6. The Function of Signs

6. The Function of Signs

As noted in above, Luke exhibits a particularly heavy emphasis on signs; he reports signs more often, given the amount of space available, than typical extant historians from his period. Signs are more unambiguously positive in Acts than in Mark or John and are far more prominent than in Paul’s letters (though the difference may be one of genre). (When I say they are “unambiguously” positive, I refer to the standpoint of the informed audience, not to all characters within the narrative world.) Signs appear frequently in Acts, especially drawing attention to the message; they are even solicited in public prayer, probably for the purpose of supporting the message (Acts 4:29–30). Nevertheless, many Western commentators on Acts have given but scant attention to this Lukan emphasis, perhaps in part because of our own cultural discomfort with such claims.

Like speeches, signs consume extensive space in Acts. The function of signs is not, however, mere exhibitionism, miracles pointing only to themselves. “Signs,” by their definition, “signify” something; they draw attention to the message in Acts and hence serve an evangelistic and missiological function. Yet signs do not point to those who work them, as if to honor their own “power or reverence” (Acts 3:12); rather, they exalt Jesus’s name as an object of trust (3:16) and attest the content of the apostolic message about God’s generosity in Jesus Christ (14:3). Signs confirm the Gentile mission and also enable Christ’s followers within the narrative world to draw attention to the gospel, which often provides physical as well as ultimate “benefaction” and “salvation” (4:9–12; 10:38). Signs also fit Luke’s promise-fulfillment schema, connecting the Jesus movement with earlier biblical prophets (especially Moses) and prophecies (especially Isa 35:5–6; Joel 2:28) as well as demonstrating the eschatological activity of the Spirit that confirms Jesus’s messiahship.

Luke reports signs in Acts especially to confirm that the Holy Spirit is with the Gentile mission that he narrates (see esp. Acts 15:12; cf. 15:4, 8). Yet I suggested earlier (, ; cf. , ) that Luke is interested in models for mission as well as apologetic. Thus signs’ overwhelming abundance in a variety of forms also constitutes a pattern of how Luke expects God to work in the continuing Gentile mission. Luke believes that the active, intervening God of Israel’s earlier Scriptures is even more active in his day after Pentecost and that believers continue to live in the “biblical” era.

Luke does not envision that the Spirit poured out on Pentecost will be poured back (whether permanently or for some sort of temporary interim era, had he been able to imagine that). The outpouring is for the “last days” (2:17, Luke’s emphatic adaptation of Joel’s “afterward”), the era of salvation (2:21), the time of Christ’s reign until all enemies are subjugated beneath his feet (2:34–35). That is, the Spirit remains active since the day of Pentecost, and the signs-and-wonders activity depicted in Acts should be normative for the entire duration of the church’s mission until Jesus’s return.

Despite Luke’s focus on Peter and Paul, signs and wonders are not limited in Acts to Paul’s circle and the Jerusalem apostles (note Stephen, 6:8; Philip, 8:6, 13; and Ananias, 9:12, 17). In fact, the prophetic, Elijah-like anointing applies to all Christians (see comment on ; ), though Luke, like Paul, does not seem to expect each Christian to experience this empowerment in the same ways. Prophecy, visions, and dreams are a regular part of the church’s normal experience (2:17–18), especially on the cutting edge of evangelism (1:8).

To argue that Luke expects signs to cease after Acts 28 is to argue from silence (since we have no Acts 29) and to ignore Luke’s narrative pattern. Readers today may disagree with Luke’s perspective on the era of the prophetic Spirit and signs, but we should not distort what he says. Many Majority World Christians involved in groundbreaking evangelism today expect signs because they believe that they still live in “Bible times” and/or in the “end time.” Luke manifestly believed both.

Signs constitute a major, or perhaps the major, means of inviting attention to the message throughout Luke-Acts, both for the audience within the narrative world and for Luke’s own. As noted above, the apostles performed many signs, but signs were not characteristic only of apostles (despite Luke’s narrative focus). They frequently accompany the proclamation of the message. Although educated speakers such as Paul, Apollos, and apparently Stephen engage in public debates, Paul and Stephen also join the majority of leading figures in Acts (educated or uneducated) in drawing attention to their message through signs (e.g., 2:43; 3:12–13; 5:12; 6:8; 8:6; 9:34–35, 41–42; 13:12; 14:3; 19:11–20). This observation does not imply that Luke expected every individual believer to do what these leading figures did, but that Luke does anticipate God confirming the message through signs in a way not strictly limited to the Twelve (or, more arbitrarily, the Twelve plus Paul). The church apparently prayed for signs to confirm its message (4:30) and to grant them boldness (4:29). Such signs displayed the Lord’s own confirmation of his message concerning grace (14:3). They belong to Luke’s theology of “power” for evangelism (see comment on ).

Luke employs the term “wonders” (τέρατα) only alongside “signs” (σημεῖα) and only in Acts (2:19, 22, 43; 4:30; 5:12; 6:8; 7:36; 14:3; 15:12); “sign” has a broader potential semantic range, but Byzantine lexicographers treated “wonder” as roughly synonymous with “sign” when the latter applied to extraordinary phenomena. The coupling of these terms so often in the opening section (2:19, 22, 43) hints at their significance: Jesus’s “signs and wonders” (2:22) fulfill Joel’s heavenly “wonders” (2:19), and the apostles continue this ministry (2:43). Not only Jesus (2:22; cf. 10:38), but Moses (7:36) prefigures this activity of signs and wonders. The phrase “signs and wonders” surely derives from LXX usage, nearly always concerning the period of the exodus. That is, Luke is emphasizing not so much healing gifts as expressed within the church (1 Cor 12:9; Jas 5:14–15), valuable as those are, as dramatic salvation-historical activity expanding the frontiers of the kingdom and carrying out the mission of Acts 1:8. Luke would expect this salvation-historical activity to persist so long as the mission of 1:8 continues. (That is, for Luke, salvation history climaxed in Jesus’s exaltation but did not end there.)

These “signs and wonders” characterize the Jerusalem apostles (2:43; 5:12); Stephen (6:8); and the missionaries carrying out the Gentile mission (14:3; 15:12). Whether through the Jerusalem apostles, Stephen, or Paul and Barnabas, all these references to “signs and wonders” occur in the context of proclaiming the message of Christ. The church prays for such signs (4:30), and the signs attest not only Jesus (2:22) but his message (14:3).

Luke connects the Spirit with the Gentile mission and also points to the Spirit as the source of signs. Other aspects of the Spirit’s activity in Luke-Acts are discussed above (see also fuller discussion at Acts 1:4–5; 2:4, 17–18), but Luke (like other authors; see, e.g., Rom 15:19; 1 Cor 12:8–11; Heb 2:4; Matt 12:28) sometimes links the Spirit with reports of signs and wonders (cf. Acts 2:43; 4:30–31; 6:5, 8, 10). Allison Trites suggests, “According to Luke, the witness of the Spirit frequently takes the form of signs and wonders which are evidence of the Spirit’s activity.” That Luke sometimes offers such a connection (though far less often than with prophecy per se) is hardly surprising, given the frequent association of the Spirit with the prophets in biblical and early Jewish thought, along with the frequency of biblical prophets (especially in the Elijah-Elisha tradition) working signs.

Thus God empowered Jesus with the Spirit to perform healings and exorcisms as acts of benevolence (Acts 10:38; cf. Luke 4:18). God answers the prayer of the church’s members for boldness through healings and signs (Acts 4:29–30) by filling them again with his Spirit, so that they speak with boldness (4:31). The Spirit enables Paul to pronounce judgment, with immediate results (13:9–11); the Spirit is probably connected with Stephen’s working of signs (6:5, 8, 10). This is compatible with other streams in early Christian theology, which aver that believers live in the life of the Spirit (e.g., Rom 8:9–16, 23, 26–27; 14:17; 1 Cor 12:3–13; Gal 5:16–23; John 14:16–17; 1 John 3:24; Jude 19–20), sometimes linked with signs (Rom 15:19; Gal 3:5). Believers thus live in God’s presence and power (a sort of “supernatural” existence), where what is “normal” (in principle) would often appear utterly abnormal to those attached only to natural existence. The possibility of signs follows easily enough from such a “supernatural” existence.

Yet the point of “signs” in the biblical tradition that Luke utilized is not their manifestly “supernatural” character. The dichotomy between obviously “supernatural” and potentially merely “natural” activity is a purely modern one, unknown to ancients, especially to Jews, who affirmed God’s sovereignty. “Miracles” in the modern sense would be signs, but a “sign” of God’s activity could be a rainbow (Gen 9:12–13, 17) or circumcision (17:11). In Luke-Acts, “signs” tend to be compelling confirmations of divine activity, especially healings, but their primary function is to attest God’s activity, not a “supernatural” worldview per se (which was not then in question). Like the emphasis on the Spirit or faith, signs emphasize dependence on the Lord who is their obvious and only source.

Because Luke’s focus on signs is on their attesting function (even when he offers them as a model for the continuing spread of the gospel in new regions), we should not look to him to answer questions that would inevitably rise, whether in antiquity (cf. 2 Tim 4:20) or in modern times, about those not healed (cf. Luke 14:13; or about various other questions he does not address). Luke has not set out to provide a complete theology of healing (or suffering); rather, he focuses in Luke-Acts on the signs that he can claim, signs that most clearly reveal divine confirmation. To argue that Luke would never have asked or addressed the question elsewhere is to argue from silence, though he does not appear to address it in a significant way in his two-volume work.

Haenchen suggests that Luke uses miracles to demonstrate divine sanction for the Gentile mission; certainly, they proved strategic in that mission. In contrast to the sometimes ambivalent function of signs in the Fourth Gospel, in Luke-Acts they invite people to faith. They attest Jesus (Acts 2:22) and fulfill God’s plan for the new era of salvation (Luke 4:18; Acts 10:38).

If Elijah and Elisha and their signs provide the prophetic model for Jesus’s ministry as prophet in the Gospel of Luke (Luke 1:17; 4:25–27; 9:8, 19, 54, 61–62; cf. 24:19; Acts 1:8–11; 9:39–41), it is not surprising that the prophetic Spirit in Acts would often be expressed in signs and wonders. These signs are worked not only by apostles (e.g., Acts 2:43; 3:6–8; 4:33 [probably]; 5:12–16; 9:34, 40) but also by some other witnesses of Jesus (Luke 10:17; Acts 6:8; 8:7; 9:12–18), though these other witnesses are not Luke’s primary focus. That is, they are primarily intended to attest the message of Christ’s grace (Acts 14:3) and hence remain as part of Luke’s model for how mission should be carried out. (The old dichotomy between an earlier, charismatic stage of the church and a later, institutional one is based on a misunderstanding of Max Weber, for whom the former could continue alongside the latter.)

It is noteworthy that although the message itself is central, the primary method for drawing attention to the message is signs and wonders. Hellenistically educated speakers also spread it through debates in public forums—whether in public settings in Jerusalem (Acts 6:9–10; 9:29), in synagogues (9:20, 22; 13:5, 14–16; 14:1; 17:1–3, 10–12, 17; 18:4, 19, 26, 28; 19:8), or in philosophic settings (17:18–34; 19:9). Apologetic speeches before courts also provide opportunities to expose the elite to the message, countering their misperceptions in a world where the elite determined what would or would not threaten public order. It is significant, however, that those without a Hellenistic education do not engage in such debates or apologetic speeches (although they do respond to charges in the Sanhedrin). Signs appear more widely.

In the narratives themselves, signs and wonders represent the primary method of drawing attention to the message among both highly educated and relatively uneducated agents of the message about Christ. Having noted this pattern in passing, we may survey it with more concrete examples here. Disciples speaking in tongues (2:4) provided the attention (2:12, 16–18) that led to three thousand conversions at Pentecost (2:41). Among the factors in the church’s continued growth (2:47; 5:13–14) were apostolic signs (2:43; 5:12, 15–16). The healing of a man unable to walk from birth raised the number of Judean believers significantly higher (4:4).

Luke reports that the Samaritans heeded Philip’s message specifically because of his signs (8:6–7). Other large populations in Judea were converted through signs (9:34–35, 40–42); so were a Roman governor (13:9–12) and probably the Philippian jailer (16:29–30). Clarifying the difference between Paul’s signs and magic led to a large number of conversions (or of marginal Christians committing themselves fully) in Ephesus (19:11–20). Although Paul arrived on Malta a refugee and captive, his ministry in healing (28:8–9) led to public honor (28:10) and hence, presumably (albeit not explicitly), also to some responding with faith. Even judgment miracles spread respect for God’s message (5:5, 10–11; cf. 12:23–24).

Luke’s approach to signs resembles, and has undoubtedly helped to shape, some subsequent Christian approaches. Later Christian movements emphasizing signs and wonders have often located them in the context of evangelism, typically reporting that signs lead to conversions. This is true, for example, of earlier Christian missionaries such as Willibrord and Boniface and of early twentieth-century Pentecostals. Some signs claims surface even in relatively neglected nineteenth-century missions reports. Consistent with this function of signs, many of the most extraordinary cures in subsequent times have been reported by evangelists among non-Christians, confirming the expectation of some Christian readers based on their reading of “signs” in Acts.

Sometimes signs drew a crowd’s attention to the apostles, but the crowd wrongly understood the signs in light of their own religious or magical assumptions (14:11; 19:13; 28:6; cf. 19:18). Because signs were difficult to ignore, when they did not invite attentiveness, they provoked persecution (5:16–17; 6:8–12; 16:18–19; cf. 14:19; 19:24–29). One way or the other, they raised the stakes and made neutrality difficult. Signs also encouraged those who preached God’s word to continue doing it boldly (4:29–31; 14:3), even in the face of persecution (4:24–29; cf. 14:2; cf. 7:55–57). Like Jesus’s ministry of healings and defense of the marginalized in the Gospel, such healings also constituted benefactions (4:9; 10:38), which helped needy believers even if no unbelievers were present to be evangelized (20:10–12).

If, as argued in the commentary, Luke portrays Paul as a sage (see comment on Acts 19:9), his portrayal of Paul as a signs worker is significant. Although this combination of characters became common in a period after Christian documents such as Acts and the narrative Gospels were widespread, this does not seem to have been common yet in the period in which Luke wrote. As one scholar summarizes, “Cultured authors in the wise man tradition tend to reject the miraculous [but] Luke-Acts synthesizes the two traditions so that the miraculous stands in close proximity to appeals to the cultured.” Parallels among the miracles of various figures, especially Jesus, Peter, and Paul, are also significant here (see the discussion of “parallel lives” as an approach to Acts in above).

The early Christians believed that they lived in the era of OT fulfillment, and hence they expected continuity with OT miracles and revelations. Paul’s concluding argument in his climactic speech in 26:19–23 rests on the continuity between OT prophetic experience and his own experience; if one accepted the doctrine of the resurrection, how could one rule out that the risen Jesus actually appeared to and commissioned Paul?

Early Christians believed that they continued to live in “biblical” times (renewed by the Spirit’s outpouring in Acts 2), expecting analogous phenomena. (These experiences today tend to be reported especially among Christian renewal movements that expect continuing revelations because they believe that they continue to live in “biblical” times and do not relegate biblical experiences to a past era. This approach seems to reflect the growing dominant trend in global Christendom today.)

Although signs’ primary function in Acts is to draw attention to the gospel, the particular character of most of the signs reported reveals something about the character of that gospel. After all, explosions in the sky would have served just as well to draw attention (Luke 21:11; cf. Acts 2:19), but the most common signs in Luke-Acts involve healing the sick or delivering those oppressed by demonic forces. That God’s compassion is in view is made still clearer by instances where Luke evokes pathos concerning those who are helped (e.g., Luke 7:12; Acts 9:39).

This character of the miracles is informed by Jesus’s ministry in the Gospel, which displays compassion (e.g., Luke 7:13) and mercy (e.g., 17:13; 18:38–39). Jesus’s compassionate activity in relieving suffering sometimes stands in stark contextual contrast with the nitpicking scholastic approach of his spiritually powerless critics (6:7, 11; 13:14; 14:1–6). His ministry to the afflicted coheres with his ministry to the poor, the socially marginalized, and those without social power, in contrast to his frequent conflicts with the elite. In Acts, it is Jesus who continues to heal (Acts 3:6; 9:34), and so the same compassion would remain in view. Although Luke’s focus in this second volume is on the church’s carrying on Jesus’s ministry, rather than on specifying again the motivation for such ministry, it may be assumed to be the same motivation already expressed in the Gospel. This also fits God’s activity in ancient Israelite theology; the purpose of miracles was not to prove God’s existence (which was not in doubt) but to demonstrate his faithfulness.

One should not infer from Luke’s reports of healings that Luke expected healing in every case (cf. Luke 14:13); even if we employ the strictest reading of his narrative and the earliest possible date assigned to his work, Luke was well aware that many first-generation followers of Jesus had died (cf. also Luke 14:13). Nevertheless, when signs did occur, they did not merely attest and garner attention for a noteworthy message; they also underlined its character as good news of “salvation” motivated by God’s compassion.

To whom would reports of miracle working most appeal? Granted that reports of miracle working do not offer the most compelling criterion for determining audience location, in this instance they cohere well with our other evidence that seems stronger. Given the geographic distribution of claims for miracle workers (as opposed to simply prodigies) in this period, an audience in the eastern Mediterranean is plausible. Philostratus reports Apollonius’s miracles in many cities of the East; although this source is much later than Acts and possibly influenced by it on some points, Theissen may well be right that urban audiences were just as open to believing in demons and other suprahuman forces as were rural ones. Thus these reports could appeal to the kinds of cities on which the Pauline portion of Acts focuses, namely, the locations already judged in above most likely for Luke’s primary ideal audience.

More objectively, we can say that Luke’s reports of signs would have appealed to the early Christian movement, which celebrated the stories of Jesus’s signs and invoked such claims in its own evangelistic work.

