Narrative Introduction and Recapitulation (1:1–11)

Narrative Introduction and Recapitulation (1:1–11)

Acts 1:1–11 provides a narrative introduction to Luke’s second volume, a recapitulation of the final scene of his first volume, and on the level of his narrative functions as a transition from Jesus to the church. One cannot really separate 1:1–2 (a single sentence) from 1:3–11 (beginning, “and to these,” i.e., those just mentioned); the entire unit belongs to a single introduction and recapitulation. For pragmatic purposes, however, the discussion here will be divided in a manner that makes it less unwieldy.

Introductions were meant to be significant, and Luke’s is no exception. (For this reason, this introduction will receive more extensive comment than some other portions of Acts.) Writers often introduced their main themes at the beginning of a work or section. Josephus provides such a preview in Ag. Ap. 2.2, following his retrospective about the previous volume in 2.1; Polybius does so in Polyb. 3.1.3–3.5.9, following his retrospective in 3.1.1–2. Polybius notes that having a general view of a matter helps one learn the details, making an introductory survey important (3.1.7); he had come to prefer such surveys to prologues (11.1.4–5). Rhetorical handbooks available in the first century B.C.E. advised that introductions should summarize some of the arguments that would follow. A rhetorical critic (Dion. Hal. Thuc. 19) thus complains about an earlier historian who failed to meet this standard in his introduction.

Granted, Luke, like some other Greek historians, does not provide an explicit summary of what will follow; this leads some scholars to doubt that Luke intends a prospective summary. One did not, however, need to follow all conventions in a single introduction. Luke does recapitulate what preceded, and in his retrospective summary introduces major themes that set the tone for the book, including the inbreaking of the new era and especially Spirit empowerment and consequent cross-cultural witness (in Acts 1:8). His introduction thus implicitly summarizes what will follow, even if it does not explicitly identify itself as such a summary. The first two chapters of Acts provide “a sort of theological prologue” to the book of Acts, as Luke’s infancy narratives do for the Gospel. The opening paragraphs, however, introduce Luke’s agendas most concisely.

As if to make absolutely clear that his second volume is a continuation of the first, Acts 1:2–11 provides a recapitulation of the narrative conclusion of Luke’s first volume (Luke 24:47–51). Other narrative works sometimes (though not always) included such recapitulations, especially at the beginning of another volume (e.g., Jos. Ag. Ap. 2.1; Char. Chaer. 5.1.1–2). (Some also cite the repetition of Cyrus’s edict in 2 Chr 36:22–23 and Ezra 1:1–3, though it remains unclear whether Ezra’s author intends it as a sequel to 1–2 Chronicles.) Authors had other ways to connect volumes. Sometimes the close of one volume would also introduce the content of the following book (Diod. Sic. 16.95.5, introducing Diod. Sic. 17) or some future treatise developing the subject in greater detail (Dion. Hal. Demosth. 58). Writers sometimes presupposed their audience’s knowledge of some events or personalities, but Luke here refers us back to the Gospel for most of the postbiblical information his narrative presupposes.

J. Bradley Chance offers one comparison between the close of Luke’s first volume and the opening of the next, focusing on elements in Acts 1 that match or fail to appear in Luke 24 (see table on ).

Not all the connections are precise recapitulations, but there are enough of these to make clear that Luke is, indeed, repeating key themes from the close of his Gospel.

Although Luke recapitulates the events of Luke 24:39–53 at the beginning of his new book, he does so with some differences. Scholars suggest different reasons for these variations. Often Greek historians reported divergent accounts of an event, sometimes noting which version they thought most likely but at other times deferring the determination to the reader’s discretion. Some scholars have suggested that Luke’s paired accounts may function in the same way. The substantial degree of overlap between Luke’s two versions, however (as well as his silence concerning the versions and his failure to place them side by side in the same book), suggests that literary freedom plays a larger role here than variant tradition. That Luke feels free to paraphrase the same substance in different words should warn interpreters not to press his speeches as verbatim reports; clearly, he did not intend them this way. Rhetorical custom emphasized stylistic variation in retelling a matter.

Acts 1

Luke 24

Jesus teaches the disciples through the Spirit (1:2)

Jesus teaches the disciples after the resurrection, including explicit times (24:25–27, 32, 44–48)

Jesus offers many proofs of his risen state (1:3a)

Jesus demonstrates his risen state (24:13–32, 34, 36–40)

Jesus appears for forty days (1:3b)

*

Jesus speaks of the kingdom (1:3b)

†

Jesus eats with his disciples (1:4a)

Cf. Jesus eating in their presence (24:41–43)

Jesus orders them not to leave Jerusalem (1:4b)

Jesus orders them to stay in Jerusalem (24:49b)

Jesus instructs them to wait for the Father’s promise (1:4b)

They must stay in the city until they receive the Father’s promise (24:49)

Disciples expect the kingdom’s restoration to Israel (1:6)

Cf. a similar notion expressed by other disciples, who expected Jesus to redeem Israel (24:21)

Jesus promises the Spirit and that they will be witnesses (1:8)

They are witnesses and will receive promised power (24:48–49)

They will receive power (1:8)

They will be clothed with power (24:49)

Jesus ascends (1:9–11)

Jesus ascends (24:51)

The disciples leave Mount Olivet for Jerusalem (1:12)

They leave Bethany (24:50; this is near the Mount of Olives, 19:29) and return to Jerusalem (24:52)

They pray in the upper room (1:13–14)

‡

^*Some period of time is assumed, however, to accommodate the appearances; this would be even more if we figure in Galilean appearances (known to Luke’s audience from Mark). As Parsons, Acts, 34, notes, including the extended period in Luke 24 would have undermined the rhetorical effectiveness of that passage.

^†Given Luke’s larger theology of the kingdom in his Gospel, Luke 24:46–49 would imply the kingdom message.

^‡Luke probably expects us to suppose that they met both in homes (here, the upper room) and in the temple (as in Acts 2:46).

It was also customary for material to overlap in recapitulations (Lucian Hist. 55), though Luke may find some elements more useful for a book’s closing than for its opening (hence the raised hands for a blessing in Luke 24:50 do not recur in Acts 1). Like Luke, Josephus retells the same event in different ways in different books; this does not mean that either historian invents the events in question but, rather, that they each used their literary freedom to present varied perspectives on the event.

The retelling also provides information missing earlier; for example, whereas Luke 24 telescopes events as if they might have all happened in one day (Luke 24:1, 13, 28, 36, 50), Acts presents a longer period (as suggested also by Matt 28:16; John 20:26; 21:1; 1 Cor 15:5–8). By providing a different version that includes some new information, Luke also alerts the reader to look for new information in the retelling of other accounts in Acts (especially the conversions of Paul and Cornelius).

