘Do not fear’ and even then those oracles are delivered by prophets rather than angels (1 Kgs 17.13; 2 Kgs 6.16). Otherwise, such oracles are given either directly by God (to patriarchal ¿gures in Genesis, Moses, Joshua, and prophets) or through intermediary ¿gures, i.e., angels or prophets, to leaders or people in general. 87. E.g., 1 Kgs 8; Ps. 89; Isa. 11.1-5; 55.3; Jer. 23.5-6; 33.14-22; Amos 9.11-12; Pss. Sol. 17–18. See further Michael Pietsch, ‘Dieser ist der Spross Davids…’: 1
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postexilic literature, it has acquired new elements, beginning to connect the former hope for the coming of the Davidic king and restoration of the Davidic dynasty with a new hope for the coming of the ideal eschatological messianic king. Consequently, the covenantal promises that used to be connected with the Davidic dynasty as a whole and expressed in the lives of David’s descendants—i.e., Solomon (1 Kgs 6.2-23), Hezekiah (Isa. 9; 11), and Zerubbabel (Zech. 4.9)—are now connected with a single eschatological ¿gure from the Davidic line who would become the recipient of this eternal promise of YHWH.88 Therefore, in promising Mary a son who will be a Davidide, i.e., an ideal Davidic King, with an eternal rule, YHWH demonstrates his faithfulness to his eternal covenant with David and his ability to carry out the obligations prescribed to him by this covenant. Moreover, since there is no mention of a human need, whether personal or communal, to which YHWH has to respond, as in the case of Zechariah, readers can deduce that the reason for YHWH’s sending of Gabriel to the apparently unremarkable virgin legally connected to David’s household is rooted in YHWH’s covenantal promises to David rather than in human merit. 3. Mary’s objection and Gabriel’s response. Like Zechariah, Mary raises an objection to Gabriel’s promise, to which Gabriel responds by giving her a sign, i.e., Mary’s relative Elizabeth, who was known to be barren, has conceived. This sign points to YHWH’s unlimited power to do what is considered impossible—not only does he promise the impossible, but he is faithful and powerful to accomplish the impossible. Consequently, if he can promise a barren old woman a son and then enable her to Studien zur Rezeptionsgeschichte der Nathanverheissung im alttestamentlichen, zwischentestamentlichen und neutestamentlichen Schrifttum (WMANT, 100; Neukirchen–Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2003); Thomas Römer and Jan Rückl, ‘Jesus, Son of Joseph and Son of David, in the Gospels’, in M. Tait and P. Oakes (eds.), The Torah in the New Testament: Papers Delivered at the Manchester–Lausanne Seminar of June 2008 (LNTS, 401; London: T&T Clark International, 2009), pp. 65–81 (69); Jeffrey G. Sobosan, ‘Completion of Prophecy: Jesus in Lk 1:32-33’, BTB 4 (1974), pp. 317–23 (320–21). 88. Sherman E. Johnson, ‘Davidic-Royal Motif in the Gospels’, JBL 87 (1968), pp. 136–50 (146), states that although the messianic expectation was rooted in the Davidic covenant even in the postexilic times (Sir. 47.11-22; 1 Macc. 2.57), during the Maccabean period the messianic expectation was connected with the tribe of Levi (e.g., Josephus, Ant. 13.299). He indicates that the idea of two messiahs, rooted in Zech. 4.1-3, 11-14; 6.9-13, was available to postexilic Jews and is reÀected explicitly in the Qumran scrolls. However, he argues that after Pompey’s conquest of Palestine, the emphasis moved toward a Davidic messiah, which can be seen in Pss. Sol. 17–18. 1
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conceive (1.36), he can promise a young unremarkable virgin a unique Davidide because none of his promises are without power (1.37; cf. 18.27). As a response, Mary places her trust in YHWH’s message and humbly submits under his authority as YHWH’s servant (÷ »Çŧ¾ ÁÍÉţÇÍ, 1.38), embracing her honored role in YHWH’s plan. By placing herself under YHWH’s authority, she places herself under his protection and care and rede¿nes her identity in relation to YHWH rather than her betrothed, despite the cultural expectations that required women to de¿ne themselves in relation to a man.89 c. At Zechariah’s House 1. Mary’s exemplary embrace of YHWH’s message. As soon as Gabriel leaves Mary, she rises, goes with haste into the Judean highlands, enters Zechariah’s home, and greets Elizabeth. Her actions are described abruptly, creating a sense of impatience. She is eager to embrace YHWH’s message and the sign of her newly acquired identity de¿ned by her role in YHWH’s plan. Unlike Zechariah’s sign, which did not require him to act yet enabled him to obey YHWH in accordance with YHWH’s promise after John’s birth, Mary’s sign required her to leave her father’s household and to move across the country in order to receive con¿rmation of what she has accepted by faith. This characterizes Mary not only as a hearer of YHWH’s word but also a doer and establishes her as a model to imitate by all who claim their membership in YHWH’s household (8.21; 11.28; Acts 1.14). 2. Elizabeth’s Spirit-¿lled speech. When Elizabeth hears Mary’s greeting, the baby moves joyfully in her womb and she is ¿lled with the Holy Spirit (1.41; cf. 1.15) and begins to prophesy, calling Mary blessed (¼ĤÂǺ¾ÄšÅ¾) and happy (ĸÁ¸Éţ¸)90 for believing that what has been spoken to her by the Lord will be ful¿lled (1.42, 45; cf. 1.38a). Although Luke presents Elizabeth as the recipient of the ¿lling, readers can deduce that YHWH is actively involved in the process since he enables her to prophesy by means of the Holy Spirit concerning matters unknown to Elizabeth prior to the ¿lling (1.42-45).91 89. Green, Luke, p. 92, suggests that by stating her commitment to the household of God, Mary places her commitment to Joseph’s household in jeopardy. 90. BDAG, p. 611, translates it as ‘blessed, fortunate, happy, privileged’ when used of humans as privileged recipients of divine favor. 91. Turner, Power, p. 147, says that this instance of Spirit-¿lling and the one in 1.67 involve ‘invasive prophetic speech’, which does not appear anywhere else in Luke–Acts although ‘invasive charismatic praise’ (Acts 2.4; 10.46; 19.6) and
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In the OT, YHWH possesses and dispenses all the blessings. He blesses his creation, the ¿rst human, the patriarchs, and others who prove to be righteous. Even in cases where a human blesses another individual or a group, the blessing does not come from that human but from YHWH and by YHWH’s commission. So, humans bless only by invoking YHWH’s blessing (e.g., Gen. 26.3, 24; 39.21; Deut. 2.7; Jer. 17.7).92 Therefore, just as in the OT, where YHWH’s presence and blessing go together, in Luke’s narrative YHWH’s presence with Mary (1.28) goes together with his blessing of Mary through Elizabeth, whom he enables to recognize Mary’s exalted status.93 Consequently, the blessing of Mary takes place because YHWH inspires Elizabeth, rather than because Mary insists on being blessed. In fact, Luke is careful to tell his readers that Mary continues to lead a humble lifestyle as prescribed by her social status, evident in her greeting Elizabeth ¿rst. Thus, in the worldview where YHWH is the only dispenser of blessings, Elizabeth’s inspired acknowledgement of Mary’s blessed status implies that YHWH is the one who has blessed Mary and continues to bless her as he gives knowledge through his Spirit of her honored status before YHWH despite her lowliness within society (1.48-49; cf. 1.77-79). As a response to Elizabeth’s prophetic blessing, Mary94 bursts into a song of praise,95 which resembles biblical declarative psalms of praise in ‘inspired preaching’ (4.8) are common in Acts (p. 148). He concludes, ‘Luke’s language thus establishes rather less close correspondence between these experiences and those in the period of Jesus, or of the Church, than is sometimes imagined’. However, he admits that the language and ideas used here are those of ‘intertestamental Jewish pneumatology in general’ (p. 148). 92. Hermann W. Beyer, ‘¼ĤÂǺšÑ ÁÌÂ.’, TDNT, vol. 2, pp. 754–65; Jacques Guillet, ‘Le langage spontané de la Bénédiction dans l’Ancien Testament’, RSR 57 (1969), pp. 163–204. 93. Athalya Brenner, ‘Female Social Behavior: Two Descriptive Patterns within the “Birth of the Hero” Paradigm’, VT 36 (1986), pp. 257–73 (269–71), observes that in the OT, there is a potential for rivalry between the two women who give birth to heroes. However, there is no conÀict between Elizabeth and Mary, as in the story of Naomi and Ruth. Moreover, the elder Elizabeth acknowledges the superior status of both the younger Mary and her son. 94. Whether the Magni¿cat should be attributed to Mary or Elizabeth has been debated from the turn of the twentieth century; yet, the majority position attributes it to Mary. See further Brown, Birth, pp. 334–36; Laurentin, ‘Traces’, pp. 15–17, 19–23. 95. Bovon, Luke 1, pp. 56–57, argues that Luke undoubtedly uses Hannah’s song after the birth of Samuel in his composition of the Magni¿cat (1 Sam. 2.1-10). He claims that nearly every expression has OT parallels. He also notes that the Magni¿cat ¿nds close proximity to the Psalms of Solomon. Green, Luke, p. 101, lists 1
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its form96 and provides an expanded characterization of YHWH’s identity. Mary, the favored one of YHWH, magni¿es and rejoices in YHWH (ļº¸ÂŧżÀ and óº¸ÂÂţ¸Ê¼Å, 1.46, 47),97 demonstrating that she, indeed, is YHWH’s obedient servant, who gladly derives her identity from her relationship with YHWH (1.38, 48) and who, therefore, is able to provide a reliable perspective on YHWH’s divine identity in her song, the Magni¿cat. 3. Magni¿cat. Mary’s song can be divided into two parts: words of praise (1.46b-47) and reasons for praise (1.48-54a), with the latter rooted in YHWH’s gracious acts on behalf of his servants Mary (1.48-50) and Israel (1.51-55). The function of this song is not merely to recount the event of Mary’s singing, but rather to ensure that Lukan readers properly understand the meaning of the events that took place thus far and to prepare them for what to expect as the narrative unfolds. This is evident by the fact that the Magni¿cat brings together themes that have been emphasized already in the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth and that will become vital to Luke’s narrative as a whole.98 An examination of the Magni¿cat reveals that what YHWH has done for Mary parallels what he has done for Israel.99 That is, YHWH has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant Mary (1.48), for which she properly recognizes him as her God and Savior (ëÈĖ ÌŊ ¿¼Ŋ ÊÑÌýÉţ ÄÇÍ, 1.47), and he has helped his servant Israel in remembrance of his mercy by lifting up the lowly, ¿lling the hungry with good things, scattering the arrogant, bringing down the powerful, and sending the rich
other scriptural precedents to Mary’s song, i.e., hymns of praise sung in response to YHWH’s gracious and powerful acts on behalf of people in need, among which are those of Moses, Miriam, Deborah, Asaph, and Judith. See also Farris, Hymns, pp. 108–26; Mittmann-Richert, Magni¿kat, pp. 195–211. 96. Lawrence Frizzell, ‘A Hymn of Creation in Daniel’, in Finkel and Frizzell (eds.), Standing before God, pp. 41–52. See also Bovon, Luke 1, p. 55; Green, Luke, p. 99. 97. This rejoicing may be understood as a response to what Gabriel has invited her to do (ϸėɼ, 1.28) since the verbs Òº¸ÂÂÀŠÑ and ϸţÉÑ share the same semantic domain. See L&N, vol. 1, p. 303. 98. See further Green, Luke, pp. 98–99; Roland Meynet, ‘Dieu donne son Nom à Jésus: Analyse rhétorique de Lc 1,26-56 et de 1 Sam 2, 1-10’, Bib 66 (1985), pp. 39–72 (56). Cf. Bovon, Luke 1, p. 56. 99. John O. York, The Last Shall Be First: The Rhetoric of Reversal in Luke (JSNTSup, 46; Shef¿eld: JSOT, 1991), p. 46, notes that almost every line of the Magni¿cat alludes to the OT. 1
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away empty (1.51-54).100 YHWH, the Mighty (ĝ »ÍŸÌŦË, 1.49) and Holy One (׺ÀÇÅ Ìġ ěÅÇĸ ¸ĤÌÇı, 1.49b),101 has done these gracious acts by his own power (1.51a; cf. Acts 13.17), testifying to the superiority of his power (cf. 1.37). Consequently, in the Magni¿cat, both Mary and Israel are characterized as YHWH’s servants (1.48, 54), recipients of YHWH’s mercy (1.50, 55), and witnesses of his strength (1.49, 51). This shows, as in the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth, that Mary’s identity is strongly rooted in the life of her kin and that she cannot acknowledge YHWH’s favor to her without recognizing this behavior of YHWH as a consistent trait of YHWH’s divine identity revealed in his relationship with Israel and rooted in his promise to Abraham and his descendants, rather than in anything Mary or Israel did (1.54b-55; cf. 1.72-73).102 Thus far in the narrative, Luke’s readers have encountered only characters who submit to YHWH’s authority, i.e., Zechariah, Elizabeth, and Mary, and to whom YHWH has shown favor by lifting them up and out of disgrace or lowliness (1.25, 48-49), so it is natural to hear that YHWH’s mercy and deliverance are for those who fear him from generation to generation (1.50, 52b, 53a). Here, however, others are brought to the readers’ attention (cf. also 1.16). They are the arrogant, the powerful, and the rich, i.e., the ones who attempt to take life into their own hands and to de¿ne their identity apart from YHWH. They, thus, choose to undermine YHWH’s position of authority and present themselves as rivals to YHWH despite YHWH’s superior power and ability to scatter the arrogant in the thoughts of their hearts (1.51b), bring down the powerful from their thrones (1.52a), and send the rich away empty (1.53b). 100. The verbs that describe YHWH’s acts, ëÈš¹Â¼Ð¼Å (1.48) and ÒÅ̼Š¹¼ÌÇ (1.54), accentuate YHWH’s concern for his people and readiness to help. See further L&N, vol. 1, pp. 458–59. 101. Mitchell G. Reddish, ‘Holy One’, ABD, vol. 3, p. 258, says that ‘holy’ is a common designation for God in the OT. Moreover, Meynet, ‘Dieu’, pp. 57–58, notes that the designation of YHWH as holy is equated with his being a Savior (Isa. 43.3) or Redeemer (Isa. 43.14; 48.17; 54.5). So, holiness cannot be understood merely as a divine attribute but as YHWH’s action of deliverance on behalf of his people, which involves two complementary aspects, i.e., YHWH’s power against Israel’s enemies and his mercy for those oppressed by them (e.g., Isa. 5.15-16; 41.8-20). Accordingly, by calling YHWH holy, Mary emphasizes once again his salvi¿c, redemptive, and gracious character toward those who fear him and his strength and power in accomplishing great things. 102. Robert L. Brawley, ‘Abrahamic Covenant Traditions and the Characterization of God in Luke–Acts’, in Verheyden (ed.), The Unity of Luke–Acts, pp. 109– 32, demonstrates the importance of the Abrahamic covenant for the characterization of God, which together with the Mosaic and Davidic covenants plays a role in God’s plan to bless all the families of the earth. 1
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This development does not automatically undermine YHWH’s characterization as a gracious and merciful God. In fact, it emphasizes his gracious character since YHWH’s judgment is brought about as a sideeffect of his salvi¿c acts on behalf of the lowly and disgraced oppressed by the arrogant, the powerful, and the rich (cf. Exod. 6.6; Deut. 4.43; Isa. 2.11-22; Sir. 10.14; Acts 13.17). Moreover, since YHWH’s acts of mercy are rooted in his promises to Abraham and his descendants rather than in human merit, even the arrogant, the powerful, and the rich are not outside of YHWH’s grace, demonstrated by YHWH’s thoughtful planning in bringing Israel back to himself (1.16). This leaves room for YHWH’s mercy to work great things (1.49) in the lives of all Abraham’s descendants, including even those who do not yet recognize him for who he is.103 Thus, Luke presents YHWH as the ¿gure of ultimate power and authority, i.e., the Mighty One, the Holy One, the Savior, and the Lord, who displays unprecedented mercy as he freely offers his generous gifts to all descendants of Abraham, both pious and impious. Luke roots YHWH’s generosity in his covenantal promises to Israel’s ancestors and, accordingly, emphasizes YHWH’s role as Israel’s King/Father/Paterfamilias, who controls wealth and goods within the household and who has authority to give them freely to all its members.104 d. In Bethlehem 1. Birth of Jesus. After Mary returns to her own house (1.56), Luke moves his focus from Mary to recount John’s birth and then back to Mary to narrate Jesus’ birth. He explains that Mary and Joseph go to Bethlehem, the city of his ancestor David,105 to be registered (2.3-4) as a response to Caesar Augustus’ decree that mandated registration of all 103. York, Reversal, p. 52, notes that scholars tend to understand the aorist verbs in vv. 51-53 as (1) gnomic aorists, denoting YHWH’s habitual acts; (2) prophetic aorists, pointing to YHWH’s eschatological acts in the future; or (3) somehow referring to the cruci¿xion. He does not support the third option and encourages understanding of the other two in light of the whole hymn. Relying on Tannehill, he notes that YHWH’s actions toward Mary should be understood in connection with his overturning of society in vv. 51-53. 104. Stansell, ‘Gift’, p. 74. 105. Darrell L. Bock, Luke (BECNT; 2 vols.; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1994), vol. 1, pp. 204–5, notes that in the OT, Zion, i.e., Jerusalem, is usually called the city of David even though Bethlehem is called ‘his city’ once (1 Sam. 20.6) and is associated with David’s father Jesse (1 Sam. 16.18). Bock is wrong in saying that 1 Sam. 16.18 connects Bethlehem with Jesse because in the phrase ‘son of Jesse, the Bethlehemite’ (ÍĎġÅ ÌŊ ¼ÊʸÀ ¾¿Â¼¼Äţ̾Å), the ‘Bethlehemite’, being in accusative case just as ‘son’ rather than in dative, like ‘Jesse’, characterizes Jesse’s son David rather than Jesse himself. 1
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people within his Empire, i.e., his household (2.1).106 When their journey begins, Mary is pregnant, but is not yet Joseph’s wife (2.5), just as Gabriel has promised (1.31, 34-35). While they are in Bethlehem, she gives birth to her promised son, wraps him in swaddling clothes, and places him in a manger because there is no place for them in the guestroom (2.7). Thus, Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth con¿rms Gabriel’s statement that YHWH’s word, i.e., promise, would not be void of power (1.37) and provides further evidence that YHWH is faithful to his promises even if they do not appear realistic. It also brings to the readers’ attention the existence of YHWH’s rival, Caesar Augustus, born Gaius Octavius.107 Unlike King Herod, who seems to play no part in Luke’s story, Octavius claims Israel as part of his household and issues decrees that he expects Israel to obey. Furthermore, it indicates that Mary, to whom YHWH has shown favor and who claimed to be YHWH’s servant, continues to live as a person of low status despite her high status before YHWH, prophetically recognized by Elizabeth. Thus, she has to obey Augustus’s decree together with Joseph and give up the guestroom for those of Joseph’s family more honorable than she is. Nevertheless, Luke does not allow his readers to despair. First, he denies Octavius’s claim to divine authority when he avoids using the Greek title ¼¹¸ÊÌŦË108 in place of the transliterated ĥºÇÍÊÌÇË.109 Second, despite the fact that Octavius is acting in opposition to YHWH when he requires a registration of YHWH’s people, he becomes unknowingly an agent of YHWH’s salvi¿c plan, guaranteeing that Mary’s child, a promised Davidide (Lk. 1.32-33, 35, 69), is born in Bethlehem as prophesied (Mic. 5.2). Third, because Octavius’ power is undermined by YHWH’s use of Octavius’ decree for furthering his salvi¿c plan, Mary and Joseph in their obedience 106. BDAG, p. 699, translates ÷ ÇĊÁÇÍĚž as ‘the Roman Empire’ when used in reference to an administrative unit. 107. Bovon, Luke 1, p. 83, indicates that the authority to institute a census belonged to YHWH alone (Num. 1.26). Yamazaki-Ransom, Empire, p. 73, notes Jewish opposition to census-taking—e.g., Exod. 30.12-13; 2 Sam. 24.1-25; 1 Chron. 21.1-30; Josephus, Ant. 18.4-10; 20.102; Acts 5.37. 108. Werner Foerster, ‘¼¹¸ÊÌŦË’, TDNT, vol. 7, pp. 174–75, states that it can be translated as ‘holy’ and ‘sacred’ when used of gods and temples and used in emperor worship. 109. Royce L. B. Morris, ‘Why ? A Note to Luke 2.1’, NTS 38 (1992), pp. 142–44, observes that Luke is the ¿rst writer to use this transliterated title as a proper name, which does not occur in published documents before 223 C.E. He observes that scholars tend to understand it as a proper name in Lk. 2.1 and, when translated into Greek, i.e., ¼¹¸ÊÌŦË, as a proper imperial title in Acts 25.21, 25; 27.1, and interprets Luke’s use of this transliteration as a way to avoid veneration of Octavius when making christological af¿rmations about Jesus.
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to Octavius’ decree, in fact, show their obedience to YHWH. Finally, Luke abruptly moves from the account of Jesus’ birth to the coming of an angel of the Lord to the shepherds to provide YHWH’s perspective on what is taking place. 2. Appearance of YHWH’s angel to the shepherds. The encounter of YHWH’s angel with the shepherds follows closely the encounters with Zechariah and Mary, yet with minor differences: (1) the shepherds see the angel and are terri¿ed (2.9); (2) they are comforted with the familiar phrase ‘Do not fear’ (2.10); (3) they are given a reason for this visit, that is, the birth of their Savior and Christ Lord in David’s city (2.10-11); (4) they are not given a chance to object; but (5) they are given a sign, i.e., a child wrapped in swaddling clothes110 and lying in a manger (2.12); (6) unlike Zechariah and Mary, they witness a great multitude of the heavenly host praising YHWH: ‘Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace among people whom he favors’ (2.13-14); (7) like Mary, they go with haste to Bethlehem to embrace YHWH’s sign (2.15-19; cf. 1.39); and (8) they return home, glorifying and praising God for what they have heard and seen since everything happened as they were told (2.20; cf. 1.46-55, 67-79). This encounter continues to recount themes introduced in the two previous angelic encounters; yet these themes are further developed. First, the glory of the Lord, which was associated with YHWH’s sanctuary, shone around the shepherds (2.9) during their night watch in the ¿elds (2.8), challenging assumptions of what should be expected in human–divine encounters, rede¿ning YHWH’s concern with purity, and recalling YHWH’s light-giving presence with Israel during their exodus from Egypt.111 This shining of YHWH’s glory recalls Zechariah’s 110. Thomas E. Phillips, ‘Why Did Mary Wrap the Newborn Jesus in “Swaddling Clothes”? Luke 2.7 and 2.12 in the Context of Luke–Acts and FirstCentury Literature’, in Steve Walton, Thomas E. Phillips, Lloyd K. Pietersen, and F. Scott Spencer (eds.), Reading Acts Today (LNTS, 427; New York: T&T Clark International, 2011), pp. 29–42, argues for the signi¿cance of ‘swaddling clothes’ against the background of Greco-Roman literature in highlighting Jesus’ divine origin. If one accepts Philips’s argument, despite the fact that the theme of Jesus being wrapped in ‘swaddling clothes’ is not pervasively recurrent, one still has to wrestle with how it can function as a sign to the shepherds. One will also have to account for the fact that Luke speaks of ‘divine identity’ differently from, e.g., Euripides’s Ion, where Ion, a half-god resulting from Apollo’s rape of Creusa, is left at Apollo’s temple in his swaddling clothes, which are used later in the story to reveal his ‘divine identity’. 111. E.g., Exod. 13.21; Pss. 27.1; 44.3; 78.14. 1
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prophetic words (1.78-79) since YHWH’s glory breaks upon the shepherds as light, while they sit in the dark of the night, giving them knowledge of YHWH’s salvation and directing their feet to Bethlehem in order to con¿rm their favored status before YHWH. Second, despite the fact that the place and participants of the divine–human encounters change—from the restricted setting of the Lord’s sanctuary and the old righteous priest, to the private setting and the young unremarkable virgin, to the public setting of the ¿eld and the group of unremarkable shepherds—YHWH’s favor and salvation are communicated to all without concern for the purity/holiness of the place or religious righteousness of the participants, demonstrating that YHWH’s good news of great joy is, indeed, for all people as long as they embrace it (2.10; cf. 2.29-32). Third, since YHWH’s Savior, Messiah, and Lord is already born, the shepherds are not required to believe in something that will take place in the future, as Zechariah and Mary were; yet, they still need to accept this birth as YHWH’s good news for them in order to assume their new identity rooted in YHWH’s favor. Fourth, the angel is joined by a multitude of the heavenly host who respond to the angel’s message immediately by praising and glorifying God, while Mary, Zechariah, and the shepherds join the angelic praise after they see YHWH’s sign and are enabled by that sign to accept YHWH’s message. Fifth, the heavenly host sings glory to God in the highest (»ŦƸ ëÅ ĨÐţÊÌÇÀË ¿¼Ŋ, 2.14), designating that as his dwelling place, as opposed to the earth, the dwelling place of those whom YHWH favors (2.14) or heaven, the dwelling place of the heavenly host (2.15). This description articulates a hierarchy that places the heavenly host and humans in direct dependence on YHWH, who alone occupies the highest heaven.112 Luke in this pericope further undermines the power of the emperor and his empire when he connects the titles ‘Savior’113 and ‘Lord’ with YHWH’s Davidide and ‘good news’ and ‘peace’ with YHWH’s salvi¿c actions on behalf of those he favors (cf. 1.19; Isa. 40.9; 52.7) rather than with the emperor and his actions.114 Despite this, Luke does not merely
112. E.g., 2 Sam. 22.17, 34-36; 1 Chron. 14.2; Job 16.19; Sir. 16.17-18; 26.16; 43.9; Ps. Sol. 18.10; Lam. 1.13; Lk. 19.38; 24.49. 113. Werner Foerster and Georg Fohrer, ‘Êň½Ñ ÁÌÂ.’, TDNT, vol. 7, pp. 965– 1024 (1009–11), point out that this title was associated with ruler’s showing favors to cities and individuals. 114. Nolland, Luke, vol. 1, p. 107, observes that Octavius’s birth marked the beginning of the ‘good news’ for the world since he has become a ‘savior’ when he ended all war and brought ‘peace’. Cf. Green, Luke, pp. 122–23; Yamazaki-Ransom, Empire, pp. 72–74. 1
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adopt the imperial model to speak of YHWH’s Davidide or YHWH’s household. Accordingly, he allows Mary to be YHWH’s favored one who is nevertheless excluded from the guestroom; Mary’s son to be YHWH’s Davidide, Savior, and Christ Lord who is nevertheless placed in a manger (2.7, 12); and the shepherds to be honored above the rulers as they receive YHWH’s good news yet holding an occupation that is characterized as low status. In light of this, YHWH’s sign to the shepherds can be just as magni¿cent as the signs given to Zechariah and Mary, for if YHWH’s promised king is brought into the world as a lowly peasant by an unremarkable mother, surely the shepherds can claim him as their Savior and as a sign of their favored status before YHWH. Consequently, this sign, like the signs to Zechariah and Mary, enables the shepherds to claim YHWH as their God/Father, joyfully accept his salvation as his gracious gift for them despite their low status among people, and join Zechariah (1.68-79), Mary (1.46-55), and the multitude of the heavenly host (2.13-14) in praising YHWH (2.20), demonstrating that they are not only hearers but also doers of YHWH’s word (cf. Lk. 8.11-15, 21). e. Overview As Luke tells of YHWH’s relationship with Mary and the shepherds through the account of Jesus’ annunciation and birth, he continues to present YHWH as a gracious and merciful God who occupies the highest hierarchical position in the universe and, therefore, has authority over the heavenly host and humans, control of all the wealth and goods, and unlimited power to ensure that everything happens in accordance with his plan. Moreover, his gracious actions are not based on human need or merit; rather, they are rooted in his relationship to Israel as Paterfamilias, established by means of his covenant with Israel’s ancestors starting with Abraham. However, in this account, Luke distinguishes YHWH’s power and authority from human analogs when he shows that YHWH, the Mighty One, is predominantly concerned with the lowly and shows them favor by liberating them, while powerful humans despise and oppress them. Furthermore, since YHWH’s salvi¿c acts on behalf of the lowly bring about judgment on those who oppress them, YHWH’s power is presented as superior to that of powerful humans. This is evidenced in the way that Luke presents Octavius, the most powerful ¿gure in the human world, whose household was the vast Roman Empire and who claimed to be the world benefactor due to his generous benefactions,115 since he presents Octavius as an unconscious agent of YHWH’s salvi¿c
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115.
Whitlark, ‘¸ÉţË’, pp. 47–48.
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plan, speaks of YHWH’s lowly Davidide as the true Savior and Lord as opposed to Octavius, and proclaims YHWH’s good news to the lowly shepherds, judging them rather than Octavius as worthy of this proclamation. As Luke’s narrative unfolds, Luke continues to present YHWH’s power and authority as separate from and superior to those of human leaders, both Gentile and Jewish, and, therefore, to Satan, who stands behind all human power (Lk. 4.5-7; 16.8; Acts 26.18; cf. Lk. 20.25).116 This is because, despite opposition, YHWH continues to implement his salvi¿c plan while using his opponents as unconscious tools (Acts 2.23-24).117 Furthermore, Luke emphasizes a discrepancy between human perception of reality inÀuenced by Satan and YHWH’s perception when he identi¿es Mary and the shepherds as people of high standing before YHWH, yet having low status among people. Luke, thus, questions socially accepted de¿nitions of power, authority, status, wisdom, purity, and righteousness when he presents YHWH as showing favor and granting high status to unexpected people in unexpected places at unexpected times. He also emphasizes that only YHWH can enable one to have a correct perception of reality when he shows that Elizabeth recognizes Mary’s exalted status through the Holy Spirit and the shepherds recognize YHWH’s Davidide in a son of a lowly peasant girl through what they have learned from the angel; yet Joseph’s Bethlehem family is not enlightened by YHWH and, therefore, treats Mary as a lowly peasant girl whose place is among animals. Thus, Luke does not speak of YHWH’s reversal of social order in favor of the lowly as reserved for the end times (cf. Acts 2.25-35); however, he does reserve a correct perception of what is happening to those who receive a special revelation from YHWH. As Luke’s narrative unfolds, Luke continues to show that YHWH’s ways cannot be fully explained by human societal norms; to become the greatest in YHWH’s household, for example, one must become a servant (Lk. 22.26). Moreover, he continues to emphasize that YHWH shows favor to the most unexpected people, revealing to them his plan and enabling them to play a role in his salvi¿c plan (Lk. 6.20-26; 13.12-14; 16.19-31; 19.1-10; Acts 4.13-22; 9.1-16); yet he hides his plan from the arrogant who claim authority, power, and wisdom apart from
116. Yamazaki-Ransom, Empire, p. 200. 117. Brian Rapske, ‘Opposition to the Plan of God and Persecution’, in Marshall and Peterson (eds.), Witness to the Gospel, pp. 235–56, demonstrates how YHWH prepares, commissions, and guides Christian witness, enabling it to attract numerous converts despite Jewish, Gentile, and Christian opposition.