Luke’s use of signs for authentication was not unique to his work. Aside from aretalogies and mythography, Luke’s emphasis on signs appears heavier than that of most of his contemporaries (in the first century, though not later eras), but recounting signs for edifying purposes was not unusual. Charles Talbert distinguishes three basic functions of miracle stories in antiquity: legitimation (e.g., Vespasian’s alleged miracles), evangelization (Lucius’s conversion to the cult of Isis after his restoration, in Apul. Metam. 11), and an opportunity for behavioral instruction (e.g., Wis 16:26; Aelian frg. 89). Especially since the Hellenistic period, aretalogies had used miracles as propaganda for competitive cults, not only for Greek cults such as Asclepius but for imports such as Isis and Serapis.

Ancient writers and storytellers often used miraculous works to authenticate deities or, more often, mortal individuals. Such signs demonstrated that the person indeed possessed numinous authority to justify his claims. Patristic sources continued to use miracles and particularly exorcisms as proofs verifying their claims.

When applied to deities, as in the case of the healing list at Epidaurus, testimonies of miracles were meant to persuade people to trust for themselves to be healed; this especially applies to Asclepius’s healing of skeptics. Similarly, Mark’s reports of healings encourage his hearers to trust their risen Lord to do miracles for them; disciples are reproved if their own faith for miracles is inadequate (Mark 4:38–40; 8:14–21; 9:18–29; 11:20–25). (Mark’s promises for faith, as in 11:20–25, however, are substantially greater than those of the Epidaurus inscriptions; the former virtually made all believers “holy persons” with direct access to God, whereas the latter sought to “cushion disappointments” as well as “increase expectations.”) Miracles came to possess such propagandistic value that Romans could employ miracle claims of the Isis cult for political propaganda.

Ancient writers report the healings attributed to Vespasian before the inauguration of his Flavian dynasty—undoubtedly a form of propaganda meant to authenticate his claim to rule. Any common idea of miracle-working sages, however, normally (in contrast to Acts) applied only to “divine” sages and developed only over time. First-century philosophers emphasized the divine wisdom of true sages rather than miraculous authentication; by the second century, writers such as Lucian contested the growing popular ideal of such authentication; by the third century, many thinkers had capitulated to the popular ideal, portraying the intellectual heroes of the past as wonder-workers as well. (This trend increased as astrology, magic, and other customs from the East supplanted some of the traditional reliance on the more rationally oriented cultus of Roman religion and the like.)

The OT reported both miracles performed directly by God and those performed through his agents, certain kinds of prophets; Jewish hopes for both kinds of miracles continued in the period of Christian beginnings. On a popular level, miraculous answers to prayer probably authenticated Hanina ben Dosa, Honi the Circle-Drawer, and the other teachers Vermes has called “charismatic rabbis.” (As with Jesus and his apostles in Luke-Acts, a primary model behind ancient portrayals of some of these signs sages, such as Hanina, was Elijah.) Because Honi was before God like a special son to a father, he was said to be able to change God’s mind on matters. Hanina was so highly respected that it was said, “‘When Haninah ben Dosa died there were no workers of miracles left.’” These signs authenticated those who performed them; a holy man had power to make things happen, because he was holy. This trajectory developed lavishly in medieval Christian hagiographic tradition and still later Hasidic tales.

In similar traditions, perhaps more relevant for Acts, signs could attest one’s message. Some halakists, such as R. Eliezer and R. Joshua, also reportedly performed miracles to validate their halakah (although this story is clearly a homiletic one). Such stories not only glorified the signs worker but also offered a more widely applicable moral. Most accounts of such miraculous works by past rabbis, though sometimes hagiographic, made a point about piety or impiety; God hears the pious and punishes those who disregard proper teaching of the law, especially those who would not believe without miracles.

Most later rabbis, however, carefully subordinated miracles and even the heavenly voice to tradition in halakic interpretation. Prophets must be attested by signs, some later rabbis insisted, but elders as interpreters of the law may be accepted without signs. Vermes thinks that charismatics such as Hanina sometimes flouted rabbinic law, and although the rabbis dared not discipline these charismatics because of their divine power, rabbis became generally wary of supernatural proof when formulating legal decisions. These rabbis clearly subordinate the status of miracle workers to that of halakists like themselves. Thus later rabbis could complain that even Honi’s prayers were delayed, and explain that this was because he failed to approach God humbly.

If such reluctance to depend on miracles circulated in Luke’s day (cf. Luke 11:15–16), predecessors of these later rabbis would have rejected Peter’s appeal to subjective visions (even two coordinated ones to separate individuals to defend eating with Cornelius; Acts 11:5–14; cf. 11:15–17; 15:7–11), including his “heavenly voice” (11:7–10). Likewise, they would have rejected Paul’s appeal to his own signs authenticating his Gentile mission (15:12; cf. Rom 15:18–19). (By contrast, probably many other Jewish people were more open to such attestation.)

Some scholars argue that the rabbis’ earlier respect for rule miracles (miracles confirming particular legal interpretations) diminished further in response to the much greater Christian use of authenticating miracles. Christian miracles authenticating Jesus were problematic for later rabbis; Ephraim Urbach suggests that this may be why the rabbis stressed that one should depend on the God of Abraham, not on Abraham as a miracle worker himself. From Paul’s letters through rabbinic literature, Christians and outsiders alike continued to perceive early Christianity as confirming itself with signs like those of Jesus.

Unlike some other ancient writers, Luke uses signs to attest not the miracle workers themselves (except in the case of Jesus) but primarily their message (or, in a sense, the name of Jesus, which they bear). This message is no mere, particular halakic point but the saving claim of Jesus. Nevertheless, in one sense, Luke does suggest that the signs even in Acts continue to attest to their ultimate worker; it is Jesus’s name that heals (3:6; 4:7, 10, 30; 16:18; 19:13, 17; cf. 14:3; Luke 9:49; 10:17), and so the Jesus who healed in the first volume continues to perform the signs in the second through his agents (cf. esp. Acts 9:34). The use of signs for authentication also carries on in some later Christian sources.

This chapter has merely sampled some Lukan themes, examining them, where possible, in the light of their broader cultural framework. These themes have included, in particular, the Gentile mission, the Spirit, and the function of signs, as well as briefer perusal of some other topics. For the most part, however, I address other themes simply when they arise in the text of Acts (since commentaries are not NT theologies per se, though they may supply raw materials for them).

Even the sample themes that have been briefly treated, however, should suffice to illustrate that Luke did not offer primarily a haphazard collection of unrelated historical details but, rather, a cohesive narrative work emphasizing some major points he sought to communicate. This observation leads to a discussion of a major feature of Luke’s narrative unity, namely, conspicuously parallel characteristics in his portrayals of various characters.

E.g., Marshall, “Luke as Theologian”; idem, Historian and Theologian; Strelan, Artemis, 22; Neil, Acts, 18–22; Martin, Foundations, 53–56; Tuckett, Luke, 13–14; Arrington, Acts, xxxvii; Green, “History/Writing”; Hotze, “Zeugen”; Marguerat, Histoire, 28–29, 36–37, 42, 59–63, esp. 91; Miller, Empowered for Mission, 34–38; Eckey, Apostelgeschichte; Rothschild, Rhetoric of History, 59, 295; Osborne, “History and Theology” (on the Gospels); Shauf, Theology; Schröter, “Stellung,” 47. Likewise, in a context of accusations against the Christian movement, Luke’s legal apologetic would necessarily include theological interests (see Mauck, Trial, 22). For recent bibliography on Luke’s theology, see now Schröter, “Actaforschung 5,” and studies, noted below, surrounding particular aspects of this theology; see also sources in Grässer, Forschungen, 128–33, 270–85.

By not devoting more space to “theology” in this introduction, I am not diminishing its importance. For many, including myself, Luke’s work is part of the canon of Scripture, and even for those with purely historical interest, one cannot claim to study any ancient writer purely philologically while ignoring his or her message. This is, however, especially a social-historical commentary, not a thematic summary of Luke’s message, and I include in the introduction primarily the global issues that inform the reading of the text from those perspectives. Informed readers of Acts as Scripture (including myself) will read and reread Acts, absorbing its themes; in my role as a preacher and a teacher of seminarians, I focus on such themes. But others have summarized and elaborated these themes extensively elsewhere (see esp. Marshall and Peterson, Witness) or offered commentary from that perspective (e.g., Gaventa, Acts, for which I expressed appreciation in Keener, “Review of Gaventa”; cf. also Peterson, Acts, and my favorable review in Keener, “Review of Peterson”). I have focused on making a contribution that is not easily possible for those who have not specialized in ancient extrabiblical sources, and hence even my treatment of Luke’s themes generally addresses this context.

For more focused studies on areas of Lukan ecclesiology that I have not treated, see, e.g., Villemin, “Ecclésiologie”; Thompson, Church; Leonardi, “Ecclesiologia”; Peterson, Acts, 92–97; Twelftree, People; for earlier studies relevant to ecclesiology in Acts, see Mattill and Mattill, Bibliography, 283–88, §§3941–4007; 294–96, §§4100–4141. A major “ecclesiological” issue for earliest Christian ecclesiology (in contrast to the later Gentile Christianity) was the question of the relationship of Gentile converts to the remnant of Israel (see discussion at Acts 15, including 15:20).

This was also the pre-Christian Middle Platonic and later Neoplatonic sense of “theology” (cf., e.g., Philo Creation 12; Mos. 2.115; Rewards 53; Men. Rhet. 2.17, 438.14; 443.2; Iambl. V.P. 28.145–47; cf. Jos. Ag. Ap. 1.78, 225, 237). Those who offered hymns in the imperial cult were apparently also called “theologians” (Deissmann, Light, 348–49; Smith, Symposium, 117), a tradition preserved also in its Christian form in patristic sources (Deissmann, Light, 349, esp. on Euseb. H.E. 5.28.5).

Lukan scholars readily recognize that Luke is not writing systematic theology (e.g., Jervell, Apostelgeschichte, 91; Malina and Pilch, Acts, 10). For one thoughtful discussion of the meaning of documents’ “theology” and the applicability to a historical work like Acts, see Shauf, Theology, 38–53, 285. Part of Acts’ “theology” or message, for example, is its presentation of Paul (ibid., 290); cf. our discussion of an apologetic for Paul in this introduction, , .

See most fully Johnson, Function; idem, Sharing Possessions.

See Gaventa, Acts, 27–44 (esp. 28–31); Wall, “Acts,” 18–20; Walton, “Acts,” 30–31; idem, “Acts of God”; Bock, Acts, 33–34, 769; Wenham and Walton, Guide, 307–8; on “the God of Acts,” see, e.g., Doohan, Acts, 87–93; Karris, Saying, 49–58; Langner, Hechos, 47; Chhuanliana, “Theocentricity” (including an example of contextualization); extensively Marguerat, Histoire, 119–48; Bock, Theology, 108–28. Schwartz, “Maccabees and Acts,” 129, compares 2 Maccabees’ portrayal of God’s involvement (in contrast to 1 Maccabees). For one recent careful study on Luke’s understanding of God (God’s fatherhood in Luke’s Gospel), see Chen, “Father”; idem, Father. She notes that in response to Dahl, “Factor,” NT theology has somewhat redressed its prior neglect of the subject of God (Chen, Father, 1, 240; but see also the survey she cites in Bovon, “Studies”).

The OT and early Christian texts regularly employ the masculine pronoun for God (perhaps partly for linguistic reasons; masculine was a default grammatical gender for mixed plurals, and by now the Jewish traditional divine pronoun, and so we need not infer much theological weight from the selection of a particular gender by those writing in the Hebrew or Greek language). In following this use descriptively for Luke’s divine language (partly because avoiding pronouns for God is cumbersome and the alternatives raise additional problems), I am not implying that I think that readers today should imagine God in gender-specific (hence biological) terms or even that Luke would have made such an assumption.

Burridge, “Genre of Acts,” 15, warns that God is the subject of “only 3% of Acts’ verbs,” and that is after including Jesus and the Holy Spirit (cf. also 13–15). God appears as grammatical subject primarily in proclaimers’ speeches. Nevertheless, Luke does emphasize some of his key theological themes in the speeches.

God actively drives the Gentile mission in Acts, often in the face of his people’s resistance, no less than in the book of Jonah. The books differ completely in plot and structure, but the relation between God and a Gentile mission drives the plot in both.

God showed benefaction earlier as well, as is characteristic of him—to Joseph (Acts 7:9), to David (7:46), and most generally to Israel (7:34, 45; 13:17)—but God also shows favor to Gentiles (10:4, 31) who respect him (10:2, 35). God’s gift is clearly unearned and unpurchasable (8:20).

Some sectors of ancient Judaism accepted both God’s sovereignty and human free will (see, e.g., Jos. Ant. 13.172–73; Pss. Sol. 9:4; Sipre Deut. 319.3.1; in more detail, Keener, John, 572–73); Acts likewise proclaims both God’s sovereignty and his summons to repentance and obedience. To read later theological paradigms into the text is therefore not helpful; this is a case of both-and rather than either-or.

God overcomes human hostility and weaknesses; cf. Scholtus, “Problemas.”

For scholars’ approaches to God’s control of history, see Powell, Acts, 39–40 (especially, but not exclusively, commenting on O’Toole, Unity of Theology).

Whom God chooses to carry out a task is up to God (Acts 15:7; 22:14); whether one can fulfill one’s plans is also up to God (18:21; though this is traditional language, in a deity-fearing world it was normally sincere). Those who promoted themselves rather than Jesus became false prophets (5:36–37; 8:9; 20:30; cf. Luke 21:8).

In Acts, note the special attention that Gaventa, Acts, regularly grants this important theme.

Apart from Scripture quotations, visions, and prophecies, these characters hold far more speaking parts, suiting the usual historiographic (or biographic) genre. The dominant actors in most scenes are human, but different actors cluster in different sections (e.g., Peter in Acts 1–5; 9–12; Paul in Acts 9; 13–28), with God as pervasively and consistently sovereign behind and above the scenes.

Still less can Luke’s interests always satisfy many modern congregational settings that evaluate sermons solely by their relevance to the hearers’ personal existential states. Luke was certainly relevant to his own contemporaries, but those who wish to understand his message today must recognize that just as we must translate from his Greek to modern languages, we must take into account the historical and cultural divide when we grapple with how to hear that message.

See Black, Aramaic Approach, 2; Burney, Aramaic Origin, 9; Keener, Matthew, 552–53. Luke 11:44 may be a more original form of the saying in Matt 23:27, but Matthew’s (or his tradition’s) adaptation is fully intelligible in a Jewish milieu (Keener, Matthew, 553).

Though their leisure for study may suggest that other Pharisees, in addition to Gamaliel, belonged to Jerusalem’s elite. Perhaps Luke’s theology (against wealth) and historical tradition (about many Pharisees as being well-to-do, even if it is an exaggeration to make them a retainer class) blend here.

Nevertheless, modern interpreters will recognize that this distortion is sometimes the price of translation and application, which are necessary to evoke equivalent responses and help modern readers to appreciate any ancient text’s message by seeking to bridge the horizons.

Cf., e.g., Men. Rhet. 2.17, 438.14; 443.2; Iambl. V.P. 28.145–47.

Cf. also the “we” narratives, though here a special debate is involved (see comment on Acts 16:10).

This is not to deny the value of distilling some of his themes or of exploring their contemporary applicability, but the themes of greatest interest to modern readers do not always include all parts of Luke’s message.

Fernando, Acts, 32–38, provides a thorough table comparing which section of those that he surveys includes which points.

Dodd, Preaching, 21–23. Others (e.g., Michael Green) are more flexible here.

Soards, Speeches, 203–4.

I do not treat the resurrection here as a discrete topic, treating it instead in the commentary at Acts 1:3. It is, however, central to Luke’s story; whereas he apparently accepts the same understanding of atonement in the cross as many early Christian writers (see comment on Acts 8:32–33), his focus is on the resurrection (for this focus, see extensively Anderson, Raised; cf. Marguerat, “Resurrection,” for one discussion of the various forms of resurrection testimony in Acts). This may stem partly from Luke’s genre in the speeches, which are more designed to proclaim the basic event to new hearers than to explain the theological mechanics (an interest more characteristic of Paul).

See Keener, Spirit, 7–8; see discussion below in the excursus “Background for Luke’s View of the Spirit,” sect. 1.

Cf. Marshall, “Theology,” 14–15.

For Luke’s Christology, see esp. O’Toole, Christology (emphasizing both the variety and its coherency); Buckwalter, Christology; briefly, Jervell, Apostelgeschichte, 93–97; Doohan, Acts, 93–101; Peterson, Acts, 56–60; for a survey of studies, see Powell, Acts, 42–45; for numerous earlier studies, see Mattill and Mattill, Bibliography, 274–81, §§3814–81.

“Word of the Lord” is also a familiar OT idiom for God’s message; cf. Acts 8:25; 13:48, 49; 15:35–36; 16:32; 19:10, 20. This phrase is equivalent to “message of God” (e.g., 4:31; 6:2, 7; 8:14; 11:1), but as the message about the Lord Jesus (or even from him, 11:16; Luke 22:61; cf. 1 Thess 4:15), it might also relate to Luke’s conception of Jesus’s deity (so Bowman and Komoszewski, Deity, 161).

Probably also Acts 9:35, 42; 14:23; 16:15; 18:8, 9, 25; 20:19; perhaps 11:21, 23, 24; 13:12; 14:3; 15:40. Many other references that are ambiguous might refer to either Christ (his more common usage in Acts) or the Father, and Luke probably does not object to the ambiguity because, in practical terms, they act together.

Cf. perhaps Acts 7:59–60 (depending on the status of the variant reading), where Jesus would hear prayers for forgiveness and receive the dying, as the Father had done for him.

Usually meaning “Sir”; applied even to a relative of higher rank, e.g., P.Oxy. 1231, 26; SPap 1:338–39, lines 1, 24; P.Giss.Univ. 21.11.

See especially its use in Judaism (e.g., Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ, 108–18; Keener, John, 297–98). Sometimes it was used for Caesar (P.Fouad 8 [Sherk, Empire, §81, p. 123]; Mart. Pol. 8; Deissmann, Light, 351–55); whether the NT includes a contrast with imperial usage is debated (in favor, e.g., Cullmann, Christology, 228; against, e.g., Nock, Christianity, 34).