We must examine Luke’s own prefaces (Acts 1:1–2; Luke 1:1–4) in special detail, since they provide crucial information concerning the purpose and audience he was addressing. I will not, however, rehearse in significant detail material covered in the introduction, , (i.e., the relevance of Luke 1:1–4 for the nature of Luke’s historiography).

A preface normally did not consume the entire introductory section of a work. Thus, for example, Polybius has an opening preface, but the entire first two volumes of his work (which originally was thirty-nine volumes) constitute his introduction (Polyb. 2.71.7).

Although scholars have inferred various genres for Luke’s work on the basis of the language of the preface (and most of its features could cover several genres), the genre characteristics most closely fit those expected in a work of history (especially the “events” among us, Luke 1:1). (See a more complete discussion in and of the introduction.)

Prefaces by educated authors follow typical rhetorical conventions. Greek historians reused themes from prefaces in Herodotus and Thucydides, including “the praise of history, the claim of impartiality and the permanent value of the subject.” They typically used some of the following stock topoi in their prefaces, some of which Luke also uses:

Luke shows some of these features: he apparently includes a dedication (Luke 1:3; Acts 1:1) and his purpose for writing, and for writing on this subject (albeit not on the value of history, which anyone steeped in Jewish Scripture would have to accept), and he mentions his predecessors (though he does not severely critique them). Luke also specifies his appropriate methodology, emphasizing his careful investigation (Luke 1:3).

Rhetorical prefaces served three primary functions (Lucian Hist. 53):

Luke undoubtedly seeks to fulfill all three functions with his prefaces.

Historians could omit full prefaces when the subject matter was sufficiently familiar to the ideal audience to require no detailed explanation (Lucian Hist. 52); historians should also omit the request for a favorable hearing characteristic of oratory. Yet even historians were to note their topic, assert its usefulness, and also declare that their exposition of it will be easy to follow (Hist. 53). Luke offers each of these three points in his two-volume work’s preface (“the matters accomplished among us,” Luke 1:1; the subject’s usefulness, 1:4; and its clear presentation, 1:3) but only in the preface to the whole of Luke-Acts (1:1–4), not in Acts itself.

It thus seems reasonable to read the brief preface of Acts 1:1 in the light of the longer preface in Luke 1:1–4, which probably introduces the entire work and not the Gospel only; the preface to a two-volume work could cover both volumes (e.g., Philost. Vit. soph. pref. 479). “Secondary prologues,” however, were common in new volumes of multivolume works, as here. Sometimes later volumes opened with an explanation as to why they had been added to the earlier volumes (Artem. Oneir. 3.pref.); at other times they simply made explicit the transition they were making (Pliny E. N.H. 3.1.1; 9.1.1). Luke follows good rhetorical practice (Lucian Hist. 55) in keeping his prologue shorter in the second volume and in summarizing the first volume’s contents. Ancient writers generally preferred brief prefaces (2 Macc 2:32, in name if not in practice; Artem. Oneir. 1.pref.).

Prefaces differed from one another, and Luke’s prefaces reveal distinctive features. Luke’s preface in Acts refers back to the first volume, making the first preface relevant (to at least some extent) for the entire work of Luke-Acts.

Writers often summarized or referred back to their previous volumes, especially at the start of a new one (e.g., Polyb. 2.1.1; 3.1.1–2). (As in the case of Luke 24:47–53, the end of one book could also announce the topic of the next [e.g., Diod. Sic. 19.110.5; 20.113.5].) One could also refer to former works that were not part of the same enterprise for which one was currently writing. Thus Josephus allows himself to omit details in his autobiography because he recounted other details in the Jewish War (Life 412), freeing him to add other material not in the War (Life 413). Yet a reader might expect comment especially if a writer was deliberately pairing two essays, as in Philo Good Person 1 (LCL, 9:11): “Our former treatise [πρότερος λόγος], Theodotus, had for its theme ‘every bad man is a slave’ and established it by many reasonable and indisputable arguments. The present treatise is closely akin to that, its full brother, indeed, we may say its twin, and in it we shall show that every man of worth is free.” One might also announce a forthcoming volume or volumes.

A few scholars have argued, on the basis of the strictest sense of πρῶτον in Acts 1:1, that the Gospel was not the former of two but, rather, the first of several planned volumes. In this case, perhaps Luke proved unable to complete his work (explaining the unfinished character of parts of Acts and the slowness of the church to pay more attention to it). Most scholars, however, find this inference unwarranted, often pointing out that the Greek term was probably used as loosely at times as modern speakers employ the superlative in English. The classical distinction between “first” and “former” no longer widely obtained; despite our technical exception from Philo above (Good Person 1), papyri show that πρῶτος mostly superseded πρότερος in the popular Koine. Some point to Luke’s usage elsewhere to confirm that the term simply means “former,” which also makes the best sense of our current two volumes. Perhaps a strict Atticist would have objected to Luke’s usage, but most readers would have understood Luke’s point perfectly well, and his lack of Attic purity elsewhere does not suggest that he wrote especially for antiquarian purists.

Scholars have debated what Luke means by ἤρξατο (“began”). Some argue that it is simply a Semitic pleonasm, which is possible where Luke uses sources (Luke 3:8 with Matt 3:9) and especially with verbs of speaking (Luke 4:21; 5:21; 7:15, 24, 49; 11:29; 12:1; 13:26; 20:9; 23:2, 30; 24:47; with other verbs, see 7:38; 13:25; 14:9). This Semitic construction is also familiar from the LXX, in which Luke and his ideal audience are steeped. Luke may well use this wording “to achieve a rhythmically impeccable sequence of words, which could not have been attained with a simple imperfect or aorist.”

Conversely, with other verbs (and sometimes verbs of speaking) it more often makes good sense with reference to beginning an action rather than completing it (Luke 9:12; 11:53; 12:45; 14:29–30; 15:14, 24; 19:37, 45; 21:28; 22:23; 23:5). Also, pleonasms are less likely in a preface where higher literary style was expected, and here it refers to the beginning of Jesus’s ministry, as in 3:23 and Acts 1:22; 10:37. Thus others suggest that it probably means that the second volume addresses what Jesus continued to do and teach, presumably by his name and the Spirit through the disciples. This would make Jesus the “paradigm for the church’s ministry”—a pattern that certainly fits Luke’s plan elsewhere. The syntactical evidence, on the whole, may favor reading “began” as a stylistic flourish, but the context of Luke’s theology (and parallelism between Jesus in the Gospel and key figures in Acts) could support the sense that Acts continues Jesus’s works, especially given the attention that Luke as a competent writer would devote to his preface. Certainly, Jesus’s agents act in his name (e.g., Acts 3:6, 16; 4:7, 10, 30), and Jesus continues to actively stand behind the miracles (esp. 9:34).