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YHWH’s authorization or enlightenment and who will be judged as fools when their appropriate position before YHWH is revealed (Lk. 10.21; 12.21; 13.11).118 Therefore, in this account, Luke shows that YHWH alone has authority to determine social order in relation to himself and de¿ne concepts of power, authority, majesty, holiness, purity, and righteousness. Consequently, he is able to show favor without concern for people’s gender, age, purity, righteousness, or location. As those who receive YHWH’s favor respond with faith by actively embracing their new identity, rejoicing in YHWH’s salvi¿c acts, and joining the heavenly host in praising him, they demonstrate their obedience to YHWH and con¿rm YHWH as a true judge of character. Moreover, Luke emphasizes that YHWH’s mercy toward those who fear him is displayed as an act of liberation from the arrogant, the powerful, and the rich, who use their positions of power to oppress the God-fearers and who receive judgment as the outcome of YHWH’s merciful liberating acts, creating a separation between people based on their standing before YHWH (Lk. 2.34-35; Acts 1.25). However, since YHWH’s acts of mercy are not based on human merit but ¿rmly rooted in YHWH’s covenantal promises and initiated by YHWH alone, Luke anticipates that the arrogant, the powerful, and the rich might become recipients of YHWH’s mercy if they turn to him; recognize him as a merciful God, Lord, and Savior; and embrace his salvation brought about in unexpected ways as they hear the good news of YHWH’s mercy and forgiveness. IV. Acts 14.8-18: YHWH’s Claim on the Gentiles Having analyzed how Luke characterizes YHWH for the Jewish audience in the center and on the outskirts of the land of the Jews, we now turn to Acts 14.8-18, which contains what is for the Lukan narrative the ¿rst proclamation concerning YHWH to the Gentile population on Gentile soil, in order to provide a balanced understanding of YHWH’s divine identity in Luke–Acts. a. Introduction of Barnabas and Paul By the time we encounter Paul and Barnabas in 14.8-18 they are not new characters; therefore, we must rely on this pericope’s cotext in order to 118. Tannehill, Unity, vol. 1, p. 30, observes that Luke presents the scribes and Pharisees as those who seek status (11.43; 20.46-47) and money (16.14), like the proud and the rich in 1.51-53; yet despite their self-exalting efforts, they are humiliated (14.7-11, 16-24; 16.15, 19-31; 18.9-14). Cf. 2 Kgs 19.22. 1
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determine the reliability of their words and actions. We learn from the beginning of ch. 14 that Paul and Barnabas went to Lystra and Derbe, cities of Lycaonia, and to the surrounding country, because they had to Àee Iconium, where both Gentiles and Jews were plotting to stone them (14.1-7) due to their success in turning many Jews and Gentiles to faith through the proclamation of YHWH’s gracious word, con¿rmed to be true by their ability to perform signs and wonders (cf. 2.22, 43). We also learn that they left Lystra, where the events of our pericope take place, for Derbe following Paul’s stoning by Gentile inhabitants of Lystra and Jews from Antioch and Iconium. What they do in those cities is brieÀy summarized as preaching the good news (14.7, 21). From the preceding narrative, we ¿nd that Paul, called Saul, opposed YHWH and his plan (cf. 2.23) and was instrumental in stoning Stephen (7.57; 8.1), a man full of faith and Holy Spirit (6.5). However, he subsequently (1) embraced YHWH’s purpose (9.1-18); (2) received support and encouragement (9.27; 11.25-26) from Barnabas, a man, like Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit and faith, able to perceive YHWH’s grace at work (4.36-37; 11.2224); and (3) joined Barnabas in teaching new believers in Antioch. While in Antioch, Barnabas and Saul are commissioned by the church during a worship setting, at YHWH’s request through his Holy Spirit, to do the work YHWH had called them to do (13.2-3). So they leave Antioch and travel through Gentile lands and, empowered by the Holy Spirit (13.9), perform signs and wonders like Jesus (2.22) and his followers before them (14.3; cf. 13.9-12; 15.12) and proclaim YHWH’s word to both Jews (13.5, 14, 26) and Gentiles (13.7, 16, 26). Despite opposition (13.6-12, 42-52; cf. 14.22), which comes from both Jews and Gentiles (13.50; 14.2), they successfully complete their mission (14.26; cf. 13.13), return to Antioch (14.22-23), and share what YHWH has done through their words and deeds and how he has opened a door of faith to the Gentiles (14.27; cf. Lk. 2.10, 31-32). Thus, in being obedient to Y HWH and undertaking the work to which YHWH had called them, they become messengers of YHWH’s good news of YHWH’s salvation to all people, as ¿rst announced in the birth narrative (Lk. 2.10, 31-32), like YHWH’s angel (Lk. 1.19; 2.10), Jesus (8.1), and the church’s witnesses before them (Acts 8.4, 25). This brief summary displays both Barnabas and Paul as reliable sources for YHWH’s characterization since they are (1) called, authorized, and empowered by YHWH for work that YHWH prepared for them;119 (2) dedicated to YHWH and his salvi¿c plan con¿rmed by the 119. See further Robert W. Wall, ‘Acts, Introduction to Epistolary Literature, Romans, 1 Corinthians’, in Leander E. Keck (ed.), New Interpreter’s Bible (12 vols.; Nashville: Abingdon, 2002), vol. 10, pp. 1–368 (190–97). 1
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signs and wonders they perform and by their perseverance despite suffering;120 and (3) used by YHWH as successful instruments in preaching his good news, despite opposition, and enlarging the church, which is now identi¿ed with the restored Israel.121 b. Paul Heals a Crippled Gentile Acts 14.8-18, which focuses on Paul and Barnabas’s preaching of the good news in Lystra, begins with a striking description of a crippled Gentile man.122 This man is characterized as one ‘without power’ (Ò»ŧŸÌÇË) in his feet from his mother’s womb (ëÁ ÁÇÀÂţ¸Ë ľÌÉġË ¸ĤÌÇı, 14.8). This characterization both contrasts this man with John the Baptist who, unlike this man, was ¿lled with YHWH’s power (»ŧŸÄÀË ĨÐţÊÌÇÍ, Lk. 1.35) from his mother’s womb (ÈżŧĸÌÇË ÖºţÇÍ È¾ʿŢʼ̸À ìÌÀ ëÁ ÁÇÀÂţ¸Ë ľÌÉġË ¸ĤÌÇı, 1.15) and whose ministry was characterized by the spirit and power of Elijah (ëÅ ÈżŧĸÌÀ Á¸Ė »ÍŊļÀ DÂţÇÍ, 1.17); and associates him with the lowly people in Mary’s Magni¿cat, who are without power yet are exalted by YHWH (ĩÐÑʼŠ̸ȼÀÅÇŧË, 1.52), unlike the powerful who are brought down by YHWH from their positions of power (Á¸¿¼ė¼Š»ÍÅŠÊ̸Ë, 1.52). It also provides readers with information about the severity and duration of his suffering, implying that his condition was beyond human help, as in the case of Zechariah and Elizabeth (1.7). Finally, this man is portrayed as the one who, after having heard Paul proclaim the good news, had faith to be saved (ìϼÀ ÈţÊÌÀÅ ÌÇı ÊÑ¿ýŸÀ, Acts 14.9). However, he is a Gentile rather than a Jew. Therefore, anticipation is kindled to see how YHWH will act in regard to this man. Will YHWH extend his grace and favor to all Gentiles by saving this man, who, unlike Cornelius (10.1-2), is not a God-fearer and, unlike Paul’s Gentile audience in 13.15-49, is not associated with any synagogue? Readers do not have long to wait for the answer, for Luke immediately provides an account of healing, which echoes the healing of a Jewish man lame from birth (3.2) accomplished by Peter at the temple gate soon after Pentecost; this further con¿rms the reliability of Paul and Barnabas as YHWH’s servants. As Beverly Gaventa notes, in the two healing accounts both Peter and Paul look intently at the men in need of healing 120. See further Scott Smith Cunningham, ‘Through Many Tribulations’: The Theology of Persecution in Luke–Acts (JSNTSup, 142; Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic, 1997), pp. 242–53. 121. See further Bauckham, ‘Restoration of Israel’, pp. 469–87. 122. Darrell L. Bock, Acts (BECNT; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007), p. 474, rightly notes that since there is no mention of a synagogue as in Acts 13.14, the audience is purely Gentile. 1
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(3.4; 14.9), who leap in demonstration of the effectiveness of the healing accomplished through Peter and Paul (3.8; 14.10). Moreover, in both accounts the healing is connected with faith (3.16; 14.9) and is followed by response from local religious authorities (4.1-4; 14.13) although their responses differ.123 Because of these similarities, readers are led to believe that YHWH treats not only Jews but also Gentiles without partiality. Because readers might hear echoes of the Magni¿cat in this healing account, given that the Gentile man is characterized by both powerlessness and faith (14.8-9), they are encouraged to continue to de¿ne salvation among the Gentiles as it was de¿ned in the Magni¿cat, i.e., the lifting of the powerless who submit under YHWH’s authority as Godfearers. Thus, through this healing, Luke characterizes YHWH as a gracious God not only of the Jews but also of the Gentiles and further clari¿es YHWH’s plan to offer salvation to all people, both Jews and Gentiles, already announced in the birth narrative (Lk. 2.10, 31-32). c. Barnabas and Paul Proclaim YHWH as the One, Living God This healing miracle is understood as a sign of the extraordinary; yet, it is not self-explanatory.124 As a result of this incident, the inhabitants of Lystra misunderstand the nature of the divine power manifested through Paul and Barnabas and thus equate them with Zeus and Hermes, gods of the Greek pantheon whom they worshipped.125 They call them ‘gods in human form’ (ÇĎ ¿¼ÇĖ ĝÄÇÀÑ¿šÅÌ¼Ë ÒÅ¿ÉŪÈÇÀË, 14.11) and, under the leadership of the priest of Zeus, attempt to offer them sacri¿ces, showing themselves as deeply religious people (14.13).126 Their eagerness to honor Barnabas and Paul through worship and sacri¿ce makes sense in light of their religious worldview, inÀuenced by Homer and others127 who 123. Beverly Roberts Gaventa, The Acts of the Apostles (ANTC; Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), pp. 206–7; cf. Wall, Acts, p. 198. 124. Cf. Hans Conzelmann, Acts of the Apostles: A Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), p. 109: ‘the miracle acquires a didactic sense and is drawn into the whole course of the mission, without losing its individuality’. 125. Bruce, Acts, p. 281, points to evidence that both Zeus and Hermes were worshipped by Lystrans. 126. See further Lynn Allan Kauppi, Foreign but Familiar Gods: Greco-Romans Read Religion in Acts (LNTS, 277; London: T&T Clark International, 2006), Chapter 4. 127. C. Kavin Rowe, World Upside Down: Reading Acts in the Graeco-Roman Age (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), pp. 19–24, provides examples from Greco-Roman literature that speak of gods visiting people in human form and 1
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spoke of gods appearing in human form as strangers from afar, speaking with a loud voice (ļºŠÂþ ÎÑÅĉ; cf. 14.10), looking intently (Ò̼ÅţʸË; cf. 14.9),128 and having the ability to heal (cf. 14.10-11). However, when Paul and Barnabas realize that the people attributed to them divine status and thus were prepared to offer them the welcome suitable for gods,129 they tear their clothes,130 rush to the crowd, and protest against this madness, ‘People, what are you doing? We are humans just like you (÷ļėË ĝÄÇÀÇȸ¿¼ėË ëÊļŠĨÄėÅ ÓÅ¿ÉÑÈÇÀ). We proclaim the good news to you that you may turn from these worthless things to a living God, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and all that is in them’ (14.15). This protest echoes Peter’s response (ëºĽ ¸ĤÌġË ÓÅ¿ÉÑÈŦË ¼ĊÄÀ, 10.26) yet stands in sharp contrast to Herod’s failure to stop the people of Tyre and Sidon from hailing him as a god, which was immediately followed by his miserable death (12.22-23).131 Consequently, in light of its cotext, this protest draws clear boundaries between YHWH, who alone deserves human worship and recognition as God, and humans, whose acceptance of worship as gods by other humans is offensive and punishable by death, and, thus, emphasizes the uniqueness of YHWH’s divine identity. This immense misunderstanding of the nature of the divine power operating through Paul and Barnabas and their refusal of worship serves as grounds for Paul’s proclamation of the God who offered healing through him and of the good news (cf. 14.7). In this proclamation, Paul contrasts YHWH and the ‘worthless things’ that the Lystrans worship as gods (14.15). He characterizes YHWH as the ‘living God’ who (1) created the heaven and the earth (cf. Exod. 20.11; Ps. 146.6; Isa. 37.16; Jer. 10.11; Acts 4.24; 17.24-25); (2) continuously gave generous gifts of rain demonstrates that despite philosophical criticism of superstition and exceedingly literal interpretation of myth, philosophers from different philosophical schools were personally involved in traditional cultic practices. 128. Bock, Acts, p. 475; Mikeal C. Parsons, Acts (PCNT; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2008), pp. 198–99, both highlight similarities in vocabulary used for gods in Greco-Roman literature. 129. Ovid, Metam. 8.611-725, recounts a story of Zeus and Hermes visiting people of this region in human form and punishing them for their lack of hospitality. 130. Bock, Acts, p. 477, notes that in the OT and Jewish literature this action indicates blasphemy against YHWH. See also m. Sanh. 7.5 (cf. Acts 22.23). Cf. Johnson, Acts, pp. 248–49, who observes that this is a response expressing extreme emotion, usually sorrow and mourning—e.g., Gen. 37.29, 34. 131. See further O. Wesley Allen, Jr., The Death of Herod: The Narrative and Theological Function of Retribution in Luke–Acts (SBLDS, 158; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997). 1
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and harvests, food and happiness to the Lystrans, regardless of their merit before him, their ignorance, and their failure to recognize him for who he is; and thus (3) demonstrated himself as Father not only of the universe but of the Lystrans in particular (14.15b-17; cf. 17.28).132 Accordingly, he claims that YHWH, the one, living God, alone provides for people as Father and has the power to heal because he alone occupies the highest position in the universe as the Lord of heaven and earth (cf. Lk. 10.21). Paul also emphasizes that in the past, YHWH the Creator, i.e., Paterfamilias of all the created world, allowed people to do what they wanted (14.16), even if that involved worshiping worthless things,133 implying that now that the people have learned that YHWH rather than Zeus is the true Father and Benefactor of humanity they can no longer justify their pointless idol worship but should turn to the one living God (ÒÈġ ÌÇŧÌÑÅ ÌľÅ Ä¸Ì¸ţÑÅ ëÈÀÊÌɚμÀÅ ëÈĖ ¿¼ġÅ ½ľÅ̸),134 YHWH, and worship him alone (14.15). In their protest speech, Paul and Barnabas do not simply refuse worship, preventing people from sacri¿cing to them; rather, they undermine the worldview that allows people to call worthless things ‘gods’ and worship anything or anybody but YHWH.135 From their point of view, which represents YHWH’s point of view, the Lystrans’ willingness to worship anyone but YHWH is blasphemous136 even though it was allowed in the past. That is why they call the Gentiles to turn to YHWH,137 the living God (14.15; cf. 15.19-20),138 who alone has authority over the 132. Rowe, Acts, p. 23, notes that Barnabas and Paul attribute to YHWH the functions that pagans ascribed to Zeus, known as the rain-god and the giver of good things. 133. Barrett, Acts, vol. 1, p. 681, speaks of God’s having withdrawn from human affairs, with the exception of Israel, allowing them to lead their lives without his intervention. 134. Conzelmann, Acts, p. 111, notes that ÌÛ ÄŠÌ¸À¸, ëÈÀÊÌɚμÀÅ, and ¿¼ġË ½ľÅ are words from Jewish mission literature. See also Johnson, Acts, p. 249. 135. Luke offers no further characterization for other gods, demonstrating that they are indeed worthless things and do not deserve any more attention than they were already given. 136. Rowe, Acts, p. 22, mentions that in the LXX, ÌÛ ÄŠÌ¸À¸, which here refers to false gods, also means iniquity. 137. Barrett, Acts, vol. 1, p. 680, notes that ëÈÀÊÌɚμÀÅ sounds almost like a command. 138. Barrett, Acts, vol. 1, p. 680, notes the contrast between death, the worthless things, and life given by the living God, the Creator of heaven, earth, sea, and what is in them. Cf. Deut. 30.19. Mark J. Goodwin, Paul: The Apostle of the Living God: Kerygma and Conversion in 2 Corinthians (Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 2001), pp. 65–85, 120–22, observes that Diaspora Jews referred to YHWH 1
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created world as its Creator139 and who alone deserves their worship. As they speak of YHWH, Creator of the world, they declare YHWH’s authority over the Gentiles, just as John the Baptist declared YHWH’s authority over the Jews when he called them to turn to the Lord their God (Lk. 1.16; 3.3-9), demonstrating that YHWH’s authority extends over his entire creation and his salvation is for all people who recognize and submit under his authority, both Jews and Gentiles. d. Overview In Acts 14.8-18, Luke continues to emphasize the traits of YHWH’s divine identity that he highlighted in Luke 1–2, i.e., YHWH’s position at the top of the hierarchical order, his generous giving without regard for human merit, his favor for the powerless who eagerly submit to his authority, and his powerful guidance and enabling of God-fearers by means of the Holy Spirit to further his salvi¿c plan for all people despite opposition from both Jews and Gentiles. In this account, Luke demonstrates that YHWH’s salvation is indeed for all people (Lk. 2.10, 31-32; 3.6; Acts 2.21) and is not limited to the Jews.140 Although YHWH is not bound to the Gentiles by his special covenants as he is to the Jews (with the possible exception of the covenant he made with Abraham, the father of many nations), he is still bound to the Gentiles as their Creator, Father, and Benefactor and as such offers them his generous care and salvation, and the opportunity to be in a right relationship with him. Thus, in his narrative Luke explicitly presents YHWH as Creator, whose power and authority are not limited by the land of the Jews but extend to the land of the Gentiles, far removed from his temple (7.49-50; 17.24; cf. Isa. 66.1-2).141 By doing this, he shows how YHWH works in unexpected as the ‘living God’ to emphasize his unique character and, therefore, to promote his superiority to idols. They stressed that the ‘living God’ YHWH was not only Israel’s covenantal God but also the ‘universal lord and creator, who alone created all things and who alone was worthy of worship from all people’ (p. 65). He alone was the source of life for all living beings and, therefore, all owe him their allegiance. Consequently, the title ‘living God’ was used to teach Gentiles of YHWH’s uniqueness in contrast to other gods. Cf. Marion L. Soards, The Speeches in Acts: Their Content, Context, and Concerns (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1994), pp. 88–90; Wilckens, Missionsreden, pp. 86–91. 139. Bruce, Acts, p. 276, notes that proclamation of YHWH as Creator is emphasized because a purely Gentile audience could not have been expected to understand speeches concerning the ful¿llment of the OT prophecies proclaimed in synagogues. 140. Johnson, Acts, p. 250, notes that here Luke begins to rede¿ne the identity of God’s people. 141. Yamazaki-Ransom, Empire, pp. 66–67, notes that YHWH’s universal dominion was a crucial conviction of the Jews. 1
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ways not only among the Jews in the land of the Jews but also among all people of all lands, even among those who misunderstand him, as did the Lystrans (14.11; cf. 14.22), or oppose his plan, as did Paul (8.1; cf. 26.16-18) and those Jews and Gentiles who now oppose God’s working through Paul and Barnabas (14.2, 19); and he ¿rmly identi¿es the Gentiles as people who belong to YHWH (13.48; 15.14, 16-18; cf. Amos 9.11-12) as they repent, accept YHWH’s word with joy, receive YHWH’s gift of the Holy Spirit, and are incorporated into the restored people of Israel (10.45; 11.1, 18; 13.48; 14.27; 19.6; 26.20). Against the background of Greco-Roman paganism, Luke echoes the OT by claiming that YHWH alone can appropriately be called God and worshiped and by presenting idol worship as foolishness, blasphemy,142 and an outcome of people’s disobedience to YHWH (cf. 7.40-43). His presentation of YHWH as the only living God in 14.8-18 is consistent with his presentation of YHWH throughout his narrative—although he allows his unreliable pagan characters to call other beings ‘gods’ (7.40; 12.22; 19.26, 27, 37; 28.6), he never does it himself nor does he allow his reliable characters to do so. Moreover, Luke shows that Herod is punished by death when, instead of giving YHWH glory,143 he accepts the pagan crowd’s hailing of him as ¿¼ŦË after his public speech and contrasts Herod’s response with that of YHWH’s messengers, who prevent people from attributing to them honor due to YHWH alone (10.26) and from worshiping them in place of YHWH (14.15, 18; cf. 28.6).144 Finally, throughout his narrative, Luke demands that YHWH alone should be loved, honored, obeyed, and worshiped as God (Lk. 4.1-13; 10.27; 20.25; Acts 5.29; 22.3) and demonstrates that his reliable characters direct their
142. E.g., Exod. 20.4; Deut. 4.25; Isa. 44.6-20; Jer. 10.6-16; Wis. 14.12, 30. See also Pao, Acts, Chapter 6. 143. Bock, Acts, pp. 430–31, observes that Herod meets his fate as he attempts to attack the people who answer to the good news of God. Moreover, he notes that Josephus, Ant. 19.343-50, also connects Herod’s painful death with his reluctance to rebuke their impious Àattery. He notes that accepting this type of praise is rebuked in Tosefta (t. SoÓ. 7.16), the Talmud (b. SoÓ. 41b), and the OT (Ezek. 28.2, 6, 9) (p. 433). Moreover, Jaroslav Pelikan, Acts (BTCB; Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2005), p. 151, notes close parallels to 12.21-23 in 2 Macc. 9.8-9 in reference to Antiochus Epiphanes and in Acts 1.16, 18 in reference to Judas, and joins Luther in stating that Herod’s sin was in ‘refusing to let God be God’. 144. In 28.6, Paul’s reaction to being called ‘god’ is not recorded, which means either that he did not know of this at that time or that he reacted to it in the same way presented to the readers in 14.11—readers are expected to assume continuity in the character’s description unless speci¿ed otherwise. 1
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praise and glory to YHWH alone (Lk. 2.28, 38; 5.25-26; 7.16; 17.15, 18; 18.43; 19.37-38; 24.53; Acts 3.9-10; 4.21). Luke does not present the Lystrans as having perfect conditions for faith;145 rather, he is careful to correct Gentile misconception and to show that despite different pagan practices carried out by people, YHWH is the only one who can be properly called God and who must alone be worshiped and honored as the Gentiles come to repentance and are enlightened by the good news. Thus, according to Luke, ignorance can no longer be claimed as an excuse for blasphemy (14.15-17; 17.22-31; cf. 15.3; 26.20). V. Summary In this chapter, we have focused on selected material pertinent to YHWH’s characterization in Luke 1–2 and Acts 14 as representative of YHWH’s characterization in Luke–Acts. We have observed that although Luke utilized direct de¿nition in his characterization of YHWH, he predominantly relied on indirect presentation, placing signi¿cant emphasis on YHWH’s actions and words in de¿ning consistent traits of YHWH’s divine identity and providing meaning for the titles predicated of YHWH. We have also observed that Luke is not interested in presenting metaphysical considerations when constructing YHWH’s divine identity; rather, he speaks of YHWH relationally, in light of his hierarchical position within the universe and in contrast with others who claim the same position; and functionally, with regard to how he carries out responsibilities prescribed to him by his position within his created world and his covenant with Israel. We concluded that Luke presents YHWH as a gracious God who continuously shows mercy and offers generous gifts to all without regard to human standing or merit—to the Jews in light of his covenantal promises to their ancestors and to the Gentiles in light of his position as their Creator and, therefore, Father, Lord, and Benefactor. Luke also presents YHWH as a Mighty Savior who (1) favors and liberates the lowly, rede¿ning social order and concepts of power, status, purity, and righteousness in relation to himself; (2) renders judgment on the arrogant, powerful, rich, and wise as he liberates the lowly from their oppression; (3) enables through his Holy Spirit and the proclamation of his good news the most unexpected people to play a role in furthering his salvi¿c plan; and (4) carries out his plan despite opposition from Satan evidenced by resistance from both Jews and Gentiles. Finally, Luke
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145.
Contra Johnson, Acts, p. 251.
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presents YHWH as the only living God and Creator, who alone deserves human worship and who must be praised and honored as such in light of his unique position and function both in heaven and on earth; and in doing this, he condemns worship of anyone but YHWH as blasphemy and foolishness.
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Chapter 5
JESUS’ DIVINE IDENTITY IN LUKE–ACTS
I. Introduction While the question of the Lukan Jesus’ humanity is taken for granted, the question of his divinity has yet to be resolved. We have already established (1) how we will read the Lukan narrative and construct characters of YHWH and Jesus; (2) how we will use the concept of divine identity; and (3) how Luke presented YHWH by means of his narrative. We observed that in his characterization of YHWH Luke does not predicate the title ¿¼ŦË exclusively of YHWH, nor does he present metaphysical considerations of YHWH’s nature. Rather, he relies on both indirect presentation and direct de¿nition in YHWH’s characterization and speaks of YHWH relationally and functionally. From the perspective of the issues that help to frame this study, we should note that, since Luke was not interested in metaphysical considerations when speaking of YHWH, it would seem strange that he would speak of Jesus in such terms. Moreover, since any title, even the title ¿¼ŦË, predicated of YHWH can be predicated of other beings, one cannot argue for or against Jesus’ divinity based on titles alone, but must consider how those titles are clari¿ed through indirect presentation. Finally, since in Luke’s narrative world there is no place for other gods but YHWH alone, one can speak of Jesus’ divine identity within Luke– Acts only if one can show that Luke binds Jesus’ identity to YHWH’s. Accordingly, we expect that Luke’s characterization of Jesus as God of Israel will be rooted in how he presents Jesus’ identity, de¿ned both relationally and functionally, by means of both direct and indirect means of characterization. As we begin our study, we face the same dif¿culty we faced with the study of YHWH’s characterization in the previous chapter, namely, a detailed presentation of all the aspects of Jesus’ characterization in Luke–Acts would take us beyond the scope of this study. Therefore, we will use three chapters, i.e., Luke 1–2 and Acts 2, as a lens through
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which we can present our ¿ndings on Jesus’ characterization, just as we used Luke 1–2 and Acts 14 as a lens for the presentation of our ¿ndings of YHWH’s characterization. We selected these particular chapters because (1) Luke–Acts as a narrative is meant to be read from left to right and, therefore, Luke’s readers are expected to know how Luke introduces Jesus in Luke 1–2 in order to understand properly what he says concerning him in the remainder of his narrative; (2) titles predicated of Jesus in Luke 1–2 are permeated with signi¿cance by means of their immediate cotext, appropriate intertexts, and their broader cotext within Luke–Acts, yet they also serve as labels for what Jesus says and does throughout Luke’s narrative, enabling the interpretation of Jesus’ indirect characterization; and (3) Acts 2 presents an account of how Jesus is characterized after his death, resurrection, and ascension, which both complements his characterization in the Gospel and sets the tone for how Jesus is characterized in the remainder of Acts. In our study, we will analyze pericopes that provide information concerning Jesus regardless of whether they state this explicitly. We will observe how Jesus is characterized both directly and indirectly and explore how that characterization is permeated with meaning based on its immediate and broader cotext and appropriate intertexts. As we present our ¿ndings, we will focus on how Luke binds Jesus’ identity to the divine identity of YHWH. Having outlined our plan of action, we now turn to the study of Jesus’ characterization in (1) Lk. 1.32-33, 35; (2) Lk. 1.43; (3) Lk. 1.69, 71, 78-79; 2.11, 30-32, 34-35; and (4) Acts 2.1-4, 14-41. II. Luke 1.32-33, 35: Jesus’ Superior Position Is Rooted in his Father’s Identity Luke does not start his narrative with an account of the annunciation or birth of Jesus, but with the presentation of YHWH’s relationship with his chosen people Israel, represented by Zechariah and Elizabeth (1.5-25), implying that what comes prior to Jesus’ introduction serves as the proper cotext for understanding Jesus’ story. It is only after Luke embeds Jesus’ story within an account of YHWH’s mercy and salvation promised to Israel’s ancestors and YHWH’s supreme authority and power as heavenly Lord God of Israel, creating anticipation for YHWH’s coming salvation and restoration of his people Israel, that Luke is ready to introduce his readers to Jesus. In what follows, we will demonstrate that as Luke introduces Jesus against the background of YHWH’s position and function in Israel, he encourages his readers to root Jesus’ identity in the identity of 1
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YHWH and to understand Jesus’ relationship to YHWH as a relationship that supersedes any other relationship in Jesus’ life. Therefore, he introduces Jesus as the one who shares YHWH’s divine identity from the beginning of his narrative. a. Unique Son of God We ¿rst hear about Jesus when YHWH sends Gabriel to Mary to announce Jesus’ conception and birth (1.26-38). As Luke develops Jesus’ characterization in the course of Gabriel’s dialog with Mary, his readers learn that Jesus will be an ideal Davidic King (i.e., Davidide) whose coming was anticipated by the Scriptures. However, they also learn that his unique identity cannot be fully explained through his relationship to David because, unlike Davidic descendants who were to become adopted sons of YHWH at their inauguration, Jesus will be YHWH’s Son from the moment of his unique conception by YHWH’s Spirit. Therefore, he will derive his identity primarily from his unique relationship to YHWH as Son. When Gabriel appears to Mary, he promises concerning Jesus: ‘He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High (ÍĎġË ĨÐţÊÌÇÍ1). The Lord God will give him the throne of his ancestor David and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever and there will be no end to his kingdom’ (1.32-33). Based on this promise and on Mary’s betrothal to Joseph, descendant of King David (1.27), one is led to perceive Jesus as the long-awaited Davidide in accordance with the covenantal promise given by YHWH to David that emphasized the eternal nature of the rule of David’s descendant2 and anticipated his becoming YHWH’s son (2 Sam. 7.12-16; cf. Pss. 89.3-4, 29; 132.12; Isa. 9.7; Sir. 47.11). This promise was generally applied to the kings of Davidic descent, who were praised (e.g., 1 Kgs 3.3; 2 Kgs 18.3; 22.2) or judged (e.g., 2 Kgs 14.3; 16.2) based on how they resembled the image of the idealized King David. Therefore, King David becomes not only the ancestor of all legitimate kings of Judah but also the role model from whom the kings of Judah were expected to derive their identity. Even after the line of the 1. Irina Levinskaya, The Book of Acts in its Diaspora Setting (BAFCS, 5; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), pp. 83–103, undermines the commonly held view that ĩÐÀÊÌÇË was widely used by Gentiles in reference to multiple deities, arguing instead for its Jewish background. Since in Luke–Acts ĩÐÀÊÌÇË refers exclusively to YHWH (1.32, 35, 76; 2.14; 6.35; 8.28; 19.38; Acts 7.48; 16.17), we limit our focus to the language of divine sonship within Israel. 2. Mark W. Hamilton, The Body Royal: The Social Poetics of Kingship in Ancient Israel (BIS, 78; Boston: Brill, 2005), pp. 266–74, examines language used to speak of the eternal rule of Jewish kings. 1
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Davidic kings was broken as a result of the Babylonian exile and the promise could no longer be applied to the Davidic dynasty as a whole, YHWH’s covenantal promise to David continued to play an important part in postexilic communities as they developed expectations for the coming of the ideal eschatological ¿gure from the Davidic line. What the Davidide was expected to accomplish varied depending on who engaged in the interpretation of the covenantal promise and when. However, his role was not limited to that of a political leader.3 Consequently, one cannot assume that Luke is interested in presenting David’s descendant Jesus merely as king, since later in his narrative Luke highlights that David not only was a righteous king who served YHWH’s purpose (Acts 13.22, 36), but also had religious authority (Lk. 6.3), wrote psalms (20.42), and was a prophet (Acts 1.16; 2.25, 30; 4.25). Thus, Luke presents Jesus as a descendant of King David with a legitimate claim to David’s throne and authority over Jacob’s household, who can potentially be like David not only as a righteous king who serves YHWH’s purpose but also a religious authority and prophet. However, to understand Jesus’ conception and life only in light of YHWH’s covenantal promise to David is not enough for Luke, which is why he allows Mary to raise a question that enables him to reinterpret YHWH’s promise to David in a new light by means of his reliable character Gabriel. That is, when Mary asks how what was promised to her might happen, emphasizing her status as a virgin (Lk. 1.34), Gabriel explains that ful¿llment of the promise does not involve any man because YHWH will father Jesus as his Son on his initiative and through his Spirit (1.35). Until this answer is given, readers could have anticipated that Jesus’ conception, like John’s conception (1.23-24), would take place naturally, i.e., Mary would soon be married to Joseph from David’s household and together they would conceive a child who would become a Davidide and a son of God in accordance with YHWH’s promises. However, since Mary’s question emphasizes her virginity,
3. Yuzuru Miura, David in Luke–Acts (WUNT, 2/232; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), studies expectations associated with a Davidic descendant in the OT, Apocrypha, Pseudepigrapha, Qumran texts, writings of Philo and Josephus, and early rabbinic writings. He observes that the expectations in these writings were not only genealogical in nature but also typological—these writings spoke of David’s descendant relying on various idealized images stemming from David’s life, i.e., chosen, righteous, triumphant king; psalmist; religious authority; and prophet or king like Moses. Miura notes that beginning with the ¿rst century C.E., the Davidic Messiah is often presented as a prophet (p. 137). See also Strauss, Messiah, Chapter 2. 1
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mentioned earlier as her de¿ning characteristic (1.27),4 and since Gabriel explains Jesus’ divine sonship as a result of YHWH’s initiative and enablement through his Spirit rather than as an adoption at his inauguration as king of the Jews, Luke leaves no room for human initiative or action in Jesus’ conception. Consequently, to understand Jesus’ conception in natural terms or his divine sonship as derivative of his status as a Davidide is inappropriate. By means of Gabriel’s answer, Luke not only denies the possibility of Jesus becoming a son of God through adoption against the expectations outlined in the Davidic covenant (2 Sam. 7.14a),5 but also discourages his readers from understanding Jesus’ divine sonship against pagan myths of divine conception. This is because neither the verb ‘to come over’ (ëÈšÉÏÇĸÀ) nor ‘to overshadow’ (ëÈÀÊÁÀŠ½Ñ), attributed to the activity of YHWH’s Spirit, have sexual connotations (1.35). In fact, Luke uses ëÈšÉÏÇĸÀ when speaking of the Holy Spirit’s coming over Jesus’ disciples and enabling them to become his witnesses (Acts 1.8) and ëÈÀÊÁÀŠ½Ñ when speaking of the cloud, denoting YHWH’s presence,6 overshadowing Jesus’ three disciples (Lk. 9.34). Consequently, Luke speaks of Jesus’ conception as resulting from the initiative and activity of YHWH’s enabling and protecting Spirit and discourages his readers from perceiving YHWH as a male counterpart in Jesus’ conception.7 Although 4. See the discussion in Chapter 4, section III.a. 5. Scholars generally note that 1.32-33 is an interpretation of 2 Sam. 7.8-16 and that 1.35 contains a new element, divine sonship by means of the Spirit, which takes one out of the realm of Jewish messianic expectations—e.g., Brown, Birth, pp. 310– 12; Miura, David, p. 200; Strauss, Messiah, p. 93; Pietsch, Spross, pp. 268–71. However, they generally do not explore how Jesus’ unique divine sonship impacts his identity. 6. Marshall, Luke, p. 70, observes that in the OT, ëÈÀÊÁÀŠ½Ñ is used of YHWH’s presence resting on his tabernacle in the cloud (Exod. 40.35) and of his protecting his people (Pss. 91.4 [90.4, LXX]; 140.7 [139.8, LXX]). Cf. Bock, Luke, vol. 1, p. 122. 7. Scholars generally agree that Luke speaks of Jesus’ divine sonship as unique and rooted in his virginal conception. They tend not to view YHWH’s Spirit as a male counterpart although there is no agreement concerning what takes place as a result of the Spirit’s coming over Mary—e.g., Bock, Luke, vol. 1, pp. 121–25; Bovon, Luke 1, p. 47; Brown, Birth, pp. 299–315; Fitzmyer, Luke, vol. 1, p. 340; Marshall, Luke, pp. 71–75; Nolland, Luke, vol. 1, pp. 54–59. Unlike these scholars, Zion S. Lin, ‘Divine Seeding: Reinterpreting Luke 1:35 in Light of Ancient Procreation Theories and Christological Developments’ (Ph.D. diss., Fuller Theological Seminary, 2008), pp. 14–26, argues for begetting through YHWH’s procreative seeding, i.e., implanting. Since we have demonstrated in Chapter 3 that identity must be sketched vis-àvis one’s relationships and functions, how Mary conceived is relatively unimportant. Accordingly, contra Lin, we are interested in how Jesus’ conception situates him relationally to YHWH and thus de¿nes his position in the world. 1
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Luke offers little detail concerning how Jesus’ conception takes place, he provides enough detail to establish that Jesus is YHWH’s unique Son, whose conception cannot be explained fully in light of Jewish or Gentile expectations available in the ¿rst-century Greco-Roman world; this is because it is rooted exclusively in YHWH’s initiative and non-sexual activity of the Holy Spirit, allowing no involvement of any man. Consequently, unlike John (1.23-24), Jesus will not be fathered by a man. Rather, he will be conceived and born as the Son of YHWH, Israel’s Lord, God, Paterfamilias, and King. That is why he will be called holy,8 the Son of God, from his conception, unlike David’s descendants who were adopted by YHWH as sons at their inauguration. This unusual de¿nition of divine sonship anticipates how the promise concerning Jesus’ assumption of the throne of his ancestor David (1.32-33) will play out in Luke’s narrative. b. Supposed Son of Joseph As Luke’s narrative unfolds, Luke’s readers ¿nd that Mary indeed conceived. They learn this from an inspired and therefore reliable character Elizabeth (1.42) and from Luke himself, when he tells that Joseph goes to Bethlehem together with his betrothed Mary who is pregnant (2.4-5). Luke is careful to point out that although Mary is pregnant she is not yet Joseph’s wife, just as he is careful not to place Mary in the proximity of any man from the time of the annunciation to the time Elizabeth recognizes her pregnancy (1.39-40). This allows him to con¿rm that, in accordance with Gabriel’s announcement (1.35), Joseph did not father Mary’s child and that Mary’s pregnancy is a result of YHWH’s enabling and protecting presence. However, Luke is also careful to indicate that Joseph is willing to register with Mary despite her pregnancy and, therefore, to legally accept Mary and her son into his 8. Marshall, Luke, p. 71, says that here ‘holy’ (׺ÀÇË) should be understood as ‘divine’ (e.g., Ps. 89.5, 7 [88.6, 8, LXX]) rather than the ¿rst-born dedicated to YHWH (e.g., Lk. 2.32; Exod. 13.12; Judg. 13.7) or a child free from illegitimacy (e.g., 1 Cor. 7.14). He explains that as the one ‘begotten by the Holy Spirit, the child will be holy as the bearer of the Spirit’. Cf. Nolland, Luke, vol. 1, p. 59. In the OT and other Jewish literature, YHWH was known as the Holy One or the Holy One of Israel (e.g., Exod. 15.11; Lev. 20.26; 2 Kgs 19.22), and people (e.g., Exod. 19.6; Num. 15.40; Tob. 8.15; 3 Macc. 2.6; Pss. Sol. 17.26; Philo, Sacr. 1.134) and things (e.g., Exod. 15.13; Lev. 4.17; 27.9; Deut. 26.15; Josephus, J.W. 5.385) that derived their identity from YHWH were described as ‘holy’. Thus, ‘holy’ can be understood as ‘divine’ and point to Jesus’ unique relationship to the Holy Spirit. However, its meaning is not univocal and on its own it cannot explain in what way Jesus should be understood as divine.