Cf. also, e.g., “serving the Lord” (Acts 20:19); “turning to the Lord” (11:21); with even Hellenistic divine parallels, “the Lord’s will be done” (21:14).

See, e.g., Keener, John, 300–302. On early Christian Christology in its Jewish context, see more fully Hurtado, One God; Longenecker, Christology; Bauckham, Crucified.

See, e.g., again, Longenecker, Christology; Hurtado, One God; Bauckham, Crucified.

In the context of Israel, the LXX portrays God as Israel’s savior (e.g., Deut 32:15; 1 Sam 10:19; Isa 12:2; 17:10; 45:15, 21; 62:11; Mic 7:7; Hab 3:18; Jdt 9:11; Wis 16:7; Sir 51:1; Bar 4:22; 1 Macc 4:30; cf. 3 Macc 6:29, 32; 7:16), though the title is also used for God’s agents (Judg 3:9, 15; Neh 9:27).

For discussion of this motif, see, e.g., Strauss, Messiah. Jesus fulfills multiple biblical models (as Luke 24:44 would lead his audience to expect).

For discussion of those designations, including “righteous one” possibly reinforcing the contextual allusion to Isaiah’s servant, and discussion of the semantic range of the term summarized here as “prince,” see comments .

And, by corollary, Jesus’s exaltation (Acts 5:32).

E.g., O’Toole, Unity of Theology (passim, perhaps esp. 33–61); Powell, “Salvation”; Green, “Salvation”; Buckwalter, “Saviour”; Stenschke, “Need for Salvation”; Witherington, “Salvation”; idem, Acts, 821–43; Peterson, Acts, 65–70; Matera, Theology, 68–75; Twelftree, People, 45; in ancient texts generally, see also, briefly, Keener, John, 627–28; for a survey of views, see Powell, Acts, 47–50; for earlier studies of soteriology in Acts, see Mattill and Mattill, Bibliography, 282–83, §§3931–40.

This verse’s mention of the “Most High” is not specifically Jewish or God-fearing. Presumably, this proclamation underlies the jailer’s question about how to be saved (Acts 16:30).

Acts 27:20, 31 (though divinities were trusted to do this, the term has a wider semantic range). Cf. Luke 23:35, where Jesus’s enemies debase the notion of his “saving” or bringing deliverance to others; 23:37, 39, where they debase the notion of him as Israel’s Messiah and savior.

The verb for deliverance here is aorist passive subjunctive; “believe” is an aorist active participle.

The man who asks how to be “saved” (Acts 16:30) may depend on the proclamation that these servants of God bring a message of salvation (16:17), but his question follows the form of other questions for eternal life (Luke 3:10 with 3:9; Acts 2:37 with 2:38), perhaps modeled on the question in Luke 18:18 (cf. Mark 10:17).

This is true of the cognate σωτήριον; as Simeon saw God’s salvation (Luke 2:30), so would “all flesh” (3:6; cf. Acts 2:17, 21), and this salvation was sent to the Gentiles (Acts 28:28).

Deut 32:15; 1 Sam 10:19; Pss 23:5 (24:5 ET); 24:5 (25:5); 26:1, 9 (27:1, 9); 61:3, 7 (62:3, 7); 64:6 (65:6); 78:9 (79:9); 94:1 (95:1); Isa 12:2; 17:10; 45:15, 21; 62:11; Mic 7:7; Hab 3:18; Jdt 9:11; Wis 16:7; Sir 51:1; Bar 4:22; 1 Macc 4:30; elsewhere, cf., e.g., 3 Macc 6:29, 32; 7:16; Odes 2:15; 4:18; 9:47. But the title is also used for his agents (Judg 3:9, 15; Neh 9:27).

Aune, Environment, 131.

See esp. Squires, Plan.

On the persecution theme, see Dehandschutter, “Persécution”; Mittelstadt, Spirit, 12–20; Twelftree, People, 101–9; at greater length, esp. Cunningham, Many Tribulations (summary, 337–40); in conjunction with Luke’s emphasis on the Spirit, see Mittelstadt, Spirit; Warrington, “Suffering.”

Cf. 2 Macc 7:37; 4 Macc 9:24; Test. Mos. 9. See further discussion of ancient atonement ideas in Hengel, Atonement.

Avemarie, “Aporien.”

This is not to suppose that Luke affirmed martyrs’ past sinlessness but simply to argue that Luke never connects this kind of suffering with punishment. One could argue for a relationship in Acts 9:16, but if 9:16 connects Paul’s future with his past, it is in terms of understanding the cost, not punishment.

See Alexander, “Biography,” 59–60 (citing Sen. Y. Ep. Lucil. 104.27–33); and esp. Fitzgerald, Cracks, passim; idem, “Affliction Lists.”

E.g., Cadbury, Making, 316; Dupont, Salvation, 11–33; Wilson, Gentile Mission; Maddox, Purpose, 56; Dahl, “Abraham,” 151; Senior and Stuhlmueller, Foundation for Mission, 255–79; Matson, Conversion Narratives, 184 (stressing household evangelism); Mangatt, “Believing Community”; Richard, “Experiences”; idem, “Pluralistic Experiences”; Talbert, Mediterranean Milieu, 161–73; Eckey, Apostelgeschichte, 598–600; Gruchy, “Mission”; Peterson, Acts, 79–83; Langner, Hechos, 45; Park, “Barriers”; Keathley, Mission (esp. 3–62, finding the same emphasis in Paul in 65–113); Murphy, “Perspectives” (esp. 481); Cazeaux, Actes, 339 (though viewing the Pauline mission partly as a negative rejection of Israel); Eisen, Poetik (justified by most of Israel’s rejection); survey of other views in Powell, Acts, 67–72. This may be combined with ministry to others who are marginalized, as in the Gospel (Green, “Repentance and Forgiveness”; see also below). Even if the theme is central in all of Scripture (Wright, Mission; in Acts, 514–21; in Paul, 522–30), its prominence in Acts is particularly noteworthy.

Kent, Jerusalem to Rome, 17; Bovon, Theologian, 238. The movement from Jerusalem to Rome is clearer than the proposed chiasmus in Wolfe, “Structure.”

That other first-century Christians (as well as later ones) noted the tension between Jerusalem and Rome—at least after the latter destroyed the former—seems evident from Revelation’s contrast between the New Jerusalem and Rome as “Babylon” (e.g., Keener, Revelation, 41, 369, 381, 405–7, 491, 496; Minear, “Cosmology,” 30). Rome’s prestige earned it priority throughout the empire; e.g., Nasrallah, “Cities,” 556, compares the later Panhellenion’s retention of Athens’s traditional importance while underlining the greater significance of Rome.

See Stagg, “Unhindered Gospel”; idem, Acts, 12–17; Jackson, “Churches,” 1.

Matson, Conversion Narratives, 11. On conversion in Acts, see further Talbert, Mediterranean Milieu, 135–48.

Mattill, “Date and Purpose,” 350 (though he also sees Acts as an apology for Paul, then awaiting trial).

The theme appeared widely in early Christianity; cf. Keener, “Matthew’s Missiology”; idem, “Sent”; idem, “Temple”; idem, “Power.”

See esp. Pao, Isaianic Exodus, 84–95, 226; for Luke’s christocentric exegesis consistently supporting the Gentile mission, see Meek, Mission. Roetzel, Paul, 52, suggests that the LXX translators of Isaiah had a deliberate universalist agenda, advocating “the inclusion of Gentiles in the people of God.”

See Luke 2:32; Radl, “Beziehungen,” 305–6.

See Lane, Gentile Mission, 47–48. Jesus’s parable in Luke 10:25–37 reflects a brotherly love emphasis in Luke’s work (Oegema, “Gebot,” 510–13).

See Lane, Gentile Mission, 43–47. Many scholars suggest hints in the mission of the seventy-two (Lane, Gentile Mission, 85–130; Matson, Conversion Narratives, 29–38; Luke 10:1; Jeremias, Theology, 234n3; Lignée, “Soixante-douze”; Marshall, Luke, 415; Ladd, Theology, 114; cf. 3 En. 30:2), which becomes even more persuasive if one accepts the variant reading “seventy” (for this possibility see Metzger, “Seventy,” 306); cf. the “seventy nations” in, e.g., Jub. 44:34; 3 En. 2:3; 29:1; Pesiq. Rab Kah. 28:9; b. Sukkah 55b; Gen. Rab. 39:11; Lev. Rab. 2:4; Tg. Ps.-J. on Gen 11:8; Tg. Rishon on Esth 2:22; based on Gen 10. The seventy elders plus two in Num 11:16–17, 26 may account for the variant (Danker, New Age, 125; Wilson, Gentile Mission, 45–47), but seventy-two in the LXX of Gen 10 is also a possibility. An allusion to the seventy-two translators of the LXX (Jellicoe, “Seventy(-Two),” 321) seems less probable.

The soldiers in Luke 3:14 might be Jews working for Herod; see Jos. Ant. 18.113–14. They could be Jewish “police” who accompanied tax collectors (Jeremias, Theology, 48n3), or they could be Syrian auxiliaries (Manson, Sayings, 254 [possibly]; Reicke, Era, 140), perhaps initially sent to investigate John’s activity (Danker, New Age, 47).

Cf. Tuckett, Luke, 54: “For Luke then the Gentile mission is prefigured in the Gospel; but it is not written back into the pre-Easter story.” Indeed, historically, some of Jesus’s activity did prepare for the Gentile mission (see Schnabel, “Beginnings,” passim, esp. 58; Bird, Gentile Mission, passim, esp. 3, 172).

Dollar, Exploration, 57–81; Lane, Gentile Mission, 48–57; Tannehill, “Ethics,” 120; Mallen, Reading, 132; on the theme of the poor in Luke’s Gospel, see also Hoyt, “Poor in Luke-Acts,” 97–212.

Because the theme is no longer center stage in the second volume, it either takes a second place to the Gentile mission in the work as a whole (Bergquist, “Good News to Poor”) or appears as another aspect of the same gospel to the needy (with different kinds of need).

For the παράδοξα (extraordinary matters; cf. Luke 5:26) involved in the healings, see Grassi, Laugh, 44. For the term, cf. relevant examples in Jos. Ant. 9.182; 18.63.

Cf. also Roth, Blind, Lame, Poor, 207, on the disappearance of some marginalized groups in the Gospel. Some scholars emphasize the social outcast status of “sinners” (e.g., Pienaar, “Sondaars”; Jeremias, Parables, 132), although it must have meant more than this (cf. Sir 12:4, 7; 1 En. 100:7–9; Pss. Sol. 2:34; 13:1; 14:6–7; Sib. Or. 3.304; Tg. Jon. on Judg 3:10; Tg. Qoh. 6:6; discussion in Keener, Matthew, 294–96).

On the connection, cf., e.g., Talbert, Mediterranean Milieu, 172–73. On Luke’s negative portrayal of Gentiles’ preconversion spiritual state, see Stenschke, Gentiles.

As noted earlier, the ideological commitments of ancient documents could be political as well as “theological” in the narrower sense. We need not always separate these elements.

For Paul’s centrality in articulating pro-Gentile theology, see, e.g., Turner, “Paul and Globalisation.”

Jervell, Unknown Paul, 24; Donfried, “Christology and Salvation.”

O’Neill, Theology, 75; cf. Ladd, Theology, 354. O’Neill treats Acts as the story of how the church “discovered its true nature” (Theology, 178) and argues “that Luke was writing at a time when events had made it clear that the Church’s future lay principally with the Gentiles, and that the remaining Jewish Christian congregations would have to live with this fact” (133).

See Maddox, Purpose.

Aune, Prophecy, 191.

Luke does include Jesus’s teaching about putting Jesus above family (Luke 9:59–62; 18:29) and Paul’s denunciations of idolatry (Acts 14:15; 17:29–30), but like Paul he avoids nationalism, the feature most discredited (probably even for many northern Mediterranean Jews) in the wake of the Judean revolt.

For emphasis on the Spirit’s empowerment for missions and/or the Gentile mission, see, e.g., Hull, Spirit in Acts; Stronstad, Charismatic Theology; Shelton, Mighty in Deed; Kim, “Mission,” 41–42; Philip, Pneumatology, 204–24.

On the persecution theme, see esp. Cunningham, Many Tribulations (summary, 337–40).

Cf. Rosenblatt, Paul the Accused, passim (who sees Paul in Acts as a model for how others should face suffering for the Christian mission); Rosner, “Progress,” 232–33 (Acts’ incomplete ending invites readers to participate in spreading the gospel); Menzies, “Sending,” 92, 112; Hernando, “Function,” 264. Cf. obvious narrative contrasts such as Luke 18:18–23; 19:2–8; Acts 4:36–5:11.

See, e.g., Wagner, Acts, passim; Kuck, “Preaching”; Hertig and Gallagher, “Introduction,” 2; Rogers, Ministry; on an exegetical level, see Köstenberger and O’Brien, Salvation, 111–59; cf. Keck, Mandate, 83–102, esp. 98. Harun, “Überschreitung,” sees it as a model for spreading the gospel in a pluralistic society.

E.g., Green, Thirty Years, 9–10; Noll, Shape, 24, 33–36, 123; for application for indigenous Indian evangelism in the face of hostility in some locations, see, e.g., Meagher, “Paul’s Experience.”

See, e.g., Flemming, Contextualization, 25–88. On a more general level, addressing the interface between missiology and biblical interpretation, see Keener, “Foundation.”

For such questions in Acts studies, see, e.g., Shillington, Introduction, 86–101.

E.g., colonial authorities often opposed missionaries, e.g., Turaki, “Legacy”; Isichei, History, 233; Usry and Keener, Religion, 26. In fact, free-church missionaries (in British colonies, those not aligned with the Anglican church) were usually not closely tied to colonialism (Bebbington, Dominance, 113–14). For a survey of some ambivalent perspectives, cf., e.g., Dinwiddy, “Missions” (esp. 441).

See, e.g., Park, “Survey”; Pothen, “Missions,” 18–45; in modern India, see 69–237; Devadason, “Missionary Societies,” 27–42 (esp. 32–42); for some Indian perspectives on missiology, see, e.g., Samuel and Joseph, Remapping, esp. Joseph, “Remapping.” As of 1988, Indian Christians (Pothen, “Missions,” 315–16) “had 10,243 missionaries working with 194 mission agencies,” most emphasizing both evangelism and social ministry. Current theological paradigms (Ott and Netland, Globalizing Theology) and historical perspectives (e.g., Irvin and Sunquist, Earliest Christianity; Spickard and Cragg, Global History; Sanneh, Whose Religion?) are increasingly sensitive to the range of cultures, and modern missiology has long emphasized this sensitivity (recently, see, e.g., Pocock, Van Rheenen, and McConnell, Face).

Indeed, many philosophic underpinnings for modern colonialism were originally formulated by Stoic philosophers for the Roman Empire; see Erskine, Stoa, 181–204, esp. 181. As Willimon puts it (Acts, 191), “To call Luke-Acts ‘triumphalistic,’ as some have done . . . , is to ignore Luke’s intended audience—a persecuted minority fighting for its life.” Or as Marguerat, Historian, 40, notes, the gospel spreads through sufferings: “Rather than a triumphal path, the route of the heralds of the Word is the road of the cross.” This is usually the case for the spread of Jesus-discipleship in new cultures through history and today.

See helpfully Muthuraj, “Mission”; cf. also Xavier, “Faith”; Paul as missionary from Asia in Keener, “Asia and Europe.” Without the early Gentile mission, Christianity probably would not have survived.

Some today would condemn as religious imperialism the early Christian insistence on one rightful Lord and king of all humanity, especially when it is linked with Israel’s heritage and Scriptures. Those who have experienced religious truth claims closely connected with political force are, understandably, anxious about the former, but again, it is anachronistic to read this connection into the mission portrayed in Acts, where the missionaries represented a tiny persecuted minority. (Indigenous expansion in a free society likewise is methodologically antithetical to conquistadors’ force; cf., e.g., Sung, Diaries, 62.) An insistence on a supreme Lord was a necessary corollary of monotheism (indeed, an absolute egalitarianism among sentient beings, as opposed to merely one among humans, is impossible in a universe with deities as they are normally conceived). First, denouncing as imperialistic the insistence on submission to a deity assumes that the existence of such deities is a purely subjective notion lacking knowable correspondence with reality (fitting modernity’s association of faith with subjectivity, but purely a presupposition nonetheless). Second, it insists that religious claims of universal import (and perhaps any other claims of universal import, sometimes excepting scientific claims) are, by nature, hegemonic (although this very insistence itself constitutes a claim about religious matters), but such a criticism could be leveled against any truth claims in any discipline. Truth claims enforced politically are hegemonic, but when those offered in academic dialogue or by oppressed minorities are dismissed in the same terms, one suspects that the accusation of “hegemonic dialogue” has been abused in a hegemonic manner.

Though many scholars are skeptical that Jesus historically advocated a mission to the Gentiles. See, e.g., Sanders, Jesus and Judaism, 220 (applying Matt 8:11 to the Jewish Diaspora; but differently, see Keener, Matthew, 269–70; Glasson, Advent, 149–50). It is probably not coincidence that Matthew, Luke, and apparently the long ending of Mark all report Jesus urging a mission to other peoples.

For various positions, see esp. Donaldson, Paul and Gentiles, 52–74.

See Boccaccini, Judaism, 251–65; Donaldson, Paul and Gentiles, 52–74; in Letter of Aristeas, see Boccaccini, Judaism, 176–79.

See, e.g., Hadas, Aristeas, 225 (on Let. Aris. 316); van der Horst, “Pseudo-Phocylides,” 569. Rost, Judaism, 124–25, addresses 4 Ezra as transcending limits of nationalism.