The former volume recounted Jesus’s “words and deeds.” (Most of Jesus’s “speaking” in the Gospel should be understood as synonymous with the “teaching” mentioned here.) Jesus’s “deeds” included his signs, which Luke emphasizes heavily. In Luke’s larger work, others had also recognized (not long before) that Jesus was a prophet “powerful in deed and word” (Luke 24:19) just as Moses had been (Acts 7:22). This approach fits a Gospel, but also characterizes historical works more generally. History focused on words, that is, speeches (λόγοι), and deeds, or actions (e.g., Polyb. 2.56.11; deeds in Arist. Rhet. 1, 1360 a35; Val. Max. 1.pref., first sentence; Quint. Inst. 2.4.2). Thus Valerius Maximus often links words and deeds to reinforce the title of his work. Observers also tested the consistency of the actions of moral teachers and others with their words (Matt 23:3; Rom 2:21–22; Jas 1:22; 1 John 3:18). Writers could even use such consistency to seek to vindicate a teacher’s innocence or integrity. In view of their reversal in Luke 24:19, one should not argue from word order here that Jesus’s deeds take precedence over his words; ancients recognized that when word sequence varied randomly in different passages of an author’s writing, the author attached no significance of priority to the sequence.

Claiming that the first volume recounted “all of Jesus’s words and deeds” was the sort of overstatement (contrast John 21:25, a different kind of overstatement) characteristic of ancient rhetoricians (and of Luke in some other settings, e.g., Luke 2:1; Acts 19:10). Still, it also implies comprehensiveness, which ancient historians sought to provide.

The custom of dedicating works to others to show respect or affection was ancient and common in both Greek and Roman literature. It functioned as a symbolic way of presenting the work to the dedicatee and was meant to honor the dedicatee. In contrast to some other kinds of works, narrative works (including epics and historiography) usually lacked dedications until “the imperial period, when dedications were extended to historiographical works.” Ancient writers often dedicated literary works to friends who were equals (especially if the writer was himself a person of means) or sometimes “friends” who were patrons. Among dedications within one’s class, Antonius Diogenes opens his novel by dedicating it to his sister (Thule 110a–111b). For examples of superiors, Plutarch dedicates his work on the sayings of kings to the emperor Trajan (S. Kings pref., Mor. 172BC). By dedicating his work to the emperor Titus, Pliny the Elder feared (or feigned fear) that he risked presumption (N.H. pref. 6, 12). Occasionally writers might also use such dedications to encourage literary patrons or sponsors to fulfill their promised obligations quickly (e.g., Phaedrus 3.epil. 8–21).

One might pause at various intervals in one’s work to honor one’s dedicatee with further mentions (Plut. Isis 1, 3, Mor. 351C, 352C), especially when moving from one book to another, as here. One could mention the dedicatee toward the end of a book as well as toward the beginning.

Sometimes a writer would dedicate a work to the person who urged him to investigate the subject (cf. Dion. Hal. 1 Amm. 2), a point that might be relevant to Theophilus’s apparent curiosity (Luke 1:4). One might write a work to fulfill another’s request to know more about a particular subject; one might also dedicate a work to others’ interest, even if it seemed likely that one had provoked that interest oneself (cf. Jos. Ag. Ap. 2.296; Ant. 1.8).

Not all dedicatees, however, were necessarily as interested as others. Phaedrus addresses book 3 to one Eutychus, entreating him with arguments why he should invest the time to read the work (Phaedrus 3.prol., which is sixty-three lines). Sometimes a writer dedicated a work probably with the goal of securing a patron for its publication, that is, so that the person would be flattered enough to have it read at some of his banquets (see introduction, ).

Patrons could prove very influential in works, whether or not they had invited the writer to treat a topic. A writer might set aside one project for another one if the patron so desired (Dion. Hal. Thuc. 1), and might arrange an essay in such a manner as to make it easiest for the dedicatee to follow (Dion. Hal. 2 Amm. 2). At the same time, an author is responsible to give the truth to his patron even if this is less apt to please him (Dion. Hal. Thuc. 55).

Like other matters involving elite social relations, appropriate honor protocol demanded careful attention with regard to book dedications. Cicero complains that his friend should not have published (i.e., circulated to a reader) a copy of his work in its unrevised form; he needed to polish the work, and then the dedicatee would receive the first copy (Cic. Att. 13.21a). Receiving a book dedication was an honor, a matter of great importance at least for the politics of the urban elites; Cicero complained that Varro “promised to dedicate a great and important work to me” but two years later had still not written it (Att. 13.12 [LCL]). Likewise, a certain Caelius encouraged Cicero, should he ever have some free time, to “compose and dedicate to me some sort of brochure, to make me feel that you take an interest in me,” as a way of recalling their friendship to many future generations (Cic. Fam. 8.3.2 [LCL]).

“O” (ὦ) as part of an address can appear as exalted rhetoric but need not tell us about the addressee’s status (see exclamations in Rom 2:1, 3; Gal 3:1; Jas 2:20); in Luke-Acts it is usually employed with some degree of reproof (Luke 9:41; 24:25; Acts 13:10; 18:14; 27:21), although that is not the case here. More important, Theophilus’s title, “most excellent” (κράτιστε, Luke 1:3), probably implies status (Acts 23:26; 24:3; 26:25). It was considered appropriate to flatter a book’s addressee; Artemidorus, for example, writes for “the greatest orator ever to come before the public” (Artem. Oneir. 1.pref.; White, 14). But it was also appropriate to select a person of status as the dedicatee; thus Josephus dedicates both his autobiography and his apology to “most excellent Epaphroditus” (Ag. Ap. 1.1, κράτιστε; Life 430; Ant. 20.266), apparently his patron; Dionysius addresses κράτιστε Ἀμμαῖε, honorable Ammaeus (Dion. Hal. Anc. Or. 1.1). We need not assume that such titles were “merely” honorary; it is more likely that those who could do so would dedicate their works to persons of status who would read and, it was hoped, commend to others their works, publishing them at their banquets.

Because a client was part of his patron’s extended household, a writer could dedicate a work to a “friend” for use in educating his son (Quint. Inst. 1.pref. 6) or dedicate the work directly to a member of that household. Dionysius dedicates a book to an adolescent as a gift to him—but the youth is the son of Dionysius’s “friend,” presumably meaning his patron (Dion. Hal. Lit. Comp. 1).