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household, indirectly characterizing Joseph as Jesus’ father. Luke also shows that Joseph is present with Mary as a father ¿gure at Jesus’ birth (2.16), circumcision, naming, presentation at the temple, offering of sacri¿ces on Jesus’ behalf (2.21-24, 39), and beyond (2.41-43). Furthermore, Luke directly refers to Joseph as Jesus’ parent (2.21, 27, 41, 43, 48) and father (2.33), establishes Jesus’ Davidic descent through Joseph (3.23),9 and allows Mary to refer to Joseph as Jesus’ father (2.48b). Luke thus suggests that Jesus was adopted through Joseph into the Davidic line, making it possible for Jesus to be the legitimate Davidide and to carry out the functions prescribed to him by this position in accordance with Gabriel’s announcement (1.32-33).10 Luke’s explanation of how Jesus was conceived by YHWH and adopted into the Davidic line through Joseph echoes YHWH’s covenantal promise to David yet turns it on its head, making Jesus’ divine sonship a primary characteristic of his identity and his adoption into David’s lineage and becoming the Messiah a consequence of his exalted royal position rooted in the identity of his Father YHWH, Israel’s God and King.11 Regardless of the fact that Luke presents Joseph as Jesus’ adoptive father, he recounts Jesus’ conception, birth, life, death, resurrection, and ascension without giving Joseph a single word to say or an important role to play. In fact, Joseph’s role in Jesus’ life is minimal and overshadowed by that of Mary. That is, Joseph is introduced through Mary as her betrothed (1.27); yet he is absent when Mary receives YHWH’s message, conceives by the Holy Spirit (1.28-38), travels to see Elizabeth (1.39-40), magni¿es the Lord for her favored status, and returns home (1.46-56). He reappears to take Mary to Bethlehem, the city of his ancestor David, where she gives birth to her ¿rstborn (2.4-7). He is 9. Aune, Environment, p. 53, says that genealogies are used to ‘establish identity, to legitimate the status of an individual or a series of of¿ceholders, or to account for the character of a descendant’. He notes that the Lukan genealogy reÀects both biblical and Hellenistic traditions. 10. Cohick, Women, pp. 152–56, argues that Jesus cannot be understood as Joseph’s illegitimate son. Cf. James F. McGrath, ‘Was Jesus Illegitimate? The Evidence of his Social Interactions’, JSHJ 5 (2007), pp. 81–100; Scot McKnight, ‘Jesus as Mamzer (Illegitimate Son)’, in Scot McKnight and Joseph B. Modica (eds.), Who Do My Opponents Say That I Am? (London: T&T Clark International, 2008), pp. 133–63. However, since the question of paternity in the ¿rst century C.E. was not determined through DNA screening but rather depended fully on a father’s acceptance of a child as his own, the question of Jesus’ potential illegitimacy disappears when one understands the implications of Luke’s direct identi¿cation and indirect portrayal of Joseph as Jesus’ father. 11. Cf. Marshall, Luke, p. 68; Pietsch, Spross, p. 271. 1
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present with Mary and the infant Jesus when the shepherds come (2.16) and he is part of the ‘all’ who are amazed at the words spoken by the shepherds; yet it is Mary who treasures their words and ponders the message of the shepherds (2.19). Joseph is also present with Mary at Jesus’ circumcision, naming, and presentation at the temple and, together with Mary, is amazed at what Simeon says about Jesus. However, after having blessed both Joseph and Mary, Simeon turns and speaks directly to Mary, the mother of Jesus (2.34), and excludes Joseph from his prophetic speech. Furthermore, both parents are mentioned as traveling to Jerusalem yearly for the Passover feast (2.41), both are unaware of Jesus’ disappearance (2.43), both return to Jerusalem, and both are astounded when they ¿nd Jesus among teachers at the temple; yet Mary is the one who questions Jesus concerning his behavior (2.48). The answer that Jesus gives confuses both parents, but only Mary is said to treasure all this in her heart (2.51). Finally, after Jesus takes an active role12 in de¿ning his life in accordance with YHWH’s purpose (ëÅ ÌÇėË ÌÇı ȸÌÉŦË ÄÇÍ »¼ė ¼čŸţ ļ, 2.49), returning to Nazareth, and being obedient to both Joseph and Mary, Joseph completely disappears from Luke’s narrative although Mary continues to play a prominent role. That is, she is a model disciple who both hears and does God’s word (8.21; 11.27-28; cf. 1.36-40, 45) and is counted among those who ¿rst receive the gift of the Spirit at the Pentecost (Acts 2.14). In addition, Luke introduces material that disassociates Jesus from Joseph and discourages his readers from identifying Joseph as a person from whom Jesus derives his identity. First, although Luke allows Joseph together with Mary to name Jesus on the eighth day after his birth, establishing Joseph as Jesus’ father since it was a father’s responsibility to name his children,13 he undermines Joseph’s fatherly role when he says that the name given to Jesus was the name given to him by YHWH prior to his conception (2.21; cf. 1.31). Therefore, YHWH’s role in Jesus’ naming supersedes that of Joseph. Second, Luke says that teachers at the temple are amazed at the twelve-year-old Jesus’ understanding and questions (ëÆţÊ̸ÅÌÇ, 2.47),14 as are his parents (ëƼÈŠº¾Ê¸Å, 2.48).15 Since fathers were their sons’ teachers, Joseph’s amazement indicates that he was not Jesus’ teacher. Furthermore, since no other teacher is 12. Cf. Green, Luke, pp. 156–57. 13. Bietenhard, ‘ěÅÇĸ’, pp. 253, 282. 14. Green, Luke, p. 155, is correct to note that Jesus here is presented as an equal with the Jewish teachers. 15. According to L&N, vol. 1, pp. 312–13, ëÆţÊ̾ÄÀ/ëÆÀÊÌŠÅÑ and ëÁÈÂŢÊÊÇĸÀ occupy the same semantic domain. 1
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mentioned who could have instructed Jesus in Joseph’s place and since YHWH is mentioned previously as Jesus’ Father (1.32, 35), readers are encouraged to assume that YHWH, rather than Joseph, is the one who instructs Jesus in the matters of his Law.16 Therefore, YHWH’s role in Jesus’ instruction supersedes that of Joseph. Third, although Luke establishes Jesus’ genealogy through Joseph, he says that Jesus was a son of Joseph, as was supposed by people (ĸË ëÅÇÄţ½¼ÌÇ, 3.23),17 implying that Luke does not want his readers to understand Jesus merely as Joseph’s son and Davidide.18 Since a son was an extension of his father, whose goal was to share his father’s identity fully in order to qualify for his father’s position as a household’s paterfamilias, to identify Jesus as Joseph’s son is to bind his identity to that of Joseph and to limit his function to Joseph’s household. Even to identify Jesus as David’s descendant is to limit his function to David’s household, i.e., his kingdom. However, by characterizing Jesus as YHWH’s Son (1.35) and by attempting to distance Jesus from Joseph, Luke de¿nes Jesus’ identity in relation to YHWH. Therefore, he claims for Jesus the superior position of his Father YHWH, the Lord of heaven and earth, and extends the sphere of his responsibilities to YHWH’s household, which includes not only earth with both Jews and Gentiles but also heaven. c. Overview As Luke’s narrative unfolds, Luke continues to claim that Jesus’ relationship to YHWH supersedes his relationship with David’s descendant Joseph and is therefore foundational for how one should understand Jesus’ identity. He never allows Jesus to identify Joseph, or David, as his 16. See further Bietenhard, ‘ěÅÇĸ’, pp. 242–83 (267). 17. Brawley, God, p. 41, believes that although there is a hint of YHWH being Jesus’ father, at this point in the narrative the identity of Jesus’ father is unclear. He suggests that YHWH emerges as Jesus’ father through the accounts of Jesus’ baptism and genealogy. He concludes: ‘the things have to do with Jesus in relation to God and in relation to God’s acts in biblical history. That is, Luke–Acts is a theocentric story, a model that produces ¿gures of God accompanying humanity’ (p. 41). Although, unlike Brawley, we have argued that YHWH is presented as Jesus’ father from the moment Jesus is introduced and we do not understand Jesus’ genealogy as evidence of Jesus’ unique divine sonship outlined in 1.35, we do agree that Jesus’ identity is de¿ned primarily in relation to YHWH and his acts in history. 18. Petr Pokorný, Theologie der lukanischen Schriften (FRLANT, 174; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), pp. 112–16, notices that Luke carefully crafts his narrative to emphasize Jesus’ divine sonship and he discusses Christology under the heading of ‘God, the Savior’; yet he does not explore what the divine sonship means for Jesus’ identity or how YHWH’s identity as Savior is tied to that of Jesus. 1
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father. In fact, when he allows Jesus to speak for the ¿rst time, Jesus, located at the temple, YHWH’s house and symbol of his authority, among teachers of YHWH’s Law, calls YHWH ‘my Father’19 and claims to align his purpose with that of YHWH (ĞÌÀ ëÅ ÌÇėË ÌÇı ȸÌÉŦË ÄÇÍ »¼ė ¼čŸţ ļ, 2.49).20 One could argue that what Jesus says does not have to imply his unique sonship21 since YHWH is directly (Lk. 6.36; 11.2, 13; 12.30, 32) and indirectly (Lk. 6.35; 11.3-4; 12.28; Acts 14.15-17) characterized as the Father of all people, both Jews and Gentiles, and since in the OT, YHWH could be referred to as ‘my Father’ by the Messiah (e.g., Ps. 89.26 [88.27, LXX]). However, in Luke–Acts only Jesus addresses YHWH as ‘my Father’, claiming to have a unique relationship that is not extended to others (e.g., Lk. 10.22; 22.29; 24.49); only Jesus is recognized as ‘my Son’ by YHWH himself (ĝ ÍĎŦË ÄÇÍ, 3.22; 9.35); and only Jesus is tested by Satan with the assumption that Jesus is YHWH’s Son (4.2-13; cf. 4.41; 8.28). Furthermore, Jesus questions people’s assumption that the Messiah is David’s son, suggesting that if David calls him ‘Lord’ in Ps. 110.1, he cannot be merely David’s son (20.41-44). In doing so, he echoes what Luke has made known to his readers earlier in the narrative, namely, that YHWH’s promise to David is understood properly only when David’s descendant, the Messiah, is understood as YHWH’s unique Son (1.32-35; cf. 4.41; 22.67-70). Consequently, the father from whom Jesus fully derives his identity is YHWH. III. Luke 1.43: Jesus’ Superior Position Recognized After Gabriel leaves Mary, we hear that Mary goes with haste to visit Elizabeth in order to embrace YHWH’s sign given to her by Gabriel. The narrative moves abruptly and quickly from the account of Jesus’ annun19. Although Jesus on the cross does not address YHWH as ‘my Father’ (2.49) but as ‘Father’ (23.46), one can argue that because Jesus’ ¿rst and last words address YHWH as Father and because he is the only character to address God as ‘Father’, his unique relationship with YHWH, established at his introduction (1.35), is the de¿ning characteristic of his identity. 20. Luke frequently uses »¼ė to speak of Jesus’ life as de¿ned by divine necessity (e.g., Lk. 4.43; 9.22; 13.33; 17.25; 22.37; 24.7, 26, 44). 21. Paul Winter, ‘Lc 2 49 and Targum Yerushalmi’, ZNW 45 (1954), pp. 145–79 (178), suggests that it was customary for children to speak of YHWH as their Father and, therefore, that Jesus’ words in Lk. 2.49 cannot be read in support of Jesus’ unique relationship with YHWH. René Laurentin, Jésus au Temple: Mystère de Paques et foie de Marie en Luc 2, 48-50 (EBib; Paris: Gabalda, 1966), pp. 73–76, is correct in arguing contra Winter’s position, when he distinguishes between Jesus calling YHWH ‘my Father’ and children calling YHWH ‘our Father’.
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ciation to that of Mary’s interaction with Elizabeth. As Mary greets Elizabeth, John leaps in her womb and she, having been ¿lled with the Holy Spirit, (1) pronounces a blessing on Mary and the fruit of her womb, (2) expresses her amazement at Mary’s coming to her22 as she identi¿es Mary as the mother of her Lord (÷ ÄŢÌ¾É ÌÇı ÁÍÉţÇÍ ÄÇÍ, 1.43),23 and (3) calls Mary happy for believing in YHWH’s promises (cf. 1.38). For the ¿rst time in Luke’s narrative, readers hear that Mary is, indeed, with child just as she was promised by Gabriel. Moreover, they hear that under the guidance of the Holy Spirit Elizabeth recognizes the baby Jesus as her Lord, claiming for him the high status implied by the title ÁŧÉÀÇË. We will demonstrate that by calling Jesus Lord Elizabeth not only recognizes Jesus’ superiority but also bears witness to Jesus’ unique relationship to YHWH, binding the identity of her Lord (Jesus) to the divine identity of her Lord YHWH. a. Elizabeth’s Lord Within Luke–Acts, the title ÁŧÉÀÇË does not have a univocal meaning and can be applied to ¿gures of authority other than YHWH, both earthly and heavenly (e.g., Lk. 12.36, 37, 42, 43, 45, 46, 47; 13.8, 25; 14.21, 22, 23; 16.3, 5 [2×], 8, 13; 19.16, 18, 20, 25, 33; 20.13, 15; Acts 10.4; 16.16, 19, 30; 25.26).24 That is why readers can be certain that by calling Jesus ‘my 22. Scholars struggle with how Elizabeth’s question in 1.43 contributes to Jesus’ characterization. Laurentin, Structure, pp. 79–81, compares Mary with the ark of the covenant in light of language similarities with 2 Sam. 6.9, 11, and thus argues for Jesus’ divinity. However, this is highly problematic because YHWH was not inside the ark, as Jesus was inside Mary’s womb, but rather enthroned above the ark. Nolland, Luke, vol. 1, p. 67, also observes that the language of 1.43 echoes 2 Sam. 6.9; 24.21, which he interprets as language of reverence at the encounter of YHWH’s presence and recognition of his action. He notes that ‘my Lord’ is a court expression (cf. Dan. 4.19) but here reÀects messianic use of Ps. 110.1 (cf. Lk. 20.41-44; Acts 2.34). Nolland’s observations are helpful but not properly nuanced because he does not consider Jesus’ characterization in 1.32-35. Cf. Bock, Luke, vol. 1, p. 137; Brown, Birth, pp. 344–45. 23. Turner, Power, p. 148, notes that Elizabeth’s prophetic enquiry echoes Miriam’s prophetic heralding of Moses’ birth (b. SoÓ. 11b), in which Miriam cries out through the Holy Spirit, announcing that her mother is destined to bear a son who will save Israel. This is an interesting observation since Jesus is later characterized as Savior (2.11). However, we will show that Jesus’ relationship to Israel as Savior is similar yet different from that of Moses and should rather be understood in light of his relationship to YHWH, Israel’s ultimate Savior. 24. Rowe, Christology, pp. 237–40, analyzes Luke’s use of ÁŧÉÀÇË in reference to characters other than YHWH or Jesus. He concludes that although ÁŧÉÀÇË can be used as a title of respect in reference to other characters, those characters are not characterized as ‘lords’ in the way that YHWH and Jesus are. 1
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Lord’, the elderly Jewish woman Elizabeth characterizes him as her superior, but they cannot determine if she characterizes him as her master, king, or God until they examine how this title is endowed with meaning in its immediate cotext. In his annunciation Jesus is characterized as the Davidide (Lk. 1.32-33), so it is possible that by calling Jesus ‘my Lord’ Elizabeth recognizes him as her legitimate king/master.25 However, since Luke roots Jesus’ claim to the Davidic throne in his relationship to YHWH as Son (1.35), it is impossible to speak of Jesus as Elizabeth’s legitimate king without speaking of his being YHWH’s Son and sharing YHWH’s divine identity as Lord. Luke provides his readers with further clues that encourage them to treat Jesus as Lord in light of his relationship to YHWH. First, at the beginning of his narrative Luke predicates the title ÁŧÉÀÇË of YHWH alone (1.6, 9, 11, 15, 16, 17, 25, 28, 32, 38) and after he explicitly predicates it of Jesus (1.43), he predicates it of YHWH until YHWH’s angel announces the birth of Jesus (1.45, 46, 58, 66, 68; 2.9), who is now characterized as ÁŧÉÀÇË by Óºº¼ÂÇË ÁÍÉţÇÍ (2.9, 11). Then yet again, Luke predicates ÁŧÉÀÇË of YHWH until the end of the birth narrative (2.15, 22, 23, 24, 26, 39). In doing so, he limits the use of the title within Luke 1–2 to YHWH and Jesus, binding the identities of the Lord YHWH and the Lord Jesus. Second, before Elizabeth provides this direct characterization of Jesus as Lord, she is allowed to speak only when she recognizes what the Lord YHWH has done for her after John’s conception. Thus, the ¿rst time she speaks, she calls YHWH ÁŧÉÀÇË; and the second time she speaks, she calls Jesus ÁŧÉÀÇË, which encourages Luke’s readers to hear a connection between Lord YHWH and Lord Jesus.26 Third, when Elizabeth recognizes 25. Bock, Luke, vol. 1, p. 137, does not believe that Luke could have recognized Jesus as Lord like YHWH this early in the text. He understands ÁŧÉÀÇË as a title of respect and interprets it in a messianic fashion like others to whom he refers (e.g., Klostermann, Brown, Plummer, Hendriksen). Unlike Bock and others, Fitzmyer, Luke, vol. 1, pp. 364–65, observes that in light of Lukan theology as a whole, predication of ÁŧÉÀÇË in reference to Jesus implies that Jesus should be placed on the same level as YHWH, allowing for the regal connotations of the title. We ¿nd Fitzmyer’s observations to be correct in light of our discussion of 1.35. See also Moule, ‘Christology’, p. 160. 26. Rowe, Christology, pp. 40–49, explores the signi¿cance of Elizabeth calling Jesus Lord. He observes: (1) Jesus is called Lord within the network of human relations; (2) this statement does not simply anticipate Jesus’ becoming Lord (e.g., Acts 2.34-36); rather, it proclaims Jesus as Lord from the beginning of his life and does not allow a separation between him and his identity as Lord; (3) the term Lord was used by Greek-speaking Jews and Christians in place of the tetragrammaton, which implies that by his use of ÁŧÉÀÇË in reference to both YHWH and Jesus, Luke allows an overlap between YHWH and Jesus; (4) Luke roots the overlap of 1
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Jesus as ÁŧÉÀÇË, she implicitly claims to submit to his authority. Because Elizabeth’s submission to Jesus’ authority as ÁŧÉÀÇË follows almost immediately after Mary declares her submission to YHWH’s authority as ÁŧÉÀÇË (1.38), and because Mary’s submission to YHWH is alluded to in Elizabeth’s inspired speech (1.45), Luke encourages his readers to hear echoes of Mary’s submission to YHWH in Elizabeth’s submission to Jesus and, therefore, to understand Jesus’ authority as ÁŧÉÀÇË in light of the authority of his Father YHWH. Fourth, since Elizabeth is characterized by Luke as a righteous woman whose identity is ¿rmly rooted in the identity of her Lord YHWH, to hear that at her encounter with Jesus she is inspired to derive her identity from her Lord Jesus encourages one to see Lord YHWH and Lord Jesus as one and the same Lord. Because Elizabeth’s recognition of Jesus as ÁŧÉÀÇË is inspired by YHWH’s Spirit, readers are encouraged to treat Elizabeth’s recognition of the Lord Jesus and submission to his authority as an appropriate response of any Israelite who is righteous before YHWH. Having outlined how Luke binds the identity of Lord Jesus with the divine identity of Lord YHWH by means of Elizabeth’s inspired speech, we turn our attention to the role John plays in identifying Jesus as Lord, since his role is emphasized through the double reference to his leaping inside Elizabeth’s womb at Mary’s greeting. b. John’s Lord When Luke’s readers hear of Elizabeth being ¿lled with the Holy Spirit, they are reminded of Gabriel’s declaration that John will be ¿lled with the Holy Spirit from his mother’s womb (1.15b) and will be the forerunner of the messianic age. That is, he will turn many Israelites to the Lord their God (ëÈĖ ÁŧÉÀÇÅ ÌġÅ ¿¼ġÅ ¸ĤÌľÅ), by going before him in the ‘spirit and power of Elijah’ and making ready a ‘people prepared for the Lord’ (ÁÍÉţĿ, 1.16-17; cf. 1.76; 3.3-6). Although Luke does not explicitly state that John was ¿lled with the Holy Spirit, he encourages his readers to interpret John’s leaping at Mary’s greeting as meaningful and inspired. First, the leaping is mentioned by both Luke (1.41) and Elizabeth (1.44). Second, it precedes Elizabeth’s being ¿lled with the references, which creates a unity of identities of YHWH and Jesus, in the activity of the Holy Spirit, who, in contrast to YHWH’s angel or the heavenly host, ‘is not distinct from God, but…distinct within God’ (p. 47); and (5) this overlap does not imply that Jesus is the same character as God the Father, who is ‘alone ¿¼ŦË and ȸÌŢÉ for Luke’ (p. 49). Rowe’s observations concerning how Luke binds Jesus’ identity with the divine identity of YHWH are helpful. However, Rowe’s study does not provide clarity regarding how one should understand God. 1
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Spirit and her prophetic speech. Third, Elizabeth interprets it as leaping in great joy (ëÅ Òº¸ÂÂÀŠÊ¼À, 1.44) at the presence of Mary and her child, whose true identities would not be known unless revealed by YHWH through his Spirit (cf. 2.7). Readers may therefore conclude that John’s leaping was connected to his being ¿lled with the Spirit inside his mother’s womb as announced through Gabriel (1.15) and should be interpreted as the beginning of his prophetic mission. Since John was to be the forerunner of the messianic age, readers may assume that John’s leaping would signify the beginning of the messianic age and identify Jesus as the Messiah. Moreover, since John was to go before the Lord, making people ready for the Lord’s coming, readers may assume that John through his leaping joins his mother in recognizing Jesus as Lord27 before whom he will go. Therefore, John’s leaping could be understood as John’s recognition of Jesus as both Messiah and Lord. Finally, since Luke previously de¿ned John’s mission as going before the Lord God YHWH (1.16-17),28 and since he embedded Jesus’ status as the Davidic Messiah in his status as YHWH’s Son (1.35), when one allows John to recognize Jesus as Messiah and Lord through his leaping, one is able to interpret this recognition as a witness to Jesus’ sharing YHWH’s divine identity.29 Consequently, Luke binds the identi27. Although John is not allowed directly to identify Jesus as ÁŧÉÀÇË, one can argue that through step parallelism Luke encourages his readers to view Jesus as greater than John and, therefore, as John’s Lord. See further Brown, Birth, pp. 250– 52. This superiority is rooted in Jesus’ relationship to YHWH and, therefore, Jesus’ lordship to John would be similar to his lordship to Elizabeth (above). Although scholars (e.g., Laurentin, Structure, p. 36) have tried to speak of Jesus as God based on his characterization as ‘great’ without quali¿cation (Äšº¸Ë, 1.32), as opposed to John who is characterized as ‘great before the Lord’ (Äšº¸Ë ëÅŪÈÀÇÅ [ÌÇı] ÁÍÉţÇÍ, 1.15), this argument fails for the following reasons: (1) Äšº¸Ë in absolute form is used in the LXX predominantly as an attribute for YHWH (e.g., Pss. 86.10 [85.10, LXX]; 135.5 [134.5, LXX]; 145.3 [144.3, LXX]), but it can also be used of humans (e.g., Exod. 11.3; Est. 10.3; cf. Lk. 9.48); (2) Äšº¸Ë with quali¿ers can be used both of YHWH (e.g., YHWH as a great King, Ps. 48.2 [47.3, LXX]) and humans (e.g., 2 Sam. 19.32 [19.33, LXX]; Sir. 48.22). Cf. Bock, Luke, p. 113; Nolland, Luke, vol. 1, p. 51. 28. See Chapter 4, section II.c.2. 29. Nassauer, ‘Gegenwart’, pp. 69–87, provides a detailed analysis of the visitation pericope and observes that in this pericope (1) Luke’s presentation of John’s leaping has characteristics of OT theophanies (p. 81); (2) Luke foreshadows Jesus’ acceptance and rejection by people (p. 83); (3) close relationship between the Father and Jesus the Son is emphasized by the use of the title ÁŧÉÀÇË; and (4) Jesus is presented as the Son of God to be recognized and confessed (p. 86). Nassauer’s observations are helpful although Nassauer does not explain how these observations contribute to Jesus’ ‘eidetic’ portrait. If, however, based on Nassauer’s observations 1
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ties of Lord Jesus and Lord YHWH not only through Elizabeth’s declaration but also through John’s prophetic leaping inside his mother’s womb at the encounter with Jesus inside Mary’s womb. c. Overview Since this recognition of Jesus as Lord is inspired and comes from (1) a woman characterized repeatedly as righteous before YHWH and (2) an unborn child expected to be a great prophet of YHWH, it sets an expectation for how all righteous people who submit to YHWH’s authority should recognize Jesus. In fact, Luke himself follows the example of Elizabeth and the unborn prophet John and speaks of Jesus as Lord throughout Luke–Acts (Lk. 7.13, 19; 10.1, 39, 41; 11.39; 12.42; 13.15; 17.5, 6; 18.6; 19.8; 22.61 [2×]; 24.3; Acts 4.33; 5.14; 8.16; 9.1, 5, 10, 11, 15, 27, 28, 42; 11.20, 21, 23, 24; 14.3; 18.8, 9, 25; 19.5, 10, 13, 17; 23.11; 28.31), identifying himself as a righteous person before YHWH.30 This may appear counterintuitive to Luke’s readers because Jesus is a child of an unremarkable lowly girl. However, Jesus’ lowly societal status should not hinder one from seeing him for who he is against the portrait of YHWH Luke has painted throughout his narrative. Not only does Luke show that YHWH favors lowly people and reverses the social structure, raising up the lowly and bringing down the arrogant, the powerful, and the rich, but also he de¿nes power and authority in terms of servant leadership and encourages people in authority to willingly become servants (Lk. 22.25-27). Furthermore, since Luke discourages his readers from deriving Jesus’ identity from anyone but YHWH, one should not limit Jesus’ status to that of a lowly peasant like that of his mother or his adoptive father. Through the Holy Spirit, YHWH reveals to Elizabeth and John that Jesus is much more than what he appears to be. He is we could claim that because this visitation pericope has characteristics of OT theophanies and Jesus’ coming in Mary’s womb is interpreted by Elizabeth and the unborn prophet John with the help of the Holy Spirit as a theophany, it would greatly help our argument. 30. Luke allows other people in the Gospel to refer to Jesus as Lord (5.8, 12; 7.6; 9.54, 59, 61; 10.17, 40; 11.1; 12.41; 13.23; 17.37; 18.41; 19.8, 34; 22.33, 38, 49; 24.34). However, it is not clear if they understand Jesus as Lord in the same way Elizabeth and John do because, unlike Elizabeth and John, their understanding of Jesus is not directly labeled as inspired. Moreover, his disciples are continuously presented as the ones who miss the point despite their use of the title ÁŧÉÀÇË in reference to Jesus (6.46). However, the situation will change in Acts, where Jesus’ followers after their baptism with the Holy Spirit proclaim him as Lord (e.g., 2.36; 7.59, 60; 9.10, 13, 17; 10.36; 11.16; 15.11, 26; 16.31; 20.21, 24, 35; 21.13; 22.8, 10 [2×], 19; 26.15 [2×]; cf. 1.6; 9.5). Cf. Rowe, Christology, pp. 80–196. 1
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Elizabeth’s Lord, John’s Lord, and Lord of all the righteous because his identity is rooted in the divine identity of his Father YHWH, the God of Israel, the Lord of heaven and earth (Ȋ̼É, ÁŧÉÀ¼ ÌÇı ÇĤɸÅÇı Á¸Ė ÌýË ºýË, Lk. 10.21; cf. Acts 17.24). IV. Luke 1.69, 71, 78-79; 2.11, 30-32, 34-35: Jesus’ Responsibilities De¿ned In Chapter 3 we de¿ned the concept of identity in terms of one’s position as this is determined by one’s relationships and ability to carry out the responsibilities and functions prescribed by that position. Thus far, we have focused on how Luke de¿nes Jesus’ position and argued that Luke claims for Jesus the superior position of YHWH, which he shares with YHWH as his unique Son. We have shown that Luke allows both Elizabeth and unborn child John under the guidance of the Holy Spirit to recognize Jesus’ superior position. Now we need to show that (1) Luke assigns Jesus responsibilities and functions of YHWH in accordance with Jesus’ superior position, which he shares with YHWH as Son; and (2) Luke indirectly characterizes Jesus as one God of Israel together with YHWH when he shows that Jesus is able to carry out YHWH’s responsibilities and functions. We will, ¿rst, examine the remainder of the birth narrative, focusing on information pertinent to Jesus’ characterization, in order to establish that Luke attributes to Jesus responsibilities and functions of YHWH himself. Then, we will summarize our ¿ndings and, drawing on Luke’s entire narrative, show how Jesus is able to carry out those responsibilities and functions, con¿rming Luke’s claims for his superior position and identity. a. Luke 1.69, 71: Horn of Salvation and Salvation from Enemies Luke in the Benedictus does not explicitly state that Zechariah speaks of Jesus, but readers can deduce that this song characterizes Jesus because of the language used in 1.69, 78-79.31 We will ¿rst examine 1.69, then turn to 1.78-79. In 1.69, Zechariah blesses YHWH for having ‘raised a horn of salvation’ (ôº¼ÀɼŠÁšÉ¸Ë ÊÑ̾Éţ¸Ë)32 in ‘the house of David’ (ëÅ ÇċÁĿ ¸Íţ»). 31. Marshall, Luke, p. 91, is correct in raising strong objection to the view that this hymn as a whole venerates John as the Messiah rather than Jesus. 32. Brown, Birth, p. 384, notes the similarity of Luke’s language of YHWH’s visitation and raising of the Davidic Messiah and the language of the Qumran community of YHWH’s ‘having visited them and having raised up the Teacher of Righteousness’ (CD I, 5-12). He also notes that Hannah’s song, echoed in the
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Since Luke previously has spoken only of Jesus as the Davidide (1.3233), it is Jesus whom he characterizes as a ‘horn of salvation’. Later he expands this characterization and characterizes Jesus as ‘salvation from our enemies’ (ÊÑ̾Éţ¸Å ëÆ ëÏ¿ÉľÅ ÷ÄľÅ, 1.71). This phrase characterizes Jesus because it appears in apposition to ÁšÉ¸Ë ÊÑ̾Éţ¸Ë and, with no main verb of its own, functions as a direct object of ôº¼ÀɼŠ(1.68). It is not surprising to hear Luke speak of YHWH raising a horn for David, i.e., a Davidide, to ensure salvation from enemies and ful¿ll the oath he swore to Abraham (1.69-74; cf. 2 Sam. 7.12-16; Ps. 132.17 [131.17, LXX]; Ezek. 29.21) since it is in accordance with Jewish expectations to anticipate YHWH’s restoration of Israel from oppression by enemies through a Davidic Messiah.33 However, as readers examine Luke’s text against its intertexts and cotext, they will notice that although Luke relies on Jewish expectations, his characterization of Jesus takes him outside of what was commonly expected, for he characterizes Jesus as more than a mere Davidide. That is, he roots Jesus’ identity in the divine identity of YHWH and attributes to him responsibilities of YHWH himself. In the OT, a horn is a symbol of power and strength, and commonly refers to human power. It can be exalted by YHWH in the case of the righteous (1 Chron. 25.5; Pss. 89.17, 24 [88.18, 25 LXX]; 92.10 [91.11, LXX]; 112.9 [111.9, LXX]; 148.14; cf. Lam. 2.17), especially his anointed one (1 Sam. 2.10; Ps. 132.17 [131.17, LXX]; Sir. 47.11),34 in order to Magni¿cat, provides the ‘¿rst known instance of the expression “the horn of His anointed [i.e., Messiah]” ’. However, he neither explains what this means, nor notes the difference between Hannah’s expression and Zechariah’s, which does not speak of the Messiah’s horn but rather of the Messiah as the Horn. 33. See Bauckham, ‘Restoration of Israel’, pp. 448–54; cf. Miura, David, Chapter 7; Strauss, Messiah, Chapter 2. 34. Werner Foerster, ‘ÁšÉ¸Ë’, TDNT, vol. 3, pp. 669–71, states that in the OT, the horn is not an image for a violent expression of force but rather for ‘physical might and power’. He notes that it was common to speak of YHWH’s exalting or destroying a horn, even though the expression used by Luke (ôº¼ÀɼŠÁšÉ¸Ë) does not occur. He observes that in later Judaism, Messiah is described as ‘a white bullock with big, black horns’ in order to denote ‘his power and royal dignity’; however, in light of the occurrences of the phrase ‘the horn of salvation’ in 2 Sam. 22.3; Ps. 18.2 [17.3, LXX], he distinguishes Luke’s reference to a horn/power of salvation, i.e., ‘power of help and blessings’, from rabbinic references to the Messiah’s horn, which is not understood as ‘the horn of help’ (p. 670). He also observes that óº¼ţɼÀÅ is used in the LXX to denote ‘God as the Governor of history…who brings historical events into being’ (p. 670). However, in his analysis, Foerster does not seem to notice that in the rabbinic literature the Messiah is the one who has horns, while Luke characterizes Jesus the Davidic Messiah as the Horn itself. Brown, Birth, p. 371, also notices that in the expression ‘to raise a horn’, LXX uses verbs other than óº¼ţɼÀÅ, 1
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ensure salvation from enemies (1 Sam. 2.1; Ezek. 29.21; cf. Lk. 1.71). It also can be cut down/not exalted by YHWH in the case of the wicked who try to raise their own horns (Ps. 75.4-5, 10 [74.5-6, 11, LXX]; Lam. 2.3). The expression ÁšÉ¸Ë ÊÑ̾Éţ¸Ë, applied by Luke to Jesus, is used only twice (2 Sam. 22.3; Ps. 18.2 [17.3, LXX]) and exclusively as a reference to YHWH, where it is collocated with such titles as helper, protector, defender, and refuge.35 Consequently, when Luke characterizes Jesus as the ‘horn of salvation’ rather than as a horn, he predicates of Jesus what in the LXX was predicated exclusively of YHWH, claiming for Jesus YHWH’s divine identity and YHWH’s responsibilities as Savior. This claim is further developed when Luke characterizes Jesus as salvation from enemies. At ¿rst glance, readers may ¿nd it strange that Jesus is characterized as ÊÑ̾Éţ¸, commonly translated as ‘salvation’. However, because this term can also be understood as ‘a way or means of safety’, it can function similarly to its cognates ÊÑÌŢÉ and ÊÑÌŢÉÀÇË in
which is commonly used in the imagery of YHWH raising up leaders, such as judges, priests, and kings. He states that the use of óº¼ţɼÀÅ in the Benedictus suggests that the expression ‘the horn of salvation’ has been ‘personi¿ed in Jesus the Savior whom God has raised up (Lk. 7.16; Acts 4.10, 12)’. He suggests that this passage ‘is the reference to “God my Savior” ’ in 1.47 of the Magni¿cat. However, he does not explain what this implies for Jesus’ characterization. 35. Bovon, Luke 1, p. 73, notes that the ¿rst strophe of the Benedictus ‘expresses in the indicative what the ¿fteenth of the Eighteen Benedictions expresses with the imperative of intercession’. He comments: ‘When Luke unites himself with this voice and gives thanks for the coming of Jesus, the Davidic Messiah (1:31-33), the faded images bloom anew’. Cf. Brown, Birth, p. 386; Pietsch, Spross, pp. 277–78; Strauss, Messiah, p. 50. It is easy to see similarities between the Benedictus and the ¿fteenth benediction, but relying on the ¿fteenth benediction is problematic for our study. Lawrence A. Hoffman, ed., The Amidah (MPPB, 2; Woodstock, Vt.: Jewish Lights, 1997), p. 30, states in reference to Gamaliel’s canonization of the benedictions: ‘What Gamaliel did not do, then, is dictate the words of the Amidah as a ¿xed text that everyone was duty bound to recite. As late as the fourteenth century, a Spanish rabbi writes that everywhere he goes the exact wording of the Amidah varies. All the more so, it varied in Gamaliel’s day, when most people did not read and when even those who did, had no prayer books in which the prayers might be written.’ He adds: ‘people cannot be assumed to have done anything unless they have motive, means, and opportunity. Gamaliel was certainly motivated to canonize the Amidah…he was bent on centralizing all authority at Yavneh following the war against Rome’ (p. 29). Based on Hoffman’s observations, we cannot go beyond admiring similarities between the Benedictus and the ¿fteenth benediction due to numerous variants of the text of the benediction during the time of Luke’s writing and to the fact that Gamaliel canonized the Shemoneh Esreh in response to the fall of Jerusalem and rise of Christianity. 1
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designating a person as a savior.36 In the LXX, both ÊÑ̾Éţ¸ (e.g., Exod. 15.2; Ps. 118.28 [117.28, LXX]; cf. Isa. 25.9; 63.8)37 and ÊÑÌŢÉ (e.g., Deut. 32.15; 1 Sam. 10.19; Ps. 24.5 [23.5, LXX]; Isa. 17.10; 45.15, 21; Mic. 7.7; Hab. 3.18; Jdt. 9.11; Sir. 51.1; cf. 3 Macc. 6.29; 7.16; Ps. Sol. 17.3) are predicated of YHWH and on one occasion they occur together, both as predicates of YHWH (Isa. 12.2). Since in the Magni¿cat YHWH is directly identi¿ed by ÊÑÌŢÉ (Lk. 1.47), in the Benedictus he is characterized as the one who visits and redeems his people (1.68), and throughout Luke–Acts he is presented as the one who saves (e.g., 1.25, 64, 77; Acts 7.9-45; 13.17-22), Luke encourages his readers through both these intertexts and the Lukan cotext to understand Jesus’ characterization as the ‘horn of salvation’ and ‘salvation from our enemies’ in light of his relationship with YHWH. Accordingly, although in the ¿rst-century Greco-Roman world, numerous individuals, including Roman emperors, could be characterized as saviors, Luke encourages his readers to understand Jesus as Savior in light of his superior position as YHWH’s Son.38 b. Luke 1.78-79: Dawn from on High Having stated that Jesus the Savior was raised by YHWH in order to show mercy promised to Zechariah’s ancestors, to remember YHWH’s holy covenant with Abraham, and to allow people to worship in holiness and righteousness (1.72-75), Luke through Zechariah characterizes John as a ‘prophet of the Most High’ who will ‘go before the Lord to prepare his way’ (1.76). This reminds Luke’s readers that because Luke predicated the title ‘Lord’ of both YHWH and Jesus and because Jesus’ identity is rooted in the identity of YHWH, John’s mission that earlier could be understood as going before Lord YHWH can now be understood also as going before Lord Jesus. After this short interruption that refers to John yet encourages Luke’s readers to continue to bind Jesus’ identity to YHWH’s, Luke turns his attention back to Jesus—just as in 1.69, Luke does not directly state that 1.78-79 refers to Jesus. However, he provides clues indicating that these verses contain pertinent information for Jesus’ characterization. In 1.78-79, Zechariah speaks of the ‘dawn from on
36. LSJ, p. 1751. See also Douglas Jones, ‘The Background and Character of the Lukan Psalms’, JTSNS 19 (1968), pp. 19–50 (20), who notes the tendency in the psalms to understand ‘salvation’ personally, making it almost equivalent to ‘savior’. 37. LSJ, p. 492, states that when ¼ĊË is used together with ¼ċŸÀ or ºţÅÇĸÀ, it forms a predicate. That is why 뺚żÌŦ ÄÇÀ ¼ĊË ÊÑ̾Éţ¸Å (Exod. 15.2) should be understood as ‘he [YHWH] has become my salvation’. 38. Cf. Bock, Acts, p. 453. 1
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high’ (ÒŸÌÇÂü ëÆ ĩÐÇÍË) who will visit39 him and the people of his generation in order to ‘give light to those who sit in the darkness and in the shadow of death’ and to guide their feet ‘into the way of peace’. In the LXX, ÒŸÌÇÂŢ is used three times to translate Hebrew %/ 8 (Jer. 23.5; Zech. 3.8; 6.12; cf. Isa. 4.2), which means ‘branch’ or ‘sprout’ and refers to an offspring of Davidic descent, i.e., a messianic ¿gure (cf. Isa. 11.1, 10; Jer. 33.15). Therefore, ÒŸÌÇÂŢ can be understood as a messianic title and in Luke can be applicable only to Jesus (1.32-33). However, Luke’s characterization of Jesus in 1.78-79 goes beyond Jesus’ recognition as the Davidide because against its intertexts and cotext this text claims for Jesus both the status and responsibilities of YHWH himself. Although in the LXX ÒŸÌÇÂŢ may refer to a Davidic Messiah when it translates Hebrew %/ 8 (Zech. 3.8; 6.12), it refers predominantly to the rising of the sun (ÒŸÌÇÂü ÷ÂţÇÍ; e.g., Deut. 4.49; Josh. 13.5). Therefore, it can be translated ‘east’ with reference to the geographical location of the rising sun (e.g., Gen. 2.8; Deut. 3.17; Amos 8.12) or ‘dawn’ with reference to the time of the rising (e.g., Wis. 16.28; 2 Macc. 10.28). Moreover, its cognate ÒŸ̚ÂÂÑ may denote both the rise of the heavenly bodies, such as sun (e.g., Gen. 32.31 [32.32, LXX]), moon (Isa. 60.19), and stars (Job 3.9; Isa. 14.12), and the rise of a messiah (e.g., Num. 24.17; Jer. 23.5; 33.15; Ezek. 29.21). However, it can also be used in promises associated with YHWH’s rising to bring judgment on evildoers and salvation to God-fearers. One can ¿nd a reference to the ‘sun of righteousness’ (øÂÀÇË »ÀÁ¸ÀÇÊŧžË) rising (ÒŸ̼¼ė) with healing in its wings on those who fear YHWH’s name (Mal. 4.1-2 [3.19-20, LXX]). The people on whom this sun rises ‘go out and leap like calves released from bonds’ (Mal. 4.2 [3.20, LXX]), indicating that their oppression has been ended and that they may now rejoice in their freed state.40 This sun is not a regular sun that rises daily; it is the ‘sun of righteousness’ that brings healing and salvation at the coming of the day of the Lord (4.5 [3.22, LXX]). Its salvi¿c function at the coming of the day of the Lord speci¿es ‘the Lord’ as YHWH. Furthermore, one can ¿nd the verb ÒŸ̚ÂÂÑ used to speak of the Lord’s glory (÷ »ŦƸ ÁÍÉţÇÍ) rising, which parallels the 39. Metzger, Commentary, p. 110, states that the future tense ëÈÀÊÁšÐ¼Ì¸À is supported by numerous early witnesses and gives it a ‘B’ rating. He suggests that alteration of the aorist ëȼÊÁšÐ¸ÌÇ was accomplished for the purpose of conformity with 1.68. 40. This is interesting because Luke speaks of John’s leaping inside his mother’s womb (1.41, 44) as he encounters Jesus, using the same verb for leaping (ÊÁÀÉÌŠÑ) as Malachi. This may bring Jesus’ characterization as ÒŸÌÇÂŢ together with his characterization as ÁŧÉÀÇË, rooting both in YHWH’s divine identity as Savior of Israel.