E.g., b. Giṭ. 5:9; b. Ber. 17a; Eccl. Rab. 11:1, §1; Poulin, “Loving-Kindness.” See even CD XII, 6–8; though cf. Bonsirven, Judaism, 154, for qualifications of this principle. The principle was a widespread one; Isoc. Ad Nic. 22 stresses the obligation to treat foreigners well for reputation’s sake. Ps.-Phoc. 39–40 may be directed toward just treatment of Alexandrian Jewry rather than toward witness to Gentiles.

Urbach, “Self-Isolation,” 278–84, esp. 283–84.

L.A.B. 7:3; 12:4; 4 Ezra 6:56; 2 Bar. 82:5. They are Israel’s enemies (Jub. 1:19; 1 Macc 5; Gen. Rab. 80:7), wicked (4QpNah 3–4 I, 1; Jub. 23:24; Sipre Deut. 213.1.1; cf. Jub. 15:34; 24:25–33), idolaters (Jub. 1:9; 22:16–18, 20–22). To some, even their sacrifices might prove unacceptable (y. Ter. 1:1; 3:8; Pesiq. Rab. 48:1).

E.g., b. ʿAbod. Zar. 64b; some viewed Job as such (b. B. Bat. 15ab; Gen. Rab. 57:4; cf. Exod. Rab. 1:9); some Gentiles could also show wisdom (e.g., Gen. Rab. 34:10). Martyrdom for Israel or Torah could bring righteous Gentiles into the coming world (Sipre Deut. 307.4.2). God had lower standards for Gentiles (Sipra A.M. par. 6.187.1.1).

Mek. Bah. 6.90ff.; Sipre Deut. 343.4.1; b. Yebam. 48b; ʿAbod. Zar. 64b (“the Sages”); Sanh. 56ab, bar.; 59a (purportedly Tannaitic tradition); 74b; Gen. Rab. 26:1 (Tannaitic); 34:14; Exod. Rab. 30:9; Deut. Rab. 1:21; Pesiq. Rab Kah. 12:1; cf. Urbach, “Self-Isolation,” 275–78; Moore, Judaism, 274–75. See fuller discussion at Acts 15:20.

Let. Aris. 279; t. Sanh. 13:2; Sipre Deut. 307.4.2. Naturally, idolatry and sexual immorality excluded most Gentile men from the broadest Jewish definition of “righteous”; nevertheless, individual righteous Gentiles do appear (e.g., Sipra A.M. pq. 13.194.2.15; b. Ḥul. 92a; Lev. Rab. 1:3; cf. also a third-century C.E. Phrygian inscription praising one who “knew the law of the Jews,” CIJ 2:34, §774). See further Donaldson, Paul and Gentiles, 65–69.

E.g., m. ʿAbod. Zar. 2:1; t. ʿAbod. Zar. 1:2; b. Bek. 11b; y. ʿAbod. Zar. 2:1, §3; cf. also Jub. 30:7–11; Test. Naph. 4:1. In CD XI, 14–15, they are apparently defiling (see discussion at Acts 10:23, 28); for their moral responsibility, see 1Q27 I, 9–11. For example, nursing a Gentile baby merely nurtures it for idolatry (m. ʿAbod. Zar. 2:1; t. ʿAbod. Zar. 3:3; contrast Samaritans in t. ʿAbod. Zar. 3:1), and one should be cautious with a Gentile barber (t. ʿAbod. Zar. 3:5); an Israelite who kills a Gentile is not liable (8:5); they are suspected of bestiality, fornication, and murder (m. ʿAbod. Zar. 2:1). On Gentiles’ usual sinfulness, see Sanders, Judaism, 266–70.

For a survey of ancient Jewish texts’ diverse positions on the lostness of the Gentiles, see Sanders, Paul and Judaism, 206–12; Bonsirven, Judaism, 66–70; Donaldson, Paul and Gentiles, 52–74; for a broad sampling of rabbinic texts on Gentiles, see Montefiore and Loewe, Anthology, 556–65.

E.g., 1QM XI, 12–13; XIV, 7; XV, 1–2; XVII, 1–2; apparently Jub. 15:26; cf. 1 En. 99:4; other texts in Bonsirven, Judaism, 65–68; Donaldson, Paul and Gentiles, 52–54. Some of these texts include in the judgment the wicked of Israel as well.

E.g., t. Sanh. 13:2; Sipre Deut. 311.3.1; 315.1.1; 333.5.2; b. Ber. 8b; Roš Haš. 17a; Šabb. 104a; Lev. Rab. 13:2; 21:4; 33:6; Num. Rab. 19:32; Eccl. Rab. 1:9, §1; Song Rab. 8:8, §1; Pesiq. Rab Kah. 6:2; Pesiq. Rab. 10:5; 11:5.

E.g., 4Q504 1–2 IV, 8–12. Bhayro, “Status,” argues that 1 En. 6–11 includes two perspectives (the earlier, a future promised only to Jews; the later, allowing subjugated Gentiles). Fuller, Restoration, 111–84, carefully elaborates the defeat of the nations as the dominant approach (whether by Israel’s army, as in 1 Maccabees or 1QM, 117–48; divine intervention, 148–62; or the warrior king of Psalms of Solomon, 162–69).

1QH^a XIV, 12–14; 1QM XII, 14 (in both texts, the nations’ conversion’s function is to exalt Israel’s eschatological glory); Sib. Or. 3.710–26 (second century B.C.E.; perhaps also 1.129); Test. Zeb. 9:8 (textually uncertain); t. Ber. 6:2; Num. Rab. 1:3; perhaps 4Q464 3 I, 8–9; Song Rab. 7:5, §3. In Pss. Sol. 17:30, Gentiles survive under Messiah’s yoke; for the close relationship between Gentile conversion and subjugation in many early Jewish texts, see Fuller, Restoration, 126–33. For surveys of the diverse opinions on the lostness of the Gentiles in ancient Jewish texts, see Sanders, Paul and Judaism, 206–12; Bonsirven, Judaism, 66–70; and Donaldson, Paul and Gentiles, 52–74.

Sanders, Jesus and Judaism, 214–15. By contrast, Urbach, “Self-Affirmation,” 278–84, attributes the predominantly negative attitude toward Gentiles to the period before 70 C.E., suggesting that rabbis at Yavneh (Jamnia) amended it to avoid profaning God’s name. Jeremias, Promise, 40–41, suggests that the negative view (which he may overemphasize) climaxed in such statements as that of R. Eliezer ben Hyrcanus, ca. 90 C.E.: “No Gentile shall have a part in the world to come.” But Moore, Judaism, 2:385–86, cites texts indicating that R. Eliezer was believed to have changed his mind; see Sanders, Jesus and Judaism, 215, for a critique of Jeremias on this point.

Donaldson, Paul and Gentiles, 52–54.

Ibid., 54–60.

Ibid., 60–65. Philo seems to allow spiritual circumcision (63–64).

Ibid., 65–69.

Ibid., 69–74.

Boccaccini, Judaism, 265.

See esp. Jos. Ant. 20.34–48; also see Ag. Ap. 2.210; Ant. 18.81–83; m. ʾAbot 1:12; b. Šabb. 31a (purportedly Tannaitic); Sanh. 99b; Gen. Rab. 39:14; 47:10; 48:8; 84:8; 98:5; Num. Rab. 8:4; Eccl. Rab. 7:8, §1; Pesiq. Rab Kah. Sup. 1:6; Pesiq. Rab. 14:2; 43:6. For further discussion, see Bamberger, Proselytism, 13–19 (OT period), 19–24 (intertestamental period), 222–25 (early rabbis), 225–28 (the royal house of Adiabene), 267–73 (on Matt 23:15); Urbach, Sages, 1:549–54 passim; Flusser, “Paganism,” 1097; cf. the information in Georgi, Opponents, 83–164, although his conclusions go too far.

See, e.g., Stern, “Greek and Latin Literature,” 1157; esp. Gager, Anti-Semitism, passim.

See, e.g., Song Rab. 1:3, §3; Safrai, “Abraham und Sara”; Hayward, “Abraham as Proselytizer”; Bamberger, Proselytism, 176–79. Cf. also Job (Jacobs, “Motifs”).

Levinskaya, Diaspora Setting, 19–33; Donaldson, Paul and Gentiles, 59; Cohen, “Missionize.” See further discussions at Acts 1:8 and 10:2.

Hoenig, “Conversion,” 49; Lake, “Proselytes,” 75; Sevenster, Anti-Semitism, 203; Talbert, Mediterranean Milieu, 147–48n33. Feldman, “Conversion,” suggests massive numbers of proselytes even without missions. Active proselytizing may have imitated Hellenistic models (cf. Goodenough, Church, 9; Culpepper, School, 117) and may have been stifled by the wars with Rome (Applebaum, Jews and Greeks in Cyrene, 343; Gager, Kingdom, 137; for other perspectives, see, e.g., Cohen, “Conversion”).

Because the strong majority of early Jewish literature relevant to the subject is rabbinic, I draw on it here despite its later date, though generally listing Tannaitic sources before Amoraic ones.

For a summary of the OT data, see Moore, Judaism, 1:330–31; De Ridder, Discipling, 46.

Cf. Sipra Qed. par. 4.206.1.2; Sipra Emor par. 7.223.1.1, pq. 19.243.1.12; Sipra A.M. par. 7.190.1.1, pq.11.191.1.1; Pesiq. Rab Kah. 3:16; Pesiq. Rab. 12:9; also Montefiore and Loewe, Anthology, 566. It probably still means “foreigner” in CD VI, 21, where it is conjoined with the poor as those needing aid; Ohana, “Prosélytisme,” argues from targumic usage that the identification is later. But the identification had already begun in the LXX; see Blauw, Missionary Nature, 56; Lake, “Proselytes,” 84.

Mek. on Exod 22:20 (in Smith, Parallels, 104–5); Sipra Qed. pq. 8.205.1.4, 6; Sipre Num. 78.3.1, 5.1; b. B. Meṣiʿa 59b; Pesiq. Rab. 42:1. These passages especially stress not reminding the proselyte of his or her former life; see .

Jos. Ant. 20.89–91; y. Sanh. 6:7, §2; Exod. Rab. 27:5; Lev. Rab. 1:2; 2:9; 3:2; Num. Rab. 8:1, 2, 9; 13:15–16; Ruth Rab. 3:5; Eccl. Rab. 7:8, §1; the thirteenth benediction of the Amida (in Oesterley, Liturgy, 65). Cf. b. Peʾah 4:18, which extols the piety of Monobases, king of Adiabene. Like Israelites, proselytes have accepted the covenant (Sipra VDDen. par. 2.3.3.1) and must keep the Law (Sipra Qed. pq. 8.205.1.5; Sipre Num. 71.2.1); because the proselyte could not depend on ancestral merits, his or her part in the world to come would have been acquired through his or her own merit entirely (Num. Rab. 8:9; cf. 2 Bar. 42:4–6; Exod. Rab. 19:4). Proselytes would testify against the nations on the day of judgment (Lev. Rab. 2:9; Pesiq. Rab. 35:3).

Mek. Nez. 18.36ff. (Lauterbach, 3:140); b. Sukkah 49b; Gen. Rab. 39:8; Num. Rab. 8:9; cf. Bamberger, Proselytism, 175–76; Torrance, “Origins,” 170. But although there was never consensus, many Tannaim forbade proselytes to call Abraham their father (see Cohen, “Fathers”).

B. Yoma 71b; Giṭ. 57b; cf. also Bamberger, Proselytism, 222–23. Cf. the eminent descendants of Rahab the proselyte in b. Meg. 14b; similarly, on Ruth in Gen. Rab. 88:7 (implied in Matt 1:5).

Sipre Deut. 253.2.2; Pesiq. Rab. 14:2 (purportedly Tannaitic); Eccl. Rab. 7:8, §1 (purportedly Tannaitic). Aquila, who made the extremely literal Greek translation, was said to be a disciple of the sages, though he was a proselyte; Gen. Rab. 70:5; Exod. Rab. 19:4.

Y. Yebam. 8:2, §7 (purportedly Tannaitic), attributed to Akiba and his circle. Rabbi Joshua, cited in the majority opinion against R. Gamaliel II, argued the case that Ammonite proselytes should be accepted (b. Ber. 28a), which has implications for how Deut 23:3 came to be read by the rabbis.

Justin Dial. 123.1; see Barnard, “Old Testament,” 403; Williams, Justin Martyr, xxxii. On the “newborn child” status, see the more extensive treatment in Keener, John, 543–44.

Sipre Deut. 253.2.2; y. Yebam. 8:2, §7; Pesiq. Rab Kah. 16:1, for specific kinds of proselytes. In general, they were restricted only from marrying into priestly families (Stern, “Aspects,” 623; cf. Keener, Marries Another, 56–61), although the second generation was only restricted, if ever, if both parents were proselytes (m. Qidd. 4:7; b. Yebam. 77a; cf. b. Qidd. 73a–74b), and marrying proselytes could be discouraged (b. Pesaḥ. 112b); but an Amora, citing tradition purportedly from Hillel, advocates the intermarriageability of all classes in Israel, including proselytes (b. Yebam. 37a). The prohibition against proselytes’ marrying priests perhaps reflected rabbinic distrust of Gentiles’ virginity after the age of three years and one day, taken together with the Torah’s requirement that priests marry virgins or the widows of priests (b. Yebam. 60b; Qidd. 78a, both purportedly Tannaitic). On the other side, however, strangulation, the more lenient form of punishment, could be applied to a proselyte not native-born, as opposed to one born into Israel of a proselyte mother (m. Ketub. 4:3).

M. Hor. 3:8; Num. Rab. 6:1; perhaps CD XIV, 4; cf. Derrett, Audience, 47; Jeremias, Jerusalem, 272, 323. They would be excluded from the eschatological sanctuary in Qumran, and this exclusion probably reflected some broader Jewish conceptions of their social inferiority; see Baumgarten, “Netinim”; Blidstein, “4QFlorilegium.”

B. Šabb. 33b–34a; Lev. Rab. 27:8; Pesiq. Rab. 23:4. In b. Pesaḥ. 91b, however, because proselytes do not know the law well enough, they may err by being too strict.

E.g., Jdt 11:23; Test. Jos. 4:4–6; Sipre Deut. 356.5.7; b. ʿAbod. Zar. 3b; Šabb. 33b; Pesiq. Rab. 22:5.

E.g., b. Qidd. 62a; Yebam. 24b; 47a; b. Giṭ. 1:4, §2; Qidd. 4:1, §§2–3; Num. Rab. 8:4, 9; cf. Urbach, Sages, 1:387–88, on b. B. Meṣiʿa 72a. Some did allow that proselytes from impure motives might still have some status before God (cf. y. Sanh. 6:7, §2). Neusner, “Conversion,” 66, argues that political factors may have partially motivated the conversions of Helena and Izates, though their conversions were sincere.

T. Demai 2:50; cf. Num. Rab. 5:3.

Bamberger, Proselytism, 145.

Ibid., 149–61; for the few unfavorable ones, 161–65; and mixed opinions, 165–69. Converts are as dear to God as born Jews (149–54), or dearer (154–56); Israel’s dispersion was God’s way to increase proselytes (156–58); converts were protected by (mainly Tannaitic) laws against harm from Jews (158–61). Bamberger argues that this favorable attitude carries through the whole talmudic period, although at times the popular prejudices did affect the rabbis (277–78). Proselytes had no place in the land, but neither did priests (66–67); there is also some evidence that some people were proud to trace their ancestry from converts (230).

Hoenig, “Conversion,” 43.

It also appears in more heavily Jewish Christian works such as Matthew (see Keener, Matthew, 719–20) and, to a lesser extent, perhaps John (cf. idem, John, 627, 1204–6; but cf. 149–52).

As Wayne Meeks points out, of the many religions in the Roman Empire, the only two that transformed themselves sufficiently to persist into the present were rabbinic Judaism and Christianity, both of which grew from earlier Judaism (Meeks, “Foreword,” 9).

Witherington, Acts, 439, 459; for the unity of humanity in ancient thought, see Judge, First Christians, 588–94. For Alexander, see, e.g., Quint. Curt. 6.6.4, 7, 9 (noting his Macedonians’ resistance); Sen. Y. Ep. Lucil. 94.63; Plut. Alex. 45.1–3; 47.3; Dio Chrys. Or. 4.49; Num. Rab. 13:14; for Persians, perhaps Ps.-Callisth. Alex. 1.23; for Rome, e.g., Polyb. 39.8.7; Vitruv. Arch. 1.pref. 1; Dio Chrys. Or. 3.6–7; Men. Rhet. 2.12, 422.22–23; less favorably, Rev 13:7; for the ideal, e.g., Fronto Ad M. Caes. 4.1. For earlier empires, see, e.g., Plut. Themist. 27.2–3; 3 Macc 6:5. War had also united the legendary Trojans and their allies (Hom. Il. 4.437–38).

E.g., Philost. Vit. soph. 1.24.529 (addressing a seven-century-old local conflict in the second century C.E.).

Like Roman imperialism outside Rome, Hellenism was universalistic in its cultural outlook (Theissen, Sociology, 88).

For contrasts between Caesar and Christ in Luke-Acts, see, e.g., Luke 2:1, 14 and comments on it by Danker, New Age, 24.

Fontana, “Opera.”

Witherington, Acts, 439, 459.

Cf., e.g., the Isis cult (Apul. Metam. 11.10, 15; Grant, Gods, 69–70); cf. the Serapis cult’s making converts (Klauck, Context, 63–64). This is not to say that all cults could make converts; Greeks rejected Mithraism, e.g., as too Persian (148).

E.g., Gager, “Class,” 102–3; but for all its openness (Mylonas, Eleusis, 282; Klauck, Context, 99; Evans, “Sanctuaries”), Eleusis accepted only Greek initiates (cf. Lucian Dem. 34).

See, e.g., Segal, “Acts 15,” who traces Paul’s universalism to this source. For one discussion of particularism and universalism in the OT, see Park, Jew or Gentile, 12–16; in early Jewish texts, 16–20.