Not all dedicatees were patrons, though dedicatees were often people of status. Philostratus dedicates a massive work to a consul (Philost. Vit. soph. pref. 479). Pliny dedicates his collection of epistles to the friend who had urged him to collect them (Ep. 1.1.1–2). One could also address a letter-essay to a wealthy admirer who had challenged the author on some point, prompting an essay in response (Dion. Hal. Pomp. 1). Catullus dedicates a book to one of his readers who had appreciated his “humble” work before others did (Carm. 1.3–4). Cicero dedicated, on Atticus’s advice, a book to Brutus (Att. 13.21a); some other books to Varro and to Brutus (13.23); and his De senectute (also called Cato Major) to Atticus himself (Att. 14.21; cf. Senect. 1.1). Writers sometimes also dedicated poetic lines to praising a friend.

Many scholars suppose that Theophilus was, or likely was, Luke’s patron. This proposal is certainly possible; if historians lacked other means of independent support, they might depend on a patron, and dedications to patrons were common. It seems doubtful that Theophilus sponsored Luke during his travels with Paul when he did his “field research,” but it is certainly possible that he sponsored his writing project and its publication. More clearly, he could help promote the work once it was out, and his name would lend to the work the status and credibility of a respected member of society. Churches may have made their own copies as word about the book caught on, but possibly Luke hopes that Theophilus, as a person of status, will sponsor the work by circulating it among members of his own class. (This was begun, as noted in of the introduction, especially by public readings at banquets; the well-to-do could also lend their homes as venues for other public readings.) Given Theophilus’s special status, this seems fairly likely, though, as we have noted, not all dedicatees were patrons.

What we can say about Theophilus certainly is that he is “an ‘overt narratee’”—the one person who can be certainly assumed in Luke’s audience. Then again, this does not necessarily help us to construct even Luke’s ideal audience: a dedicatee might be named precisely because his status was higher than that of many other members of the audience; his name would then honor the manuscript, as well as the reverse. Conversely, Luke would probably not have worked to produce the quality of Greek he produced in some parts of his work had he not intended (or hoped for) an audience that included at least some persons of status and education. It is possible that Luke strikes so forcefully at the dangers of wealth precisely because many in his audience face this temptation.

No one, however, intended the dedicatee to be the only reader of a published work; in fact, Dionysius writes one work because his dedicatee found insufficient two previous works he had written on the subject—one to the current dedicatee but the other to a different one (Dion. Hal. 2 Amm. 1). Dionysius thus attests that the work addressed to the other person had been circulated and was part of the background he could assume in writing for a different dedicatee now.

Other sources also indicate that a writer recognized that there would be other readers besides a patron and therefore had to take into account that audience as well (Dion. Hal. Thuc. 2). Thus, for example, though Dionysius dedicates his Literary Composition to a particular reader, his opening and closing suggest a wide literary audience (the splendid epideictic of Lit. Comp. 1 includes notable paronomasia, with five words ending in -ῆμα). Josephus urges Epaphroditus to accept the dedication of his apology but implies a wide audience: “To you, who are a devoted lover of truth, and for your sake to any who, like you, may wish to know the facts about our race” (Ag. Ap. 2.296 [LCL]).

Some scholars have suggested that Luke uses θεόφιλος, “loved by God,” symbolically rather than as the dedicatee’s real name; not surprisingly, this approach was common in an earlier era that valued allegory. From a very early period, Greek could use “beloved by God” as an adjective: thus in Homer, Achilles is Διίφιλε, loved by Zeus (Hom. Il. 1.74), as is Apollo (1.86). A classical writer could speak of soldiers victorious in battle as θεοφιλεῖς (Xen. Cyr. 4.1.5). Philosophers could call divinely inspired persons, such as poets or lawgivers, “beloved by the gods” (Mus. Ruf. 11, p. 80.26; 15, p. 96.24), or apply the adjective to the wise soul (Porph. Marc. 14.238), wise deeds (15.260), or a wise person (16.281). Good people were “loved by the gods” (θεοφιλεῖς, Dio Chrys. Or. 31.58). Some Jewish people also spoke of lovers of learning as θεοφιλεῖς (Let. Aris. 287) and similarly of Abraham (Philo Abr. 89) or Moses (Philo Conf. 95).

If the name were used symbolically, it could represent all hearers loved by God, but this interpretation would entail an unusual use of a dedication. Conversely, it could be applied symbolically to a person of rank who would risk too much by being named. But it made little sense to dedicate a work to someone yet conceal the dedicatee’s name; this would neither honor the dedicatee nor secure the endorsement value of his status for the work. Granted, Luke would hardly name him if he wrote for Roman Christians shortly after Nero’s fire, but our introduction (chs. –) suggests that Luke probably wrote somewhat later and, still more probably, in a region lacking overt, life-threatening persecution.

Given the attached title (“most excellent”) in Luke 1:3, “Theophilus” is almost certainly a real name. The name was quite common in antiquity and (in contrast to the title) does not indicate much about the possessor’s status or ethnicity. It became a common Jewish name in the Diaspora, like others compounded with roots such as εὐσεβ- or σαββάτις. Along with other theo-compounded names, it appears frequently in Jewish papyri from Roman Egypt. Although “Dositheos” is apparently “the only theophoric name . . .  used in the Hellenistic period almost exclusively by Jews,” theophoric names such as “Theophilos” were quite common among Egyptian Jewry. An Alexandrian Jewish novel applies it to a Palestinian Jewish sage (Let. Aris. 49), and it appears as the name of a high priest’s father (i.e., a Greek-speaking Judean aristocrat) in Jos. Ant. 20.223 in the time of Agrippa II.

Theophilus was almost certainly a Christian, since he was already well instructed in the gospel tradition (Luke 1:4). As argued in the discussion of audience in of the introduction, Theophilus was probably a Gentile God-fearer but certainly someone knowledgeable in the LXX (possibly from many years in the church). Since Theophilus would not represent the entire audience, however, some of these reconstructions (such as Gentile God-fearers) could apply to others without applying to him; what is certain is that he had been instructed in the accounts, especially the gospel tradition and some basic knowledge of the apostolic church, of which he was a part (1:4).

Because Luke’s second preface abbreviates but refers back to the first, it is valuable to survey briefly some elements of Luke’s preface for both volumes in Luke 1:1–4. Even if this preface serves primarily Luke’s first volume, it is intended to introduce the work as a whole. This is the only literary preface among the canonical Gospels. I will not investigate this passage in detail here because in the introduction has already treated Luke’s prologue at some length, and other elements (such as the identity of Theophilus) are addressed above.

Luke may contrast his work with those of his predecessors (Luke 1:1). Historians and other authors often contrasted their works with those of their predecessors, explaining why they needed to write this work and why their own work, when competing with others, should be read. Some ancient writers evaluated their predecessors no more charitably than some modern dissertations that denigrate earlier works on their subject in order to emphasize their own distinctiveness. Others managed to articulate the need for their works without critiquing others.