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coming of the light (ÎľË, Isa. 60.1). Since the Lord’s glory also appears in parallel construction with the Lord YHWH who will shine over people gathered around his light (θÅŢʼ̸À ÁŧÉÀÇË, Isa. 60.2), both the people of Israel and the nations (60.3-14), and since YHWH is directly called an everlasting light (ÎľË ¸ĊŪÅÀÇÅ) and Israel’s glory (»ŦƸ, 60.19-20), one can assume that it is YHWH who will rise and shine over people and through this rising and shining will lead them to know that he is the one who saves Israel (60.16).41 Accordingly, ÒŸ̚ÂÂÑ may be used to denote the rising of both messiah and YHWH, and Luke may be relying on this ambiguity when he characterizes Jesus as ÒŸÌÇÂŢ because it allows him to both identify Jesus as a Davidide and reinterpret this identi¿cation in light of Jesus’ unique relationship to YHWH.42 First, Zech. 6.12 identi¿es the Davidic Messiah as ÒŸÌÇÂŢ and anticipates his rising from below (ĨÈÇÁŠÌÑ¿¼Å ¸ĤÌÇı ÒŸ̼¼ė), which could refer to his rising from his ancestors. Moreover, Num. 24.17 refers to the Davidic Messiah as a star who will rise out of Jacob (ÒŸ̼¼ė ÓÊÌÉÇÅ ëÆ ¸Áѹ). However, there are no references to the Davidic Messiah, whether identi¿ed as ÒŸÌÇÂŢ or not, that anticipate his coming ‘from on high’ (ëÆ ĩÐÇÍË).43 In fact, in the LXX, ĩÐÇË is understood as the place of YHWH’s habitation, from which YHWH looks on his people with favor and delivers them (e.g., 2 Sam. 22.17; Ps. 18.16 [17.17, LXX]) rather than a place from which the Davidic messiah comes.44 This 41. Green, Luke, p. 119, notes that light is a metaphor for God’s presence (e.g., Exod. 13.21; Pss. 27.1; 36.9). 42. Philo struggles with how to understand the title ÒŸÌÇÂŢ as applied to a human being when discussing an oracle that echoes Zech. 6.12: ‘Behold a man whose name is the rising’ (ÒŸÌÇÂŢ, Conf. 1.62, LCL). He says, ‘But if you suppose that it is that Incorporeal one, who differs not a whit from the divine image, you will agree that the name of “rising” assigned to him quite truly describes him. For that man is the eldest son, whom the Father of all raised up, and elsewhere calls him His ¿rst-born, and indeed the Son thus begotten followed the ways of his Father, and shaped the different kinds, looking to the archetypal patterns which that Father supplied’ (Conf. 1.62-63, LCL). Thus, similar to Luke, Philo understands the title ÒŸÌÇÂŢ to refer to YHWH’s offspring rather than to David’s offspring. 43. Scholars who understand ÒŸÌÇÂŢ as a ‘rising star’, sometimes taking into consideration Matthew’s analogy, fail to notice that imagery of the rising of any heavenly body, whether sun, moon, or star, breaks down because Luke’s ÒŸÌÇÂŢ does not rise from below but from on high—e.g., Auffret, ‘Benedictus’, p. 56; Brown, Birth, p. 374. Cf. Bovon, Luke 1, p. 76. 44. Johnson, Luke, p. 47, states: ‘ “From on high” means simply “from God” ’. Brown, Birth, p. 373, states that ÒŸÌÇÂü ëÆ ĩÐÇÍË ‘can also mean “a Messiah from [God] Most High”…unless one wants to read pre-existence into the pre-Lukan hymn’. However, this interpretation does not explain the fact that the expression ëÆ 1
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understanding of ĩÐÇË is familiar to Luke for he speaks of YHWH’s Spirit coming from heaven as ‘the power from on high’ (ëÆ ĩÐÇÍË »ŧŸÄÀÅ, Lk. 24.49; cf. 3.21-22). By claiming that ÒŸÌÇÂŢ comes from the unique place of YHWH’s habitation, i.e., ĩÐÇË, Luke not only identi¿es Jesus as the Davidic messiah but also reinterprets this designation in light of Jesus’ unique relationship to YHWH—a relationship that was established through the Holy Spirit, i.e., the power from on high, who came down upon Mary (1.35; cf. Acts 1.8) and enabled her to conceive. Luke thus emphasizes that Jesus’ identity should be derived from the divine identity of YHWH rather than from the identity of David’s descendant Joseph. Second, even though it is not wrong to read 1.79 messianically since one can ¿nd references in the OT to the Davidic messiah as a light that shines on both Jews (Isa. 9.2 [9.1, LXX]) and Gentiles (42.6) who sit in the darkness, Luke discourages his readers from understanding Jesus as a mere Davidide. Not only does he attribute to Jesus the function of visitation (ëÈÀÊÁšÐ¼Ì¸À, Lk. 1.79; cf. 7.16; Acts 15.14), which earlier in the Benedictus he attributed to YHWH himself (Lk. 1.68) and which in the OT is attributed to YHWH alone (e.g., Gen. 21.1; Exod. 4.31; 1 Sam. 2.21; Lam. 4.22),45 but also he echoes in his description of Jesus’ function OT passages that identify the one who brings light, peace, and, therefore, salvation with YHWH himself (Isa. 42.6-7; Ps. 107.10-14 ) or with one who is more than a mere Davidide (Isa. 9.6-7). Therefore, readers are encouraged to connect Jesus’ function as rising light, i.e., dawn, that illuminates darkness and guides people out of oppression and into the way of peace with YHWH’s function as Savior for those who fear him (cf. Isa. 60.1-20; Mal. 4.1-5).46 Thus, readers are encouraged to see Jesus as the Davidic Messiah whose identity is derived from the divine identity of YHWH himself and whose function as the dawn of the eschatological times goes beyond what was expected of a mere Davidide.47 ĩÐÇÍË is never used of YHWH himself but of YHWH’s place of habitation (Sir. 16.17), from which he sends help (2 Sam. 22.17; Pss. 18.16 [17.17, LXX]; 144.7 [143.7, LXX]) or judgment (Lam. 1.13) and can be understood synonymously with ëÆ ÇĤɸÅÇı (e.g., Ps. 102.19 [101.20, LXX]; cf. ÒÎ ĨоÂÇı, Isa. 32.15; Jer. 32.30). 45. See our discussion of YHWH’s visitation in Chapter 4, section II.e.3; cf. Bovon, Luke 1, pp. 67–69; Brown, Birth, p. 391; Jones, ‘Background’, p. 29. 46. Cf. Miura, David, pp. 208–9; Strauss, Messiah, pp. 103–8. 47. Fitzmyer, Luke, vol. 1, p. 387, says that the phrase ÒŸÌÇÂü ëÆ ĩÐÇÍË ‘could refer to Yahweh: in which “he (Yahweh) will visit us as the Dawn from on High” ’, but he quickly denies such a possibility because it is a title of a person who is different from ‘our God’. Thus, he understands it as ‘the Davidic Scion sent by God’, even though he understands ëÆ ĩÐÇÍË to be a reference to ‘God’s abode’. 1
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c. Luke 2.11: Savior and Christ Lord After the Benedictus, we ¿nd an explicit reference to Jesus in the angel’s announcement of Jesus’ birth to the shepherds surrounded by YHWH’s shining glory (»ŦƸ ÁÍÉţÇÍ È¼ÉÀšÂ¸ÄмŠ¸ĤÌÇŧË, 2.9). The angel announces the good news (¼Ĥ¸ºº¼Âţ½ÇĸÀ, 2.10) of great joy for all people, identifying Jesus as Savior and Christ Lord (ÊÑÌüÉ ĞË ëÊÌÀÅ ÏÉÀÊÌġË ÁŧÉÀÇË) born in David’s city (ëÅ ÈŦ¼À ¸Íţ», 2.11). After the angel gives the shepherds a sign, he is joined by the heavenly host who praise God, saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest (»ŦƸ ëÅ ĨÐţÊÌÇÀË ¿¼Ŋ, cf. 1.78) and on earth peace among people whom he favors’ (2.14). This characterization brings together all of Luke’s explicit references and allusions to Jesus thus far in the narrative. That is, Luke explicitly refers to Jesus by the titles ÊÑÌŢÉ, already implicit in Jesus’ characterization as the horn of salvation and salvation from enemies (1.69, 71, 78-79); ÏÉÀÊÌŦË, already assumed by Jesus’ adopted status as the Davidide (1.32-33, 69, 78);48 and ÁŧÉÀÇË, implied by Jesus’ status as YHWH’s Son and predicated of Jesus by Elizabeth (1.35, 43). Moreover, Luke encourages his readers to hear new nuances in Jesus’ characterization: (1) he calls the angelic proclamation ‘good news’ (2.10), setting the titles predicated of Jesus against the background of the imperial authority of Octavius; (2) he encourages an interpretation of the good news against the Isaianic message of the eschatological coming of YHWH as Savior, Lord, and King of Israel; and (3) he shows the connection between encountering and proclaiming Jesus as Savior and Christ Lord, on the one hand, and praising and glorifying YHWH, on the other. We will now explore these new nuances. First, Luke begins his story of Jesus’ birth by situating it historically in the days of Octavius (2.1-5), called by a double-title Caesar Augustus, implying his authority as lord over the Roman Empire and his claim to Fitzmyer does not allow the imagery used by Luke to impact his understanding of who Jesus is and how through this imagery Luke portrays Jesus as God. Moreover, Paul Winter, ‘Two Notes on Luke I, II with Regard to the Theory of “Imitation Hebraisms” ’, ST 7 (1953), pp. 158–65 (160), says: ‘ÒŸÌÇÂü ëÆ ĩÐÇÍË is most improbable as a ¿gurative expression for a messiah; the metaphor cannot possibly be applied to anyone but to God’ because it is not ‘a human messiah—God is the subject of the expected visitation’. Based on his interpretation of Lk. 7.16, Winter understands 1.78-79 to refer to YHWH’s visitation ‘accomplished by the words and deeds of the prophet John’ (p. 161). Not only is Winter incorrect in assigning the function of visitation to John, he is also wrong to apply ÒŸÌÇÂü ëÆ ĩÐÇÍË exclusively to YHWH. 48. Not all Jewish communities attached messianic expectations to the ideal ¿gure from the Davidic line—cf. Miura, David, pp. 132–36. 1
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being a son of god during his lifetime.49 Because Octavius was praised for his establishment of a new order of peace and his bene¿cent acts on behalf of all people of the empire, which exceeded even the benefactions of the Olympian gods, he was hailed as lord and savior and his birthday marked the beginning of the ‘good news’ for all those who anticipated it.50 Having situated Jesus’ birth against the background of Octavius’s rule, Luke narrates Jesus’ birth announcement to the shepherds, appropriating the language used of Octavius in the imperial propaganda only to demonstrate Jesus as superior to Octavius. Thus, Jesus’ birth is proclaimed as the ‘good news’ not by mere humans, but by YHWH’s angel, who is followed by the heavenly host praising and glorifying YHWH. Moreover, Jesus is proclaimed as Savior and Christ Lord51 whose legitimacy and authority are rooted in the divine identity of his Father YHWH, the Lord and God Savior (1.35, 46-47).52 Because of this, Jesus’ 49. See Chapter 4, section III.d.1. 50. Allen Brent, ’Luke–Acts and the Imperial Cult in Asia Minor’, JTS 48 (1997), pp. 411–38; S. R. F. Price, Rituals and Power: The Roman Imperial Cult in Asia Minor (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), pp. 54–57. See also Green, Luke, pp. 122–23, 132–35; Yamazaki-Ransom, Empire, pp. 70–105; cf. Ford, Enemy, p. 30. 51. Robert R. Hann, ‘Christos Kyrios in PsSol 17.32: “The Lord’s Anointed” Reconsidered’, NTS 31 (1985), pp. 620–27 (620), notes that even though the title ÏÉÀÊÌġË ÁŧÉÀÇË is unique in the NT, it appears as one of several messianic titles in Pss. Sol. 17.32 and combines ÏÉÀÊÌŦË with a political honori¿c title ÁŧÉÀÇË, used as ‘an appositional modi¿er’. He argues against reading ‘the Lord’s Messiah’ in its stead, as has been done by most scholars (p. 621). Hann also notes that this doubletitle may have resulted from the Hellenistic practice of combining different titles, among which ‘the combination of “lord” with other titles is widely attested’ (p. 625). He states, ‘It would have been consistent with the apocalypticism of Psalm of Solomon 17 to have stressed the legitimacy of the coming messianic king by applying to him the political title “lord”, and thereby to have denied such legitimacy to the established authorities in Jerusalem and in Rome’ (p. 625). In light of Hann’s study, one can claim Jesus’ legitimacy as king and deny Octavius’s authority based on Luke’s use of the double-title Christ Lord for Jesus. This would be consistent with the claim Luke is making by means of his narrative. In addition, one can note that in the LXX, two titles in the same case were used side-by-side only to refer to YHWH (e.g., ÁŧÉÀ¼ [ÁŧÉÀ¼] ¹¸ÊÀ¼ı, Deut. 9.26; Est. 4.17 [2×], LXX; Jer. 37.20 [44.20, LXX]; Sir. 51.1; 3 Macc. 2.2; ÁŧÉÀÇË ¹¸ÊÀ¼İË, Ps. 29.10 [28.10, LXX]) or a king (e.g., ÁŧÉÀ¼ ¹¸ÊÀ¼ı, 1 Sam. 24.8 [24.9, LXX]; 26.17; 1 Kgs 20.4 [21.4, LXX]; 2 Kgs 6.26; 8.5; Dan. 2.4; 3.9; 1 Esd. 2.24 [2.18, LXX]; 4.46; ÌġÅ ¹¸ÊÀš¸ ÁŧÉÀÇÅ, 1 Sam. 26.16), which may indicate that the use of a double-title implies the royal position of the addressee. 52. In the LXX, this double-title for YHWH is not unusual even though it is rare (e.g., Pss. 25.5 [24.5, LXX]; 27.9 [26.9, LXX]; 65.5 [64.6, LXX]; 79.9 [78.9, LXX]; cf. Ps. 62.2, 6 [61.3, 7, LXX]; Isa. 12.2; 45.15, 21). 1
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unique double-title Christ Lord claims for Jesus the high status of Lord and Son of God, a status derivative of his relationship with YHWH, undermining both Octavius’s double-title Caesar Augustus and the claims associated with that title.53 In doing this, Luke reminds his readers that Emperor Octavius’s power has been shown to be Àawed at the beginning of Jesus’ birth story when he unknowingly functioned as an agent of YHWH’s salvi¿c plan and was instrumental in bringing Jesus’ mother to the city of David to ensure Jesus’ connection to the Davidic line.54 Second, when Luke proclaims the good news of Jesus’ birth, he implicitly echoes the language of Isaiah, where the good news is speci¿cally connected to the coming of YHWH as King and Savior in power to establish his reign characterized by salvation, peace, and justice (Isa. 40– 66).55 This good news is connected with the phrases ‘Here is your God’ (Ċ»Çİ ĝ ¿¼ġË ĨÄľÅ, Isa. 40.9) and ‘Your God reigns’ (¹¸ÊÀ¼ŧʼÀ ÊÇÍ ĝ ¿¼ŦË, 52.7), and is to be proclaimed to the poor as the ‘favorable year of YHWH’ and the ‘day of recompense’, with both positive and negative connotations. Moreover, it is to be proclaimed by the one who has YHWH’s Spirit upon him, who is anointed for this task of proclamation (61.1-2), and who has a special relationship with YHWH, in which he rejoices (Òº¸ÂÂÀŠÊ¿Ñ, 61.10). What is more, he identi¿es himself as Lord YHWH (61.8), which may imply that he shares YHWH’s divine identity or, at least, that he is authorized to speak for YHWH as a prophet and to act on YHWH’s behalf in bringing peace.56 In Luke’s birth announcement, the good news (2.10) is proclaimed to the poor (2.8-20); concerns the birth of Jesus, the Savior and Christ (i.e., the anointed one) Lord; and is correlated with the coming of peace on earth among those whom YHWH favors. Accordingly, Luke’s readers are encouraged to draw connections between Jesus and the Isaianic anointed 53. Cf. Rowe, Christology, pp. 49–55. 54. See Chapter 4, section III.d.1. 55. Isaiah’s inÀuence on Luke has been argued in various ways (e.g., Mallen, Isaiah; Pao, Acts). 56. John D. W. Watts, Isaiah 34–66 (WBC, 25; Nashville: Thomas Nelson, rev. edn, 2005), pp. 871–76, argues that Isa. 61.1-11 has multiple speakers, one of whom is YHWH. Cf. Brevard S. Childs, Isaiah (OTL; Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 2001), pp. 502–6. However, the text of Isaiah does not identify those speakers and if read without prejudice to the idea that YHWH’s anointed can be YHWH, it can be read as a monologue delivered by a person who refers to himself with the ¿rst person singular pronoun (Èżıĸ ÁÍÉţÇÍ ëÈ’ ëÄš, 61.1, 8, 10) and who roots the reason for what he is about to accomplish in his identity as YHWH (ëºĽ ºŠÉ ¼ĊÄÀ ÁŧÉÀÇË, 61.8; !#!' [MT]). 1
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¿gure (Isa. 61.1-2; cf. 11.1-2; 42.1; 48.16). While some may be reluctant to see Jesus as the anointed one before his anointing with the Spirit at his baptism (Lk. 3.22) to inaugurate his ministry (4.14-15) or before his inauguration as king at his exaltation to YHWH’s right hand and his reception of the Spirit (Acts 2.33-36), Luke does not restrict Jesus’ status as an anointed one to those special occasions (against an adoptionist interpretation).57 First, because in his birth narrative Luke shows that Jesus is greater than John, he encourages his readers to anticipate that Jesus’ life would be marked by the Spirit’s presence in a greater way than John’s, although John is uniquely ¿lled with the Spirit while still in his mother’s womb (Lk. 1.41, 44).58 Second, he indirectly shows that the Spirit is active in Jesus’ life even prior to Jesus’ baptism for he is aware of his unique sonship and is endowed with superior wisdom at the age of twelve (2.46-49; cf. 2.40, 52; Isa. 11.1-2). Therefore, he encourages his readers to see Jesus’ life as endowed with the Spirit from the moment of his unique conception as the Son of God, which need not be at odds with Luke’s later references to the Spirit coming upon Jesus at his baptism or to Jesus’ receiving of the Spirit from his Father.59 Consequently, based on the cotext of Luke’s story of Jesus’ birth, one is led to conclude that Jesus is the anointed one from the moment of his conception and that the title Christ when applied to Jesus refers to Jesus’ unique status as YHWH’s Son and cannot simply be reduced to a designation of him as a messianic prophet or king.60 As Luke draws connections between Jesus 57. Cf. Bock, Acts, p. 456; Marshall, Luke, p. 155; Richard I. Pervo, Acts: A Commentary (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2009), p. 81; Gregory V. Trull, ‘Peter’s Use of Psalm 16 in Acts 2’, BSac 161 (2004), pp. 194–214, 432–48 (440); Turner, Power, p. 198; Wilckens, Missionsreden, pp. 170–75. 58. Turner, Power, p. 151, notes that John’s reception of the Spirit while still in the womb is unparalleled in the OT and Judaism. 59. Turner, Power, p. 161, suggests that one should infer from Luke’s narrative that the Spirit remained with Jesus from the time of his conception and beyond as ‘the source of his knowledge of God and wisdom’. He also observes that Luke allows that ‘a person might on many occasions be “¿lled with Holy Spirit” while nevertheless remaining “full” of the Spirit’ (p. 168). 60. Hann, ‘Christos’, p. 623, observes that out of 39 uses of ´' f / in the OT, 30 are used to refer to the Hebrew king and when used as a royal title it is never used in an absolute but in the construct state followed by YHWH’s name or a suf¿x referring to YHWH. He connects this with the idea that kings were anointed by YHWH and invested with his authority at their inauguration, which symbolized their adoption as YHWH’s sons (cf. Ps. 2.6-8). He also notes that even though in exilic and postexilic literature the construct of ʧʔ ʩ ʑˇ ʕʮ continues to designate the king (Lam. 4.20), it ceases to be a royal title exclusively and begins to refer to the high priest when used in the absolute. 1
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and the Isaianic anointed ¿gure, he reinterprets Isaiah’s prophecies in a way that goes beyond expectations for the coming of a messianic king, a servant, or a prophet who speaks and acts on YHWH’s behalf and who may share YHWH’s identity, yet without going outside the limits of plausible interpretations (cf. Isa. 9.6-7; 61.8). That is, Luke indirectly presents Jesus as the Isaianic anointed one, whose coming should be understood as the eschatological coming of YHWH himself. That is why it is not surprising that at Jesus’ birth Luke, by means of YHWH’s angel, directly predicates of Jesus the titles Savior and Lord, previously predicated of YHWH himself (1.46-47). Finally, Luke explicitly states that after YHWH’s angel proclaims Jesus as Savior and Christ Lord and designates his birth as the good news, a multitude of the heavenly host suddenly appears with the angel and begins praising and glorifying God (2.13-14), implying that proper recognition of Jesus’ identity leads to proper recognition of YHWH’s divine identity. This angelic behavior is mirrored by the shepherds when they (1) go to Bethlehem to con¿rm what was revealed to them by the Lord (2.15); (2) ¿nd Mary, Joseph, and the child (2.16); (3) reveal what was made known to them concerning the child (2.17); (4) amaze all who hear them, causing Mary to treasure their words in her heart (2.18-19); and (5) return home, glorifying and praising God for all they have heard and seen (2.20). This behavior is not completely new because Mary bursts into the song of praise to YHWH as a result of Elizabeth’s inspired recognition of Jesus as Lord (1.43, 46-47).61 However, at this point in his narrative, Luke makes this connection explicit, further binding Jesus’ identity to the divine identity of YHWH. d. Luke 2.30-32: Lord’s Christ, Salvation, and Light After Jesus’ circumcision, naming, and dedication to the Lord, Luke provides further characterization of Jesus through his reliable character Simeon, who, like Zechariah, was a righteous and devout man. Luke identi¿es Simeon as the one who looked forward to Israel’s consolation (2.25), bringing echoes of Isaianic prophecies into the background for his characterization of Jesus (Isa. 40.1; 49.13; 51.3, 12; 57.18; 66.13) and thus drawing connections between Jesus and Israel’s restoration (cf. Lk. 2.38).62 Moreover, he identi¿es Simeon as a person whose life was characterized by the presence of the Holy Spirit resting on him (2.25).
61. L&N, vol. 1, p. 430, list »ÇÆŠ½Ñ, »ŦƸ, and ļº¸ÂŧÅÑ in the semantic domain of praise. 62. See further Bauckham, ‘Restoration of Israel’, pp. 456–59.