Although Paul probably viewed Gentile converts as proselytes (see Donaldson, Paul and Gentiles, 230–47; idem, “Riches,” 98), lack of mandatory circumcision reduced the boundaries (on the tensions this generated, cf., e.g., Ravens, Restoration, 247–49). On Gentiles in Acts being gathered into the commonwealth of Israel, cf. Brawley, “Commonwealth.” Pao, Isaianic Exodus, 217–48, fruitfully grounds Luke’s view of Gentiles’/nations’ status in Isaiah.

On the cultural tensions between heritage and mission, cf., e.g., Pantelis, “Etnias e iglesias”; for one application from Acts 6–12 to an Indian context, see Vadakkedom, “Work.”

Sext. Emp. Pyr. passim, e.g., 3.198; cf. 1.2.5–6; Sen. Y. Ep. Lucil. 88.44; Epict. Diatr. 1.27.2, 15; Aul. Gel. 11.5.1–8; Lucian Indictment 15, 25; True Story 2.18; Phil. Sale 27; Diog. Laert. 9.11 passim, e.g., 9.11.74, 79, 90, 101–2.

E.g., for distinctive views about Africans from the classical through the patristic period, see esp. Snowden, Blacks in Antiquity; idem, Color Prejudice; idem, “Black-White Relations.”

For various cultural differences, see, e.g., Corn. Nep. pref. 5–7.

In rhetoric, Quint. Inst. 3.7.24; Eunapius Lives 495; also recommended by some rabbis, Exod. Rab. 47:5 (an older saying about acting according to customs where one visits); more generally, Ap. Rhod. 2.1017; Plut. Alex. 45.1–3; Alc. 23.4–6; Corn. Nep. 7 (Alcibiades), 11.2–6; Max. Tyre 21.6; Diog. Laert. 2.66.

Bowersock, Fiction as History, 53; more fully, 29–53. This reverted, in a sense, to Alexander’s attempted cultural fusion, more limited by his successors.

Garnsey and Saller, Empire, 14–15, noting that even Ael. Arist. Or. 26 (To Rome) reveals “firm Hellenocentricity.”

Garnsey and Saller, Empire, 19. For Roman imperial unification as subjugation of (at least initially) peripheral peoples, see, e.g., Res gest. 5.26; for conquering via conquered, see Lopez, “Visualizing,” 88.

Cf. Bauckham, “East Rather Than West.”

For studies of eschatology relevant for Acts before 1965, see Mattill and Mattill, Bibliography, 301–3; for one more recent survey of views, see Powell, Acts, 58–62.

See, e.g., Cic. Att. 2.5, more concerned for his reputation six centuries hence than in his own day.

E.g., Case, Origins, 179–80. See further discussion at Acts 1:6–7.

Haenchen, Acts, 95–96.

Van Unnik, “Storm Center,” 24, 28–29.

For the coexistence of present and future eschatology at Qumran, see Aune, Cultic Setting, 29–44. Even apocalyptic literature often includes summaries of previous history to set the stage for eschatological suffering and triumph (cf., e.g., Frost, “Apocalyptic,” 144). Most historians in Greco-Roman antiquity lack eschatology in the Jewish sense precisely because they were not Jewish (usually the case) or because they were very hellenized or wrote for hellenized audiences (e.g., Josephus and Alexandrian Jewish writers). Nothing in the genre demands these assumptions, however, and so they should not be presupposed for a document from early Christianity, birthed as an eschatological movement (cf. Collins, Mark).

Kee, Origins, 117. See esp. Luke 22:16, 18.

See Mattill, “Date and Purpose,” 350. We should note, however, that Luke omits Mark 13:10.

With Gaventa, Acts, 67 (citing idem, “Eschatology Revisited,” 37; Carroll, Response to End, 126–27).

Cf., e.g., Maddox, Purpose, 145 (recognizing future eschatology but focusing on the present); Luke 17:20–21. For Luke’s emphasis vs. Paul’s on this and some other points, see Lodge, “Salvation Theologies.” Contrast Luke 21:6–7 (and Luke’s source here, Mark 13:2–4) with Matt 24:2–3.

See Witherington, Acts, 12.

See Nolland, “Salvation-History,” 70–76, esp. 70; for the infancy narratives’ contradicting Conzelmann’s scheme, see p. 72.

Even the Fourth Gospel, which strongly emphasizes realized eschatology (Käsemann, Testament, 15–16; Dodd, Preaching, 75; Schweizer, Jesus, 164–68), has some future elements (see Kümmel, Theology, 294–95; Lindars, Behind, 66; Barrett, John, 68–69; Moule, “Factor,” 159; Kysar, Maverick Gospel, 87, 110; Burge, Community, 115).

Had Jesus’s earliest followers desired noneschatological forms for expressing their faith, such options existed in the Sadducees (Goldingay, “Expounding,” 354), and still more in much of Diaspora Judaism.

Bultmann, “History and Eschatology,” 16.

Perrin, Kingdom, 115.

Rordorf, “Theology,” 361. Some of Bultmann’s successors have appealed more directly to gnostic documents as if these provide an earlier picture of the Jesus movement than do more eschatological sources.

“To make them jealous,” as Deut 32:21 and Paul (Rom 10:19; 11:11, 14) put it.

A number of scholars have shown concern for the spiritual experience behind the text (e.g., Dunn, Jesus and Spirit; Fee, Paul, Spirit, and People; idem, Presence).

Cf. Chrysostom’s title “Gospel of the Holy Spirit” noted below.

For surveys of Acts texts about the Spirit, see, e.g., Haya-Prats, Believers; Warrington, Discovering, 51–74 (for the Gospel, 23–34); Lampe, “Spirit in Luke”; Neil, Acts, 52–60; Trocmé, Esprit-Saint, 19–44; Stalder, “Geist”; Bruce, “Presentation of the Spirit”; Mangatt, “Spirit and Church”; Neves, “História e Espírito”; Edanad, “Spirit and Community”; Gaventa, Acts, 35–39; Karris, Saying, 105–17; Doohan, Acts, 101–8; Coleman, “Dynamic” (with an application emphasis); Thomas, “Charismatic Structure” (for its centrality); Fitzmyer, “Role of Spirit”; Marguerat, Histoire, 149–74; Dumais, Communauté (especially in relation to the community); Allen, Preaching, 71–87 (with an application emphasis); Jervell, Apostelgeschichte, 97–99; Eckey, Apostelgeschichte, 617–22; Dormeyer and Galindo, Apostelgeschichte, 21–22; Rogers, Ministry, 58–88; Bruni, “Spirito”; Walton, “Beginning,” 464–65; Robinson and Wall, Called, 121–30; Hamilton, “Theology of Spirit”; Puskas and Crump, Introduction, 135–37; Peterson, Acts, 60–65; Langner, Hechos, 275–76; Keener, “Luke’s Pneumatology.” Mattill and Mattill, Bibliography, 270–74, §§3764–74, cite a number of earlier studies (e.g., Allen, Pentecost; Baer, Heilige Geist; Dana, Holy Spirit; Bonnard, “Esprit Saint”), including unpublished theses and studies from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. For a survey of views about receiving the Spirit, see Turner, “Significance of Receiving”; for a survey of views about the Spirit in Luke-Acts, see esp. Bovon, Theologian, 198–238 (for a chronological bibliography, see 198–201); much more briefly, Powell, Acts, 50–56. Stagg, Acts, 5–9, contends that the Spirit is not Acts’ primary focus (although a prominent one, 8) because it is not mentioned everywhere, but it is far more pervasive than Stagg’s genuinely helpful “unhindered” emphasis!

Hull, Spirit in Acts, 12. This emphasis is even clearer if we restrict consideration to the exact phrase, “holy Spirit” (Haya-Prats, Believers, 3–5). Presence or absence of the article is not conceptually significant; although Haya-Prats, Believers, 13–16, 22–28, follows O. Proksch in allowing a general pattern of differentiation, it is not very consistent, and he charts more relevant grammatical patterns on 22–26. Turner, Grammatical Insights, 18, suggests that the anarthrous use in Acts 2:4 but articular use in 2:33, 38 fit usage for “the definite article with proper names,” treating the Spirit as “a divine person”; in my opinion, though, his approach leads to absurd results in classifying Luke’s pneumatological references (17–22). Turner, “Spirit Endowment,” classifies seventy-five references to the Spirit in Luke-Acts in six categories (though one could classify the references by various other criteria). The Western text amplifies this emphasis on the Spirit even further (Bruce, Acts³, 75).

Marshall, Historian and Theologian, 91, noting that most references to the Spirit not found in the other Gospels concern testimony to Jesus at his birth (and noting the Gospel’s use as fitting the dominance of the Spirit in Acts).

Mangatt, “Spirit and Church”; Edanad, “Spirit and Community”; Miller, Empowered for Mission, 62, 69 (noting [133] that although Luke focuses on just key episodes, many of these include empowerment by the Spirit); Cheum, “Spirit and Mission,” 3–12.

Chrys. Hom. Acts 1.5, cited in Bruce, Acts³, 61n3; Bock, Acts, 36. In more recent times the phrase has been attributed to Ehrhardt, “Construction and Purpose,” 67 (as cited in Powell, Acts, 50).

Stronstad, Charismatic Theology, 34–48, with special emphasis on prophetic inspiration.

Hays, Moral Vision, 135 (using conventional academic, not denominational, parlance). Keck, Mandate, 51, likewise points out that one problem with relating to Luke’s perspective on the Spirit is “that the churches we actually know often seem bereft of the Spirit,” often dependent on bureaucracy, investments, etc. (today we might add marketing).

See, e.g., Stronstad, Charismatic Theology, 51; Talbert, Patterns, 16; further comment on Acts 1:5.

E.g., Wilson, Gentile Mission, 40; Marshall, Historian and Theologian, 91; extensively, Schreck, “Nazareth Pericope.” With regard to its significance, cf. also the possible chiasmus in the passage (Bailey, Poet, 68; Tiede, Prophecy, 35).

For Jesus’s role in Luke 4:16–30 as paradigmatic for his followers, see, e.g., Brawley, Luke-Acts and Jews, 24–25.

White, Initiation, 189.

“Power” in Luke-Acts connects with Jesus’s and the church’s mission (Luke 1:17, 35; 4:14; 24:49; Acts 1:8; 4:33; cf. Luke 21:27) and often with attesting “signs” (Luke 4:36; 5:17; 6:19; 8:46; 9:1; Acts 3:12; 4:7; 6:8; 10:38). Luke, like Paul (Rom 1:4; 15:13, 19; 1 Cor 2:4; Eph 3:16; 1 Thess 1:5; cf. 2 Tim 1:7), often couples the Spirit with power, especially in key texts (Luke 1:17, 35; 4:14, 36; Acts 1:8; 10:38). Cf. Strelan, Strange Acts, 59–63, associating “spirit” with power more generally.

For one discussion of the earliest movement’s growth rate, see Keener, “Plausibility.”

For this interpretation of the Q saying, see my argument in Keener, Matthew, 127–28; cf. Menzies, Development, 137–44; the careful treatment in Bock, Theology, 213–18.

See, e.g., Mek. Besh. 7.135ff. For few being worthy and the generation unworthy, see b. Soṭah 13:3–4; y. ʿAbod. Zar. 3:1, §2; Hor. 3:5, §3; Soṭah 9:16, §2; Song Rab. 8:9, §3; the same is said of the Shekinah (e.g., ʾAbot R. Nat. 14 A; b. Sanh. 11a, bar.; Soṭah 48b). But elsewhere a good deed or a pious life can merit the Holy Spirit (b. Soṭah 9:15; b. Soṭah 13:2; ʾAbot R. Nat. 11, §28 B; b. Sukkah 28a, bar.; Exod. Rab. 5:20; Lev. Rab. 35:7; Song Rab. 1:1, §9) or the Shekinah for oneself (Sipre Deut. 173.1.3; ʾAbot R. Nat. 28, §57 B; b. B. Bat. 10a) or for Israel (Num. Rab. 12:21) or can merit prophets (Sipre Deut. 176.1.1; 176.2.2) or prophecy (b. Sanh. 39b). Similar statements about worthiness appear elsewhere in the rabbis (e.g., t. Sanh. 4:7; cf. 3 En. 2:4). But the “gift” of the Spirit is not unusual Jewish language (e.g., Wis 9:17; cf. Sib. Or. 4.46, 189–90; cf. Wisdom in Sir 1:10; Wis 8:21).

So also various authors (e.g., Stronstad, Charismatic Theology; Keener, Gift, 157–68); Yong, Spirit Poured, 119, sees the baptism in the Spirit as including both salvation and empowerment, at different levels (cf. Atkinson, “Luke-Acts”). Wenk, Power, 315–16, also denies the distinction between “prophetic” and “conversion.” I would concur that a distinction between the Spirit in conversion and afterward is not Lukan (Luke shows little interest in sequence unless it is to rid us of emphasizing it); to contrast prophetic and conversion categories is to mix functional and temporal categories. In my view, John the Baptist’s original phrase encompasses the entire sphere of the Spirit’s eschatological work; nevertheless, Luke plainly emphasizes the empowerment dimension (see Acts 1:8). The Holy Spirit certainly is eschatological, associated with restoration (as I have argued earlier; Keener, Gift, 145–46), but the manifestations in Luke-Acts are especially (though not exclusively) prophetic (see Acts 2:17–18), as one can see easily enough by simply surveying all the passages in Acts referring to the Spirit’s activity. The association with conversion occurs at the theological level (as in 2:38), but in narratives, even when the Spirit is received at conversion, this reception is often expressed in a charismatic-prophetic way (10:44–48). That Luke’s emphasis on the Spirit is on prophetic empowerment rather than on salvation or sanctification is clear enough at the textual level; see, e.g., Haya-Prats, Believers, passim (esp. xvii, 138, 192, 237), who notes that salvific features are instead focused on Jesus (192). Nevertheless, H. Gunkel overstates the contrast with Paul (who emphasizes salvation or sanctification, but also includes charismatic empowerment; cf. Stonehouse, Areopagus, 72, 86).

Paul often portrays ministry in terms of spiritual gifts, which he views in terms of members of Christ’s body, a status achieved at conversion. For χαρίσματα as “ministries,” see Aker, “Gifts.”

In addition to preserving accurately the diverse experiences of early Christianity (even at the expense of his own schema in Acts 2:38), Luke may find some theological import, reporting these variations on the pattern to demonstrate God’s sovereignty as well as to offer literary variety in his narrative. Many scholars note the variation (see comment at Acts 8:15–16).

That is, the primary issue of import is not a “second” experience per se but multiple experiences of empowerment as needed, alongside a continuous state of being “full” of the Spirit in some passages. See, e.g., Keener, Gift, 166–68; also Carson, Showing Spirit, 160.

In the same way, Luke’s portrayal of prophecy is far less “neat” than modern theological interpreters might like; cf. Acts 21:4.

As broadly conceived: the empowerment that ancient prophets experienced, including, for those following the Elijah/Elisha model (on which see comment on ), signs and wonders.

Some even see Acts 2:38 as making conversion merely the prerequisite for receiving the Spirit in the dominant Lukan sense—i.e., for empowerment. See comment on .

Cf., e.g., 4Q504 1–2 V, 15; 4Q504 4 5; 4Q506 131–32 11.

Sterling, Ancestral Philosophy, 171–80, esp. 180.

Some scholars associate the Spirit almost exclusively with empowerment for witness (esp. Menzies, Empowered; Stronstad, Prophethood, esp. 121–22; Haya-Prats, Believers, 31, 34, 192); most scholars who feel that this first group of scholars sometimes overstates the case nevertheless associate the Spirit in Acts primarily with this emphasis (e.g., Walton, “Acts,” 29, citing also Dunn and Turner; Cho, Spirit and Kingdom, 136, citing “most scholars,” including myself). Read, “Spirit,” notes four connected pneumatological emphases in Acts (including the prophetic element). Levison, Filled, 425–26, notes Luke’s emphasis on inspired speech but also his valuing of sober intellect.

On Jesus as prophet in Luke’s Gospel, see esp. Stronstad, Prophethood, 35–53. (Croatto, “Prophet,” also emphasizes Jesus’s prophetic role in Luke-Acts, though contrasting this too much with a messianic approach.) On Luke’s portrayal of prophetic themes (associated with Jesus’s movement) versus conventional priestly hostility, echoing Israel’s earlier history, see helpfully Phillips, “Prophets.”

As Hur, Reading, 274, observes, the Spirit appears “at every plot-stage” in Acts.

One may note that Luke employs the language of “promise” both for the Spirit (Luke 24:49; Acts 1:4; 2:33–39) and earlier promises to Israel (7:5, 17; 13:23, 32–33), a promise climaxing concretely in the eschatological resurrection of the righteous (26:6–7).

See discussion in the excursus at Acts 2:17.

Aune, Cultic Setting, passim (especially on Qumran). The association of the Spirit and the end time in the rabbis is mostly late and peripheral (cf. Menzies, Empowered, 94–98, who suspects that the association was not dominant in first-century Judaism; cf. also 232–43). Wenk, Power, 56–111, traces the connection between the Spirit and covenant renewal in early Jewish sources.

See Keener, “Tongues.”

For this theme, see esp. Pao, Isaianic Exodus. On the Spirit and the Gentile mission, see, e.g., Philip, Pneumatology, 204–24; briefly, Langner, Hechos, 287.

Aletti, “Testimoni” (focusing on the parallel with Jesus’s passion) points out the lack of emphasis on the Spirit in Acts 22–26. In view of the promises in Luke 12:11–12 (cf. 21:13–14), however, we must assume the Spirit’s activity in the defense speeches; other texts show that the Spirit was active during (Acts 20:22–23; 21:4, 11) and after (28:8) this period in Paul’s life.

Paul’s establishment of faith communities rooted in Diaspora Judaism but including uncircumcised Gentiles clearly exerted an influence on Luke and perhaps on many other streams of early Christian thought as well (cf. Rev 5:9; 7:9).

Cf. also, e.g., Hur, Reading, 276.