Thus, for example, Artemidorus denigrates previous writers with whom he contrasts his own work (Oneir. 1.pref.; 3.pref.), as do some other nonhistorical writers; among historians, Polybius, for example, does likewise (Polyb. 3.32.4–5). The preface of Rhetorica ad Alexandrum explains that previous works have never attained full accuracy on the subject, which this work’s author will now attempt (pref., opening, lines 1–12). Dio Cassius contrasts himself with some writers who have compromised historical truth in the interests of rhetorical style (Dio Cass. 1.1.1–2); Josephus accuses some of his own predecessors of falsehood. Diodorus of Sicily criticizes the information of his predecessors more charitably, conceding that some were good historians but explaining that they lacked access to the particular information he cites (Diod. Sic. 1.37.4, 6). Pseudo-Hermogenes sets out to try to clarify what none of his predecessors have managed to explain clearly (Inv. 3.4.133). Still others deny that they are offering any criticism of predecessors.

Some distinguished themselves from predecessors without explicit disapproval of them, simply by emphasizing their comprehensiveness or (by contrast) their selectivity. Diodorus provides his reasons for offering a new work, distinguishing his work from that of predecessors (1.3.1) by noting that most of them focused on single issues or peoples whereas he is endeavoring to produce a comprehensive history of the world (1.3.2). (Aulus Gellius, by contrast, thinks his own work better than that of his predecessors because he is more selective; Aul. Gel. pref. 11–12!) Aelius Aristides distinguishes his praise of Athens from earlier panegyrics on the city because his will endeavor to praise all of Athens’s greatness, a task that they did not dare attempt (Panath. 4, 152D). Quintilian observes that he had many distinguished predecessors and hence wrote only because so urged by his friends (Inst. 1.pref. 1–2); his predecessors did not find early education a suitable topic for rhetorical display (1.pref. 4), but Quintilian believes it necessary to address it (1.pref. 5).

Distinguishing one’s more complete approach from the earlier efforts of others was not the same as censuring them, a sometimes rude behavior that one writer attributes to the historical prefaces of Anaximenes and Theopompus (Dion. Hal. Ant. rom. 1.1.1). Vitruvius notes that it is good to acknowledge one’s predecessors (and sources) when writing on a topic (Arch. 7.pref. 10–17) and distinguishes himself from them merely by noting that most of them were Greeks, whereas he thought it important that a Roman such as he would write (7.pref. 18). If one genuinely wrote to critique the work of one’s predecessors, at least for some writers the critique might well show up elsewhere in the work, sustaining the contrast in one’s favor (e.g., Hermog. Issues 74.16–75.10). In the end, Luke’s note about his predecessors serves a popular purpose in prefaces: he must explain, as Frederick Danker puts it, why he is “adding yet another work to a long list of publications on the same subject.”

The “handing down” of information from the eyewitnesses (Luke 1:2) probably evokes the technical language of traditioning. Such oral transmission could prove much more accurate than modern Western societies would expect (see discussion in , , of the introduction). The appeal to common knowledge in 1:4 (common, at least, to the writer’s and Theophilus’s circle) matches other such rhetorical appeals in Acts, not surprisingly in speeches (Acts 10:37; 26:26). Other writers sometimes also appealed to what was already known. Because Mark and other Gospels were circulating (Luke 1:1), it is not surprising that Theophilus would already know much of the information in the Gospel. Luke’s second volume is probably more distinctive, although reports about Paul (cf., e.g., 1 Thess 1:8–9; negatively, Rom 3:8) and other apostles (1 Cor 9:5–6; Gal 2:11–14) had circulated, at the very least orally.

If Jesus’s “taking up” ends the period of time described in Acts 1:2, it might contrast with the period after his suffering in 1:3. In this case, the “taking up” might refer to his death. Significantly more likely, Jesus’s “taking up” refers to his ascension (1:9–11, with ἀναλαμβάνω appearing in 1:11 as here and thereby framing the pericope), since this is the event on which the first volume closes (Luke 24:51). The cognate noun in Luke 9:51 could refer either to his death or to his exaltation but probably refers to the entire process with an emphasis on the latter, since the exaltation is the pivot on which Luke-Acts turns.

Before his “taking up” (probably his ascension, Acts 1:11, as noted), Jesus gave his disciples orders by the Holy Spirit (1:2). Certainly, Jesus acted by the Spirit (Luke 4:18; Acts 10:38); emphasizing this point here allows Luke to connect Jesus’s speaking by the Spirit with the impending empowerment of Jesus’s followers for speaking by the Spirit (Acts 1:5, 8). The same connection would apply if we read the syntax differently (the apostles chosen by the Spirit, i.e., in prayer in Luke 6:12–13), though this reading seems less likely contextually (the Spirit is not mentioned in Luke 6:12–13). This demonstrates, from the very beginning of the volume, the parallel between Jesus and the church, between what he did in the Gospel and what he continues to do through the disciples (cf. comment on Acts 1:1, the sense of which is in dispute).

Jesus’s “orders” here must include at least waiting in Jerusalem ( [see comment there]; Luke 24:49; elsewhere in Acts, one is told to wait for further instructions or empowerment, Acts 9:6; 10:5–6). It should also include their call to announce the good news (1:8, although the key verb is technically indicative; 4:19–20; 5:28–29; 10:42; Luke 24:47–48). The particular verb (ἐντέλλομαι) recurs again in Acts 13:47 with reference to the mission to the nations (a mission soon addressed in this context, 1:8).

The choosing (ἐκλέγομαι) of the apostles points back to Luke 6:13, when Jesus first selected the Twelve (6:14–16); the context there does not mention the Spirit, although it mentions that Jesus spent the night in prayer beforehand (6:12), suggesting his dependence on divine guidance. The verb soon recurs in Acts 1:24 for the divine choice (by lot) of the twelfth witness to replace Judas and in 15:7 for God’s choice of Peter to officially introduce the Gentile mission. It also applies to Jerusalem believers choosing seven leaders of the social ministry in 6:5 and to the Jerusalem church’s selection of representatives to confirm for Diaspora Christians the Jerusalem decree (15:22, 25). That Luke uses it for God’s choice of Israel (13:17) and the Messiah (Luke 9:35, according to the likeliest reading) may provide some theological background to Luke’s usage here (on the relationship between the Twelve and Israel, see Luke 22:30; comment on Acts 1:15–26).

That the apostles are “chosen” is significant also for Luke’s view of the Twelve. We cannot know how varied the theological perspectives of Luke’s day were, but we can be certain that he expected the church to conform to the norm of apostolic teaching. Although anyone in the church might prophesy (Acts 2:17–18), it was the apostles who had been with Jesus from the baptism of John through the resurrection (1:21–22) who guaranteed continuity with Jesus’s ministry and teaching. Luke highlights this continuity by narrating at length (1:15–26) God’s choice (1:24–26) of a final apostolic witness, a section bracketed between the promise and the coming of the Spirit (1:4–8; 2:1–4) and an emphasis on the “founding” believers’ unity (1:14; 2:1).