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It had been revealed to him by the Spirit that ‘he would not see death before he has seen the Lord’s Christ’ (ÌġÅ ÏÉÀÊÌġÅ ÁÍÉţÇÍ, 2.26). So, when Mary, Joseph, and Jesus come to the temple to accomplish rituals in accordance with the Law, Simeon is led by the Spirit into the temple area where he encounters Jesus. After he takes Jesus into his arms, he begins to bless God, providing Luke’s readers with yet another inspired characterization of Jesus, which attributes to him functions of YHWH himself in accordance with his identity that he shares with YHWH. As Simeon blesses God, Luke’s readers learn that the reason for his blessing is connected to his encounter with Jesus, which he interprets as his immediate dismissal in peace from YHWH’s service, just as YHWH has promised (2.29; cf. 2.26). This is evident from his calling YHWH ‘Master’ (»šÊÈÇ̸), identifying himself as YHWH’s servant (ÌġÅ »ÇıÂŦÅ ÊÇÍ, 2.29), and recognizing the time of dismissal as ‘now’ (ÅıÅ, 2.29), namely, the moment his eyes see Jesus, whom he identi¿es as YHWH’s salvation (ĞÌÀ ¼č»ÇÅ ÇĎ Ěο¸ÂÄÇţ ÄÇÍ Ìġ ÊÑÌŢÉÀŦÅ ÊÇÍ, 2.30; cf. 3.6). In light of 2.26, this dismissal can be equated with YHWH’s permitting Simeon to die63 and implies that Jesus should be understood as the Lord’s Christ. Luke’s readers may interpret this as a reference to Jesus’ status as the Davidide.64 However, since Luke has taught them thus far that Jesus’ status as the Davidide is derivative of his status as YHWH’s unique Son, which denotes his sharing YHWH’s divine identity as Savior and Lord, they can no longer understand Jesus as a mere Davidide. Consequently, Luke’s readers are not disappointed when Simeon identi¿es Jesus as YHWH’s ‘salvation’ (Ìġ ÊÑÌŢÉÀŦÅ ÊÇÍ, 2.30), which YHWH has ‘prepared in the presence of all people’ (ğ ÷ÌÇţÄ¸Ê¸Ë Á¸ÌÛ ÈÉŦÊÑÈÇÅ ÈŠÅÌÑÅ ÌľÅ Â¸ľÅ, 2.31) and ‘light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory’ of YHWH’s people Israel (ÎľË ¼ĊË ÒÈÇÁŠÂÍÐÀÅ ë¿ÅľÅ Á¸Ė »ŦƸŠ¸Çı ÊÇÍ `ÊɸŢÂ, 2.32). Luke has already characterized Jesus as salvation, i.e., Savior, and connected his coming with light (1.69, 71, 78-79; 2.9-11); yet, here for the ¿rst time he directly identi¿es Jesus as ‘light’ and extends his inÀuence over both Jews and Gentiles. This characterization echoes Isaiah where YHWH’s salvation is meant for Israel’s glory (46.13) and is identi¿ed as light, which will go out and which is correlated with
63. BDAG, p. 117, states that ÒÈÇÂŧÑ can be used as a euphemism for ‘let die’. See also Holmås, Prayer, p. 74, who interprets this verse as ‘entrustment to God in the face of death’. 64. In the OT, ‘Lord’s Christ’ refers to a Davidic king; cf. Hann, ‘Christos’, p. 623.
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the Gentiles trusting in YHWH (ëƼ¼ŧʼ̸À ĸË ÎľË Ìġ ÊÑÌŢÉÀŦÅ ÄÇÍ Á¸Ė ¼ĊË ÌġÅ ¹É¸ÏţÇÅŠ ÄÇÍ ì¿Å¾ ëÂÈÀÇıÊÀÅ, 51.5; cf. 42.6-7; 60.1-20) and the people of Israel being comforted by YHWH (51.3; cf. 40.1). This identi¿cation of Jesus as salvation and light could be understood as another way of speaking of Jesus as the Davidide and Christ, who brings restoration to Israel and light to the Gentiles (42.6; 49.6), echoing his characterization in 1.78-79. However, within this cotext, one is discouraged from viewing Jesus in this way since Luke is careful to develop a portrait of Jesus that goes beyond what was expected of a Davidide and a Christ. Thus, Luke’s model reader would interpret this identi¿cation of Jesus as salvation and light in connection with his relationship to YHWH, for YHWH is also characterized as salvation and light, whose coming ends Israel’s days of mourning (Isa. 60.19-20) and glori¿es Israel (45.25; 60.7, 9, 13, 19; cf. Ps. 62.7 [61.8, LXX]); and his authority also extends beyond the people of Israel and incorporates the Gentiles as well (60.3).65 In addition, because Simeon’s release brings to an end his waiting for Israel’s consolation, readers are encouraged to draw connections between the coming of Jesus and the coming of Israel’s consolation (cf. 2.38).66 Luke has already identi¿ed Jesus as Christ and Savior at his birth (2.1011) and has encouraged his readers to understand Jesus’ coming as the eschatological coming of YHWH to bring peace and salvation. Now he further explores Isaianic images of YHWH’s eschatological coming in the coming of Jesus when he connects Jesus’ coming to the arrival of Israel’s consolation and, thus, the inauguration of Israel’s restoration, which in Isaiah is accomplished by YHWH.67 Accordingly, by stating that Jesus’ coming has brought about Israel’s consolation, Luke assures that his readers will continue to root Jesus’ identity in the divine identity of YHWH, attributing to Jesus not only YHWH’s superior position but also responsibilities and functions connected with that position.
65. See Chapter 4, sections II.e.3 and IV. See also Hans Conzelmann, ‘ÎľË ÁÌÂ.’, TDNT, vol. 9, pp. 310–58; Gerhard Kittel and Gerhard von Rad, ‘»ŦƸ’, TDNT, vol. 2, pp. 233–53. 66. Cf. Geoffrey W. Grogan, ‘The Light and the Stone: A Christological Study in Luke and Isaiah’, in Rowdon (ed.), Christ the Lord, p. 166. 67. Turner, Power, p. 159, notes that Jesus’ conception by the Holy Spirit is thematically connected to Israel’s restoration due to similarities between Lk. 1.35 and Isa. 32.15. If, based on Turner’s observation, one may argue that Israel’s restoration begins with the conception of Jesus, one need not be surprised that Simeon at his encounter with Jesus recognized the beginning of the Isaianic New Exodus, inaugurated by Jesus’ conception. 1
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In this characterization of Jesus, readers may hear echoes of Jesus’ previous characterizations (1.69, 71, 78-79; 2.9-11). They may also hear connections between Simeon blessing68 YHWH as he encountered Jesus and recognized him as Lord’s Christ, salvation, and light and the responses of Mary, the angels, and the shepherds (1.47; 2.14, 20). Finally, they may hear connections between Jesus being characterized as light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory of Israel, i.e., a Savior to both Jews and Gentiles, and the angelic proclamation of Jesus as good news and great joy to all people (2.10). Consequently, as Luke echoes his previous accounts of Jesus’ characterization in the characterization by Simeon, Luke emphasizes those aspects of Jesus’ identity that bind his identity to the divine identity of YHWH. e. Luke 2.34-35: Cause of Falling and Rising and Sign That Will Be Opposed After Simeon concludes his blessing directed to YHWH, he blesses Jesus’ parents, echoing Elizabeth in blessing Mary and Jesus. Then, he prophesies directly to Mary that Jesus ‘is appointed for the falling and rising of many in Israel and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many may be revealed’ and that a sword will pierce her own soul as well (2.34-35).69 The image this prophecy produces is that of division and judgment. First, it relies on the image of a sword (ģÇÄθţ¸, 2.35), which is usually understood as an instrument of judgment and separation (e.g., Gen. 3.24; Num. 22.23).70 Second, it identi¿es Jesus as a sign that will be opposed (2.34; cf. Acts 13.45; 28.19, 22), which implies disagreement and the presence of, at least, two opposing sides. Third, it speaks of Jesus as the one responsible for the falling and rising of many in Israel (2.34),71 which refer to two actions contrary to each other and 68. L&N, vol. 1, pp. 429–30, 42, and LSJ, p. 720, suggest that the verb ¼ĤÂǺšÑ may be translated as ‘bless’ or ‘praise’. 69. Bauckham, ‘Restoration of Israel’, p. 462, says that in 2.34-35 Luke for the ¿rst time introduces into Jesus’ characterization aspects that were unexpected in light of Jewish messianic hopes. Even though we agree with Bauckham—Luke does characterize Jesus in 2.34-35 in a way that goes beyond Jewish messianic expectations—we disagree that this is the ¿rst instance of his doing so. In fact, even though Luke relied on Jewish messianic expectations for his characterization of Jesus, he went beyond what was expected from the moment he introduced Jesus as a character in his narrative. 70. See also Brown, Birth, pp. 460–66; Coleridge, Luke, pp. 176–78; Cunningham, Tribulations, pp. 49–50; Fitzmyer, Luke, vol. 1, pp. 429–30. 71. Cunningham, Tribulations, p. 49, indicates that through his use of Á¼ė̸À in 2.34 Luke establishes that YHWH’s will is ful¿lled in Jesus’ performing discriminatory judgment of Israel. 1
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which might be understood as reference to division in light of the Magni¿cat’s reference to YHWH’s lifting up the lowly God-fearers and bringing down the powerful, the arrogant, and the rich. Accordingly, Simeon’s prophecy identi¿es Jesus as a judge who will be instrumental in dividing people based on their inner thoughts in accordance with YHWH’s plan.72 As the people of Israel encounter Jesus, they will be judged and divided in accordance with their responses to him. Readers may wonder how this role of Jesus is compatible with his role in bringing Israel’s consolation, ushering in salvation to all people, and being light to both Jews and Gentiles. To answer this, they will have to remember that the multitude of the heavenly host proclaimed peace only among those whom YHWH favors (2.14) and that YHWH favors those who fear him and submit to his authority (1.48-50). Furthermore, they will have to remember that (1) in the OT light can be used of both salvation and judgment;73 (2) in the OT it is YHWH who brings both salvation and sword (e.g., Isa. 66.16; Ezek. 6.3; 11.8-9; Zech. 13.7), which is why YHWH’s visitation is differentiated between YHWH bringing salvation to the God-fearers and bringing judgment upon evildoers (e.g., Mal. 4.1-5 [3.19-22, LXX]); (3) in the OT YHWH is described as a stone that functions for some as a sanctuary and for others as a stumbling block that generates opposition (Isa. 8.14-15; cf. 28.16);74 and (4) in the Magni¿cat YHWH both raises the lowly and brings down the powerful based on their standing before him (Lk. 1.48-53; cf. Mic. 7.7-8). Thus, Luke does not contradict himself when he presents Jesus as both the eschatological Savior and Judge. Rather, in his presentation of Jesus as both Savior and Judge, Luke draws on YHWH’s characterization in the OT and his previous characterization of YHWH in the Magni¿cat in order to equate Jesus’ responsibilities with the eschatological responsibilities of YHWH himself. Since thus far Luke has presented Jesus as YHWH’s Son who shares YHWH’s identity, he guides his readers to expect that those who accept Jesus as YHWH’s Son and Lord, as Elizabeth did, are people who fear YHWH and align themselves with YHWH’s will, and those who deny Jesus’ claim to YHWH’s superior status are people who 72. Holmås, Prayer, p. 74, observes that by means of his narrative Luke de¿nes ‘rising’ (ÒÅŠÊ̸ÊÀË) as resurrection of the dead (e.g., Lk. 14.14; 20.27, 33, 35, 36; Acts 1.22; 2.31; 4.2), which becomes synonymous with the hope of Israel (e.g., Acts 24.14-15; 26.6-7). This hope is made possible by the resurrection of Jesus (26.23), which becomes a stumbling block that divides the Jewish people. Thus, Holmås shows a connection between Jesus’ being the cause of falling and rising and his being the stumbling block. 73. This is emphasized by Green, Luke, p. 149. 74. Cf. Cunningham, Tribulations, p. 46; Grogan, ‘Light’, pp. 160–65. 1
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oppose YHWH and reject his will. This means that while Jesus is light and salvation to all, both Jews and Gentiles, only those who recognize his true identity will ¿nd peace and consolation, just as Simeon did (2.29). However, those who do not recognize Jesus’ true identity will identify themselves as Jesus’ enemies and, therefore, the enemies of YHWH and YHWH’s people who in Luke’s vision of salvation and restoration include both Jews and Gentiles (1.71, 74; 2.10, 31-32). Thus, by means of Simeon’s characterization of Jesus, Luke continues to encourage his readers to view Jesus as more than a Davidide because he presents him as the one who shares YHWH’s divine identity, including not only YHWH’s superior position but also his responsibilities and functions. f. Overview As Luke’s narrative unfolds, Luke continues to present Jesus as more than an ideal Davidide, binding his identity to the divine identity of YHWH and attributing to him YHWH’s responsibilities and functions instead. Thus, when he indirectly identi¿es Jesus as Christ by means of his reliable character John, he attributes to him responsibilities and functions that go beyond those expected of a Davidic Messiah.75 Luke states that Jesus will baptize people with the Holy Spirit and ¿re and that he will accomplish eschatological judgment (3.15-17; cf. Isa. 4.4; 11.14).76 In addition, relying on agricultural imagery of the threshing Àour when speaking of the eschatological judgment and separation of people into two groups of chaff and wheat (cf. Lk. 2.34-35), Luke identi¿es 75. Cf. Peter Doble, ‘Luke 24.26, 44—Songs of God’s Servant: David and his Psalms in Luke–Acts’, JSNT 28 (2006), pp. 267–83; Strauss, Messiah, who show the importance of the Davidic-Messiah category for Jesus’ identity. 76. Turner, ‘Christology’, pp. 179–87, does not allow John to characterize Jesus as more than a Davidic Messiah at this point in Luke’s narrative because he limits the meaning of John’s words to what would be reasonable to expect of the historical John. He hypothesizes that one could argue against his reading if one were to claim that John did not expect a messiah but the ‘Lord himself’ (Lk. 3.4). He then undermines such a reading by arguing that John’s reference to the one more powerful than he is whose sandal thongs he is not worthy to untie (3.16) ‘suggests a human agent’. Moreover, he argues that application of such a description to God himself ‘would verge on semi-blasphemous truism’ (p. 185). Thus, Turner allows Jesus to be YHWH’s agent empowered by the Spirit; yet he does not speak of Jesus sharing YHWH’s divine identity while on earth (p. 208). Turner’s argument is surprising in light of his work on divine Christology and his arguments in support of Luke’s Christology of divine identity. However, it is understandable in light of his reliance on historical criticism, which enables interpretation at the expense of Luke’s narrative. 1
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Jesus as the owner and Lord of the threshing Àoor and the barn, the ¿nal resting place of the wheat, i.e. the righteous (3.17), although later in his narrative he identi¿es YHWH as the Lord of the harvest (10.2). Therefore, when Luke indirectly identi¿es Jesus as Christ, he also characterizes him as Lord of YHWH’s eschatological judgment (e.g., 12.49-59; Acts 17.31); in doing this, he rede¿nes the OT notion of the Day of YHWH as the Day of Jesus Christ. Moreover, when Luke directly identi¿es Jesus as the anointed one, i.e., Christ, through Jesus himself, he does not allow him to be a mere son of David through his adoption by Joseph (Lk. 4.16-30). Instead, he claims for him both YHWH’s position, when he sets this characterization in the cotext of Jesus’ divine sonship (2.49; 3.22; 4.113), and YHWH’s function as Judge, when he characterizes Jesus as the sign that generates opposition (4.28-30; 10.13-16; 11.15-16, 53-54; 20.18; 22.1-5; Acts 2.13; 4.1-3; 5.17-18; 7.54-60; 13.8; 16.16-24; 22.22; 28.23-24). Thus, Luke continues to expand the meaning of the title Christ throughout his narrative to reÀect Jesus’ superior position and the responsibilities that he shares with YHWH as Son, similar to what he has done through his birth narratives (e.g., Lk. 4.41; 9.20-22; 20.41-44; 22.67-70; 23.2, 35, 39-43; 24.26, 46-49; Acts 2.38; 3.6).77 This is also true for other roles or titles that may be attributed to Jesus as an ideal Davidide. Consequently, Luke allows his readers to understand Jesus as a prophet (e.g., Lk. 4.23-27; 7.16, 39-47; 9.7-8, 19; 13.33; 24.19; Acts 3.22-23; 7.37, 52; 10.38) and attributes to him functions that could be associated with a prophetic role, namely, healing (e.g., Lk. 5.12-25; 9.37-43), teaching (e.g., 6.20-49; 10.25-37), speaking in parables (e.g., 8.4-15), feeding crowds of people in deserted areas (e.g., 9.10-17), casting out demons (e.g., 4.33-37; 8.26-39),78 raising the 77. Tuckett, ‘Christology’, pp. 161–64, notes that the Lukan Jesus ‘determines what messiahship means’ and not vice versa. See also Strauss, Messiah. 78. Cf. Todd Klutz, The Exorcism Stories in Luke–Acts: A Sociostylistic Reading (SNTSMS, 129; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004). Although it is not clear in what sense Klutz understands Jesus to be divine since he identi¿es Jesus as ‘shamanic healer and the demon-vanquishing god of Luke’s narrative’ (p. 12), his study may contribute to ours in the following manner: (1) Klutz observes that ‘Jesus’ brief incantatory utterance [in Luke 4:33-37],…which is his sole method of exorcism in this context…lacks the conventional invocation of external divine aid, an appeal which, had it been included, would have indicated the identity of the god whose authority was needed’ and suggests that the interpretation of Lk. 4.33-37 ‘will need to entertain a possibility which much exegesis of the Synoptic Gospels in general has been largely unwilling to entertain, namely that by behaving in this context as if all the power and authority necessary to expel the demon were resident within his own person, Jesus tacitly plays the role of God himself’ (p. 79); (2) he observes that ‘the 1
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dead (e.g., 7.11-15; 8.49-56), warning the unrepentant (e.g., 10.13-16; 11.37-52), and defending the purity of worship (e.g., 19.45-48).79 However, he discourages them from limiting Jesus’ function to that of a prophet.80 First, Luke presents Jesus as the one greater than John and then he presents John as a prophet and yet more than a prophet (7.26-27), implying that Jesus’ identity cannot be reduced to that of a prophet (cf. 9.19-20). Second, he presents Jesus as more than a mere instrument of YHWH’s visitation (7.16); rather, he characterizes him as one who embodies YHWH’s visitation and, therefore, visits people as YHWH (e.g., 19.41-44; cf. 1.68, 78). In addition, Luke allows his readers to understand Jesus as a legitimate (e.g., 1.32-35; 19.11-40), righteous (e.g., 3.22; 4.1-13), wise (e.g., 11.31), and Spirit-¿lled (e.g., 4.16-19; 9.20) king, who provides for his subjects (e.g., 6.1-4), shows mercy in the way he responds to his subjects’ requests (e.g., 18.38-39), and has authority to judge evildoers (e.g., Acts 17.31). Yet again, Luke does not allow his readers to limit Jesus’ identity to that of an ideal Davidide. First, he claims that Jesus’ words are more than the words of an earthly king because they have an everlasting signi¿cance as YHWH’s law (e.g., Lk. 6.47-49; 9.26; 21.33; cf. 16.17). Second, he shows that Jesus’ kingdom is the kingdom of God (e.g., 22.28-30; 23.42-43)
invocation of Jesus’ name as a source of exorcistic power and authority both in the Acts 16 [vv. 16-18] episode and in the ensuing co-text of the story in Luke 9 (vv. 4950) has Jesus ¿lling a role usually ¿lled in ancient exorcistic invocational formulas by one high-ranking deity or another’ (p. 267; cf. pp. 229, 253); (3) he claims that in the exorcism stories Jesus ‘stands…at the top of a cosmic hierarchy, over whose unclean spirits and divinatory daimons [sic] he enjoys unquali¿ed authority’ (p. 267); and (4) he explicitly identi¿es Jesus as someone who ‘uniquely bears in his own person the power of God’ (p. 268). 79. Michael Labahn, ‘The Signi¿cance of Signs in Luke 7:22-23 in the Light of Isaiah 61 and the Messianic Apocalypse’, in Craig A. Evans (ed.), From Prophecy to Testament: The Function of the Old Testament in the New (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2004), pp. 146–68 (152), says that the Messiah was not expected to perform miracles. However, Miura, David, Chapter 7, suggests that some Jewish groups expected an ideal Davidide to function as a prophet because David was a prophet. This would imply that the Davidic Messiah could perform miracles, just as Elijah and Elisha were known to perform miracles (cf. Lk. 4.25-27). 80. Cf. Aune, Environment, pp. 39–41, 131–32; Raymond E. Brown, ‘Jesus and Elisha’, Per 12 (1971), pp. 85–104; Paul Minear, To Heal and to Reveal: The Prophetic Vocation according to Luke (New York: Seabury, 1976); David P. Moessner, ‘ “The Christ Must Suffer”: New Light on the Jesus—Peter, Stephen, Paul Parallels in Luke–Acts’, NovT 28 (1986), pp. 220–56; David L. Tiede, Prophecy and History in Luke–Acts (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1980), pp. 33–63. 1
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and Jesus’ throne is the heavenly throne of YHWH himself (e.g., 20.4144; 22.69; Acts 2.30-36; 7.55-56). Therefore, although he is Israel’s king (cf. Lk. 22.67, 70; 23.2-3, 38-39), his power, authority, and dominion are the power, authority, and dominion of YHWH, the Lord of heaven and earth, and this surpasses what was anticipated of an ideal Davidide (cf. Pss. 2.8; 72.8-11). Consequently, Luke demonstrates that Jesus fully shares YHWH’s divine identity when he characterizes Jesus as the one who is capable of carrying out YHWH’s responsibilities and functions and, therefore, worthy to receive the recognition associated with the superior position he shares with his Father YHWH. Thus, he encourages his readers to understand Jesus as one God of Israel with YHWH when he shows mercy and compassion (e.g., Lk. 7.13; 17.13-19; 18.38-42; cf. 1.50, 54, 58, 72, 78), answers requests of both Jews (e.g., 5.12-13; 8.40-56; cf. 1.13) and Gentiles (e.g., 7.1-10; cf. Acts 14.17), shows concern for the lowly as he judges and calls the rich to repentance (e.g., 5.12-13, 18-25, 27-29; 7.1117; 19.1-10),81 assures divine care (Lk. 5.10; 8.50; 12.4, 7, 32; cf. 1.13, 30; 2.10; Acts 18.9; 27.24 ), forgives sins that could not be forgiven by means of the law mediated through Moses (e.g., Lk. 5.24; 7.47-49; Acts 2.38; 13.38; cf. Lk. 5.20-21), claims authority in understanding the meaning of Sabbath and purity laws (e.g., 6.1-11; 7.14; 11.37-52; 13.1017; 14.1-6),82 knows people’s inner thoughts (e.g., 5.22; 7.39-47; 11.17; 20.20-26; 21.1-4; cf. 16.15; Acts 1.24; 15.8), exercises control over the forces of nature through speech to ensure protection of his followers (e.g., Lk. 8.22-25; cf. 1.37; Gen. 1.2; Exod. 14.1-31), displays a parental concern for people of Israel that is characteristic only of YHWH (Lk. 13.34; cf. Exod. 19.4; Deut. 32.11-12; Pss. 17.8; 36.7; 147.2; Isa. 56.8; Mal. 4.2), and receives worship that is directed to YHWH alone (Lk. 17.15-18; 24.52; cf. Acts 12.20-23).83
81. Cf. Richard B. Vinson, ‘The God of Luke–Acts’, Int 68 (2014), pp. 376–88. 82. Casey, Prophet, p. 71, suggests that Jesus had to have breached purity laws to preach the good news to outcasts. 83. Labahn, ‘Signs’, p. 167, notes that Luke goes beyond the OT and Jewish tradition in identifying YHWH’s eschatological activity with Jesus’ words and deeds. See also Anthony C. Thiselton, ‘Christology in Luke, Speech-Act Theory, and the Problem of Dualism in Christology after Kant’, in Green and Turner (eds.), Jesus of Nazareth, pp. 453–72, says that Jesus’ identity and authority can be presupposed based on his speech-acts and that his speech and acts ‘ “make themselves manifest” as the speech and acts of God’ (p. 472).
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Thus, based on Luke’s narrative, Jesus can be understood as a legitimate heir to the Davidic throne through Joseph because he, in accordance with the expectations associated with an ideal Davidide, functions as a righteous and Spirit-¿lled king, a wise king like Solomon, savior, psalmist, prophet-like-Moses, religious authority, lord, Messiah, and model for Jewish people to follow.84 However, to claim that the identity of the Lukan Jesus is exhausted in his status as an ideal Davidide would be erroneous because Luke ¿rmly roots Jesus’ identity in the divine identity of YHWH from before his conception. Because Luke claims for Jesus not only the high status and superior position derived from his relationship to YHWH as Son but also YHWH’s responsibilities and functions associated with YHWH’s eschatological coming, he discourages his readers from simply identifying Jesus with an ideal Davidide. Rather, he claims for Jesus the divine identity of YHWH himself. V. Acts 2.1-4, 14-41: Jesus’ Superior Position and Function in Heaven In Chapter 3, we de¿ned the concept of identity relationally and functionally in recognition of the tendency in the ¿rst-century GrecoRoman world to identify individuals with regards to both their position within the society and the universe, derived from their relationships, and their ability to carry out responsibilities and functions prescribed to them by their position. We have argued already that Luke de¿nes Jesus’ superior position in light of his relationship with YHWH and demonstrates that Jesus is able to carry out YHWH’s responsibilities and functions and, therefore, to fully share YHWH’s divine identity (sections II–IV). However, most of our study thus far was based on how Luke de¿nes Jesus’ position and responsibilities prior to his death, resurrection, and ascension. In order to provide a more balanced portrait of the Lukan Jesus, now we will focus on Acts 2 and demonstrate that after Jesus assumes his place on YHWH’s throne in heaven, his identity can no longer be separated from the divine identity of YHWH, which indirectly characterizes Jesus as one God of Israel with YHWH. a. Acts 2.1-4: Jesus’ Theophany In Acts 2.1-4, Luke concisely recounts the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on the Day of Pentecost. Without specifying who are the ‘all’ (ÈŠÅ̼Ë, 2.1, 4) that experience the outpouring and in what type of ‘house’ (ÌġÅ ÇčÁÇÅ, 2.2) they are gathered, he recounts the Spirit’s outpouring as a 1