Cf., e.g., O’Toole, Unity of Theology, 109–48. Just as Luke moves from heritage to mission in Acts yet does not wish to repudiate heritage (in which his entire story is grounded), and as “kingdom,” appearing roughly forty-five times in the Gospel yet mentioned only rarely (eight times) in Acts, remains an important concept (featured in Acts 1:3 and 28:23, 31, thus framing Acts). For the centrality of concerns for justice and the poor in Lukan theology, see, e.g., Cassidy, Politics; Ringe, Liberation; Green, “Good News”; Langner, Hechos, 45; discussion at Acts 2:44–45.

Among theologians today, this emphasis on shared ministry appears in, e.g., Sanders, Margins; cf. idem, Ethics, 115.

The Spirit also brings christocentric prophecy in Luke 1:41, 67; 2:25–27. For the christocentric aim of the Spirit, see Twelftree, People, 205–6 (as in John 15:26–16:15).

Subsequent analogies in charismatic traditions could be multiplied. One may compare for example the prophecies that led two Pentecostals to go to a certain “Para”—of which neither had heard but which they learned was a state in Brazil—which resulted in the founding of a major segment of Brazilian Pentecostalism, altogether now tens of millions strong; see Anderson, Pentecostalism, 71–72.

See discussion on Acts 2:32–36, esp. work by Max Turner. Tremolada, “Gesù e lo Spirito,” notes the conjunction of Christology and pneumatology at Luke 1:35; 3:21–22 and (in a different way) Acts 2:32–36.

Apart from its christological context, one could read Luke 3:16 as promising that the coming one was God himself (Keener, Matthew, 130). Naturally for Luke and early Christians, such a distinction was not strictly necessary.

Strelan, Strange Acts, 53, citing 1QS IV, 21; IX, 3–4 (apparently without recognition that this Qumran view represents a relatively isolated stream of Jewish expectation; cf. Keener, Spirit, 8–10).

See, e.g., Keener, Spirit, 135–89.

Cho, Spirit and Kingdom, 136, cites for salvation Luke 1:35 but notes that (138) this involves the broader issue of salvation history and that (138–40) the same context associates the Spirit even more often with prophecy (Luke 1:15, 17, 67; 2:25–27). Luke connects the Spirit with proclamation, not (in contrast to Paul) with kingdom blessings such as sonship (160–95; idem, “Spirit and Kingdom”).

Wenk, Power, argues (against Menzies) that Luke associates the Spirit not just with prophecy but with covenant renewal (see 118, 252–53); I would argue that, despite such associations in early Judaism (Wenk, Power, 56–111), the dominant emphasis in both early Judaism and Luke-Acts is prophetic (fitting Menzies’s point; cf. Keener, Spirit, 10–13), though Wenk is, of course, correct about the larger sign of God’s presence, of which even prophetic renewal is a part. (Wenk himself is not denying the prophetic element [see, e.g., Power, 316], simply insisting on the ethical component also.) For the Spirit manifesting Christ, see rightly Robichaux, “Incorporation.”

The Holy Spirit certainly is eschatological, associated with restoration; Luke contemplates the entire sphere of the Spirit’s eschatological activity, as I have argued earlier (Keener, Gift, 145–46), but the manifestations in Luke-Acts are especially (though not exclusively) prophetic. I undertook my dissertation (Keener, “Pneumatology”) independently of (and, at the time, entirely ignorant of) the current debate and tried to categorize the data only after collecting them by reading through ancient literature. Because inspired wisdom and knowledge overlapped with prophecy and other activities associated with prophets in the OT, I grouped them as one large category, and texts concerning moral purification as the other, much smaller one; although prophetic material appears throughout the literature, I found the emphasis on purification especially in Essene-type circles, which also included the prophetic element (see excursus just below). I was working on John’s Gospel, where both emphases occur; but in Luke-Acts, the predominant category is that associated with prophetic activity, and this is what the programmatic Joel quotation explicitly emphasizes.

For the Spirit as an aspect of God, sometimes treated anthropomorphically, already in Isaiah, see Ma, Spirit, 208; for God’s Spirit on the analogy with human spirits in the OT, see, e.g., Keener, “Spirit,” 485–86.

Shepherd, Narrative Function, 255–56, stressing Luke’s portrait of the Spirit, in narrative-critical language, “as a character” (but cf. the church as a “character” in Thompson, Church, esp. 241–48); cf. Haya-Prats, Believers, 93, noting that Acts moves in this direction; cf. Turner, Grammatical Insights, 18, arguing from a grammatical peculiarity, but not (in my opinion) persuasively. Later, and thus taking narrative analysis further, Hur, Reading, 129–80, notes that the Spirit appears both like and unlike a person, “as an enigmatic divine character,” usually characterized indirectly (178); emphasizing the Spirit’s personality, sometimes at the expense of other characteristics, cf. also Choi, “Personality,” 101–222. Fitzmyer, “Role of Spirit,” 177–79, concurs that Luke sometimes personifies the Spirit beyond the OT (the Spirit “speaks,” “testifies,” “snatches,” is “lied to,” etc.). Bonnah, Spirit, 97–98, highlights appearances of the Spirit with Jesus and God. Strelan, Strange Acts, 63–65, notes personal references to the “spirit” (e.g., as an angel) in Jewish sources (see, in more detail, Keener, John, 957–71) but thinks (65) that Luke may refer to multiple kinds of “spirit” (God’s spirit, spirit of Jesus, etc.; I would instead view these phrases as reflecting different aspects of the one divine Spirit placed on Jesus; cf. Acts 2:33). Witherington, Acts, 72, is correct that Luke’s focus is on events more than on persons (even divine ones), but given the biographic character of Luke’s Gospel (focusing on Jesus), Luke must hope that his readers will focus on the divine activity in the narrative.

See esp. Fee, Presence, 839–42; Watson, “Identity”; cf. Talbert, Matthew, 313; in Paul, esp. 1 Cor 12:4–6; 2 Cor 13:14; Eph 4:4–6. Levison, Filled, 229–31, cites a range of OT and early Christian texts in which the Spirit may act somewhat personally.

See Quesnel, “Critère,” especially for Acts 1–2. This is more explicit, of course, in John (John 14:16, 26; 16:9–10, 14–15; see Keener, John, 962–69; idem, “Pneumatology,” 218–65, esp. 254–65).

Shepherd, Narrative Function, passim.

Gaventa, Acts, 38 (citing Acts 5:3; 7:51).

See Turner, Power, 41–44.

See the list in Stronstad, Charismatic Theology, 35.

Ibid., 14–27; for the influence of the LXX, see Fitzmyer, “Role of Spirit,” 168–70. For the Spirit in the OT, see, e.g., Lys, Rûach; Wright, Spirit through Old Testament; Fee, Presence, 905–10; Keener, “Spirit,” 484–87; the survey of sources in Ma, Spirit, 20–25; in Isaiah, see Ma, Spirit, passim.

See Jervell, Unknown Paul, 96–121; cf. Turner, Power, 300–301; Wenk, Power. Lövestam (“Apostlagärningarnas ärende”) also addresses the Spirit’s creating God’s new people across ethnic boundaries. On the Spirit’s association with ethics and covenant renewal in the OT, see Wenk, Power, 56–65; in Palestinian Jewish literature, 66–82; in Hellenistic Jewish literature, 83–97; and in the Qumran scrolls, 98–111.

See Keener, “Spirit,” 486, 489 (treated less extensively here because I have addressed it elsewhere); Menzies, Empowered, 106–228; idem, Development, 205–77 (on Acts); Cho, Spirit and Kingdom, 162–95; Kremer, Pfingstbericht, 84 (prophecy, tongues, and miracles); Bonnah, Spirit, 206; in early Jewish thought, Menzies, Empowered, 49–101; idem, Development, 53–112; idem, “Power”; Turner, Power, 86–104; Keener, Spirit, 10–13, 31–33; in the OT, Wright, Spirit through Old Testament, 63–86; briefly, Keener, “Spirit,” 486–87; and further below in this excursus. Likewise, Cho, Spirit and Kingdom, 10–51, argues that early Jewish sources associate the Spirit with prophecy rather than with life-giving wisdom. Although sources occasionally do associate the Spirit with wisdom (see Keener, John, 961–64; idem, “Pneumatology,” 254–57), my own research for my 1991 dissertation basically concurs with Cho.

Turner, “‘Spirit’ as Power,” 327–48 (esp. 333–37); idem, Power, 333–46 (esp. 318); idem, Gifts, 38–40; idem, “Empowerment”; cf. also Gifts, 46–55 (though Turner associates the gift of the Spirit more closely and consistently with conversion than I think the narratives warrant; cf. 46–55; idem, “‘Spirit’ as Power,” 339–47; idem, “Challenge”). Turner, “Work,” notes that the majority perspective today on Lukan pneumatology focuses on prophetic empowerment separate from conversion (though himself treating them together).

For surveys of the Spirit in early Judaism, see, e.g., Isaacs, Spirit; Büchsel, Geist; Menzies, Empowered, 49–101; Keener, “Pneumatology,” 58–114; idem, Spirit, 6–48.

See Keener, Spirit, 7–8; for exceptions, see, e.g., Dion. Hal. Ant. rom. 1.31.1. Connections between Luke’s pneumatology and the pneumatic school of Greek medicine (Marx, “Physician”) appear ingenious but tenuous. Turner, “Authoritative Preaching,” is skeptical that even the early Jewish understanding played a role (focusing on Christian experience).

I am drawing here from Keener, Spirit, 7–13 (with notes, 27–33), which I have abridged and supplemented at a few points.

The Persian parallel suggested by some writers (e.g., Finegan, Religions, 90, 93; Ringgren, Word, 170; Fritsch, Community, 70–73) is more verbal than conceptual (“holy spirit” as the Good vs. the Evil Spirit in Zoroastrianism [Olmstead, Persian Empire, 94, 96, 104; Yamauchi, Persia, 437]) and not particularly related to prophecy (though cf. Olmstead, Persian Empire, 96), and the Persian sources are difficult to date certainly and are, by this period, culturally remote; see, e.g., Scott, Spirit, 46, for relevant observations on this point (cf. Yamauchi, Persia, 466).

So Chevallier, Ancien Testament, 37–39.

See esp. Isaacs, Spirit, 18–19; apart from the Stoics, the references in Greek literature to this are rare. Thus the view that the Spirit concept in the Gospels is hellenized (Leisegang, Ursprung, esp. 140–43) may be open to correction; for critics, see the sources in Hur, Reading, 34n67; see Isaacs, Spirit, 115–16, on Bultmann’s improper use of Dalman’s data. Πνεῦμα in Hellenistic Judaism, except when it refers to wind, normally is of divine origin (Isaacs, Spirit, 59–64), if Isaacs is right to understand the human spirit also in this way.

Quint. Inst. 7.3.5 (LCL, 3:84–85).

E.g., the Middle Platonist Max. Tyre 4.8 adapts Poseidon from being the breath in the sea (as in early Stoics) to being the cosmic breath altogether. For gnostic texts, undoubtedly betraying Christian influences, see Wilson, “Spirit”; Chevallier, Ancien Testament, 74–76.

Isaacs, Spirit, i.

So Lake, “Spirit,” 103; see Klauck, Context, 353–54; Scott, Spirit, 52–53; on non-Jewish approaches, including Stoicism, see Strelan, Strange Acts, 55–58. For Stoics, anything that truly existed consisted of substance (Nolan, “Stoic Gunk”; Vogt, “Brutes”); only material things truly existed (Arius Did. 2.7.5a.5–6; 2.7.5b.7, p. 20.28–22.1; Hierocles Elements of Ethics 1.14–15); some others concurred with the physicalist approach (see, e.g., Gill, “Galen and Stoics”). The Spirit could also be portrayed in somewhat materialistic language in rabbinic sources; see Abelson, Immanence, 212–23.

Long, Philosophy, 155–58; cf. Chevallier, Ancien Testament, 41–42. For different views of the basic elements, with air and fire emerging among the four conventional ones, see, e.g., Vitruv. Arch. 8.pref. 1.

Long, Philosophy, 171; cf. Schweizer, Spirit, 29; Sext. Emp. Pyr. 3.218.

Büchsel, Geist, 45–49, esp. 47.

Nock, Christianity, 51; also Büchsel, Geist, 52–53.

Some argue, however, that Philo may have merged the two (Dodd, Interpretation, 222). Yet Scott, Spirit, 58–59, and Isaacs, Spirit, 19, point out some clear differences that Philo maintained against the Stoa in his use of πνεῦμα, apparently due to antecedent Jewish usage. Chevallier, “Souffle,” 43–46, esp. 45–46 (on Wisdom of Solomon), observes that Hellenistic Jewish sources retain OT perspectives but also evince an infusion of ideas from the Hellenistic world, especially Stoicism. Though often helpful in his insights elsewhere, Engberg-Pedersen, “Spirit,” is too ready to read Stoic materiality into Paul’s conception of spirit.

Klauck, Context, 353–54.

For the popular Greek (as well as Jewish) association of πνεῦμα with irrational, enthusiastic inspiration, see, e.g., Jewett, Romans, 73 (also mentioning miracle working).

Thus Men. Rhet. 2.4, 390.23–24, writing in the third or fourth century, speaks of Apollo “filling [ἐίλήρου] prophets with the mantic spirit [μαντικοῦ (τοῦ) πνεύματος].” In the second century, Max. Tyre 8.1 speaks only of a δαιμόνιον filling the Pythoness and other oracular personnel.

Isaacs, Spirit, 15; the most noteworthy exceptions are Eurip. frg. 192 and Plato Phaedr. 265B (against his standard usage); cf. also Dion. Hal. Ant. rom. 1.31.1, but here the expression is δαιμονίῳ ίνεύματι. Πνεῦμα was probably not associated with ecstasy in the Mysteries; cf. Büchsel, Geist, 104. Chevallier, Ancien Testament, 39–40, cites Euripides and the inspiration of the Delphic Pythoness, Sibyls, and bacchants, noting that by the NT era, when πνεῦμα, as a term, came to be applied to inspiration, it had become current to speak of the “mantic spirit,” but he does not document this last remark; he notes (40–41) Plato’s use of ἐίίίνοια rather than πνεῦμα for poetic inspiration but argues that this is equivalent to Plutarch’s (much later) use of πνεῦμα.

Leisegang, Ursprung, 32, citing Suidas, Origen, and John Chrysostom.

Plut. Obsol. 41, Mor. 432F–433A. For comments on the spirit in Plutarch, see Büchsel, Geist, 49–52.

The Greek is λείτύνειν τὸ πνεῦμα; the word “prophecy” does not occur, but this is implied by the context.

Parke, Oracle, 22–24; Isaacs, Spirit, 15, 50; Schweizer, Spirit, 30; Aune, Prophecy, 34. In Dio Chrys. Or. 72.12, she “filled herself with the breath of the god” (LCL, 5:186–87); Cic. Div. 1.36.79 notes that the power of the earth incitabat, “aroused,” the Pythian priestess, in contrast to the Sibyl’s inspiration, but in 2.57.117 it is said (against the Stoic view) that the subterranean exhalations that once inspired her no longer work. Cary and Haarhoff, Life, 317, observe that “mephitic vapours” did not, in fact, exist in the temple; see also Klauck, Context, 187; Lehoux, “Drugs” (though contrast recently McGinnis, “Faults”).

Aune, Prophecy, 34.

Nock, Christianity, 51: the references to the “holy spirit” in magical texts may be due to Jewish influence, although this similarity may have contributed to further development of Christian pneumatology.

Isaacs, Spirit, 17. Fitzmyer, “Role of Spirit,” 168–70, rightly sees the LXX as a major influence on the portrayal of the Spirit both in Acts and in Jewish literature in Greek.

See, e.g., Turner, Power, 86–104 (helpfully treating prophecy, inspired wisdom, revelations, and praise).

Ibid., 114–18.

Discrete discussion of the Messiah’s empowerment seems to me to constitute a category in a list of objects of empowerment rather than in one of the nature of empowerment. That is, the Messiah (a key object of empowerment) might receive, among other gifts, prophetic empowerment (a mode of empowerment). Rather than compare apples and oranges (objects and nature), I have chosen to focus exclusively on categories about the nature of empowerment here. Nevertheless, the messianic application is certainly relevant for passages associating Jesus with the Spirit (see esp. Turner’s comments addressed in the commentary at Acts 2:33).

Turner, Power, 105–14, offers the limited evidence. He is right to note that associating the Spirit with prophecy does not rule out also associating the Spirit with miracles (118). (On the association being fairly rare, cf. also Menzies, Development, 57.)

Exod 31:3; cf. 1 Kgs 7:14, where the writer omits reference to the Spirit.

Judg 13:25; 14:6, 19; 15:14; cf. 16:20; 1 Sam 11:6; cf. 18:2 (an evil spirit acting similarly). In most of these cases, however, the power was also related to the fact that God’s servants functioned as leaders in Israel; cf. Judg 3:10; 6:34 (on the Spirit and leadership in the OT, see Ma, “Empowerment,” 31–33; idem, Spirit, 29–30). The Pauline use of strengthening by the Spirit may be related to this, especially where it may connote doing battle with spiritual powers, as in Ephesians, but the ethical sense (below) probably contributes more to the usage in the Pauline literature. The Spirit is also related to God’s creating work (see Wright, Spirit through Old Testament, 13–34).

L.A.B. 27:9–10 (referring to the OT period).

Not always: cf. the Spirit and strength for battle (possibly figurative) in 1QH^a XV, 6–8. Some Qumran references to being sustained by the Spirit’s strength, especially in several of the Thanksgiving Hymns, are probably related to the Spirit’s teaching function (see G. Johnston, “Spirit,” 38), on which see discussion below.

So the Amoraic interpretation of Judg 13:25 in b. Soṭah 1:8, §3, where the Spirit of God becomes “the Holy Spirit.” In view of Isa 11:2, we may also consider Pss. Sol. 17:37, speaking of the Messiah being δυνατόν in the Holy Spirit and wise (for the specifically messianic associations of the Spirit in some texts, see Chevallier, Esprit et le Messie, 125–43).