For Luke, however, this apostolic norm is interpreted through God’s continuing, sovereign work, not any intrinsic superiority of the apostles themselves (3:12). His narrative emphasizes that God thrust the Gentile mission on the church and that Paul was called as its leading exponent; Paul, too, is “chosen” (9:15) as a “witness” (22:15; 23:11; 26:16). Although these witnesses were foundational (cf. similarly Eph 2:20), from the standpoint of Luke’s theology, such choices did not exalt the individuals chosen as individuals (hence the emphasis on their backgrounds, e.g., Luke 5:8; 22:34; Acts 8:3); rather, these choices highlighted God’s sovereign plan to fulfill the mission effectively. (Peter, for example, is kept by Jesus’s prayers and not his own virtue and must likewise strengthen the others [Luke 22:32].) God continued to make “choices” among them for particular tasks (Acts 15:7), but apart from Jesus, all the protagonists would be like David, who passed from the scene after fulfilling God’s purpose in his generation (13:36).

Luke first summarizes Jesus’s postresurrection appearances to the Twelve and his teaching to them, which concerns especially the “kingdom” (1:3). He then elaborates in more detail the promise of the Spirit, God’s empowerment for the witnesses’ mission from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth. This empowerment is the implicit (and often explicit) driving force behind the narrative’s movement from Jerusalem to Rome, from a culturally comfortable city representing the church’s heritage to a culturally and religiously dissonant city representing its mission and future.

Although Luke will provide one or two (composite) detailed scenes (1:4–11), he first summarizes Jesus’s appearances and his explanations about God’s kingdom (1:3). The forty days of appearances provide convincing proofs as well as his teaching.

God’s “kingdom” is similarly the focus of many other summaries (e.g., 8:12; 14:22; 19:8; 20:25; Luke 4:43; 8:1, 10; 9:2, 11, 60; 10:9; 16:16). This includes two teaching summaries that frame the concluding message of this book (Acts 28:23, 31), just as the kingdom dominates discussion in 1:3, 6. Kingdom teaching thus frames the book of Acts, connecting the movement’s message with that of Jesus in Luke’s Gospel. The more detailed scene that follows the present summary will flesh out the nature of his teaching about the kingdom, including the promised eschatological Spirit (1:4–8).

Some Gentiles in Luke’s audience might think of various general analogies to the activities that Luke describes here, but would also think of differences. Greeks would be familiar with the evidential category of epiphanies, which could include a deity’s “appearances.” Hellenistic historiography provides examples of divination and epiphanies for divine guidance. Even the sober Roman historian Tacitus claims that Vespasian saw an apparition of a person who was in fact eighty miles away (Hist. 4.82).

Thus it is not surprising that Celsus compares resurrection appearances of Jesus to Hellenistic epiphanies, with attestation and powers, in seeking to undermine Christian claims. But while ancients commonly reported apparitions of deceased persons or deities and hence occasionally those of persons who had become immortal (e.g., Plutarch’s reports of Romulus more than half a millennium earlier), these are not resurrection appearances.

Even the appearance of Apollonius of Tyana, which exhibits some parallels with the Gospel accounts (Philost. Vit. Apoll. 8.31), is not an exception. This story appears in a third-century source, after Christian teaching on the resurrection had become widely disseminated; further and more to our present point, Apollonius proves that he has not died, not that he has risen.

Such apparitions could imply a sort of divinity or at least an exalted status, neither of which would have troubled Luke’s audience in Jesus’s case (cf. 2:33–39), but the forms of these apparitions differ from the circumstances that Luke depicts here. Deities periodically “manifested” themselves to mortals in Greek tradition, sometimes in sleep and sometimes as apparitions. Paul’s language in 1 Cor 15 applied in the LXX especially to revelations of God or angels (cf. Bar 3:37; Sib. Or. 1.200). Many “apparitions” were simply “signs” in general; thus, when a comet appeared for seven nights during games honoring Caesar, people believed this to be his soul (Suet. Jul. 88). From the late Hellenistic age, “epiphanies” of Greek gods usually meant the activity of a deity rather than its appearance; it is primarily these that witnesses attest, though appearances in personal dreams and visions occur. Appearances of deities visible to large numbers of people normally belonged to an era many centuries earlier than the writings.

Early Christian portrayals of Jesus’s resurrection appearances differ from some modern reconstructions of what is supposed to have taken place. Very little evidence suggests the plausibility of other successive and mass, corporate visions (see esp. 1 Cor 15:5–7). Conditions in first-century Judea and Galilee were not those that produced the seventeenth-century messiah Sabbatai Zevi, many of whose followers failed to be deterred by his apostasy and some even by his death. Aside from different social conditions, knowledge of the Christian belief in Jesus’s resurrection and redefinition of messiahship could provide later messianic movements a model for redefining the messianic mission in a manner that did not exist before Jesus.

There are some claims of more public “appearances” that are more difficult to explain along the above sorts of lines (though these seem to appear at a distance, not personally interacting with those who knew the person). Thus among prodigies reported before Jerusalem’s fall were armies clashing in the skies and a voice declaring the “gods’” departure from the temple (Tac. Hist. 5.13). Tacitus follows Josephus (War 6.297–99), who reports that people saw heavenly chariots moving through the clouds and surrounding cities (cf. 2 Kgs 6:17; 2 Macc 3:24–26; 4 Macc 4:10–11; Sib. Or. 3.805–8), and priests heard voices in the temple. Horsley and Hanson regard these as collective fantasies, but they could also be (1) authentic appearances of something related to Jerusalem’s fall (which I would deem highly unlikely but which a post-Enlightenment theological perspective need not simply dismiss); (2) the sun playing tricks on eyes at dusk; (3) propaganda to justify Jerusalem’s fall after the event, which Josephus has accepted; or (4) Josephus’s own propaganda (he is the only extant witness concerning witnesses apart from sources dependent on him).

One of the final two views seems most likely. In fact, Josephus, as a highly rhetorical historian, may be following a standard sort of report of such events as portents of destruction. Some writers engaged in poetic license, such as a giant Fury stalking the city and shaking the snakes in her hair; others were more sober historians citing reports for particular years. Portents included events such as we might regard as natural phenomena today, such as physical deformities at birth, lightning striking temples, and comets, but also included visions of celestial figures or armies. The armies were sometimes heard rather than seen; sights that were seen were often acknowledged as divine illusions rather than objects physically present; and the apparitions of armies did not draw near anyone. Such reports were normally not verified by citing witnesses, and the historians who report them sometimes express skepticism concerning their value, at times allowing for imagination in their production and at times pointing out that such reports fed on each other among the gullible. Some of what was genuinely seen at a distance may have been misconstrued; thus, for example, the report of two suns and light at night may reflect an aurora.