84. Miura, David, pp. 118–38; Strauss, Messiah, Chapter 2.
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ful¿llment of previous promises and emphasizes that all who were present experienced the outpouring in unison.85 That is, all are together in a place that is ¿lled with the sound from heaven, which comes as a rushing of a strong wind (2.1-2); all have tongues as of ¿re resting on them (2.3); all are ¿lled with the Holy Spirit; and all begin to speak in languages as the Spirit enables them to speak (2.4), without reference to gender, age, or status. Despite the economy of words in the description of this event, in Acts 2.1-4 Luke paints an elaborate portrait of Jesus, which relies heavily on both its cotext and intertexts for meaning. As we examine the wealth of Luke’s characterization, we will discover that through his narration of the Spirit’s outpouring, Luke presents Jesus as YHWH in both his appearance and actions, making it impossible to separate Jesus’ identity from that of YHWH. Because Luke does not start Acts 2 with a mention of who constitutes the ‘all’, where the ¿lling takes place, or what promises are ful¿lled as a result of the outpouring, he encourages his readers to deduce that information from the surrounding cotext. In Acts 1, Luke establishes Acts as the continuation of the narrative begun in the Gospel (1.1-3) and focuses on Jesus’ last words to his disciples and the disciples’ life after his ascension in preparation for the Pentecost events (1.4-26; cf. Lk. 24.36-53). First, he draws his reader’s attention to Jesus’ command not to leave Jerusalem but to wait for the Father’s promise (i.e., the Holy Spirit), anticipated by John (Acts 1.4-5; Lk. 24.49; cf. 3.16). Second, he repeats Jesus’ promise that the disciples will receive power to become his witnesses to all nations starting with Jerusalem as a result of the Spirit’s outpouring (Acts 1.8; Lk. 24.46-49; cf. 2.10, 31-32). Third, he speaks of Jesus’ disciples’ return to Jerusalem after Jesus’ ascension into heaven, where they remain together until the Day of Pentecost in anticipation of the ful¿llment of Jesus’ promises, continuously praising YHWH at his temple (Acts 1.9-26; Lk. 24.50-53). Moreover, in Acts 2.541, where Luke’s focus widens, the readers learn that (1) the ‘all’ are only a small group among the ‘pious Jews from every nation under heaven’ (2.5) numbered in thousands (2.41); (2) the ¿lling happens during the time of morning prayer (2.15); and (3) it ful¿lls YHWH’s promise to pour out his Spirit recorded by the prophet Joel (2.17-18; cf. Joel 2.28-29 [3.1-2, LXX]), which expresses Jewish expectation of Israel’s restoration in connection with YHWH’s promise to pour out his Spirit. Therefore, based on cotext, one might assume that the ‘all’ of Acts 85. Tannehill, Unity, vol. 2, pp. 26–27, notes similarities between the language of 2.1 and Lk. 9.51, which begins Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem in order to ful¿ll the prophecies concerning his passion (9.22, 31, 44). 1
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2.1-4 refers to the one hundred and twenty of Jesus’ disciples (1.15; 2.17-18)86 who are gathered with the pious Jews from every nation under heaven (2.5) at the Jerusalem temple (Lk. 24.53; Acts 2.15, 41, 46; 3.1; 20.16; 24.17; cf. Isa. 6.4; Josephus, War 2.42-43; Ant. 17.254-255)87 on the Day of Pentecost, one of YHWH’s biggest festivals (Exod. 23.1617; 34.22; Lev. 23.15-21; Num. 28.26-31; Deut. 16.9-10) in order to (1) bring their ¿rst-fruit offerings, (2) declare YHWH’s ownership of the land, and (3) give thanks for YHWH’s grace in giving people the covenant, the land, and the crops, and for his mighty deeds on behalf of Israel in bringing about the exodus.88 This worship setting of Acts 2.1-4 recalls the beginning of the Gospel, when Zechariah went inside YHWH’s sanctuary and experienced a theophany, in which YHWH spoke to him through his angel (1.11-22). Moreover, the language that Luke employs in his narration of the Spirit’s outpouring is reminiscent of YHWH’s theophanies. First, in the OT, the sound from heaven (e.g., Exod. 19.16-19),89 wind (e.g., 2 Sam. 22.16; 1 Kgs 19.11-12; Ezek. 1.4, 27; 13.13; Job 37.10; cf. Gen. 1.2; 2 Esd. 13.10), ¿re (e.g., Gen. 15.17; Exod. 19.18; 24.17; Deut. 4.11-12, 24, 33; 5.24-26; Ps. 29.7-9), and Spirit (Isa. 34.16; 61.1-2; 63.10-14) function as indicators of YHWH’s divine presence (cf. Philo, Decal. 32-49). These 86. Although one might limit the initial outpouring of the Spirit to the apostles alone, this reading is not supported by its cotext since the apostles, though distinguished from the rest of Jesus’ disciples (Acts 1.21-26; cf. 2.14, 37), are not found in isolation from the larger group from the moment of Jesus’ resurrection to the Pentecost (Lk. 24.9-53; Acts 1.1-26; cf. 2.17-18; Lk. 22.24-30). Cf. Fuller, Restoration, pp. 257–64; Gaventa, Acts, p. 74. 87. Bruce, Acts, p. 51, suggests that Luke’s text might imply that the disciples were gathered at the temple because Lk. 24.53 refers to the disciples being continuously gathered at the temple and because the word ‘house’ (Acts 2.2) could refer to a temple. Yet, he rules out this possibility, arguing that they were gathered in a private house during the outpouring after which they ‘must have left it for the streets’. Moreover, F. F. Bruce, The Acts of the Apostles: The Greek Text with Introduction and Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 3rd edn, 1990), p. 116, says, ‘Wherever the disciples were when the Spirit came upon them, the most appropriate setting for this concourse [2.6] would be the temple precincts’. It is true that Luke does not clearly state that the location of the ¿lling is the temple, but one might deduce this from the cotext. Moreover, Luke elsewhere can refer to the temple as ‘house’ (Lk. 6.4; 11.51; 19.46; Acts 7.47, 49). Cf. Gaventa, Acts, pp. 74–75; Haenchen, Acts, p. 168; Moessner, ‘Christ’, pp. 243–44. 88. See further E. P. Sanders, Judaism: Practice and Belief 63 BCE–66 CE (London: SCM, 1992), pp. 138–39, 154–55. 89. Sievers, ‘Shekhinah’, p. 177, notes that in rabbinic writings and in the NT heaven is often used as a synonym for God. 1
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indicators may be present as YHWH (1) demonstrates his superiority among other gods (1 Kgs 18.38); (2) empowers his people to play their role in his plan (e.g., Exod. 3.1-12); (3) offers salvation from enemies (e.g., Exod. 13.21), sins (e.g., Isa. 6.7), and ignorance (e.g., 2 Kgs 6.17); or (4) exercises his judgment (e.g., Lev. 10.2; Isa. 29.6).90 Second, in the Gospel, Luke identi¿es the voice from heaven as YHWH’s voice (3.22; cf. 9.34-35) and the Holy Spirit as YHWH’s power (1.35) that comes from YHWH and at YHWH’s initiative in order to enable people to ful¿ll their roles in YHWH’s plan (e.g., 1.35, 41, 44) or to provide YHWH’s enlightened perspective on the events that are taking place (e.g., 1.67-79; 2.28-32). Accordingly, Luke’s readers are led to conclude that in Acts 2.1-4 they are dealing with a theophany,91 in which YHWH appears to the disciples and ¿lls them with his Spirit to empower them to become Jesus’ witnesses, as Jesus has promised (Lk. 24.48-49; Acts 1.8; cf. 1.22).92 This identi¿cation of YHWH as the giver of his Spirit is further supported by both cotext and intertext: (1) the OT anticipates YHWH to be the one who will pour our his Spirit (e.g., Num. 11.29; Isa. 32.15; 44.3; 90. Bock, Acts, p. 97, notes the use of a divine passive in Acts 2.3 to refer to the tongues of ¿re appearing to the disciples (cf. Lk. 1.11; 24.34; Acts 7.2, 30; 13.31; 16.9), which also identi¿es Acts 2.1-4 as a theophany. Moreover, Pieter W. Van Der Horst, ‘Hellenistic Parallels to the Acts of the Apostles (2.1-47)’, JSNT 25 (1985), pp. 49–60 (49–50), notes that in Greco-Roman literature ‘[w]ind and especially ¿re (often on the head) are frequently regarded as signs of divine presence’. See further Barrett, Acts, vol. 1, p. 113; Johnson, Acts, p. 42; I. Howard Marshall, The Acts of the Apostles: An Introduction and Commentary (TNTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980), p. 68. 91. Some have suggested that Luke draws strong parallels between the Spirit’s outpouring and the giving of the law at Mount Sinai (Exod. 19.16-19; Deut. 4.11) to identify Pentecost as a covenant renewal ceremony. This is now contested. See further Barrett, Acts, vol. 1, p. 113; Conzelmann, Acts, pp. 15–16; A. J. M. Wedderburn, ‘Traditions and Redaction in Acts 2.1-13’, JSNT 55 (1994), pp. 27–54 (27–39). Cf. Bock, Acts, p. 132, who subordinates Sinai connections to royal messianic themes; Turner, Power, pp. 280–89, who argues that Luke draws implicit connections between the Pentecost and Sinai/Moses’ ascent to God to receive the law in order to strengthen connections between Jesus and the prophet-like-Moses. 92. According to L&N, vol. 1, p. 398, οšººÇĸÀ; ÒÈÇοšººÇĸÀ should be understood as ‘to speak, with focus upon verbal sound rather than upon content’. However, in Acts, ÒÈÇοšººÇĸÀ is connected with the proclamation of God’s mighty works (2.11), given by the Spirit (2.4) and explained by Peter as prophecy (2.14, 17-18). Moreover, in 4.18, the speaking is connected with teaching in the name of Jesus and in 26.25 with Paul’s declaration of the good news to Festus. Cf. Barrett, Acts, vol. 1, p. 116, who says that in ch. 2 and possibly ch. 26, Luke appears to use this word to mean ‘inspired speech’. 1
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Ezek. 36.27); (2) Jesus identi¿es YHWH as the one who gives the Holy Spirit to those who ask him (Lk. 11.13); (3) Peter’s quotation from Joel names YHWH as the one who both promises and pours out his Spirit on all people (Acts 2.16-18; Joel 2.28-29); (4) Peter’s later explanation of the Spirit’s outpouring attributes the outpouring to YHWH (Acts 5.32; 11.17); (5) the outpouring, accomplished without regard to gender, age, or status (Acts 2.1-4, 16-18), reÀects YHWH’s impartiality emphasized from the beginning of Luke’s narrative (e.g., Lk. 1.11-20, 26-38; 2.8-20; 6.35; 12.22-34; 15.11-32); and (6) the outpouring ful¿lls YHWH’s previous promises spoken through the prophets, demonstrating YHWH’s faithfulness, accentuated in the Magni¿cat and the Benedictus (1.54-55, 72-73; cf. 1.13-17, 25, 57-58; 3.1-18). However, when readers examine what Luke has told them concerning the Spirit’s outpouring from the beginning of his narrative, they will notice that he directly names Jesus as the giver of the Spirit by means of three reliable characters: (1) John attributes the outpouring of the Spirit (i.e., the baptism with the Holy Spirit and ¿re) to the Christ, whom he indirectly identi¿es as Jesus (Lk. 3.16);93 (2) Jesus explicitly promises his disciples that he will send the Holy Spirit (i.e., his Father’s promise and 93. Turner, Power, pp. 179–80, argues against Dunn and Webb who allow for certain Jews to conceive of a messiah who would grant God’s Spirit. He states that in pre-Christian Judaism no one except God could grant God’s Spirit. Therefore, John could not have prophesied concerning the outpouring of God’s Spirit on the Day of Pentecost because he attributes the baptism with the Spirit and ¿re to the Coming One, i.e. a messiah, who was positively a human. This is an important argument for Turner, for he expands it to argue for Jesus’ divine identity based on Jesus’ being the one who pours out God’s Spirit. We agree with Turner’s reading of the pre-Christian documents and his argument for Jesus’ divine identity. However, we challenge his reading of John’s prophecy (Lk. 3.16). First, John’s prophecy (¸ĤÌġË ĨÄÜË ¹¸ÈÌţʼÀ ëÅ ÈżŧĸÌÀ ÖºţĿ Á¸Ė ÈÍÉţ, Lk. 3.16) is connected to Jesus’ promise of the outpouring of God’s Spirit on the Day of Pentecost linguistically (ĨļėË »ò ëÅ ÈżŧĸÌÀ ¹¸ÈÌÀÊ¿Ţʼʿ¼ ÖºţĿ, Acts 1.5; cf. 11.16). Second, the wider cotext of Lk. 3.16 encourages Luke’s readers to identify the Coming One, who is greater than John, with Jesus (1.5–2.51), also characterized as the Christ and as the one who shares YHWH’s divine identity. Third, Luke characterizes John as more than a transmitter of pre-Christian tradition. Rather, he is God’s messenger who is ¿lled with God’s Spirit from his mother’s womb (1.15, 41) and whose ministry is inspired by God’s word that came to him in the desert (3.2). Fourth, since in the OT there are instances of YHWH appearing as a man (Gen. 18.1–16; 32.24–30), one cannot argue that the Coming One in John’s prophecy cannot refer to the one who poured out God’s Spirit because he is presented as a human. See further Hamori, God. See also William P. Atkinson, Baptism in the Spirit (Eugene, Ore.: Pickwick, 2011), pp. 34, 56–58; Green, Luke, p. 181. 1
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the power from on high; cf. 1.35) upon them (24.49);94 and (3) Peter identi¿es Jesus as the giver of the Spirit when he provides an inspired explanation of the outpouring to the pious Jews from every nation under heaven on the Day of Pentecost (Acts 2.32-33). In addition, one might understand the disciples’ identi¿cation of Jesus as the one who will restore the kingdom to Israel (1.6) as Luke’s indirect characterization of Jesus as the giver of the Spirit, since in Jewish expectation the Spirit’s outpouring was connected to Israel’s restoration (e.g., Isa. 32.15-20; Ezek. 37.14; 39.29; cf. Zech. 12.10).95 Furthermore, because Jesus, like YHWH, has treated people without regard to their gender, age, or status throughout his ministry (e.g., Lk. 7.11-17, 36-50; 19.1-10) and because he was identi¿ed as the one who shared not only YHWH’s superior position but also YHWH’s responsibilities (e.g., 1.69, 71, 78-79; 2.11, 30-32, 34-35), one is encouraged to attribute the role of the Spirit’s outpouring to Jesus. Finally, one might notice that because Luke allows the promise of the Father concerning the outpouring (Lk. 24.49; Acts 1.4; 2.16-17) to become synonymous with the promise of Jesus (Lk. 24.49; cf. Acts 1.4-5), he encourages one to understand the outpouring as a ful¿llment of the promises of both YHWH and Jesus.96 Therefore, because the Spirit’s outpouring can be attributed to both YHWH and Jesus and because it ful¿lls the promises of both YHWH and Jesus, one is led to believe that in the Spirit’s outpouring YHWH and Jesus act as one, without collapsing the boundaries between them. This makes it impossible clearly to distinguish Jesus’ promises and actions from YHWH’s, binding Jesus’ identity to the divine identity of YHWH to such an extent that YHWH’s theophany can now be understood as Jesus’ theophany as well.97 94. Pervo, Acts, p. 38, is correct to note that in Acts 1.5 Jesus does not identify himself as the Spirit’s giver; rather, he uses a passive verb, suggesting that YHWH is the agent. However, because he does not read Acts together with Luke, he neglects the evidence that points to Jesus as the agent of the outpouring. Therefore, he neglects the fact that Luke binds Jesus’ identity to YHWH’s through his narration of the outpouring. 95. See further Bauckham, ‘Restoration of Israel’, pp. 439–87; Fuller, Restoration, p. 261; Turner, Power, pp. 267–315. 96. Cf. Barrett, Acts, vol. 1, p. 108, who claims that Luke’s purpose in retelling the story of Pentecost is ‘to demonstrate the ful¿llment of Jesus’ promise’. 97. C. Freeman Sleeper, ‘Pentecost and Resurrection’, JBL 84 (1965), pp. 389– 99 (392), notes that while Acts 2.1-13 connects the gift of the Spirit with speaking in tongues, ‘it does not imply a christophany’ because in Luke–Acts appearances of the risen Christ are distinct from the Spirit’s enablement to speak in tongues. We do not argue that any time Luke speaks of people being ¿lled with the Spirit, he implies theophany. Rather, we argue that this particular ¿lling he narrates as theophany in light of the imagery he uses. 1
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That is why Jesus’ coming to YHWH’s temple on the Day of Pentecost, ¿lled with devout Jews from every nation under heaven (2.5) who represent both the ‘entire house of Israel’ (ÈÜË ÇčÁÇË `ÊɸüÂ, 2.36) and the nations from which they have come to Jerusalem,98 can now be interpreted as YHWH’s eschatological coming to his temple to inaugurate his eschatological salvation (e.g., Isa. 60.1-20). b. Acts 2.14-41: Salvation Found in Jesus Alone Having recounted the event of the Spirit’s outpouring, Luke widens his focus to include the devout people from every nation, both Jews and proselytes (2.10),99 who are present at the temple during the time of worship on Pentecost (cf. 2.17, 21; Lk. 2.10, 31).100 They are (1) attracted to the group of the disciples by the sound of their speaking of YHWH’s mighty deeds (ļº¸Â¼ė¸ ÌÇı ¿¼Çı, 2.11; cf. 10.46; 19.6; Lk. 1.46, 49);101 (2) extremely amazed and confused (ÊͺϚÑ, 2.6, ëÆţÊ̾ÄÀ, 2.7, 12; ¿¸ÍÄŠ½Ñ, 2.7; »À¸ÈÇÉšÑ, 2.12)102 at the fact that the disciples, identi¿ed as 98. Cf. Bauckham, ‘Restoration of Israel’, p. 437; Tannehill, Unity, vol. 2, pp. 27–28. 99. Bruce, Acts of the Apostles, p. 116: ‘In the NT ¼Ĥ¸¹ŢË is used only of Jews (cf. 8:2; 22:12; Lk. 2:25)’. However, in 8.2 and in 22.12, one cannot be certain whether the word refers to the Jews or Gentiles because their nationality is not emphasized. 100. Metzger, Commentary, p. 251, notes numerous problems with the text of 2.9-11. However, despite the problems, one could argue that Acts 2.9-11 claims universal authority of YHWH evidenced by the presence of people from many different nations even if pagans cannot be numbered among them. Cf. Gary Gilbert, ‘The List of Nations in Acts 2: Roman Propaganda and the Lukan Response’, JBL 121 (2002), pp. 497–529. See also Barrett, Acts, vol. 1, pp. 121–24; Bock, Acts, pp. 100–103; J. A. Brinkman, ‘The Literary Background of the “Catalogue of the Nations” (Acts 2, 9-11)’, CBQ 25 (1963), pp. 418–27; Haenchen, Acts, p. 171; Pervo, Acts, pp. 66–68; Wedderburn, ‘Traditions’, pp. 44–48. 101. Bruce, Acts of the Apostles, p. 116, notices that in 2.6 ÎÑÅýË most likely refers to the inspired utterances (2.4) than to öÏÇË (2.2). Thus, the voice is not that of the Spirit because the Spirit speaks through those he inspires (cf. Philo, Decal. 3249). See also François Bovon, ‘L’importance des médiations dans le projet théologique de Luc’, NTS 21 (1975), pp. 23–39. 102. L&N, vol. 1, pp. 312–13, state that ÊͺϚÑ, ëÆţÊ̾ÄÀ, and ¿¸ÍÄŠ½Ñ share the domain of surprise while »À¸ÈÇÉšÑ belongs to the domain that signi¿es lack of understanding (p. 381). Such reactions of surprise, astonishment, and confusion are not negative or positive in and of themselves (¿¸ÍÄŠ½Ñ, Lk. 1.21, 63; 2.18, 33; 4.22; 7.9; 9.43; 11.14; 24.12; Acts 3.12; 4.13; ëÆţÊ̾ÄÀ, Lk. 2.47; 8.56; 24.22; Acts 9.21; 10.45; 12.16; »À¸ÈÇÉšÑ, Lk. 24.4; Acts 10.17; cf. ìÁ¿¸Ä¹ÇË, Acts 3.11; ëÁÈÂŢÊÊÑ, Lk. 2.48; 4.32; 9.43; Acts 13.12; ìÁÊ̸ÊÀË, Lk. 5.26; Acts 3.10; ¿ŠÄ¹ÇË, Lk. 4.36; 5.9; Acts 3.10-11; ƼÅţ½Ñ, 10.6, 18, 23, 32; 17.20; 21.16; 28.7). However, 1
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Galileans (2.7; cf. 1.11; 4.13) and, therefore, not distinguished by linguistic abilities,103 are able to speak in their native languages (Acts 2.6, 8, 11), just as the people at Nazareth were amazed at Jesus’ address before they attempted to kill him (¿¸ÍÄŠ½Ñ, Lk. 4.22);104 yet (3) divided in their responses to this supernatural phenomenon, just as people were divided in their response to Jesus’ ministry (e.g., 6.17-19; cf. 19.47-48; 20.1-8) as prophesied by Simeon (2.34-35).105 Some seek explanation, inquiring about the meaning of this amazing event. Others suggest that the disciples are drunk, displaying their inability to comprehend reality from YHWH’s perspective.106 Challenged by their responses, Peter is inspired (ÒȼοšºÆ¸ÌÇ ¸ĤÌÇėË, 2.14; cf. 2.4) to provide an interpretation of the amazing event, which culminates in his claim that Jesus is both Lord and Christ and that salvation can be found in him alone. When Luke introduces the Jews present at the temple on the Day of Pentecost during the Spirit’s outpouring as ‘devout’ (¼Ĥ¸¹¼ėË, 2.5), he encourages his readers to compare them with the righteous and devout Simeon (»ţÁ¸ÀÇË Á¸Ė ¼Ĥ¸¹üË, Lk. 2.25) who anticipated Israel’s consolation and who was brought to the temple by the Holy Spirit to identify Jesus as Israel’s Messiah, salvation, light, and, therefore, consolation, who shares YHWH’s divine identity (2.28-35; cf. 2.36-38). Like Simeon, they are found at the temple due to their devotion to YHWH and their astonishment may be connected with lack of faith (Lk. 8.25; 24.41), which may lead one to opposition and violence (11.38; 20.26; Acts 9.22; 19.32; 21.27, 31) and, eventually, to destruction (Lk. 24.41-45; Acts 13.41), or it may be connected with curiosity that may lead one to enlightenment and, therefore, bring one closer to God (Acts 7.31). See also Bertram, ‘¿¸ıĸ’, pp. 27–42. 103. Wall, Acts, p. 55. 104. Because there is no mention that the devout were ¿lled with the Spirit, the miracle refers to the speaking of the disciples in many languages rather than hearing of the devout. Contra Conzelmann, Acts, p. 14; Pervo, Acts, p. 70. Cf. Barrett, Acts, vol. 1, p. 119; Bock, Acts, pp. 99–102. 105. There are other occasions in Luke–Acts where the observers are not able to perceive the fullness of what is happening although they understand that what they are witnessing is out of the ordinary. 106. Cf. 1 Sam. 1.11-15; Eph. 5.18. Barrett, Acts, vol. 1, p. 125, is correct: ‘Pauline glossolalia could give the impression of madness. This does not ¿t what Luke has earlier claimed, namely that every person present heard not a meaningless noise but words uttered in his own language. Luke however knows…that the Christian message can never expect to win unanimous acceptance; cf. 17.32…’ (cf. 1 Cor. 14.23). Barrett’s argument can also be supported by the fact that in Acts 26.23-25 Paul does not speak in tongues; rather, he proclaims Jesus’ resurrection from the dead. Yet, his speech is still considered madness. See also Bock, Acts, p. 102; Pervo, Acts, p. 69; Van Der Horst, ‘Parallels’, pp. 53–55. 1
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obedience to his will expressed through the law. Like Simeon, they might be expected to await Israel’s consolation and to connect it with the coming of YHWH’s Messiah. However, as Luke develops Peter’s inspired speech, the readers learn that, unlike Simeon, they lack an inspired understanding of the events that take place and can be compared to Jesus’ disciples prior to Jesus opening their minds in order to understand the Scriptures and to interpret his death and resurrection in an unexpected way (24.13-49; cf. 9.46, 47). Consequently, they lack understanding of the disciples’ speaking in tongues, just as they lacked understanding of Jesus’ divine identity when they participated in killing him (Acts 2.23, 36). Through their responses to Jesus’ disciples, whose identity was revealed to them through their miraculous speaking in tongues enabled by the Holy Spirit (2.4), and to Jesus, whose identity was attested to them through miracles, wonders, and signs performed by YHWH through him (2.22), they display themselves as people who are in the dark concerning YHWH’s purpose. What is more, in their ignorance, they ¿nd themselves in opposition to YHWH’s purpose and become enemies of YHWH’s people as they align themselves with the lawless (2.23). Thus, although Jews gathered for worship at the temple in celebration of YHWH’s provision and care on the Day of the Festival of Weeks might have been united in their anticipation of Israel’s consolation and restoration, they are unaware of what YHWH in his mercy and faithfulness has already begun to accomplish on their behalf. When Peter is inspired to address the accusations against the disciples put forward by these devout Jews from every nation characterized by their confusion and unawareness of YHWH’s unexpected ways, he does not set himself above them. Rather, he addresses them as his kin (2.29) and delivers a message that invites them to ‘repent’ (2.38) so that (1) their sins might be forgiven (2.38), (2) they might ‘be saved from this perverse generation’ (2.40), and (3) they may join Peter as brothers and sisters in YHWH’s household of reconstituted Israel as they are baptized in the name of Jesus Christ and receive the Holy Spirit (2.29, 37-38, 41). By YHWH’s initiative, this invitation to repent in order to receive forgiveness of sins is open to all without partiality, i.e., those present, their children, and those far away (2.39), and it echoes that of John (Lk. 3.3-14);107 yet the content of Peter’s message is different from that of John’s because John’s role was to prepare people for the eschatological coming of the Lord but Peter’s role was to witness to Jesus’ identity as de¿ned by his life, death, and resurrection (Acts 1.8, 22). That is why
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107.
See further Tannehill, Unity, vol. 2, pp. 40–41.
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he ¿rst defends the disciples against accusations of drunkenness and explains their speaking in tongues as prophecy enabled by the Spirit’s outpouring and as an indication of the beginning of the last days promised by YHWH through his prophet Joel (2.15-18; Joel 2.28-29; cf. Num. 11.25).108 Then, he focuses his proclamation on Jesus as Lord and Christ, in whom all Jews can ¿nd salvation (2.19-41). In doing so, not only does he declare Jesus’ followers witnesses to Jesus’ resurrection (2.32), but he also inaugurates the disciples’ mission promised to them by Jesus, which anticipates proclamation of salvation in Jesus alone to all nations (24.46-48; Acts 1.8; cf. 1.22).109 Luke carefully composes Peter’s speech on the Day of Pentecost in order to demonstrate that Jesus’ divine identity was displayed through his life, death, resurrection, ascension, and the Spirit’s outpouring. First, by means of his reliable, Spirit-¿lled character Peter, he continues the quotation from Joel in order to include YHWH’s promise to bring about wonders and signs before the day of the Lord and to offer salvation to everyone who calls on his name (2.19-21; Joel 2.30-32a). Second, he establishes Jesus as a man through whom YHWH performed miracles, wonders, and signs, drawing linguistically on his quotation from Joel (Acts 2.19-20) and, therefore, emphasizing YHWH’s promise concerning the day of the Lord and his salvation. Third, he argues that Jesus had to (1) suffer death in accordance with YHWH’s plan (2.23) and (2) be raised (2.24-32) and enthroned by YHWH on YHWH’s throne in heaven (2.3335) in accordance with YHWH’s promises given through the prophet David (cf. Lk. 1.32-33). Fourth, he argues that Jesus was the one who poured out YHWH’s Spirit given to him by his Father YHWH after his exaltation and enthronement, connecting Jesus’ outpouring of YHWH’s Spirit with YHWH’s promise to pour out his Spirit quoted earlier (2.1718, 33). Thus, he presents the disciples’ speaking in tongues enabled by the Spirit’s outpouring as a proof of Jesus’ exalted status and enthronement and an indication of the beginning of the last days in which all who call on the Lord’s name will be saved. Finally, he declares Jesus as Lord and Christ in whose name everyone must be baptized to receive forgiveness of sins and, therefore, salvation (2.36, 38, 40; cf. Lk. 1.77; 3.3-6). Consequently, by means of Peter’s elaborate message, Luke declares 108. Luke places emphasis on the prophecy when he adds Á¸Ė ÈÉÇξ̼ŧÊÇÍÊÀÅ (2.18) to the text of Joel. See further Gaventa, Acts, p. 77; Turner, Power, pp. 269– 70; cf. Conzelmann, Acts, p. 15; Pervo, Acts, p. 63. 109. Tannehill, Unity, vol. 2, p. 29, sees similarities between Peter’s speech and Jesus’ inaugural speech in Nazareth (Lk. 4.18-21), which lead him to understand Jesus’ story as a paradigm for the mission of Jesus’ Spirit-¿lled followers. 1
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Jesus as Lord on whose name everyone must call in order to be saved and become part of reconstituted Israel (2.21, 38), which makes Jesus’ name synonymous with the name of YHWH, the God of Israel (ÁŧÉÀÇË [LXX], !#!' [MT], Joel 2.32a [3.5a, LXX, MT]).110 As the Jews from every nation hear Peter’s inspired message, they are cut to the heart (2.37), which indicates their distress and regret, and implies that their minds were enlightened through the message, just as the minds of Jesus’ followers were opened as he explained to them how the Law, the Prophets, and the Psalms were ful¿lled through his suffering, death, and resurrection.111 Now that they can understand the amazing events that they witnessed from YHWH’s perspective, they are no longer walking in the darkness. Therefore, they have an opportunity to repent, embrace Peter’s message that claims for Jesus the divine identity of YHWH, receive baptism in the name of Jesus Christ, and become members of YHWH’s household of reconstituted Israel together with Jesus’ Spirit-¿lled followers (2.37-41). At this point in his narrative, Luke does not mention if there were any Jews among those present at the temple who did not accept Peter’s message. However, there is a sense that after widening his focus to include all the devout Jews present at the temple Luke narrows it to include only the group of Jesus’ followers, which has now grown by three thousand (2.41). Those who accused the disciples of drunkenness disappear from the scene after they utter their accusations just as easily as they appeared after the outpouring (2.5-13). Luke thus silences the opposition and focuses his readers’ full attention on Peter’s message of Jesus and on those who were saved as they repented and were baptized in the name of Jesus Christ—a name now synonymous with YHWH (2.21, 38, 47)—claiming that for any Jew who worships YHWH in anticipation of Israel’s consolation, regardless of whether he/she lives in Jerusalem or in the Diaspora, whether he/she is a Jew by birth or a proselyte, YHWH’s salvation and the gift of YHWH’s Spirit instrumental in Israel’s restoration are available through Jesus alone. It has been noted by scholars to various degrees that in Acts 2.14-41 Luke draws strong connections between YHWH and Jesus. It has been generally observed that as Luke develops his interpretation of Joel 2.32 [3.5, LXX], where the name of the Lord on which all should call for salvation refers to YHWH (Acts 2.21), he presents Jesus as the Lord of
110. Cf. Buckwalter, Christology, pp. 180–89. 111. Cf. Donald Juel, ‘Social Dimensions of Exegesis: The Use of Psalm 16 in Acts 2’, CBQ 43 (1981), pp. 543–56 (555–56).
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Joel’s prophecy (2.36, 38). Therefore, he closely identi¿es Lord Jesus with Lord YHWH, which allows Jesus to share ‘God’s presence, God’s task, God’s authority, and…God’s name’.112 It has also been observed that Luke contrasts Jesus with (1) his ancestor David (2.30), who prophesied about Jesus’ resurrection and enthronement at YHWH’s right hand but who was neither raised from the dead nor seated at YHWH’s right hand (2.25-35; cf. Pss. 16.8-11; 110.1; 132.11);113 (2) Elijah who ascended into heaven (2 Kgs 2.1-14) but who was not enthroned at YHWH’s right hand (2.33; cf. 7.56);114 and (3) Moses who ascended to YHWH to receive the law and give it to Israel, but who did not become the giver of YHWH’s Spirit.115 Moreover, it has been argued that Luke closely connects what Jesus does with what YHWH does when he speaks of (1) YHWH acting through Jesus as Jesus performs miracles, wonders, and signs (2.22) in accordance with Joel’s prophecy (2.19-20), and (2) Jesus acting in YHWH’s stead when he pours out the Spirit and offers salvation to all people though his name (2.17, 33, 38).116 Finally, it has been argued that when Luke shows Jesus sitting on YHWH’s throne, from which he rules the cosmos as heavenly Lord, he characterizes him as one who is included in the unique identity of God and whose name can now stand for the name of God of Israel just as the name YHWH.117 We will now turn to scholarly arguments that are especially pertinent for our argument. First, Max Turner observes that in Judaism the Spirit refers to YHWH’s own being and presence. Therefore, he argues that when Luke ¿rst quotes Joel 2.28, which identi¿es YHWH as the one who promises to pour out his Spirit on all people in the last days (Acts 2.17) and then presents Jesus as the one who receives the Spirit from the Father and
112. Bock, Proclamation, pp. 164–66, 183–86, esp. 185. See also idem, Acts, p. 118; Buckwalter, ‘Savior’, pp. 118–19; cf. Barrett, Acts, vol. 1, pp. 129–40; Bruce, Acts of the Apostles, p. 122; Gaventa, Acts, p. 77; Juel, ‘Exegesis’, pp. 544– 45; Martin Rese, Alttestamentliche Motive in der Christologie des Lukas (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1969), pp. 45–55; Turner, Power, pp. 270–79. 113. E.g., Bock, Proclamation, pp. 183–86; Gaventa, Acts, p. 79; Pervo, Acts, p. 83. 114. E.g., Pervo, Acts, pp. 45–46; cf. Charles H. Talbert, Reading Acts: A Literary and Theological Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles (RNTS; New York: Crossroad, 1997), pp. 20–24. 115. E.g., Turner, Power, pp. 280–89. 116. E.g., Gaventa, Acts, pp. 77–78; Tannehill, Unity, vol. 2, pp. 30–41. 117. E.g., Bauckham, God, Chapter 1; idem, ‘Throne’, pp. 43–69; cf. Buckwalter, ‘Savior’, pp. 107–23; Turner, ‘Christology’, pp. 413–36.
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pours it out on his followers (2.33), he portrays Jesus as the Lord of God’s Spirit, namely, God.118 Turner further observes that the Spirit becomes known in Acts as the Spirit of Jesus (16.6-7), which implies that Luke’s Jesus relates to the Spirit in the same way as YHWH does and that the Spirit enables Jesus to be present with his followers through the Spirit in the same way YHWH was present with his people Israel. Finally, Turner observes that calling on the name of the Lord Jesus in baptism is equivalent to calling on the name of YHWH, which is necessary for the forgiveness of sins and reception of the Spirit (2.21, 38). Second, Douglas Buckwalter argues that when Luke describes Jesus’ identity and activity after resurrection, he uses OT concepts applicable to YHWH.119 He suggests that Luke presents (1) Jesus’ post-resurrection manifestations as those of YHWH in the OT, (2) Jesus as coequal and coregent with YHWH, and (3) Jesus’ heavenly reign in Acts as YHWH’s in the OT. He concludes that Luke demonstrates Jesus as God with regard to his appearances, coregency, sharing of the divine name, presence in the lives of his followers through the Holy Spirit, and ability to keep his promises. Finally, Andy Johnson observes that when one understands Elijah’s ascension (2 Kgs 2.1-18) as an intertext for Jesus’ ascension (Acts 1.911), one is led to anticipate that the spirit that will descend and empower them will be the spirit of the person who ascended. Thus, one is led to anticipate Jesus’ spirit to be poured out; yet, instead, they are promised that they will receive the Holy Spirit of YHWH himself. Consequently, Johnson argues that Luke intertextually connects the Spirit of Jesus to the Spirit of YHWH and thus rede¿nes divine identity.120 All these arguments are helpful in con¿rming our thesis and establishing how, for Luke, Jesus may share YHWH’s divine identity as Son. Yet, there is one more argument to be made, namely, Luke draws close connections between Jesus and YHWH when through his quotation of Ps. 16.8 he identi¿es YHWH as the one on the right hand of Jesus and, then, identi¿es Jesus as the one on the right hand of YHWH through his quotation of Ps. 110.1 (2.33-34). It is generally accepted that in the quotation from Psalm 110, the ¿rst ‘Lord’ refers to YHWH and the second ‘Lord’ to Jesus, who is now seated at the right hand of YHWH.
118. Turner, ‘Spirit’, pp. 168–90; idem, ‘Christology’, pp. 413–36; idem, Power, pp. 428–31; idem, ‘Pneumatology’, pp. 167–86. 119. Buckwalter, Christology; idem, ‘Savior’, pp. 107–23. 120. Andy Johnson, ‘Resurrection, Ascension and the Developing Portrait of the God of Israel in Acts’, SJT 57 (2004), pp. 146–52. 1
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Therefore, to support our argument we need to establish that the Lord of whom David speaks in Psalm 16 is YHWH (2.25).121 As we examine Luke’s quotation of David’s psalm and its interpretation, we notice that Luke quotes the psalm to support his claim of Jesus’ resurrection. Not only does the quotation follow the statement of Jesus’ resurrection (2.24), but also it is interpreted through Peter as a prophecy concerning Jesus’ resurrection (2.31). Luke emphasizes that in his psalm David speaks prophetically because he directly identi¿es David as a prophet (2.30) and attributes to him an ability to foresee the future as he interprets YHWH’s promises to him concerning his descendant (2.31).122 He clari¿es that David does not speak of his own resurrection because David died, was buried, and has not been raised since his tomb is well-known to those he addresses (2.29). Moreover, he quotes part of the same psalm again, substituting David’s personal pronouns for Jesus’ and, thus, interpreting the psalm in reference to Jesus, just as he stated earlier—i.e., David spoke this psalm concerning Jesus (2.25). ‘For you will not abandon my [David’s] soul to Hades, or let your Holy One [David] experience decay’ (2.27) becomes ‘he [Jesus] was not abandoned to Hades, nor did his [Jesus’] Àesh experience decay’ (2.31). This substitution becomes a clue that enables us to substitute all personal pronouns that refer to David for personal pronouns that refer to Jesus. Accordingly, in the phrase ‘I saw the Lord always before me, for he is at my right hand so that I will not be shaken’, we are enabled to understand ¿rst person singular pronouns as references to Jesus and the Lord and third person singular pronouns as references to YHWH. This allows us to conclude that Jesus’ resurrection was made possible by YHWH because YHWH was always at Jesus’ right hand. Furthermore, since Luke claims that YHWH has always been at Jesus’ right hand just as Jesus is at YHWH’s right hand now, we are led to conclude that it is impossible to distinguish a hierarchy between YHWH and Jesus, although they can be distinguished as Father YHWH and Son Jesus (2.24, 32).123
121. Contra David P. Moessner, ‘Two Lords “at the Right Hand”? The Psalms and an Intertextual Reading of Peter’s Pentecost Speech (Acts 2:14-36)’, in Richard P. Thompson and Thomas E. Phillips (eds.), Literary Studies in Luke–Acts: Essays in Honor of Joseph B. Tyson (Macon, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1998), pp. 215– 32 (222–29). 122. See also Joseph A. Fitzmyer, ‘David, “Being Therefore a Prophet…” (Acts 2:30)’, CBQ 34 (1972), pp. 332–39; Moule, ‘Christology’, p. 178. 123. Cf. Miura, David, pp. 143–46; Strauss, Messiah, pp. 137–40.
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In Acts 2.14-41 Luke uses multiple arguments for Jesus’ divine identity. This is consistent with what he has argued in his narrative thus far because he has demonstrated continuously that Jesus, though he was a son of David through adoption into the Davidic line, was more than an ideal Davidide, namely, he was the unique Son of YHWH. Therefore, Jesus’ responsibilities surpassed those of a righteous and Spirit-¿lled king, a wise king like Solomon, savior, psalmist, prophet-like-Moses, religious authority, lord, Messiah, and model for Jewish people to follow. Thus, from the beginning of his narrative, Luke has claimed for Jesus not only YHWH’s responsibilities and functions but also YHWH’s position as the Lord of heaven and earth. Moreover, he has demonstrated that the human ignorance and opposition which led to Jesus’ suffering and death could not detract from the fact that he was YHWH’s unique Son because YHWH himself attested to his true identity when he performed miracles, wonders, and signs through Jesus (2.22); when he raised him up after his death accomplished in accordance with YHWH’s plan and foreknowledge (2.23); and when he exalted him to his throne to sit at his right hand and to carry out his responsibilities and functions (2.33-35). Therefore, in Acts 2.14-41, Luke continues to characterize Jesus as YHWH’s Son who is also Lord and Christ, just as he has done from the beginning of his narrative (cf. 1.32-35; 2.11), except now that he characterizes Jesus as the one who shares YHWH’s title ‘Lord’ (2.36), which in Luke’s LXX quotations stands for YHWH’s name (2.20-21, 25, 34; Joel 2.31-32a [3.4-5a, LXX]; Pss. 16.8 [15.8, LXX]; 110.1 [109.1, LXX]; cf. Joel 2.32b [3.5b, LXX]; Acts 2.39), YHWH’s throne (2.34), and YHWH’s responsibilities as eschatological Savior of the house of Israel (2.21, 38-41), whose name is now synonymous with YHWH’s, he makes it impossible to distinguish between Israel’s God YHWH and Jesus who alone offers YHWH’s eschatological salvation to those who call on his name. Thus, in Acts 2 Luke indirectly characterizes Jesus as the God of Israel without collapsing the boundaries between him and his Father YHWH. c. Overview Although in this section (section V) we focused on how Jesus is characterized in Acts 2, in Acts 1 it already has become dif¿cult to distinguish Lord Jesus from Lord YHWH. When the disciples are gathered in Jerusalem joyfully (Lk. 24.52) and prayerfully (Acts 1.14) waiting for the Father’s promise (Lk. 24.49; Acts 1.4-5), it is impossible to identify the Lord to whom they pray to guide them in the selection of Judas’ replacement through casting of the lots (1.24). The immediate 1
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cotext identi¿es Jesus as their Lord (1.6, 21), the one who previously chose his apostles (1.2; cf. Lk. 6.13). Moreover, the larger cotext demonstrates that Stephen prays to Jesus (Acts 7.59) in a similar manner as Jesus prayed to YHWH (Lk. 23.46) when both Jesus and YHWH are present (Acts 7.55-56). However, the wider cotext also demonstrates that (1) YHWH picked Zechariah through the casting of lots to go into the sanctuary (Lk. 1.9); (2) YHWH was indirectly involved in choosing the apostles because Jesus chose them only after he prayed to YHWH all night (6.12); (3) YHWH is the one who knows people’s hearts and minds (Acts 15.8), who determines the right people for the tasks that he plans to accomplish (Lk. 1.5-38), and whose will is ultimately accomplished despite opposition (Acts 2.23-24); and (4) people when they pray in unison address YHWH (4.24). Therefore, unless it is speci¿ed that the reference is to Lord Jesus (e.g., 1.6; 2.36; 4.33; 7.59-60; 8.16; 9.17, 2728) or to Lord God (e.g., 2.20-21, 25, 34, 39; 3.20, 22; 4.26; 7.31, 33), it is impossible to know whether the title Lord refers to Jesus or YHWH (e.g., 1.24; 2.47; 4.29; 5.9, 19; 8.22, 24-25; 9.35, 42; 10.14), testifying to Jesus’ divine identity that he shares with YHWH as Son.124 Thus, as Luke unfolds his narrative, he continues to show that Jesus shares YHWH’s divine identity to such an extent that it becomes impossible to distinguish clearly between Jesus and YHWH. This is reÀected in numerous ways. First, Luke continues to describe Jesus’ presence in ways that recall YHWH’s theophanies just as he did on the Day of Pentecost at Jesus’ outpouring of the Spirit (2.1-4; cf. Acts 1.9; 7.55). Thus, when Jesus appears to Paul (1) his appearance is accompanied by light from heaven brighter than the sun (26.13) that shines around Paul (9.3; 22.6; cf. 26.13), similar to the way YHWH’s glory shone around shepherds (Lk. 2.9; cf. Acts 12.7); (2) he is visible neither to Paul nor to his companions (they can only hear his voice; Acts 9.5; cf. 22.8; 26.1415), similar to the way YHWH’s voice can be heard during Jesus’ baptism and trans¿guration (Lk. 3.22; 9.35); (3) he appears in order to communicate his plan, clarify Paul’s role in this plan, and enable him to carry out his role (Acts 9.6; 22.10; 26.16-18); (4) Paul suffers short-term blindness (9.3-8; 22.6-9; 26.13-20) because he ¿nds himself in opposition to YHWH’s plan as he persecutes Jesus by persecuting his followers (9.4-5; 22.7; 26.14-15), which echoes Zechariah’s temporary muteness that resulted from his disbelief (Lk. 1.20, 22); and (5) Paul describes this encounter as a heavenly vision (Ìĉ ÇĤɸÅţĿ ĚÈ̸Êţß, Acts 26.19; cf. 9.10), similar to the way Zechariah’s encounter inside the temple was described (Lk. 1.22; cf. 24.23). Furthermore, if the Gospel is reread with 1
124.