Coppens, “Don,” 211–12, 222; Puech, “Esprit”; Hur, Reading, 230; Keener, “Pneumatology,” 65–69 (I applied it soteriologically, 162–84; idem, Spirit, 146–51, 162; idem, Questions, 31–34; idem, Gift, 137–46). This is similar to the ethical and covenant renewal emphasis in Wenk, Power, 56–111, esp. 98–111. Against my treatment, Bennema, Wisdom, 47, 92, does away with purification as a separate category (in contrast to some who tend to overcategorize references to the Spirit) but rightly emphasizes (as I did elsewhere) the soteriological aspect of the Spirit (Bennema, Wisdom, 51–99 passim), though I believe going too far (defining “soteriological necessity” too broadly and imposing this Christian theological category too much on early Jewish sources; also sometimes coalescing the Spirit, wisdom, and salvation in some texts on the basis of others). Despite the usual portrayal of his position, Menzies, Empowered, 71–82, acknowledges soteriological significance at Qumran. Cho, Spirit and Kingdom, 10–51, is correct, however, that (51) “soteriological pneumatology” is emphasized less widely than “non-soteriological,” prophetic activity.

E.g., 1 Sam 10:6–7, again in the context of anointing for leadership of God’s people. Thus the good spirit from God departs from Saul to David, and an evil spirit from God torments Saul, when David is anointed king, in 16:13–14.

Particularly Ezek 36:25–26; Isaiah uses the water image for the Spirit as a symbol of fertile restoration and blessing (Isa 44:3–4), and Joel retains the connection between the outpoured Spirit of God and the spirit of prophecy (Joel 2:28–29; 3:1–2 MT).

Chevallier, Ancien Testament, 52–57, summarizes the main uses of רוח in the Qumran scrolls: wind or breath (52), invisible powers of a personal character (spirit of truth or of error, 52–53), the interior dispositions of a person (54), the “spirit of holiness” (1QH^a XVI, 2, 3, 7, 12, p. 55), the last including the use for purification (56–57).

Johnston, “Spirit,” 40. Chevallier, “Souffle,” 40, says that the purifying spirit in the Qumran scrolls performs a double function: purifying a person and revealing the truth to the person. These functions are, no doubt, conceptually linked. Lindars, Apologetic, 46, finds the background for the language of 1 Thess 4:8 in Ezek 37:14.

Lit. מי נדה, “waters of impurity,” as in 1QS III, 4.

In Texte Aus Qumran (ed. Lohse), 10, 14.

Ibid., 148; Hymn P in Dupont-Sommer, Writings, 233. Cf. similarly Wis 1:5: “For the holy spirit of instruction [παιδείας] will flee deceit.”

One may compare Sus 45, in which God raised up Daniel’s τὸ ίνεῦμα τὸ ἅγιον to defend Susanna.

On the Holy Spirit as purifier from sin in the Dead Sea Scrolls, see, e.g., Bruce, “Spirit in Qumran Texts,” 52–54.

Suggested in passing by Johnston, “Spirit,” 33.

Cf. Test. Benj. 8:3 (OTP 1:827; Greek, p. 225, counting as 8:2), although this could well be part of a Christian interpolation (like, potentially, much of Testament of Benjamin); for filling with an evil spirit, cf. Test. Ash. 1:9. The early Christian ethical function of the Spirit (which predominates in Paul with the indwelling Spirit/Christ) may also testify to the continuance of this usage.

Pryke, “Spirit,” 345. On the human spirit in the Scrolls, see also Johnston, “Spirit,” 27–36 passim.

A survey of Johnston’s references to the Spirit (“Spirit,” 38–40) would at least suggest that the matter is open to dispute; the scrolls made available since Pryke wrote have also increased the number.

Probably the pure heart and the holy spirit are meant to be identical.

See Keener, John, 546–55, esp. 551–52; idem, Spirit, 143–46.

As Menzies, Empowered, 102, puts it, “The literature of intertestamental Judaism consistently identifies experience of the Spirit with prophetic inspiration.” He acknowledges exceptions, and some other scholars emphasize the exceptions more; but most scholars recognize the frequent connection with prophetic activity in the sources.

For the Spirit and wisdom, cf., e.g., Harris, Origin, 38; Keener, “Pneumatology,” 59, 255–57; idem, John, 963–64; Bennema, Wisdom, 58, 65; cf. Levison, Filled, 118–53 (emphasizing inspired knowledge on 178–201).

E.g., Aune, Prophecy, 200.

The Spirit of Yahweh is commonly associated with prophecy already in the OT; cf., e.g., Chevallier, Ancien Testament, 27–29; Wright, Spirit through Old Testament, 63–86; Ma, Spirit, 30–32, 202–3, 206–7; Keener, “Spirit,” 486–87. In early Judaism more generally, see, e.g., Menzies, Empowered, 49–101; Menzies, Development, 53–112; Turner, Power, 86–104 (including inspired wisdom and praise); Keener, Spirit, 10–13, 31–33.

Jos. Ant. 6.166 (LCL, 5:248–49); cf. Ant. 6.56, 222–23; 8.408. Isaacs, Spirit, 47–48, provides a number of other examples that illustrate Josephus’s association of πνεῦμα in the LXX with prophecy, and prophecy in the LXX with πνεῦμα. Best suggests that Josephus almost always uses θεῖον πνεῦμα only for the spirit of prophecy and oracular speech (“Pneuma,” 222–25); the one exception he comes upon is Jos. Ant. 1.27 (= Gen 1:2, too important to change), and he finds the usage restricted to the biblical period. For a more recent survey of Josephus’s adaptations about the Spirit, see Levison, “Interpretation.”

See also Philo Heir 265; Moses 1.175, 277; 2.265; Decal. 175; Laws 4.49; further, Isaacs, Spirit, 47.

In Sir 39:6, the righteous person is filled with the spirit of understanding (συνέσεως) when God wills.

E.g., Spittler (“Introduction,” 834; but not mentioned in idem, “Testament of Job”) sees Montanist redaction in the final chapters.

Jub. 31:12 (OTP 2:115); see likewise Jub. 25:14.

1QS VIII, 16; 1Q34bis 3 II, 7; 4Q381 69 4; cf. CD II, 12; perhaps 4Q266 2 II, 12; 4Q270 2 II, 14. On the issue of the Spirit of prophecy in the DSS, see also Bruce, “Spirit in Qumran Texts,” 51 (although he cites only CD II, 12); Johnston, “Spirit,” 36–37, in more detail. One should also consider references (following the sort of prophetic tradition one finds in Daniel) to the Holy Spirit’s illumining the secrets of God; see Johnston, “Spirit,” 33–35, 39–40. Daniel, “Prophètes,” 59–64, believes that the Essenes called themselves “seers” and practiced prophecy; although the thrust of his article may be mistaken, the evidence in Josephus for Essene prophets suggests that they would emphasize the prophetic.

E.g., 1QS IX, 3; 1QH^a V, 24–25; XX, 11–13; 4Q213a 1 I, 14; 4Q504 4 5. For the Spirit and charismatic wisdom, see also Turner, Gifts, 8–10 (esp. his citation of Sir 39:6; Philo Mos. 2.265; 4 Ezra 14:22); in the Qumran scrolls, also Menzies, Development, 84–87.

E.g., Did. 11.7–9; Justin Dial. 32–34; 1 Apol. 31, 44, 47, 63; Athenag. Plea 7; Theoph. 2.33; cf. also Irenaeus’s Proof of the Apostolic Preaching in Williams, “Christianity,” 25.

L.A.B. 32:14. Cf. Mek. on Exod 14:31 (cited in Smith, Parallels, 64); b. Soṭah 5:4, §1; and later, Pesiq. Rab. 9:2; Tg. Jon. on 1 Sam 19:23.

E.g., Ap. Rhod. 1.22; Virg. Aen. 9.525–29; Plut. Table 1.5.2, Mor. 623B; Philost. Hrk. 7.5–6; Sib. Or. 3.489; 1 Sam 10:5; 1 Chr 25:1–3; 1 Cor 14:15, 26; Eph 5:18–19; poetry in Plut. Poetry 1, Mor. 15E. Music could also initiate inspiration (Iambl. Myst. 3.9; 2 Kgs 3:14–16; cf. 1 Sam 16:16; at Mari, cf. Huffmon, “Prophecy,” 112).

L.A.B. 28:6; cf. Test. Job 52:9 (OTP 1:868)/52:4 (Kraft, 84) for the prophetic vision of Job’s charismatically endowed daughters; cf. Lev. Rab. 9:9; Num. Rab. 14:5; Eccl. Rab. 10:8, §1, for perceiving by the Holy Spirit.

Sipre Deut. 22.1.2; t. Pisha 2:15. Hillel allegedly associated the Spirit with Israel as a whole and said that its people were disciples of the prophets (t. Pisha 4:14).

Mek. Shir. 7.17–18 (Lauterbach, 2:55). For another reference to the spirit of prophecy, cf., e.g., Mek. Pisha 1.150ff. (Lauterbach, 1:14).

E.g., b. Ber. 31b; B. Bat. 122a; Yoma 73b.

E.g., y. Hor. 3:5, §2; Num. Rab. 21:9; Eccl. Rab. 7:23, §1.

In y. Šeq. 3:3; Lev. Rab. 9:9; Num. Rab. 9:20; Tg. Ps.-J. on Gen 37:33; 45:14; cf. Ezek 8:3; Joel 2:28; perhaps Dan 4:9; L.A.B. 28:6; Test. Job 52:9 (OTP)/52:4 (Kraft).

E.g., Pesiq. Rab Kah. 1:8; 4:3; 11:16; Gen. Rab. 91:6; Exod. Rab. 5:20; Lev. Rab. 1:3; Num. Rab. 13:20; 14:5; 18:8; Ruth Rab. 4:3; Eccl. Rab. 10:8, §1; Tg. Ps.-J. on Gen 27:42; Tg. Ps.-J. on Num 11:25, 28–29; Tg. Neof. 1 on Num 11:26, 28–29; Tg. Jon. on Judg 3:10; Tg. Isa. 40:13. Rabbi Meir’s revelation sight in Lev. Rab. 9:9 (in Deut. Rab. 5:15, through Elijah) was mentioned above.

McNamara, Targum, 113. For prophecy, see, e.g., Tg. Ps.-J. on Gen 31:21; 35:22; but in Exod 35:31, the MT’s “spirit of wisdom” becomes “a spirit of holiness from before the Lord” (Tg. Neof. 1 on Exod 35:31).

See the data in Schäfer, “Geist,” 306–7: Targum Neofiti and the Fragment Targum always have “Holy Spirit,” Targum Onqelos always has “Spirit of Prophecy” (except in one instance), and Targum Pseudo-Jonathan uses both about equally; though Schäfer observes that “Holy Spirit” has a broader range of meaning than “Spirit of Prophecy.” Schäfer elsewhere (Vorstellung, 135–39) seeks to trace the origin of the term to “Spirit of the Sanctuary” (critiqued by Reif, “Review,” 158), but the standard usage, not the etymology, is our concern here. For a collection of some of the significant targumic texts, see Schäfer, Vorstellung, 23–26.

E.g., Moore, Judaism, 1:237, 437; Abelson, Immanence, 238–67; Marmorstein, Names, 99–100; Sandmel, Judaism, 174–75; idem, Genius of Paul, 78; Davies, “Spirit in Mekilta,” 98; Bonsirven, Judaism, 57; Jeremias, Theology, 78; Horwitz, “Ru’ah,” 365. New Testament scholars less known for a rabbinic focus tend to follow (e.g., Ellis, “Christ and Spirit,” 274; Bruce, “Spirit in Apocalypse,” 337; Boring, Sayings, 63; idem, “Oracles,” 518; Bultmann, John, 575).

For the association of the Spirit and the Scriptures in Acts, see Bonnah, Spirit, 210–66.

1QS VIII, 16: “what the prophets revealed by his Holy Spirit”; Jos. Ag. Ap. 1.37; 4 Ezra 14:22; 1 Clem. 47.3; Barn. 9.2; 14.2, 9; Herm. 43.9; Justin Dial. 25. In the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha in general, see Büchsel, Geist, 57–58.

E.g., Sipra VDDen. par. 1.1.3.3; 5.10.1.1; Sipra Sh. M. d. 94.5.12; Sipra Behuq. pq. 6.267.2.1; Sipre Deut. 355.17.1–3; 356.4.1 (repeating 355.17.2). See further, e.g., Isaacs, Spirit, 51; Foerster, “Geist,” 117.

E.g., ʾAbot R. Nat. 4 A; b. Ber. 4b; Pesaḥ. 117a; Meg. 7a (attributed to R. Eleazar and R. Akiba); b. Soṭah 1:9, §1; cf. Pesiq. Rab Kah. Sup. 5:1.

Gen. Rab. 63:14; 80:8; 91:5; 92:9; 93:7; 97 (NV); Exod. Rab. 8:1; 15:17; 27:9; 33:5; 48:6; Lev. Rab. 3:6; 4:1; 5:5; Num. Rab. 10:2; 11:1; 19:15; 20:18; Esth. Rab. 10:5; Lam. Rab. 2:20, §23; 3:58–60, §9; Eccl. Rab. 1:1, §1; 3:16, §1; Song Rab. 1:1, §§5–6, 9–10; 2:1, §3; 7:12, §1.

Pesiq. Rab. 10:2; 11:2; 20:1; 30:1; 33:2–3; 34:1; 35:1; 50:1, 4. In the rabbis, see also Moore, Judaism, 1:238–39, 247–48. Later also in the Targumim, e.g., Tg. Qoh. 1:4; 3:11; 4:15; 9:7; 10:7, 9.

In ʾAbot R. Nat. 34 A, the Holy Spirit involves only prophecy and obscure speech.

Surveys of signs in Acts include De Wet, “Signs,” 41–51; Davids, “Miracles,” 746–50; “Signs,” 1094; Hamblin, “Miracles”; for Luke’s Christology and signs, see Avemarie, “Acta” (use of Jesus’s name, 551–56; Jesus’s connection with the Spirit, 557–61); cf. Jackson, “Churches,” 170–74, 312–13; for healing in Luke-Acts, see Pilch, Healing, 89–117; Davids, “Healing,” 436–37; for more studies on miracles in Acts, see Grässer, Forschungen, 234–35. There are numerous studies from various approaches (e.g., Neirynck, “Miracle Stories”).

I have argued that signs function more ambiguously in John (Keener, John, 275–79), but I find their role mostly positive in Acts; John often does build narratives around seven key signs, but for their centrality in Lukan theology, see discussion below.

E.g., James clearly expects miracles (Jas 5:14–16), but one would not know this without a single paragraph in which he raises the issue; Paul raises the issue more often, though over a longer course of letters. Early Christian narratives, however, include more signs (esp. the Gospels; cf. even Rev 11:5–6).

All activity that Luke characterizes as “signs” or attributes to the mediation of reliable characters is positive.

Marguerat, Histoire, 175–203, treats magic and healings in Acts and the “risk” of miracles in evangelization (177–85); he notes the possibilities of misunderstanding (178–79), especially the confusion of human and divine (180–82). Miracles are decisive in evangelization, but there was always the risk of syncretistic misunderstanding in light of paganism (185); thus the Pythoness calls them “servants of Most High God” (189–90), and Luke reports conflict with magic (192–202). Marguerat concludes that Luke requires his hearers to hold together miracle, word, and faith: miracle provides assurance of the message, and without it, the word is hollow; without the word, miracle is dangerously ambiguous (203). “Supernatural” activity can be positive or negative, but this category is a modern one. Ancients might distinguish positive from negative supernatural activity on the basis of those who performed them (see Reimer, Miracle; discussion of antimagical apologetic at Acts 8:9–11).

See the criticism by Strelan, Strange Acts, 12–13.

Robinson and Wall, Called, 62, note that signs in Acts do not create faith, which instead comes through the proclaimed message; rather, signs invite attention to message.

Pervo, Acts, 58, also compares the pattern with later apocryphal acts (which, I have argued, use Luke’s Acts as a model). Wilkinson, Healing, 178, is correct that they do not function merely as propaganda but, in playing down their evangelistic function, underestimates this function in Luke’s missiological perspective.

Sometimes for those within the narrative (Acts 10:45–48; 15:12) and especially, on the narrative level, for Luke’s ideal audience.

For the close connection of signs to preaching and the importance of the latter to faith in Luke’s theology, see Williams, Miracle Stories, 180–82.

Lampe, “Miracles,” 172, compares Luke’s signs to OT foundation stories; he notes (173) the connection with the “prophetic hope” in Acts 2:19.

Thus we should neither expect him to record the absence of signs on some occasions nor make too much of his silence on issues that were not his focal concern. On the Spirit and miracles (to confirm the message) in Luke-Acts, see Shelton, Mighty in Deed, 74–84.

That is not to suggest that Luke need have envisioned them with equal intensity in every time and place, but to suggest that they, like the mission they accompany, belong to the interim era of Jesus’s enthronement before his parousia. The inaugurated eschatological character of Pentecost inevitably and decisively refutes approaches suggesting that Luke would have regarded gifts (to borrow Paul’s language) such as tongues as ceasing before Christ’s return (Paul also expects such gifts to cease only at Christ’s return, 1 Cor 13:8–12; see, e.g., Carson, Fallacies, 76–77; idem, Showing Spirit, 66–77; Fee, Gospel, 7–8, 77; Grudem, Prophecy, 210–19; Elbert, “Face to Face”; pace Rogers, “Tongues”; Hodges, “Tongues”; Johnson, “Tongues”; Toussaint, “Tongues”; Thomas, “Tongues”). On Luke’s narrative as a theological model including signs, see, e.g., Menzies, “Paradigm.”

In these cases, the purpose still relates to the expansion of the gospel or equipping those who will carry it. This focus fits Luke’s theme; we cannot expect him to tell us much outside his focus.