In any case, this phenomenon is quite different from meeting again and talking with a person one has personally known, which Luke stresses. There is also a difference between accumulating prodigies portending a dramatic event, on the one hand, and citing eyewitnesses committed to the veracity of a central, dramatic event, on the other (as already in Paul, 1 Cor 15:3–8).

But the difference between the early Christian accounts and other appearance accounts again concerns the resurrection. To most ancient Mediterranean peoples, the concept of corporal resurrection was barely intelligible; to Jewish people, it was strictly eschatological. Yet if one grants, from a neutral starting point, the possibility of a bodily resurrection of Jesus within past history, the appearances would likely follow such an event naturally with or without parallels. In a Jewish framework, Jesus’s resurrection within history must also signify the arrival of the eschatological era in some sense (e.g., Acts 1:3–6; “from among the dead ones,” Rom 1:4; 1 Cor 15:20; Gal 1:4; Heb 6:5).

Later Platonists doubted that gods could become visible, though they affirmed that lower angels or demons could do so (Iambl. Myst. 2.10). Others warned that one could not always distinguish the individual phantoms of past heroes who appeared (Philost. Hrk. 21.1, third century C.E.); it is thus important for Luke to emphasize that Jesus is no mere ghost (Luke 24:37–43). Some who doubted whether apparitions really occurred might prove willing to believe if convinced by an eyewitness or even by someone who had heard an eyewitness (e.g., Philost. Hrk. 7.11; cf. 2.8). The notion of appearances was thus intelligible in the broader culture, but recognition of this general intelligibility should not allow us to obscure genuine differences.

Novels often included resuscitations, but normally only after apparent deaths. Because the idea of apparent deaths was growing in literature of the imperial period, it may have been all the more important for Luke to make clear that Jesus was actually dead (just as he had to emphasize, on the other side, that he was no mere phantom). Nor was this merely the magical revivification of a corpse (cf. Ant. Diog. Thule 110b). Perhaps most important, as noted above, Luke emphasizes that this was no mere phantom or subjective experience.

Although Greek commonly employed τεκμήριον as evidence generally (and as an obvious symptom in medical writers), it bore a stronger and more specific sense for rhetors seeking to prove a case in a courtroom (relevant in Acts; cf. Acts 1:8; 22–26). When rhetoricians spoke of τεκμήρια, they meant that the proofs were irrefutable, with conclusions that followed inevitably. In a court, one might offer a strong claim “by many proofs” (ἐκ ίολλῶν τεκμηρίων, Isaeus Aristarch. 6 [LCL]). The phrase “many proofs” appears especially frequently in Hellenistic historiography.

The particular evidences in view are fleshed out in Luke 24:39–43, including Jesus eating; Luke merely mentions them again in summary fashion here. Some of these may diverge from contemporary expectations. Some Jewish traditions imply that just as angels did not need food or drink, so glorified humans would lack desire for it (2 En. 56:2, of uncertain date).

That Greek readers would need assurance of such proof indicates that Luke does not believe he describes mere appearances of a phantom or ghost, which were already commonly accepted in their tradition. Hellenistic mythology includes numerous cases of wraiths that only seem to be the person whose image they represent. Thus, for example, deities also sent phantom images made only of cloud. Mythographers analogously spoke of Iphigeneia only appearing to be sacrificed; in reality, a deer was clandestinely substituted for her.

Nor would doubts be limited to Luke’s audience; the disciples’ own initial doubts appear in some Gospels (Matt 28:17; John 20:25; cf. Mark 16:11, 13–14), including Luke (Luke 24:23–25, 37, 41). Luke had promised to confirm Theophilus’s faith (Luke 1:4) and frequently emphasizes both physical evidence (3:22; 24:38–40) and apologetic dispute (Acts 9:29; 17:3; 18:4, 19; 19:8–9; 28:23). Some scholars cite Hellenistic examples for demonstrations of apparitions’ physicality (esp. Philost. Vit. Apoll. 8.12), though, given their date, these authors may have derived the idea from the Christian resurrection accounts widespread by their time. Likewise Philostratus, probably influenced by gospel tradition, speaks of a divine hero allowing embraces when he appears. The novelist also offers scars and footprints as marks of the divine hero.

Less relevant for our consideration here would be the observation that Greeks could not even be certain, when dealing with the divine, that the images they saw in other settings were authentically the entities that they appeared to be. Greek folklore assumed that deities took on various familiar shapes to communicate with people or to disguise themselves or escape, or concealed or transformed the appearance of their favorite mortals; Jewish hearers might think especially of the disguises of angels. In view of such traditions, some hearers might misinterpret Luke’s reports of people’s not initially recognizing Jesus (Luke 24:16, 31; cf. John 20:14), inviting Luke’s clarification.

In most cases, however, Jewish sources include revelations of the supernatural person’s true identity. Tobias could not tell that Raphael, who claimed to be a son of one Anania known to Tobias’s father (Tob 5:12), was an angel (5:4–6; 9:1–5); he explains the “vision” in 12:19. In the Hebrew Bible, God himself sometimes came unrecognized at first (Gen 18:9–13), especially as the angel of the Lord (Judg 6:22; 13:20–23). Jewish traditions also speak of God or others changing the appearance of some persons in the biblical narrative. Luke’s “many proofs” demonstrate to his audience that the Jesus who appeared to the apostles after the resurrection was the same one they had known before.

In Luke (in contrast to John 20:19–23), a significant period separates Jesus’s resurrection and the coming of the Spirit. Although Jesus’s resurrection and ascension are theologically connected (Acts 2:32–33; Phil 2:8–9; 1 Pet 3:22), none of our narrative accounts suggests that Jesus left the disciples immediately after the resurrection. Luke, wishing to stress the objective certainty of the resurrection, has particular reason to underline the time Jesus spent with his disciples; this time reinforces the certainty of their testimony that he was again alive. Similarly, Luke’s emphasis on the bodily character of the resurrection (Luke 24:39–43) suggests the importance of a clear point of demarcation for the ascension, distinguishing Jesus’s resurrection appearances from the mere nonbodily apparitions of Greek belief.

The forty days serve a narrative function in filling much of the period between Jesus’s resurrection and Pentecost (fifty days; 2:1). Other sources also suggest that Jesus continued with his disciples for a period of time before parting from them (Matt 28:16; John 20:26; 21:1), though they do not specify the particular duration of this period. The period that Paul assumes in 1 Cor 15:5–8 may represent more than a few days because it must allow for other apostles (perhaps Luke’s seventy; Luke 10:1) to have joined the Twelve after the latter’s first encounter with Jesus (1 Cor 15:5, 7; cf. 15:9), as well as for other appearances.