Cf. Johnson, ‘Resurrection’, pp. 152–53; Rowe, Christology, p. 202.
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the account of Jesus’ theophany in Acts 2 in mind, one may recognize that Luke described Jesus’ presence in a language characteristic of theophanies to indicate his divine identity. Thus, the visitation pericope (Lk. 1.39-45), which has language reminiscent of OT theophanies, may present the ¿rst appearance of the unborn Jesus in the narrative as a theophany.125 How about this, “Similarly, the pericope that describes Jesus’ encounter with Simon Peter and other ¿shermen may be understood as a theophany. In this encounter (a) Simon Peter’s alarming reaction (¿ŠÄ¹ÇË) to the catch of ¿sh may be interpreted as a reaction of worshipful fear in light of Peter’s kneeling down126 before his ÁŧÉÀÇË (changed from ëÈÀÊ̸̊), (b) Peter’s request that Jesus would leave him on account of his being ÒÅüÉ ÖĸÉÌÑÂŦË may bind Jesus’ identity to that of YHWH, the Giver of the Law and the Judge, as discussed in Chapter 4, §II.c.2, and (c) Jesus’ comforting words (Äü ÎǹÇı), followed by his declaration of Peter’s new identity as the ‘catcher of humans’, may bind Jesus’ identity to identify YHWH’s for Jesus has YHWH’s authority to both comfort and to de¿ne people’s identity and function (5.1-11; cf. 1.11-20, 26-38).”127 Second, Luke continues intimately to connect Jesus’ identity and YHWH’s when he shows that (1) YHWH’s Spirit can now also be identi¿ed as the Spirit of Jesus (Acts 16.7)128 and YHWH’s name becomes synonymous with the name of Jesus by which Jesus’ followers heal (3.6; 4.30), teach (5.28, 40), and exorcise demons (16.18; 19.13), and on which they invite people to call for salvation (9.14; 22.16); (2) YHWH’s universal claim and YHWH’s impartiality are now connected with proclamation of Jesus alone as Savior (4.12; 5.31; 13.23, 38; 15.11; 26.18; cf. Lk. 1.47; 2.11) to both Jews and Gentiles (10.1–11.18; 26.20) in Jerusalem (2.14–7.60), Samaria (8.4-40), and Gentile lands (chs. 13–28), including Rome (28.23-28); (3) YHWH’s ability to carry out his salvi¿c 125. See further Nassauer, ‘Gegenwart’, p. 81. 126. L&N, p. 100: ‘In Lk 5.8 the phrase “fell on his knees before Jesus” should normally not be rendered literally since it might imply accidental stumbling. A more satisfactory equivalent may be “knelt down before”, as a sign of worship or gratitude.’ 127. Cf. Fletcher-Louis, Christology, pp. 34–38; Fitzmyer, Luke, vol. 1, pp. 567– 68; Marshall, Luke, pp. 205; Rowe, Christology. 128. Cf. Buckwalter, Christology, Chapter 9; Turner, ‘Christology’, pp. 413–36; Tuckett, ‘Christology’, pp. 133–64, wonders if the ‘Spirit of Jesus’ should be understood in a similar way as the ‘spirit of Elijah’ (Lk. 1.17). This could be a possibility (see Chapter 4, section II.c.2) if the Lukan narrative did not argue for Jesus’ divine identity from the moment of his unique conception and, thus, for his unique relationship to the Holy Spirit. 1
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plan despite opposition is displayed by Jews and Gentiles turning to Jesus in faith as a result of the proclamation by Jesus’ followers despite opposition (7.57–8.1; 9.1-9; 14.4, 19; 28.24); (4) YHWH’s protection is now echoed in Jesus protection of his followers (18.9-10); (5) turning to YHWH for salvation and away from the power of Satan becomes synonymous with faith in Jesus and his resurrection (26.17-18, 20); and (6) exclusive devotion to YHWH is now correlated with exclusive devotion to Jesus who alone is Savior for both Jews and Gentiles (19.17).129 Thus, as Luke characterizes Jesus in Acts, he continues to present him as the one who shares YHWH’s divine identity by sharing not only YHWH’s superior position as Lord of heaven and earth but also by carrying out YHWH’s responsibilities and functions as he offers YHWH’s eschatological salvation to all people. Moreover, he binds Jesus’ identity to the unique identity of God to such an extent that God’s name YHWH becomes synonymous with the name of Jesus.130 This indirectly characterizes Jesus as Israel’s God who by means of his life, death, resurrection, and ascension has inaugurated the eschatological times during which salvation through Jesus alone is offered to all people without partiality. VI. Summary In this chapter, we argued that Luke characterizes Jesus as the God of Israel by binding Jesus’ identity to the divine identity of YHWH. Because in Chapter 3 we de¿ned the concept of identity in terms of one’s position as this is determined by one’s relationships and ability to carry out the responsibilities and functions prescribed by that position, we have focused on how Luke de¿nes (1) Jesus’ position through his relationships, (2) Jesus’ responsibilities and functions in light of his position, and (3) Jesus’ ability to carry out those responsibilities and functions. Thus, we established that Luke identi¿es Jesus as YHWH’s unique Son conceived by YHWH’s empowering presence (i.e., the Holy Spirit) in order to claim that Jesus’ identity should be constructed only in relation to YHWH. Therefore, he attributes to Jesus the highest position in the universe, derived from the position of his Father YHWH, the Lord of heaven and earth. Having done so, we showed that Luke allows Elizabeth and John through the Holy Spirit to recognize Jesus’ superior position and to present them as models for any God-fearer to follow.
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129. 130.
Cf. Buckwalter, ‘Savior’, pp. 107–23. Cf. Bauckham, God, pp. 75–77; Bietenhard, ‘ěÅÇĸ’, p. 272.
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Furthermore, we argued that in Luke 1–2 Luke attributes to Jesus responsibilities and functions of YHWH himself and then shows how Jesus successfully carries them out. Finally, we argued that after Jesus’ ascension Luke characterizes Jesus and YHWH in ways that make it impossible to distinguish Jesus from his Father YHWH. Thus, we concluded that by rooting Jesus’ identity in the divine identity of YHWH from before his conception, by attributing to Jesus YHWH’s superior position and functions derivative of that position, by showing that Jesus is able successfully to carry out those functions, and by making it impossible clearly to separate Jesus and YHWH, especially after Jesus’ resurrection, ascension, and enthronement on YHWH’s throne, Luke characterizes Jesus as the God of Israel, whose name is now synonymous with the name of YHWH himself, although the two names cannot be collapsed since Luke distinguishes Jesus as Son and YHWH as Father131 throughout his narrative.132
131. See also Rowe, ‘Trinity’, pp. 1–26. 132. We discourage our readers from treating our close reading of Luke 1–2 as a lens for Jesus’ characterization in Luke and our close reading of Acts 2 as a lens for Jesus’ characterization in Acts. It is our assumption that Luke encourages his model readers to construct and reconstruct Jesus’ identity from beginning to middle to end, which implies that Jesus’ characterization in Luke is imbued with meaning as the narrative unfolds and is incomplete if taken in isolation from Jesus’ characterization in Acts. That is why we have attempted to show continuity of Jesus’ characterization throughout Luke’s two-volume narrative in our study in general and in overview sections in particular. 1
Chapter 6
CONCLUSION
In this study, we have argued that in his two-volume narrative Luke indirectly characterizes Jesus as God when he shows that Jesus shares YHWH’s divine identity despite the fact that Luke never predicates the title ¿¼ŦË of Jesus. In Chapter 1, we ¿rst highlighted that in the GrecoRoman world it was not enough to call Jesus ¿¼ŦË if one were to claim that Jesus was Israel’s God. This is because ¿¼ŦË is a predicate rather than the name of Israel’s God and that Luke’s reluctance to apply the title ¿¼ŦË (or »¼ÊÈŦ̾Ë) in references to Jesus does not rule out the possibility that Jesus is characterized as God implicitly. Then we argued that the problems found in the study of Lukan divine Christology can be understood better if seen against the backdrop of Conzelmann’s Theology, which insisted that the Lukan Jesus could not have been perceived as God. We pointed out that Conzelmann and others that follow him (1) misunderstand what is implied by a reading of Luke–Acts as narrative, (2) rely on a modernist ontology-vs.-function dichotomy in their reading of Luke’s text, and (3) have an overly restrictive understanding of Second Temple Jewish monotheism. We suggested that if these problems were eliminated, the question of whether Luke characterizes Jesus as God of Israel would have to be reassessed. Moreover, we noted a small number of scholars–Laurentin, Turner, and Buckwalter (possibly Rowe)—who, despite Conzelmann’s inÀuential position, were not discouraged from arguing that the Lukan Jesus must be perceived as ¿¼ŦË. Having reviewed their studies, we determined that they left room for further study because their approach did not allow them to engage Luke–Acts as narrative and because their attempts to go beyond the ontology-vs.-function dichotomy depended on Bauckham’s concept of divine identity, which itself required further clari¿cation. Therefore, we determined that we could contribute to the current discussion of Luke’s Christology of divine identity by ¿rst outlining how one might read Luke–Acts as ancient narrative and construct characters’
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identities, how one might understand the concept of divine identity with regard to beliefs and practices in the Greco-Roman world, and thus how one might expect Luke to characterize YHWH as God; and then by examining how Luke characterizes Jesus as one God with YHWH when he shows that Jesus shares YHWH’s divine identity. In Chapter 2, we focused on how one might construct characters’ identities when one reads Luke–Acts as an ancient narrative. First, we pointed out that a narrative method is required to study the Lukan Jesus. Taking into consideration criticisms brought against biblical scholars who employed narrative criticism in the past, we outlined how we would read Luke–Acts as narrative and emphasized the importance of textual constraints, i.e., cotext, intertext, and context, in interpreting textual gaps. Moreover, relying on studies in narrative and history, we concluded that we are able to ask questions concerning the historical person Jesus as a character within Luke’s two-volume narrative without reducing Jesus to a mere object of the writer’s imagination, yet understanding that the text limits what one can learn about historical ¿gures. Thus, we examined what is involved in the process of characterization as readers move from the beginning, to the middle, and to the end, and de¿ned both direct and indirect ways of characterization. In Chapter 3, we clari¿ed how we would use the category of identity in our study of both YHWH and Jesus. First, we pointed out that there are two contemporary models of understanding identity: the introspective and the relational. We determined that Conzelmann’s ontology-vs.function dichotomy reÀects the introspective model, which locates human identity within an individual and promotes disengagement from one’s body and society. We indicated that this model, a modern innovation, is (or should be) limited in inÀuence to those cultures affected by the Enlightenment because it reÀects neither how identity was de¿ned prior to the rise of modernity nor how identity is understood outside of Western cultures. However, a relational model, with its emphasis on a narratival and embodied understanding of identity, is surprisingly at home in the premodern world of Luke–Acts. In fact, we established that despite differences in their beliefs about God/gods, people of the ¿rstcentury Greco-Roman world valued understandings of humans as embodied and embedded in their relationships. They were not concerned with individuals per se but with their function as responsible members of the hierarchically structured world governed by a set of God-given/godgiven/universal/just laws. Consequently, people derived their identity and therefore their social role from their relationship to the head of their 1
6. Conclusion
193
household and to God/gods and evaluated others as honorable or shameful with regard to how well they ful¿lled their social role, determined for them from birth. Second, based on our discussion of Second Temple Jewish monotheism, we concluded (with Bauckham) that the majority of Jews who upheld traditional views of God would allow for worship of Jesus only if Jesus were understood as one God with YHWH. Moreover, we concluded that to understand Jesus as one God with YHWH would not go against their perception of identity, for it was common for ancient people to refer to individuals by multiplicity of expressions without undermining their unity. This understanding of how Jesus could share YHWH’s divine identity provides a more appropriate explanation of Jesus’ divinity against the background of the strict Jewish monotheism of the Second Temple period (contra Fletcher-Louis) without collapsing the boundaries of the relationship between Jesus and YHWH (contra Laurentin). In Chapter 4, we explored YHWH’s characterization in Luke–Acts, relying on our discussion in Chapters 2 and 3 in order to set appropriate expectations for how Luke might characterize Jesus as God. We focused on YHWH’s characterization in Luke 1–2 and Acts 14 as representative of YHWH’s characterization in Luke–Acts. We observed that Luke used both direct de¿nition and indirect presentation in his characterization of YHWH, placing a signi¿cant emphasis on YHWH’s actions and words in de¿ning consistent traits of YHWH’s divine identity and providing meaning for the titles predicated of YHWH, which are not limited to ¿¼ŦË. We established that Luke is not interested in presenting metaphysical considerations when constructing YHWH’s divine identity. Rather, he presents YHWH relationally, with regard to his hierarchical position as Lord of the universe and as covenantal Lord of Israel, and functionally, with regard to how he carries out responsibilities prescribed to him by his position. Moreover, we determined that Luke–Acts is not interested in speaking of any other gods but YHWH, for it presents YHWH as the one God of Israel who has no rival, who has absolute authority over human history, and who has a personal relationship with his chosen people. Thus, we established that if Luke were to characterize Jesus as God, he would do so in similar ways. In Chapter 5, we argued that Luke characterizes Jesus as the God of Israel by binding Jesus’ identity to the divine identity of YHWH. We ¿rst focused on how Luke de¿nes (1) Jesus’ position through his relationships, (2) his responsibilities and functions in light of his position, and (3) his ability to carry out those responsibilities and functions. We 1
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established that Luke encourages his readers (1) to construct Jesus’ identity only in relation to YHWH, claiming for him the position of his Father YHWH, the Lord of heaven and earth, and presenting Elizabeth and John as models for any God-fearer to follow as they recognize Jesus’ superior position through the Holy Spirit; (2) to attribute to Jesus responsibilities and functions of YHWH himself; and (3) to accept that Jesus carries out YHWH’s responsibilities and functions successfully. Based on this we concluded that Luke characterizes Jesus as the one who shares YHWH’s divine identity fully. Second, we focused on how Luke characterizes Jesus after his death, resurrection, and ascension in order to demonstrate that Luke characterizes Jesus and YHWH in ways that make it impossible to distinguish Jesus from his Father YHWH and that make Jesus’ name synonymous with the name of YHWH himself. Accordingly, we have demonstrated that Luke in both volumes of his narrative indirectly characterizes Jesus (together with YHWH) as the one God of Israel. At the beginning of our project, we proposed to argue that Luke in his two-volume narrative indirectly characterizes Jesus as one God of Israel with YHWH and we were able to do that. Therefore, we challenge scholars to reevaluate their reservations concerning calling Jesus ‘God’ in Luke– Acts and insist on taking Lukan divine Christology seriously. This is the main contribution of our study to the ¿eld of NT theology. However, we could suggest that our study also (1) demonstrates how Luke–Acts might be read as a meaningful account of Jesus’ identity and how characters might be constructed in reading biblical narratives; (2) examines how identity is constructed in the ancient world; and (3) shows how Bauckham’s concept of divine identity might be clari¿ed based on how Luke characterizes God in both volumes of his narrative. Furthermore, this study offers an assessment of the hypothesis of the theological unity of Luke–Acts with respect to the possibility of a divine Christology in both volumes. Today, not all scholars ¿nd an argument for the unity of Luke–Acts convincing. Some call for a reexamination of the unity of Luke and Acts.1 Others try to make a case against the unity of Luke–Acts based on their evaluation of the reception history of Luke and Acts, yet recognize that their ¿ndings are not determinative for how Luke–Acts should be read.2 Thus, by examining this possibility in both 1. Mikeal C. Parsons and Richard I. Pervo, Rethinking the Unity of Luke and Acts (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993); Patricia Walters, The Assumed Authorial Unity of Luke and Acts (SNTSMS, 145; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009). 2. Andrew F. Gregory, The Reception of Luke and Acts in the Period before Irenaeus (WUNT, 2/169; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003); idem, ‘The Reception of 1
6. Conclusion
195
Luke and Acts, it claims that any study of Christology that does not cover both volumes is incomplete at best. Moreover, this study offers a way to go beyond the high-vs.-low dichotomy in the study of Lukan Christology because it demonstrates that the Lukan Jesus was characterized by Luke as both the Son of David and the Son of God, i.e., man and God. Therefore, it allows one to speak of Luke’s divine Christology, since what constitutes a ‘high’ Christology in Luke–Acts is not clear.3 On the one hand, a scholar may claim that Luke offers a ‘high’ Christology and imply that Luke portrays Jesus as God (e.g., Bock, Buckwalter). On the other hand, a scholar may claim that Luke offers a ‘high’ Christology, yet does not speak of the Lukan Jesus as God explicitly (e.g., Rowe). Finally, we argued in the line of numerous scholars that it is impossible to separate function from ontology and showed incompatibility of the introspective model for understanding identity in the premodern world of Luke–Acts. Because we claimed that ontology is revealed through function, we provided a way to examine functional statements concerning Jesus’ identity as God identi¿ed by Conzelmann and others and to incorporate them into the description of Jesus’ divine identity. Although our project is ¿nished, the discussion of Luke’s Christology of divine identity is not. We relied on scholarly works by Laurentin, Turner, Buckwalter, Fletcher-Louis, and Rowe to guide us in our research on Lukan divine Christology and we hope that our study has contributed to the works of these scholars by pointing out areas in need of clari¿cation and by attempting to provide appropriate answers. Unfortunately the scope of our study did not permit us to examine even Luke and Acts and the Unity of Luke–Acts’, JSNT 29 (2007), pp. 459–72 (461, 466, 470); Andrew F. Gregory and C. Kavin Rowe (eds.), Rethinking the Unity and Reception of Luke and Acts (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2010); C. Kavin Rowe, ‘Literary Unity and Reception History: Reading Luke–Acts as Luke and Acts’, JSNT 29 (2007), pp. 449–57 (452). See also Luke Timothy Johnson, ‘Literary Criticism of Luke–Acts: Is Reception-History Pertinent?’, JSNT 28 (2005), pp. 159–62; Patrick E. Spencer, ‘The Unity of Luke–Acts: A Four-Bolted Hermeneutical Hinge’, CurBR 5 (2007), pp. 341–66. For an overview of the recent debate, see Michael F. Bird, ‘The Unity of Luke–Acts in Recent Discussion’, JSNT 29 (2007), pp. 425–48; Joel B. Green, ‘Luke–Acts, or Luke and Acts? A Reaf¿rmation of Narrative Unity’, in Walton, Phillips, Pietersen, and Spencer (eds.), Reading Acts Today, pp. 101–19. For the unity of Luke–Acts, see Henry J. Cadbury, The Making of Luke–Acts (London: Macmillan, 1927); Green, Luke, pp. 6–10; Tannehill, Unity. 3. Tuckett, ‘Christology’, p. 153, says that Buckwalter believes that Luke has ‘an extremely “high” Christology’. However, this does not make the application of the phrase ‘high Christology’ more transparent. 1
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more extensive evidence for Jesus’ divine identity in Luke–Acts. We therefore, similar to Moule, hope that others will extend this work further, not leaving our ‘errors and de¿ciencies both of fact and judgment…wholly uncorrected and uncompensated’,4 as we are convinced that any model reader’s discussion of the Lukan Jesus without reference to the divine identity he shares with YHWH is incomplete.
1
4. Moule, ‘Christology’, p. 159.
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INDEXES INDEX OF REFERENCES HEBREW BIBLE/ OLD TESTAMENT Genesis 1.2 171, 174 2.7 69 2.8 156 2.16-17 72 3.10 95 3.20 98 3.24 166 4.1 98 4.25 98 14.22 100 15.1 97 15.2 76 15.8 103 15.17-21 110 15.17 174 16.7-14 16 16.7-13 96 16.7-12 103 16.7 95 17.1-21 103 17.5 98 17.15-16 98 17.15 98 17.17 98 17.19 98 18.1-16 72, 83, 176 18.1-15 103 18.11 94 18.12 98, 103 18.13 98 18.15 95, 96, 98 19.19 105 21.1 106, 158
21.3 21.6 21.22 22.10-18 22.11-15 24.24 25.21 26.3 26.7 26.24 29.31 30.22 30.23 31.11-13 32.24-30 32.28 32.30 32.31 32.32 LXX 35.8 35.15 35.18 37.29 37.34 39.21 42.35 43.23
98 98 114 96 16 74 94 118 95 118 94 94 105 96 72, 83, 176 98 98 156 156 98 98 98 131 131 118 95 97
Exodus 1.1–14.31 3.1-14 3.1-12 3.1-10 3.2–4.17 3.2 3.11
108 16 175 110 96 95 103
3.16 4.10 4.11 4.13 4.16 4.23 4.31 6.6 7.1 7.16 11.3 113.12 12.41 13.21 14.1-31 15.2 15.11 15.13 18.19 19–24 19.4 19.6 19.16-19 19.18 20–23 20.2 20.4 20.11 20.17 20.18-19 20.18 20.20 23.16-17 23.20-23 24.17 30.12-13
106 103 102 103 2 107, 108 158 121 2 107 150 142 100 123, 157, 175 171 155 16, 142 142 114 93 171 142 174, 175 174 70 85 134 131 74 96 96 96 174 96 174 122
216
Index of References
Exodus (cont.) 31.1-6 33.19 34.6 34.22 34.30 40.35
71 99 98 174 95, 96 141
Leviticus 1–27 4.17 10.2 19.3 19.30 20.26 23.15-21 26.6 27.9
70 142 175 95 96 142 174 96 142
Numbers 1.26 6.1-21 6.24-26 11.29 14.9 14.18 15.40 22.22-35 22.23 24.17 27.1 28.26-31
122 99 104 175 96 98 142 16 166 156, 157 74 174
Deuteronomy 2–58 2.7 3.17 3.24 4.11-12 4.11 4.24 4.25 4.30 4.32-39 4.33 4.43
70 118 156 16 174 175 174 134 100 85 174 121
4.49 5.5 5.21 5.24-26 6.2 6.7-9 7.8 7.12-14 7.18 8.2 8.18 9.26 10.12-20 10.12 10.20 16.9-10 18.15 18.16 26.5 26.15 28.58-62 30.1-10 30.1-8 30.15-20 30.19 31.8 31.18 32.8 32.11-12 32.15 33.19 34.9
156 96 74 174 96 75 108 92 96 110 100 160 96 96 96 174 49 96 83 142 96 99 99 72 132 114 100 100 171 155 99 71
Joshua 1.9 1.17 4.14 4.24 7.1 7.14-18 8.1 13.5
114 114 96 100 74 74, 94 97 156
Judges 1.1–16.31 2.1-5
108 96
2.1-4 4.18 6.11-24 6.12 6.15 6.25-32 6.37-40 12.8 13.2 13.3-23 13.3 13.7 13.20-23 14.19 20.28
16 97 96 114 74 75 103 74 94 103 95 142 96 71 102
Ruth 1.1-2 1.1 1.6 3.11
74 99 106 97
1 Samuel 1.1-2 1.11-15 2.1-10 2.1 2.10 2.21 2.30 7.3 10.7 10.19 10.20-21 12.24 16.18 16.21 20.6 21.12-13 23.17 24.8 24.9 LXX 26.16 26.17 28.13
94 179 118 154 153 158 82 100 114 155 74, 94 105 121 102 121 95 97 160 160 160 160 97
Index of References 2 Samuel 6.9 6.11 6.29 7.1-29 7.5-16 7.8-16 7.8-9 7.12-16 7.13 7.14-15 7.14 7.16 19.32 19.33 LXX 22.3 22.16 22.17 22.34-36 24.1-25 24.21
147 147 147 115 49 141 115 139, 153 115 115 141 115 150 150 153, 154 174 124, 157, 158 124 122 147
1 Kings 3.3 3.28 6.2-23 8 8.27-29 8.30-32 8.33 10.8 13.33 17.1 18.12 18.15 18.38 19.11-12 20.4 21.4 LXX 22.23
139 96 116 115 113 98 100 102 100 102 100 102 175 174 160 160 114
2 Kings 2.1-18 2.1-14 2.15-16
184 183 100
3.14 5.16 6.17 6.26 8.5 9.22 14.3 16.2 17.37 18.3 19.22 20.8-11 22.2 23.25
102 102 175 160 160 75 139 139 96 139 127, 142 103 139 100
1 Chronicles 14.2 17.18 21.1-30 21.18 24 24.10 24.20 25.5
124 82 122 95 92 92 92 153
2 Chronicles 24.19 30.6-9
100 100
Nehemiah 9.17 9.26-29
98 100
Esther 4.17 LXX 5.1-8 LXX 10.3
160 109 150
Job 1.6 3.9 16.19 22.23 32.8 37.10 37.14
102 156 124 100 71 174 100
217 Psalms 2.6-8 2.8 7.8 7.13 8 15.8 LXX 16.8-11 16.8 17.3 LXX 17.8 17.17 LXX 18.2 18.16 23.5 LXX 24.5 24.5 LXX 24.7 25.5 25.14 25.22 26.9 LXX 27.1 27.9 28.10 LXX 29.2 29.3 29.7-9 29.9 29.10 36.1 36.7 36.9 44.3 44.21 47.3 LXX 48.2 50.13 LXX 51.1 51.13 61.3 61.7 LXX 61.8 LXX 62.2 62.6 LXX
162 171 110 100 83 186 183 184, 186 153, 154 171 157, 158 153, 154 157, 158 155 155 160 82 160 96 110 160 96, 108, 123, 157 160 160 102 82 174 102 160 95 171 157 123 79 150 150 99 99 100 160 160 165 160 160
218 Psalms (cont.) 62.7 64.6 LXX 65.5 72.8-11 73.23-28 74.5-6 LXX 74.11 LXX 75.4-5 75.10 78.9 LXX 78.14 79.9 82.1 85.10 LXX 86.10 86.15 88.18 LXX 88.25 LXX 88.27 LXX 89 89.3-4 89.5 89.6 LXX 89.7 89.8 LXX 89.17 89.24 89.26 89.29 90.4 LXX 91.4 91.11 LXX 92.10 94.7-15 101.20 LXX 102.19 103.13 105.4 LXX 106.4 107.10-14 109.1 LXX 110 110.1
111.9 LXX
Index of References
165 160 160 171 73 154 154 154 154 160 123 160 16 150 150 98 153 153 146 49, 115 139 142 142 142 142 153 153 146 139 141 141 153 153 79 158 158 96 106 106 158 186 184 146, 147, 183, 184, 186 153
112.1 112.9 117.28 LXX 118.28 125.2-3 LXX 126.2-3 130.7-8 131.17 LXX 132 132.11 132.12 132.17 134.5 LXX 135.5 139.8 LXX 139.23 140.7 143.7 LXX 144.3 LXX 144.7 145.3 145.19 146.6 147.2 147.11
96 153 155 155 105 105 108 153 93 183 139 153 150 150 141 79, 110 141 158 150 158 150 96 131 171 96