The supposed reduction of signs that some have suggested in Acts’ later chapters ignores Acts 20:9–12; 27:23–25; and 28:5, 8–9 and that Paul’s captivity dominates 21:33–28:31 (Jesus does not work many signs during the passion narrative either). Those theologically committed to a full cessation of signs may always find arguments for their case, but I believe that they must either force the evidence or let their case die the death of a thousand qualifications (Moreland, Triangle, 174, notes cessationism’s decline among Christian scholars). For a more moderate cessationism, see Sawyer and Wallace, Afraid (moderate cessationists might be able to accommodate most of the signs recounted in above); for the cessationist approach in general, see, e.g., Robertson, Word; Gaffin, Perspectives; idem, “View”; MacArthur, Chaos; for noncessationist responses, e.g., Fee, Gospel, 75–77; idem, Paul, Spirit, and People, passim; Turner, Gift, 286–302; Grudem, Theology, 355–75; Ruthven, Cessation; Deere, Power of Spirit; Elbert, “Themes”; Morphew, Breakthrough, 169–82; Keener, Gift, 89–112; Green, Holy Spirit; Shogren, “Prophecy”; Snyder, “Gifts,” 332–34; Gardner, Healing Miracles, 130–54; in Acts in particular, see Twelftree, People, 153–63. For multiple views, see Grudem, Gifts.

See discussion in , above.

In the Gospel, the term σημεῖον by itself carries a different range of meaning (Luke 2:12, 34), such as a heavenly (11:16) or an eschatological sign (21:7, 11, 25); Jesus refuses such signs (11:16, 29–30) and also signs at Herod’s request (23:8; cf. 4:3–4). In Acts, the term means “miracle” even when not attached to “wonders” (Acts 4:16, 22; 8:6, 13). Josephus describes miracles rarely as δυνάμεις (in contrast to the Synoptics) or παράδοξα (Luke 5:26) but typically as σημεῖα, sometimes conjoined with τέρατα (MacRae, “Miracle,” 143–44), though Jos. War 1.28, 377 and 6.295 refer more to prodigies than to anything through human agents and Ant. 20.168 refers to false prophets.

See Remus, Conflict, 48 (citing Suda, s.v. τέρας). Extrabiblical terminology for signs (such as semeion or teras) is often interchangeable (Remus, “Terminology,” 535–51); rhetorical repetition could reinforce a point. Repetitious reinforcement is likelier here than Origen’s suggestion that miraculous “signs” point to the future, in contrast to wonders (Comm. Rom. on 15:19; CER 5:218; Bray, Romans, 362). The different sense of σημεῖα in rhetoric, as a form of proof (Anderson, Glossary, 108–9; cf. Libanius Invect. 6.3), might at least be relevant for Luke’s evidential use of signs in his apologetic; divine σημεῖα were also sought in divination (Arius Did. Epit. 2.7.11s, pp. 98–99.18).

Exod 7:3, 9; 11:9–10; Deut 4:34; 6:22; 7:19; 11:3; 26:8; 29:3; 34:11; Pss 77:43 (78:43 ET); 104:27 (105:27); 134:9 (135:9); Jer 39:20–21 (32:20–21); Wis 10:16; Bar 2:11. On signs in the Pentateuch, see Meier, “Signs.” See also others, e.g., Dunn, Romans, 868; Bock, Acts, 230; early Jewish treatment of miracles, while not cessationist, focuses especially on the exodus (Eve, Miracles, 244, 377). Strelan, Strange Acts, 28, acknowledges this as the dominant source but does note the terms together representing prodigies and portents in Plut. Alex. 75.1; Appian Bell. civ. 2.36; 4.4 (following Weiss, Zeichen, 18–22); cf. also in Josephus (War 1.28, 377; Ant. 6.295). In Dan 4:2 (not in the standard LXX), “signs and wonders” refers back to God’s deliverance of the three Israelites in Dan 3. Lampe, “Miracles,” 172, argues that Luke views his miracles as akin to those in OT foundation stories. Although relating such signs to the exodus may connect them to special periods of divine activity, it hardly follows that Luke would not expect such signs to often accompany new evangelism settings (pace Peterson, Acts, 86–87), which are themselves salvation-historical events (unless we think “to the ends of the earth” completed at the end of Acts); if this is not part of the model that Luke offers (problematic as it feels to us Westerners), then it is difficult to know what model we should expect from him.

Whether or not those healed are already believers in Jesus is not so much the issue (cf., e.g., Acts 9:17–18, 36, 40; 20:9–12) as that this activity functions as a sign to secure attention for the gospel. Gifts of healing could thus function as signs, but they do not do so always (because the sign value is not the sole purpose for the gift).

One of my academic mentors, Ben Aker, brought this distinction in usage to my attention (cf. the particularly evangelistic function of “signs” in Paul, Rom 15:19; probably also 1 Cor 1:22; 2 Cor 12:12). Although I have not emphasized the new exodus much in Acts, perhaps those who envision a Lukan new exodus, even through the lens of Isaiah, might be able to develop further here the salvation-historical connection between Acts and earlier biblical narrative.

As already noted, “signs” also characterize Philip (Acts 8:6, 13) and others (9:17–18, though not employing the term), but I limit the references here to those explicitly using “signs and wonders.” Probably the only difference in the adding of “wonders” is so Luke can evoke the exodus era more explicitly; having made the point by adding “wonders” explicitly on some occasions, Luke then feels free to use the abbreviated expression “signs” on others.

For the connection, see, e.g., Turner, “Spirit and Miracles”; cf. Marguerat, Histoire, 163–65.

Trites, Witness, 149–51 (quote, 149); because of realized eschatology in Luke’s pneumatology, Trites also connects signs with the messianic age (149; cf. Jos. Ant. 20.168).

See, e.g., Keener, Spirit, 10–13, 31–33; and in our excursus on background for Luke’s view of the Spirit in the present chapter (sect. 3); more fully, Menzies, Empowered, 49–101; idem, Development, 53–112.

Cf. Luke 24:19; for connections with Elijah, see comment on .

Meier, “Signs,” 758.

Bede Comm. Acts 28.8 (Martin, Acts, 314) explained the lack of healing in 1 Tim 5:23 and 2 Tim 4:20 by arguing that physical healing was a benefit especially for those lacking inner life.

Haenchen, “Acts as Source Material,” 265, though overstating the claim that only miracle stories could validate this for Luke’s generation.

See Dollar, “Theology of Healing,” 10. From Luke, one might anticipate them especially in cases of groundbreaking evangelism (cf. Solomon, “Healing,” 364).

On which see, e.g., Keener, John, 275–79.

See Tannehill, Luke, 86; Achtemeier, “Perspective on Miracles,” 553–56 (cited in Tannehill; Achtemeier finds Luke less critical than some of his colleagues).

Tannehill, Luke, 96 (on the Gospel).

Turner, “Spirit and Miracles,” uses the Spirit’s association with signs against Menzies’s limitation (Menzies, Development, 53–112) of the Spirit to prophecy, but one may understand “prophetic” as referring more broadly than to merely prophecy (as Turner also argues, e.g., Gifts, 6; is some of the debate semantic?). Menzies, “Power,” responds to Turner, “Authoritative Preaching.”

See Kee, Miracle, 52–54 (not intending “charismatic” in its common theological sense today).

Some modern readers have viewed this theme as prescriptive for contemporary Christian evangelism (see Wimber, Power Evangelism). Though many believers in Acts work signs, however, not all do.

With also Alexander, Context, 203, who regards this as the dominant apologetic in Acts (distinct from the primarily philosophic approach of second-century apologists, p. 204).

For a survey of various denominational views, see, e.g., De Wet, “Signs,” 52–61; for a brief history of signs in the context of mission, see McGee, “Miracles and Mission”; for the past two centuries, cf. idem, “Dilemma,” 53–59.

Associating signs with evangelism, Severus of Antioch in Cat. Act. 10.44 (Martin, Acts, 140) averred that signs were no longer necessary, the gospel having been widely spread. Such an approach today would expect signs to predominate in less evangelized regions.

Kelsey, Healing, 230; Neill, History of Missions, 75; Latourette, To A.D. 1500, 348; cf. others in 344; Finlay, Columba, 173; Young, “Miracles in History,” 115.

See, e.g., Warner, Evangelist, 161; Opp, Lord for Body, 157–59, 193–94; discussion in Keener, Miracles, ch. 10.

See McGee, “Miracles and Mission,” passim (e.g., 146, noting Mason, Ko Thah Byu, 160). Cf. also the early twentieth-century Shandong (Shantung) Revival reported by Southern Baptists (Oblau, “Healing,” 309; Bays, “Revival,” 173; McGee, Miracles, 191; Crawford, Shantung Revival).

A minister present at British Anglican James Moore Hickson’s 1921 meetings in China reported that many more nonbelievers than Christians were healed, just as reported earlier in India, perhaps because non-Christians came “in simple, childlike faith that they will be healed” (Hickson, Heal, 76). Out of an estimated ten thousand at one meeting in South Africa where 70 percent were not Christians, phenomenal cures are reported: thirty-six “cases of blindness alone being cured . . .  two of the blind people who were cured had been born blind” (Hickson, Heal, 141). For some other signs among non-Christians that led to testimony and/or conversion, see, e.g., Pullinger, Dragon, 123, 142.

Ammonius in Cat. Act. 28.9 (Martin, Acts, 314) notes that “miracles are mostly performed among and for unbelievers” (cf. Bede Comm. Acts 28.8; Martin, Acts, 314).

See Tiede, Figure, passim. This refutes an overreliance on the θεῖος ἀνήρ concept sometimes attributed to Luke-Acts (e.g., Weeden, Mark, 74–75; Haenchen, Acts, 246); contrast also those who prefer the apologetic Paul to the miracle worker (cf. Hickling, “Portrait in Acts 26”).

Brawley, Luke-Acts and Jews, 54. The combination of sage and sign prophet probably goes back to the example of the historical Jesus (see Keener, Matthew, 53–58, and sources discussed there).

See, e.g., Fenton, “Order of Miracles”; Goulder, Type and History, 106–7; on miracles in Acts, see also, e.g., Witherington, Acts, 220–24.

They are more consistent with the early Christian view of salvation history (despite the ambiguities of revelatory experiences in both eras; cf. comment on Acts 21:4) than are thoroughgoing cessationists, who attribute “biblical” activities to a bygone era, generally with postbiblical (or very tenuous biblical) explanations. The Protestant cessationist apologetic for lack of signs developed in the Enlightenment era, and the circles in which it was forged, resemble the perspectives of some Greek and Roman historians who accepted the mythological past as of different character than the present (see our , ). (Others accept ebbs and flows of signs associated with events in salvation history, with the apostolic era naturally being a “flow”; still, Paul and probably Luke expected the “apostolic” era of the Spirit and accompanying signs to continue uninterrupted until the parousia, just like the mission [Acts 1:8] for which the Spirit empowered God’s agents and that signs attested. Undoubtedly, they did not expect centuries’ delay preceding the parousia.)

As noted by Wagner, Acts, 51; Wagner writes from the perspective of a charismatic missiologist and church growth specialist. See further discussion in , above; also in Keener, Miracles, ch. 7.

I suspect that Majority World Christians more often appropriate healing gifts than Westerners in part because they cannot afford to speak as glibly about physical needs as we sometimes may be tempted to do. Those who dismiss miracles’ value as being only for those of immature faith rarely report experiencing them; this evaluation might betray its presuppositions.

Thus the biblical principle of compassion takes precedence even over the biblical principle of the Sabbath; those who might apply the principle of the emergency Maccabean Sabbath exception to rescue their animal yet did not understand the daily suffering of fellow humans missed a deeper biblical principle (Luke 13:15–16; 14:5). Luke here reflects earlier Jesus tradition (see Matt 12:11–12; cf. Mark 3:4).

The same may be said for the sharing of possessions in Acts 2:44–45, which carries over a theme from the Gospel.

Ross, “Miracle,” 50–56 (noting that such divine acts did not violate a natural order but were “natural” in the sense of expected on the basis of God’s character and covenant); the point was God’s character (60).

See more fully Theissen, Miracle Stories, 253–54.

Ibid., 247, cites not only Tarsus (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 4.43), Athens (4.20), and Rome (4.45) but also Ephesus (4.10) and other cities where Paul performed miracles (Lystra, Philippi, and Troas), suggesting that this particular work by Philostratus reflects knowledge of the Acts traditions and may not be the most reliable independent source here.

Theissen, Miracle Stories, 247; cf. Acts 19:12–19.

Talbert, John, 162, finding parallels for each of these in John’s Gospel. For the legitimating function of Suetonius’s report about Vespasian (Vesp. 7.2–3), see discussion in Spahlinger, “Sueton-Studien II.”

Versnel, “Miracles.” Cult officials collected them and intensified the miraculous dimension for propaganda purposes (Klauck, Context, 161, 166); they need not, however, constitute a distinct literary genre (Aune, Dictionary of Rhetoric, 57), and they differ in genre from NT healing narratives, which belong to broader narratives rather than to lists (Klauck, Context, 167; for other contrasts, 168).

I used this material also in Keener, John, 272–74.

In the vast majority of cases, they were men, although we do encounter exceptions such as the later Sosipatra.

Lampe, “Miracles,” esp. 215–17. For how patristic theology handled this, see also Wiles, “Miracles.”

Also Dibelius, Tradition, 170; cf. Grant, Gods, 66. Compare the translation of some of these accounts in Grant, Religions, 55–58.

Inscriptions 3 and 4 in Grant, Religions, 56, 57.

Signs are positive if inadequate in Mark; see Rhoads and Michie, Mark, 105; Kingsbury, Christology, 76–77. Divine or supramundane activity elicits human praise, as, e.g., in 1 En. 24:4–25:7; Let. Aris. 99.

On this function of the Epidaurus inscriptions, see Theissen, Miracle Stories, 283–84.

Kee, Miracle, 128–31.

Tiede, Figure, 91, citing Tac. Hist. 4.81; Dio Cass. 65.8; Suet. Vesp. 7. On Suetonius’s report (Vesp. 7.2–3), see more fully Spahlinger, “Sueton-Studien II.”

Greek biographers, in Aune, Environment, 34.

Tiede, Figure, 99. Fate, astrology, and magic became increasingly pervasive by the third century (cf. PGM passim; Frankfurter, Religion in Egypt; Murray, Stages).

See Kee, Miracle, 147.

Cf. Moore, Judaism, 1:377; Strack, Introduction, 110, for his miracles in b. Ber. 33a; 34b; Taʿan. 24b; and that he was contemporary with Johanan ben Zakkai (m. ʾAbot 3:9, 10; Mek. on Exod 18:21).

On Honi and Hanina, see, e.g., Daube, “Enfant”; on Hanina, see Vermes, “Hanina”; for examples of Jewish miracle stories in general, see Montefiore and Loewe, Anthology, 339ff. Bokser, “Wonder-Working,” suggests that Palestinian tradition stressed God’s protection of the pious man whereas Babylonian stressed such a man’s responsibility to others.

See Galley, “Heilige.”

b. Taʿan. 3:10, §§61–63.

Moore, Judaism, 1:378, citing b. Soṭah 9:15, “a late appendix.”

b. Taʿan 3:11, §4; cf. b. ʿAbod. Zar. 18a (on R. Meir); Meʿil. 17b (R. Simeon ben Yohai); Sukkah 28a (Jonathan ben Uzziel). Cf. b. B. Meṣiʿa 86a in Neusner, Sat, 77–78, where signs are recorded to glorify Rabbah b. Nahmani.

See Keener, Miracles, appendix C.

Y. Sanh. 6:6, §2, about a man sent to Simeon ben Shetah.

b. B. Meṣiʿa 59b, where Joshua, instead of losing the debate, finally declares that halakah is not settled by miracles; see esp. Baumgarten, “Miracles,” for the importance of miracles confirming halakah.

Cf. also Dibelius, Tradition, 145–46; Urbach, Sages, 1:108–9.

E.g., t. Yebam. 14:6, “the rabbis” to R. Meir.

E.g., b. Ḥul. 44a; Pesaḥ. 114a; b. Moʾed Qaṭ. 3:1, §6.

Y. Sanh. 11:4, §1.

Vermes, Jesus the Jew, 80–81, appealing to b. Taʿan. 3:8; b. Taʿan. 67a; b. Taʿan. 23a.

Cf. also b. B. Meṣiʿa 59b (cited in Longenecker, Paul, 4n17).

Dibelius, Tradition, 149–50 and references.

b. Taʿan. 3:9, §3.

Theissen, Miracle Stories, 107; cf. Guttmann, “Miracles.”

Urbach, Sages, 1:117.

Aune, Prophecy, 194, cites as examples Gal 3:5; Rom 15:19; 2 Cor 12:12; 1 Thess 1:5; 1 Cor 2:4 for Paul’s picture of himself as a miracle worker; Paul clearly also believed such activities characterized the early Christian communities (1 Cor 12:8–10, 28–31).

Christians healed in the name of Yeshu ben Pandira (t. Ḥul. 2:22–23; see also Urbach, Sages, 1:116; Herford, Christianity, 103–11; Klausner, Jesus of Nazareth, 40; Pritz, Nazarene Christianity, 96–97), though the rabbis often associated their powers with magic or fakery (e.g., y. ʿAbod. Zar. 2:2, §3; Urbach, Sages, 1:115–16; Herford, Christianity, 115–17; Lachs, Commentary, 178). In some apocryphal stories, holy rabbis destroyed miracle-working Christians with greater magic (see Herford, Christianity, 112–15).

On the idea of agency and representatives, see Keener, John, 310–15. For a related discussion of the relationship between healing in the two volumes, see Warrington, “Healing Narratives”; Shelton, “Used to Be?” Rightly underlining parallels between Jesus and the disciples but noting that disciples do not emulate Jesus’s messianic ministry, Warrington emphasizes healing’s christological function (“Healing Narratives,” 195) and that healings reveal his presence (217); he argues that Jesus’s healings are not paradigmatic for individual followers (Warrington, Healer 160–62; cf. idem, “Response”). Shelton, who responds to Warrington, also seems right to affirm that Jesus’s healings are also paradigmatic for the church (“Used to Be?,” 221–22, 224), if we take that as the church as a whole (through some who are gifted). On Jesus’s exorcisms as a model in Luke-Acts, see esp. Twelftree, Name, 130–37.

E.g., Justin Dial. 35.8.

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