Proverbs 1.7 1.8-16 14.16 17.2 18.24 23.11 27.10
96 75 96 76 77 110 77
Isaiah 2.2-4 2.11-22 4.2 4.4 5.15-16 6.1 6.4 6.7 7.11 8.14-15 9
93 121 156 168 120 72 174 175 103 167 116
9.1 LXX 9.2 9.6-7 9.7 11 11.1-5 11.1-4 11.1-2 11.1 11.10 12.2 14.12 17.10 19.1-6 19.22 25.9 28.16 29.6 29.13 32.15-20 32.15 34.16 37.16 40–66 40.1 40.3 40.9 41.8-20 41.10 41.13 42.1-4 42.1 42.6-7 42.6 43.3 43.14 43.15-17 44.3 44.6-20 44.21-28 45.15 45.21 45.25 46.13 48.16 48.17
158 158 158, 163 139 116 115 168 162 156 156 155, 160 156 155 49 100 155 167 175 103 177 158, 165, 175 174 131 161 163, 165 3 124 120 97 97 49 100, 162 158, 165 158, 165 120 120 85 175 134 99 155, 160 155, 160 165 164 162 120
Index of References 49.6 49.13 50.4-11 51.3 51.5 51.12 52.7 52.13–53.12 53.7 54.5 54.14 55.3 56.8 57.3-13 57.11 57.15 57.18 58.11 59.21 60.1-20 60.1 60.3-14 60.7 60.9 60.13 60.16 60.19-20 60.19 61.1-11 61.1-2 61.1 61.8 61.10 62.12 63.8 63.10-14 63.10-11 66.1-2 66.13 66.16 Jeremiah 1.5 2–16 3.10
165 163 49 163, 165 165 163 124, 161 49 102 120 96 115 171 75 96 100 163 114 71 158, 165, 178 157 157 165 165 165 157 157, 165 156, 165 161 161, 162, 174 99, 161 161, 163 161 110 155 174 99 133 163 167
70 99 100
4.1 10.6-16 10.11 17.7 23.5-6 23.5 31.34 32.30 33.14-22 33.15 37.20 44.20 LXX
100 134 131 118 115 156 108 158 115 156 160 160
Lamentations 1.13 2.3 2.17 3.40 4.20 4.21 4.22
124, 158 154 153 100 162 114 158
Ezekiel 1.4 1.27 3.26-27 6.3 10.1 11.5 11.8-9 13.13 14.6 16.44 24.27 28.2 28.6 28.9 29.21 33.22 36.27 37.14 39.29 Daniel 2.4 3.9
174 174 103 167 72 99, 100 167 174 100 75 103 134 134 134 153, 154, 156 103 71, 176 177 177
160 160
219 4.19 6.27 7.13-14 8–10 8.17 9.3-21 9.3 9.4 9.5 9.6 9.7 9.8 9.9 9.10 9.11-14 9.11 9.13 9.14 9.15 9.16 9.17-19 9.17 9.18 9.19 9.20-21 9.20 9.21 9.23 9.24-27 10.7-11 10.7-8 10.11 10.12 10.15 10.16-17 10.19 12.2
147 110 49 98 98 98 98, 99 99 99 99 98, 99 98 99 99 98 99 99 99 99 98, 99 99 98, 99 98, 99 99 98 98, 99 98 98 100 98 98 98 98 98, 103 98 98 73
Hosea 3.5 7.10
100 100
Joel 2.12-14 2.13 2.21 2.28-29
100 98 114 173, 176
220 Joel (cont.) 2.28
Index of References
3.1-2 LXX 3.4-5 LXX 3.5 LXX 3.5 MT
13, 99, 100, 183 181 186 14, 182, 186 173 186 182, 186 182
Amos 4.6 8.12 9.11-12
100 156 115, 134
Jonah 4.2
98
2.30-32 2.31-32 2.32
Micah 5.2 7.7-8 7.7 7.16
122 167 155 102
Habakkuk 3.18
155
Zephaniah 3.14-17 3.14 Haggai 2.17 Zechariah 1.3 1.12 3.8 4.1-3 4.6 4.9 4.11-14 6.9-13 6.12 9.9
114 114
10.8 12.10 13.7
1.6
1.7 Malachi 1.6 2.6 3.1 3.7 3.19-22 LXX 3.19-20 LXX 3.20 LXX 3.22 LXX 3.22-23 LXX 4.1-5 4.1-2 4.2 4.5-6 4.5
95 100 94, 100 100 167 156 156 156 100 158, 167 156 156, 171 94, 100 49, 156
NEW TESTAMENT Matthew 1.20-21 103 3.3 3 10.28 70 16.17 74 Mark 1.3 3.31-35 Luke 1–2
100
100 95 156 116 71 116 116 116 156, 157 114
110 177 167
1 1.1-4 1.4 1.5–2.51 1.5-38 1.5-25 1.5
3 76
12, 24, 90, 133, 135, 137, 138, 148, 190, 193 112 32, 91 42 176 187 74, 91, 138 92, 93, 99, 107, 113
1.8 1.9-22 1.9-20 1.9-11 1.9-10 1.9 1.11-20 1.11 1.12-13 1.12 1.13-17 1.13 1.14 1.15
1.16-17 1.16
1.17
1.18 1.19
1.20 1.21 1.22 1.23-24 1.24-25 1.24 1.25
92, 97, 105, 114, 148, 177 92, 93, 113, 129 94 113 98 98 95 148, 187 103, 176 95, 148, 175 97 95, 97, 98 102, 176 98, 103, 105, 171 101 99, 101, 108, 117, 129, 148– 50, 176 149, 150 100, 107, 120, 121, 133, 148 100, 101, 129, 148, 188 103, 112 95, 98, 101, 113, 124, 128 98, 102, 187 104, 178 104, 187 140, 142 113 105 93, 97, 105-107, 120, 148, 155, 176
Index of References 1.26-38 1.26-37 1.26-27 1.26 1.27 1.28-38 1.28
1.29 1.30 1.31-33 1.31 1.32-35 1.32-33
1.32 1.34 1.35
1.36-40 1.36 1.37 1.38 1.39-56 1.39-45 1.39-40 1.39 1.41-42 1.41
91, 112, 139, 176 103 113 113 114, 139, 141, 143 143 114, 115, 118, 119, 148 114 110, 115, 171 154 144 146, 147, 170, 186 115, 122, 138, 139, 141-43, 148, 153, 156, 159, 181 139, 145, 148, 150 103, 140 100, 122, 129, 138– 42, 145, 148, 158– 60, 165, 175, 177 144 117 117, 120, 122, 171 117, 119, 147–49 91, 112 188 142, 143 123 106 117, 149, 156, 162, 175, 176
1.42-45 1.42 1.43
1.44
1.45 1.46-56 1.46-55 1.46-47 1.46 1.47
1.48-54 1.48-53 1.48-50 1.48-49 1.48 1.49 1.50 1.51-55 1.51-54 1.51-53 1.51 1.52 1.53 1.54-55 1.54 1.55 1.56 1.57-80 1.57-66 1.57-58 1.58 1.63 1.64 1.65-66 1.66
117 117, 142 138, 14648, 159, 163 149, 150, 156, 162, 175 117, 144, 148, 149 143 123, 125 119, 160, 163 119, 148, 178 119, 154, 155, 166, 188 119 167 119, 167 118, 120 119, 120 120, 121, 178 120, 171 119 120 127 120 120, 129 120 120, 176 120, 171 120 114, 121 91 91 176 105, 148, 171 178 103, 106, 155 106 148
221 1.67-79 1.67 1.68-79 1.68-75 1.68
1.69-74 1.69
1.70 1.71
1.72-75 1.72-73 1.72 1.74-75 1.74 1.76-79 1.76 1.77-79 1.77 1.78-79
1.78 1.79 2.1-20 2.1-5 2.1-4 2.1-2 2.1
91, 104, 123, 175 103, 106, 112, 117 125 106 106, 107, 148, 153, 155, 156, 158, 170 153 107, 108, 122, 138, 152, 159, 164, 166, 177 107 138, 152– 54, 159, 164, 166, 168, 177 155 108, 110, 120, 176 171 107, 108 110, 168 106, 108 108, 139, 149, 155 118 108, 109, 155, 181 124, 138, 152, 155, 156, 159, 164-66, 177 108, 159, 170, 171 100, 108, 158 91, 112 159 187 42 122
222 Luke (cont.) 2.3-4 2.4-7 2.4-5 2.5 2.7 2.8-20 2.8 2.9-11 2.9 2.10-11 2.10
2.11
2.12 2.13-14 2.14
2.15-19 2.15 2.16 2.17 2.18-19 2.18 2.19 2.20 2.21-24 2.21 2.22 2.23 2.24
Index of References 2.25 121 143 142 122 122, 125, 150 161, 176 123 164, 166 123, 148, 159, 187 123, 165 109, 110, 123, 124, 128, 130, 133, 159, 161, 166, 168, 171, 173, 178 138, 147, 148, 152, 159, 177, 186, 188 123, 125 109, 123, 125, 163 124, 139, 159, 166, 167 123 124, 148, 163 143, 144, 163 163 163 178 144 123, 125, 163, 166 143 143, 144 148 148 148
2.26 2.27 2.28-32 2.28 2.29-32 2.29 2.30-32 2.30 2.31-32
2.31 2.32 2.33 2.34-35
2.34 2.35 2.38 2.39 2.40 2.41-43 2.41 2.43 2.46-49 2.47 2.48 2.49 2.51-53 2.51 2.52 3.1-18 3.1 3.2 3.3-14 3.3-9 3.3-6 3.3 3.4 3.6
163, 178, 179 148, 164 143 175 135 108, 124 164, 168 138, 152, 163, 177 164 128, 130, 133, 168, 173 164, 178 142, 164 143, 178 127, 138, 152, 166, 168, 177 144, 166 166 135, 163, 165 143, 148 162 143 143, 144 143, 144 162 144, 178 143, 144, 178 144, 146, 169 121 144 162 176 42 176 180 133 149, 181 109 168 133
3.15-17 3.16 3.17 3.21-22 3.22
3.23 3.38 4.1-13 4.2-13 4.5-7 4.6 4.14-15 4.14 4.16-30 4.16-19 4.18-21 4.22 4.23-27 4.25-27 4.28-30 4.32 4.33-37 4.34 4.36 4.41 4.43 5.8 5.9 5.10 5.12-25 5.12-13 5.12 5.17 5.18-25 5.20-21 5.21 5.22 5.24-26 5.24 5.26 5.27-29 6.1-11 6.1-4
168 168, 173, 176 169 158 146, 162, 169, 170, 175, 187 143, 145 73 134, 169, 170 112, 146 126 92 162 112 169 170 181 178, 179 169 170 169 178 169 74 178 146, 169 109, 146 151, 188 178 74, 171 169 171 151 112 171 171 109 171 135 171 110, 178 171 171 170
Index of References 6.3 6.4 6.12 6.13 6.20-49 6.20-26 6.27-36 6.35-36 6.35 6.36 6.43-45 6.46 6.47-49 7.1-10 7.6 7.9 7.11-17 7.11-15 7.13 7.14 7.16
7.19 7.22-23 7.26-27 7.30 7.36-50 7.39-47 7.47-49 8.1 8.3 8.4-15 8.11-15 8.21 8.22-25 8.25 8.26-39 8.28 8.40-56 8.49-56 8.50 8.56
140 174 187 187 169 126 110 109 139, 146, 176 146 9 151 170 171 151 178 171, 177 170 151, 171 171 106, 110, 135, 154, 158, 159, 169, 170 151 9 170 112 177 169, 171 171 109 74 169 125 117, 125, 144 171 179 169 109, 139, 146 171 170 171 178
9 9.7-8 9.10-17 9.15 9.19-20 9.19 9.20-22 9.20 9.22 9.26 9.31 9.34-35 9.34 9.35 9.37-43 9.43 9.44 9.48 9.49-50 9.51 9.54 9.59 9.61 10.1 10.2 10.13-16 10.17 10.21 10.22 10.25-37 10.27 10.28 10.39 10.40 10.41 11.1-13 11.1 11.2-4 11.2 11.3-4 11.4 11.13 11.14 11.15-16
170 169 169 100 170 169 169 49, 170 146, 173 170 49, 173 175 141 146, 187 169 178 173 150 170 173 151 151 151 151 169 169, 170 151 127, 132, 152 13, 146 169 134 109 151 151 151 111 151 109 109, 110, 146 146 109 109, 146, 176 102, 178 169
223 11.17 11.27-28 11.28 11.31 11.37-52 11.38 11.39 11.43 11.51 11.53-54 12.4-5 12.4 12.7 12.21 12.22-34 12.27 12.28 12.30 12.32 12.36 12.37 12.41 12.42 12.43 12.45 12.46 12.47 12.49-59 13.8 13.10-17 13.11 13.12-14 13.15 13.23 13.25 13.33 13.34 14.1-6 14.7-11 14.14 14.16-24 14.21 14.22 14.23 15.11-32 15.21-32
171 144 117 34, 170 170, 171 179 151 127 174 169 110 171 171 127 176 34 109, 146 109, 146 109, 111, 146, 171 147 147 151 147, 151 147 147 147 147 169 147 171 127 126 151 151 147 146, 169 171 171 127 167 127 147 147 147 112, 176 110
224 Luke (cont.) 16.3 16.5 16.8 16.13 16.14 16.15 16.16-17 16.17-18 16.17 16.19-31 17.5 17.6 17.13-19 17.15-18 17.15 17.18 17.25 17.37 18.2 18.6 18.9-14 18.9 18.14 18.27 18.38-42 18.38-39 18.41 18.43 19.1-10 19.8 19.11-40 19.16 19.18 19.20 19.25 19.33 19.34 19.37-38 19.38 19.41-44 19.45-48 19.46 20.1-8 20.13
Index of References
147 147 126, 147 147 127 110, 127, 171 109 109 170 126, 127 151 151 171 171 135 135 146 151 110 151 113, 127 110 109 117 171 170 151 135 126, 171, 177 151 170 147 147 147 147 147 151 135 124, 139 170 170 174 169 147
20.15 20.20-26 20.25 20.26 20.27 20.33 20.35 20.36 20.41-44 20.42 20.46-47 21.1-4 21.33 22.1-5 22.24-30 22.25-27 22.26 22.28-30 22.29 22.32 22.33 22.37 22.38 22.43 22.49 22.61 22.67-70 22.67 22.69 22.70 23.2-3 23.2 23.35 23.38-39 23.39-43 23.40 23.42-43 23.46 24.3 24.4 24.7 24.9-53 24.12 24.19 24.22 24.23
147 171 134 179 167 167 167 167 146, 147, 169, 171 140 127 171 170 169 174 151 126 170 146 100 151 146 151 112 151 151 146, 169 171 171 171 171 169 169 171 169 110 170 146, 187 151 178 146 174 178 169 178 187
24.26 24.34 24.36-53 24.41-45 24.41 24.44 24.46-49 24.46-48 24.48-49 24.49
24.52 24.53
146, 169 151, 175 173 179 179 146 169, 173 181 175 112, 124, 146, 158, 173, 177, 186 34, 113, 173 171, 186 135, 174
John 9.2 11.1
104 74
24.50-53
Acts 1 1.1-26 1.1-3 1.2 1.3 1.4-26 1.4-5 1.4 1.5 1.6 1.8
1.9-26 1.9-11 1.9 1.11-22 1.11-20 1.11 1.14 1.15 1.16
173, 186 174 173 187 109 173 173, 177, 186 177 176, 177 151, 187 112, 141, 158, 173, 175, 180, 181 173 184 187 174 188 179 117, 186 174 134, 140
Index of References 1.17 1.18 1.21-26 1.21 1.22 1.24 1.25 1.26-38 2
2.1-13 2.1-4 2.1-2 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4
2.5-41 2.5-13 2.5 2.6 2.7 2.8 2.9-11 2.10 2.11 2.12 2.13 2.14–7.60 2.14-41
2.14 2.15-18 2.15 2.16-18 2.16-17
94 134 174 187 167, 175, 180, 181 110, 171, 186, 187 127 188 172, 173, 175, 186, 188, 190 177 138, 17276 173 172, 173 172, 174 173, 175 117, 172, 173, 175, 178-80 173 182 173, 174, 178, 179 178, 179 178, 179 179 178 178 175, 178, 179 178 169 188 138, 172, 178, 182, 186 174, 175, 179 181 173, 174 176 177
2.17-18 2.17 2.18 2.19-41 2.19-21 2.19-20 2.20-21 2.21
2.22 2.23-24 2.23
2.24-32 2.24 2.25-35 2.25 2.27 2.28-35 2.29 2.30-36 2.30 2.31 2.32-33 2.32 2.33-36 2.33-35 2.33-34 2.33 2.34-36 2.34-35 2.34 2.36-38 2.36
2.37-41
173-75, 181 13, 178, 183 181 181 181 181, 183 186, 187 14, 133, 178, 182, 184, 186 128, 180, 183, 186 126, 187 112, 128, 180, 181, 186 181 185 126, 183 140, 185– 87 185 179 180, 185 171 140, 183, 185 167, 185 177 181, 185 162 181, 186 184 13, 181, 183, 184 148 179 147, 186, 187 179 18, 151, 178, 180, 181, 183, 186, 187 182
225 2.37-38 2.37 2.38-41 2.38 2.39 2.40 2.41 2.43 2.46 2.47 3.1 3.2 3.4 3.6 3.8 3.9-10 3.10-11 3.10 3.11 3.12 3.16 3.18 3.20 3.22-23 3.22 3.25 4.1-4 4.1-3 4.2 4.10 4.12 4.13-22 4.13 4.18 4.21 4.24-31 4.24 4.25 4.26 4.28 4.29 4.30 4.31 4.33
180 174, 182 186 169, 171, 180–84 180, 186, 187 180, 181 173, 174, 180, 182 128 174 182, 187 113, 174 129 130 169, 188 130 135 178 178 178 178 130 100 187 169 49, 187 110 130 169 167 102, 154 154, 188 126 178, 179 175 135 111 131, 187 140 187 112 106, 187 188 112 151, 187
226 Acts (cont.) 4.36-37 4.36 5.1-11 5.3-4 5.9 5.14 5.17-18 5.19 5.28 5.29 5.31 5.32 5.37 5.38-39 5.40 6.5 6.17-19 7.2 7.5 7.9-45 7.17 7.30 7.31 7.33 7.34 7.37 7.38-43 7.40-43 7.40 7.47 7.48-50 7.48-49 7.48 7.49-50 7.49 7.52 7.54-60 7.55-56 7.55 7.56 7.57–8.1 7.57 7.59-60 7.59 7.60 8.1
Index of References
128 74, 98 188 21 187 151 169 187 188 134 109, 188 176 122 112 188 128 179 175 110 155 110 175 179, 187 187 107 49, 169 112 134 134 174 113 109 139 133 174 169 169 171, 187 187 183 189 128 187 151, 187 151 128, 134
8.2 8.4 8.12 8.16 8.22 8.24-25 8.25 8.32 9.1-18 9.1-16 9.1-9 9.1 9.3-8 9.3 9.4-5 9.5 9.6 9.10 9.11 9.13 9.14 9.15 9.17 9.21 9.22 9.27-28 9.27 9.28 9.35 9.36 9.40 9.42 9.46 9.47 10.1–11.18 10.1-2 10.2 10.3 10.4 10.6 10.14 10.17 10.18 10.23 10.26 10.30 10.32
178 128 109 151, 187 187 187 128 102 128 126 189 151 187 187 187 151, 187 187 151, 187 151 151 188 151 151, 187 178 179 187 128, 151 151 187 98 100 151, 187 180 180 188 129 110 113 147 178 187 178 178 178 131, 134 113 178
10.36 10.38 10.45 10.46 11.1 11.16 11.17 11.18 11.20 11.21 11.22-24 11.23 11.24 11.25-26 12.7-9 12.7 12.16 12.20-23 12.21-23 12.22-23 12.22 13–28 13.1-3 13.2-3 13.4 13.5 13.6-12 13.7 13.8 13.9-12 13.9 13.12 13.14 13.15-49 13.16 13.17-22 13.17 13.22 13.23 13.26 13.31 13.36 13.38 13.41 13.42-52 13.45 13.48
151 112, 169 134, 178 117, 178 134 151, 176 176 134 151 100, 151 128 151 151 128 112 187 178 171 134 131 134 188 128 128 112 128 128 128 169 128 112, 128 178 128, 129 129 128 155 120, 121 140 188 110, 128 175 112, 140 171, 188 179 128 166 134
Index of References 13.50 14
14.1-7 14.2 14.3 14.4 14.7 14.8-18 14.8-9 14.8 14.9 14.10-11 14.10 14.11 14.13 14.15-17 14.15 14.16 14.17 14.18 14.19 14.21 14.22-23 14.22 14.26 14.27 15.3 15.5-9 15.8
15.11 15.12 15.14 15.16-18 15.19-20 15.19 15.26 15.37 16 16.1-3
128 24, 90, 128, 135, 138, 193 128 128, 134 128, 151 189 128, 131 91, 127, 129, 134 130 129 129–31 131 130, 131 130, 134 130 132, 135, 146 100, 131, 132, 134 132 171 134 134, 189 128 128 128, 134 128 128, 134 135 111 79, 103, 110, 171, 187 151, 188 128 106, 134, 158 134 132 100 151 98 170 74
16.1 16.6-7 16.7 16.9 16.16-24 16.16-18 16.16 16.17 16.18 16.19 16.25-30 16.30 16.31 17.20 17.22-31 17.24-25 17.24 17.28 17.31 17.32 18.2 18.8 18.9-10 18.9 18.24-28 18.25 19.5 19.6 19.10 19.13 19.17 19.21 19.26 19.27 19.32 19.37 19.47-48 20.1-8 20.16 20.21 20.24 20.25 20.27 20.28 20.35 21.4
74 13, 184 188 175 169 170 147 139 188 147 111 147 151 178 135 131 133, 152 73, 132 169, 170 179 74 151 189 151, 171 74 151 151 117, 134, 178 151 151, 188 151, 189 112 134 134 179 134 179 179 174 151 151 126 112 3 151 112
227 21.13 21.16 21.27 21.31 21.39 22.3-21 22.3 22.6-9 22.6 22.7 22.8 22.10 22.12 22.16 22.19 22.22 22.23 23.2-5 23.6 23.11 24.13-49 24.14-15 24.17 25.16 25.21 25.26 26 26.6-7 26.13-20 26.13 26.14-15 26.16-18 26.17-18 26.18
26.19 26.20
26.23-25 26.23 26.25 27.1 27.24 28.6 28.7
151 178 179 179 74 74 75, 134 187 187 187 151, 187 151, 187 178 188 151 169 131 82 75 151 180 167 174 151 122 147 175 167 187 187 187 134, 187 108, 189 92, 100, 108, 109, 188 187 100, 134, 135, 188, 189 179 167 175 122 110, 171 134 178
228 Acts (cont.) 28.19 28.22 28.23-28 28.23-24 28.23 28.24 28.27 28.31
Index of References
166 166 188 169 109 189 100 151
Romans 1.18–2.29 12.1-2
71 70
1 Corinthians 1.12 8 8.6 10 14.23
75 71 80 71 179
2 Corinthians 4.16 71 Ephesians 5.18 Philippians 2.9-11 3.5 1 Peter 4.17
179
80 74
76
APOCRYPHA AND SEPTUAGINT 1 Esdras 100 2.2 LXX 2.3 100 160 2.18 LXX 2.24 160 4.46 160 2 Esdras 13.10
174
Tobit 1.1 1.4 4.21 8.15 13.6-8
50.24 50.27 51.1 51.13-30
110 74 155, 160 34
Baruch 4.28
100
102 74 96 155 96
1 Maccabees 1.20-64 1.43 2.57 5.9-23
70 82 116 113
Wisdom of Solomon 1.1–3.19 70 3.12 97 4.1 97 4.8-9 97 8.19-20 70 9.17 99 14.21 134 14.30 134 16.28 156
2 Maccabees 3.24 3.38 6.2 9.8-9 10.28
100 100 82 134 156
Judith 4.14 8.1 8.8 9.11 16.15
Ecclesiasticus 1.13 2.7-18 2.11 5.7 10.14 15.11-15 16.17-18 16.17 16.18-19 19.20 23.24-26 26.16 30.1-13 43.9 47.11-22 47.11 48.1-10 48.20 48.22 50.1
74 100 96 142 100
96 96 98 100 121 72 124 158 96 96 75 124 75 124 116 139, 153 100 110 150 74
Epistle of Jeremiah 1.4 95 PSEUDEPIGRAPHA 1 Enoch 14.18-22 85 99.10 70 3 Maccabees 2.2 2.6 6.29 7.16
160 142 155 155
4 Ezra 7.132-140
98
4 Maccabees 1.22-23
68
Ascension of Isaiah 10.7-31 72 Assumption of Moses 10.3-6 96
Index of References Joseph and Aseneth 11.10 98
De decalogo 32–49
Letter of Aristeas 132-142 81
Quod deterius potiori insidari soleat 1.23 70
Prayer of Manasseh 7 98 Psalms of Solomon 2.33 96 9.4-7 70, 72 17–18 115, 116 17.3 155 17.26 142 17.32 160 18.10 124 Sibylline Oracles 3.11-19 81 5.284-85 81 5.493-500 81 93–99 Prologue 81
In Flaccum 1.29
174
Legum allegoriae 3.78 111 2.103 78 1.105 70 Legatio ad Gaium 1.141-151 82 1.142-151 75 1.162 78 1.166 78 De migratione Abrahami 1.115 79 De opi¿cio mundi 1.64-69 70
QUMRAN 1QH 3.32-36
De plantatione 1.39 72
PHILO De cherubim 123
96
152
De sacri¿ciis Abelis et Caini 1.134 142
111
De specialibus legibus 1.67 81 1.152 111
De confusione linguarum 1.24 79 1.62-63 157 1.62 157 De congressueru ditionis gratia 1.170 79
De vita contemplativa 1.2 68 JOSEPHUS Antiquities 1.34 4.200-201 4.294 6.230-231
6.262-263 6.318 13.282-83 13.299 17.254-255 18.4-10 19.343-50 20.102
79 79 104 116 174 122 134 122
78
Testament of Job 20.3 70
CD I, 5-12
229
Against Apion 2.195-196 74, 97 War 2.42-43 5.385
174 142
MISHNAH Sanhedrin 7.5
131
Tamid 3.6-9 6.1-3 6.3 7.2
94 94, 95 95 94
BABYLONIAN TALMUD Sotah 11b 147 41b 134 TOSEFTA Sotah 7.16
CLASSICAL Anonymous Hymn to Hermes 4.535-544 79 Aristotle Metaphysica 12.1072b
70 81 70 79
134
66
Politica 1.1254b-1255a 67
230 Rhetorica 1.10.3, 7 1.5.3-18 1.9.33 2.15-1-3 2.6.12 Cicero De ¿nibus 3.18-59 3.6.20-21
Index of References
78 75 75 79 75
67 67
De inventione rhetorica 1.24.34-36 75 1.25.35-36 75
Homer Iliad 1.1 1.54
74 73
Isocrates Evagoras (Or. 9) 9.12-18 74 9.25-26 73 9.47 78 9.62 75 9.77-79 75 9.80-81 79
De natura deorum 2.62-64 67
Marcus Aurelius Meditations 4.16 68 5.20 68
De of¿ciis 1.14-22 1.45-46
Ovid Metamorphoses 8.611-725 131
67 111
Epictetus Diatribai (Dissertationes) 1.1 68 1.3 67 1.9 67 1.28 68 2.10 68 4.4 68
Pindar Nemeonikai 7.40-44
79
Pythionikai 3.25-34
79
Plato Phaedo 230d
66
Theaetetus 176b
64
Timaeus 90a 208c-30c
65 64
Plutarch Cicero 1.1
74
De virtute morali 6–7 68 Tacitus Histories 5.4-5 5.5
81 81
Xenophon Memorabilia 1.1.2 1.2.19 1.3.21-34
73 79 79
INDEX OF AUTHORS Abbott, P. H. 33, 39, 41, 43, 44, 46, 48, 52 Albright, W. F. 78 Alexander, L. 36 Algra, K. 68 Allen, O. W., Jr. 131 Alter, R. 40, 42, 48, 52, 103 Arbib, M. A. 62, 63 Atkinson, W. P. 176 Auffret, P. 106, 107, 157 Aune, D. E. 32, 36, 38, 65, 70, 78, 143, 170 Bal, M. 34, 46, 52 Balch, D. L. 76, 82 Balz, H. 95, 96 Barker, M. 16, 95 Barnes, J. 68 Barresi, J. 60 Barrett, C. K. 20, 132, 175, 177–79, 183 Bauckham, R. 17, 20, 23, 27, 43, 64, 80, 84, 85, 98, 101, 129, 153, 163, 166, 177, 178, 183, 189 Becking, B. 81 Beckwith, R. T. 34 Berger, K. 10 Bertram, G. 104, 179 Betz, H. D. 4, 70 Beyer, H. W. 107, 118 Bibb, C. W. 4, 90 Bietenhard, H. 98, 144, 145, 189 Bird, M. F. 195 Bock, D. L. 2, 18, 121, 129, 131, 134, 141, 147, 148, 150, 155, 162, 175, 178, 179, 183 Bourquin, Y. 29, 31 Bousset, W. 4, 10, 80, 81 Bovon, F. 2, 7, 9, 101, 102, 118, 119, 122, 141, 154, 157, 158, 178 Braun, H. 8 Brawley, R. L. 22, 26, 31, 33, 90, 106, 120, 145 Breisach, E. 37 Brenner, A. 118 Brent, A. 160
Bright, P. 58 Brinkman, J. A. 178 Brown, G. 31, 34, 35 Brown, R. E. 3, 4, 90, 91, 94, 97, 98, 100– 103, 106, 118, 141, 147, 150, 152–54, 157, 158, 166 Bruce, F. F. 74, 130, 133, 174, 178, 183 Buckwalter, H. D. 2, 14, 15, 182–84, 188, 189 Bultmann, R. 10 Byrskog, S. 37 Cadbury, H. J. 195 Caird, G. B. 94, 102 Carrell, P. R. 16 Carter, J. A. 39 Casey, M. 10, 80, 171 Charon, R. 60 Chatman, S. B. 32, 41, 44, 46, 50–53 Chen, D. 77, 110 Childs, B. S. 161 Claassens, L. J. 32 Clark, G. 72 Clifford, J. 40 Cohick, L. H. 92, 143 Coleridge, M. 90, 102, 166 Conzelmann, H. 2, 6–8, 80, 90, 130, 132, 165, 175, 179, 181 Cotterell, P. 31, 34 Crawford, R. G. 9 Cross, F. M. 76, 77, 83, 93 Csikszentmihalyi, M. 60 Cullmann, O. 3, 4, 9, 10 Cunningham, S. S. 129, 166, 167 Darr, J. A. 22, 26–29, 33, 36, 50 Davila, J. R. 84 Davis, C. 58 DeVine, C. F. 3 Di Vito, R. A. 57–59, 64, 70, 73–76, 79, 83 Dijkstra, M. 81 Dionne, C. 90 Doble, P. 168
232
Index of Authors
Docherty, T. 50, 53 Dowling, E. V. 93, 105 Drees, W. B. 63 Dunderberg, I. 68 Dunn, J. D. G. 5 Dupont, J. 7, 8, 10 Easterling, P. E. 36, 46, 56, 79 Eco, U. 30, 32, 34, 35 Edgar, B. G. 70 Ehrman, B. D. 3 Eichrodt, W. 72 Engberg-Pedersen, T. 68 Eskola, T. 109 Farris, S. 106, 119 Fitzmyer, J. A. 91, 94, 98, 100, 102, 114, 141, 148, 158, 166, 185, 188 Fletcher-Louis, C. H. T. 16, 17, 84, 188 Foakes Jackson, F. J. 7 Foerster, W. 122, 124, 153 Fohrer, G. 124 Ford, J. M. 106, 160 Fornara, C. W. 37 Forster, E. M. 39, 45 Fossum, J. E. 16 Frank, A. 60 Freeman, K. 68 Frei, H. W. 43, 44 French, W. C. 57–59 Frizzell, L. 119 Fuller, M. E. 101, 174, 177 Fuller, R. H. 10 Garr, W. R. 71, 72 Gathercole, S. J. 8 Gaventa, B. R. 130, 174, 181, 183 Genette, G. 31, 94 Gerhardsson, B. 4 Gieschen, C. A. 16 Gilbert, G. 178 Gnuse, R. K. 81 Goldhill, S. 44, 56, 74, 79 Goldingay, J. 72 Goodwin, M. J. 132 Görman, U. 63 Gowler, D. B. 22, 34, 35, 44, 48, 50, 52–54 Green, B. 32
Green, J. B. 22, 27, 31, 33, 36, 40, 60, 62, 90, 91, 97, 102, 106, 108, 110, 114, 117– 19, 124, 144, 157, 160, 167, 195 Gregersen, N. H. 63, 71 Gregory, A. F. 194, 195 Grenz, S. J. 58, 60 Grogan, G. W. 165, 167 Gruen, E. S. 78 Guillet, J. 118 Gutenson, C. E. 60, 61 Haenchen, E. 3, 8, 174, 178 Hagedorn, A. C. 75, 82 Hahm, D. E. 67, 68 Hakola, R. 27 Halliwell, S. 20, 53, 64, 73, 75, 78, 79, 83, 89 Hamilton, M. W. 139 Hamm, D. 94, 95, 113 Hamori, E. J. 72, 96, 176 Hann, R. R. 160, 162, 164 Hanse, H. 94 Harris, M. J. 3, 4, 10 Harvey, A. E. 75 Hasker, W. 62 Haughey, J. C. 59, 61 Hayman, P. 80 Hays, R. 33 Heckel, T. K. 69, 70, 72, 73 Helyer, L. R. 72 Hengel, M. 4, 69, 81 Higbie, R. 63 Hochman, B. 41, 46–48, 50 Hoffman, L. A. 154 Holmås, G. O. 111, 167 Horbury, W. 82 Howsepian, A. A. 62 Hurtado, L. W. 4, 13, 14, 23, 80, 81 Iser, W. 29, 30, 33, 40 James, H. 44 Jeeves, M. A. 62 Jervell, J. 2, 3 Johnson, A. 184, 187 Johnson, L. T. 2, 3, 36, 131, 133, 135, 157, 175, 195 Johnson, S. E. 116 Jones, D. 155, 158
Index of Authors Joyce, P. 64, 83 Juel, D. 182, 183 Just, A. A., Jr. 102 Kauppi, L. A. 130 Keck, L. E. 18 Kellogg, R. 64 Kelly, J. G. 101 Kim-Rauchholz, M. 100 King, P. J. 74, 75, 77, 105, 109 Kittel, G. 165 Kleinknecht, H. 4, 5 Kline, M. G. 71, 73, 109 Klutz, T. 169 Korpel, M. C. A. 81 Kremer, J. 102 Krieg, R. A. 6, 24 Kurz, W. S. 22 LaHurd, C. S. 112 Labahn, M. 170, 171 Lacey, W. K. 76 Lake, K. 7 Lampe, G. W. H. 1, 13, 15 Landry, D. T. 102 Laurentin, R. 11, 12, 98, 114, 118, 146, 147 LeDoux, J. 63 Lee, D. 22 Lee, M. J. 65, 67, 69 Levinskaya, I. 139 Lewis, G. S. 84 Lin, Z. S. 141 Litwak, K. D. 33, 34 Long, A. A. 68 Lyotard, J.-F. 60, 61 MacDonald, P. S. 65 MacIntyre, A. 58 Macdonald, N. 80 Mallen, P. 33, 161 Mans¿eld, J. 68 Marguerat, D. 29, 31, 36–38, 40–42 Marincola, J. 32 Marshall, I. H. 91, 105–107, 141–43, 152, 162, 175, 188 Martin, R, 60 Martin, W. 28, 29, 31, 34, 35, 39–41, 44, 45, 50, 52, 53 Matthews, V. H. 75, 111 Matuštik, M. J. 59
233
McCarthy, D. J. 110 McGrath, J. F. 143 McKnight, S. 143 Mead, G. H. 60 Meinhardt, J. 81 Mendenhall, G. E. 77, 96 Méndez-Moratalla, F. 100 Merenlahti, P. 27 Metzger, B. M. 3, 156, 178 Meyering, T. C. 62, 63 Meynet, R. 119, 120 Middleton, J. R. 71 Migliore, D. L. 71 Miller, J. B. F. 102, 106 Miller, P. D. 71 Minear, P. 170 Mittmann-Richert, U. 106, 119 Miura, Y. 140, 141, 153, 158, 159, 170, 172, 185 Moessner, D. P. 2, 36, 42, 170, 174, 185 Moore, S. D. 27 Morris, R. L. B. 122 Moser, P. K. 62, 70 Moule, C. F. D. 1, 10, 15, 18, 148, 185, 196 Murphy, N. 62, 63 Nassauer, G. 22, 150, 188 Nave, G. D., Jr. 100 Newman, C. C. 84 Neyrey, J. H. 76 Nissinen, M. 95, 97, 115 Nolland, J. 36, 124, 141, 142, 150 North, W. E. S. 82, 84 Osiek, C. 76 Pao, D. W. 33, 134, 161 Parsons, M. C. 131, 194 Pelikan, J. 134 Pelling, C. 48, 78, 79 Pervo, R. I. 36, 162, 177–79, 183, 194 Phillips, T. E. 123 Pichon, C. 101 Pietsch, M. 115, 116, 141, 143, 154 PokornÝ, P. 145 Polkinghorne, D. E. 61, 63 Polzin, R. 4 Powell, M. A. 2, 27, 34 Price, S. R. F. 4, 160
234
Index of Authors
Quell, G. 4, 5 Rad, G. von 165 Rae, M. A. 26 Rapske, B. 126 Rasimus, T. 68 Rawson, B. 76, 113 Reddish, M. G. 120 Reid, B. E. 105 Reis, B. 68 Rese, M. 183 Resseguie, J. L. 27, 33 Reydams-Schils, G. 68 Rhoads, D. 27 Ricoeur, P. 59–62 Rimmon-Kenan, S. 29, 40, 43, 45, 50, 51, 54, 61 Ripley, J. J. 15 Robinson, H. W. 64, 83 Robinson, T. M. 65 Rochbert-Halton, E. 60 Römer, T. 116 Rooker, M. F. 72, 93, 96 Rosner, B. S. 34 Rothschild, C. K. 32, 35–37, 41, 49 Rowe, C. K. 2, 18–21, 24, 130, 132, 147, 148, 151, 161, 187, 188, 190, 195 Rowland, C. C. 16 Rückl, J. 116 Runia, K. 56 Russell, R. J. 62, 63 Ryle, G. 58 Sanders, E. P. 174 Schnelle, U. 70 Scho¿eld, M. 68 Scholes, R. 64 Schrag, C. O. 60 Segal, A. F. 17 Shanks, H. 81 Shepherd, W. H., Jr. 22 Shults, F. L. 59, 71, 73, 96 Siegel, D. J. 63 Sievers, J. 113, 174 Sleeper, C. F. 177 Smith, M. S. 72, 81 Soards, M. L. 133 Sobosan, J. G. 116 Sommer, B. D. 72, 80, 86 Spencer, P. E. 195
Stager, L. E. 74, 75, 77, 105, 109 Stambaugh, J. E. 76, 82 Stansell, G. 111, 121 Stauffer, E. 4, 5 Stead, C. 10 Stendahl, K. 58, 70 Sterling, G. E. 36 Sternberg, M. 30, 35, 39, 41, 51, 52 Stewart, E. C. 76 Stock, K. 102 Stone, L. G. 70, 71 Strauss, M. L. 22, 140, 141, 153, 154, 158, 168, 169, 172, 185 Stuckenbruck, L. T. 82, 84 Talbert, C. H. 36, 90, 183 Tannehill, R. C. 22, 90, 102, 127, 173, 178, 180, 181, 183, 195 Taylor, C. 57–59 Taylor, J. G. 95 Teichert, D. 61 Thiselton, A. C. 70, 171 Thompson, A. J. 101 Thompson, M. M. 4, 24, 48, 86 Thompson, R. P. 54 Tiede, D. L. 170 Tilley, T. W. 6 Trull, G. V. 162 Tuckett, C. M. 2, 8, 169, 188, 195 Turner, M. 12–14, 31, 34, 64, 70, 78, 99, 117, 147, 162, 165, 168, 175–77, 181, 183, 184, 188 Tyson, J. B. 90 Van Der Horst, P. W. 175, 179 Veyne, P. 76, 113 Vinson, R. B. 171 Vriezen, K. J. H. 81 Wall, R. W. 128, 130, 179 Wallace, D. B. 97 Waller, M. 32 Walters, P. 194 Walton, J. H. 76 Wanke, G. 95, 96 Warne, G. J. 69, 70, 74, 83 Watson, F. 27 Watts, F. 59 Watts, J. D. W. 161 Wedderburn, A. J. M. 175, 178
Index of Authors Welker, M. 58 Wenham, G. J. 71, 77 Westphal, M. 59 White, H. 37, 39, 61 Whitlark, J. A. 111, 125 Whittaker, M. 81 Wicker, B. 90 Wilckens, U. 8, 133, 162 Wilson, R. 47 Winter, P. 92, 95, 97, 146, 159 Witherington, B. III 3
235
Wolff, H. W. 64, 70, 71, 74–77, 79, 83, 105 Wright, C. J. H. 74–77 Wright, N. T. 4, 72 Yamazaki-Ransom, K. 92, 122, 124, 126, 133, 160 York, J. O. 119, 121 Yule, G. 31, 34, 35 Zaner, R. 61