Some later writings cite even longer periods for the glorified Jesus’s revelations (eleven years in the gnostic tract Pistis Sophia 1), but Luke’s period coheres more reasonably with our other early data. Some scholars think that, in contrast to such traditions, Luke may use the “forty days” especially to limit the period of Jesus’s revelation to his apostles. Some other scholars today think that the appearances must have continued longer than forty days because Paul lists resurrection appearances continuing as late as his own conversion, which they date up to two years later (1 Cor 15:6–8). Some opine that Luke plays down resurrection appearances after Pentecost because he prefers simply defined epochs.

Nevertheless, although Luke may prefer such epochs, it is not continuing appearances that Luke himself denies (Acts 9:4); he distinguishes such a later experience as Paul’s, however, from Jesus remaining on earth with the disciples. A single appearance on the road to Damascus and subsequent visions (18:9; 23:11) differ at least quantitatively from disciples touching and eating with Jesus (Luke 24:41–43). Paul himself presents Jesus’s appearance as a divergence from the normal pattern of time (1 Cor 15:8). Further, if Luke’s interest is limiting revelations, he would be more concerned to limit the recipients or the content of revelations than their timing. Any revelations in the first few years would have predated later mystics’ claims, in any case, and even during the first forty days more than the Twelve were present (Acts 1:15).

Dunn points out that Paul cites multiple appearances, including one to five hundred persons (1 Cor 15:6), which Dunn believes suggests that by that point the movement had grown beyond the 120 of Acts 1:15 (a number he apparently accepts more readily than the forty days). But is it not likelier that shortly after the feast Jesus appeared to more of his Galilean followers, most of whom then returned to their homes in Galilee while the smaller number remained in Jerusalem?

Nevertheless, the issue of Jesus’s instruction is an important one. Forty days allows enough time for the disciples who will carry on his mission to receive enough teaching. (Since Luke’s Gospel is full of teaching, perhaps it would be better to say here that they received sufficient postresurrection clarification of his earlier teaching, fleshed out in Acts’ speeches as the kerygma in light of Scripture; cf. Luke 24:25–27, 44.) Jesus’s time with his disciples after the resurrection would also offer hearers an explanation for how Jesus’s followers learned what happened to Jesus in their absence, such as during the trial, when they slept in Gethsemane, or earlier, at the temptation.

As a background for Luke’s specific number of days here, scholars sometimes cite forty days of seeking revelation from God in apocalyptic literature. These texts, however, depend on the biblical traditions of forty days of seeking revelation associated with Moses (Exod 24:18; 34:28; Deut 9:9, 11, 18, 25; 10:10) and (also dependent on the Moses story) Elijah (1 Kgs 19:8). But these are the same periods of time associated with Jesus’s ministry in the wilderness, which is close to the foreground of what Luke can presuppose for what his audience knows (Luke 4:2). As Jesus was tempted for forty days before his public ministry, now he spends forty days with his disciples before theirs. Whatever else we may suspect about reasons for emphasizing this interim period, the particular number of days probably echoes the period of Jesus’s temptation, signaling a prelude to new ministry.

Luke’s summary of Jesus’s postresurrection teaching exhibits significant continuity with Jesus’s preresurrection teaching in Luke’s Gospel. Before his ascension, Jesus continued teaching his disciples about the kingdom (Acts 1:3). This teaching about the kingdom informs the realized eschatology of Luke’s pneumatology in 1:6–8 and 2:17. Though explicitly mentioned in Acts mostly in summaries of preaching (because it is treated more thoroughly in Luke), the kingdom remains important to Luke, with Jesus’s and Paul’s teaching on it providing one inclusio around the book (1:3, 6; 28:23, 31, accounting for one-half of the references).

We may surmise that Luke is content to provide us with merely this summary that Jesus taught about the kingdom because Luke has provided a fuller exposition of this teaching in the Gospel (the “teaching” of which is mentioned in Acts 1:1). Nearly all references to the kingdom in Acts are summary reports about preaching (8:12; 14:22; 19:8; 20:25; 28:23, 31), presupposing the content outlined in the Gospel. The Gospel includes summaries of Jesus’s preaching of the kingdom as well. Jesus preached about the kingdom (Luke 4:43; 8:1; 9:11), promising it to the poor (6:20), little ones (18:16–17; cf. 12:32), and the radically obedient (9:62; 16:16); by contrast, it would be difficult for the rich (6:24–25; 18:24–25). Jesus also sent his disciples to preach the kingdom (9:2, 60; 10:9, 11), a mission relevant for their proclamation in Acts (Acts 8:12; 19:8; 20:25; 28:23, 31).

The Gospel also articulates in greater detail the message of the kingdom that Luke presupposes here. Although people should yearn for the kingdom (Luke 11:2; 12:31; 23:51), part of the message was that it was present in a hidden way (13:18–21), currently available for those willing to receive it (8:10). Perhaps through the impending Gentile mission (see below on Acts 1:8), the kingdom would spread and pervade the world before its ultimate consummation (Luke 13:18–21). Jesus’s followers could enter the kingdom and find there a role greater than John’s (7:28; 16:16).

The kingdom was near (Luke 10:9, 11; 11:20; 17:20–21), but in the sense that Jesus would go away to “receive” it and return (19:11–15; cf. the application of Ps 110 in Luke 20:42–43), apparently receiving it after the cross (Luke 23:42–43). It would be “near” again in the future when Jesus’s return was near (21:31). The hope of the kingdom in Luke’s eschatology includes a future kingdom with the restoration of Israel (1:33; 22:29), although scholars debate in what form Luke intends this; it included the expected future banquet with Abraham (13:28–29; 22:16, 18, 29–30; cf. 14:15), would be preceded by great tribulation (17:22–18:8; Acts 14:22), and included great reward (Luke 18:29–30). Following Mark, Luke seems to regard the transfiguration of Jesus in glory as a foretaste of the future kingdom (Luke 9:27 in the context of 9:26–36; cf. Mark 9:1–8).

What the disciples had not fully understood in Jesus’s kingdom teaching earlier, however, was especially that Jesus would go and then return (Luke 19:12), equipping them with the Spirit in the meantime to carry out the mission (Acts 1:8–11). Jesus’s explanation to them about the interim period provokes their obvious question as to the time of the consummation in 1:6 (though he has already explained that they will not know the time; Luke 17:20–30; 21:9).

The Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek terms here translated “kingdom” usually signify the concept “reign” or “authority” or “rule.” Like the OT (e.g., Isa 6:5), Jewish teachers could speak of God’s present rule (especially among the people who obeyed his law). But Jewish people also looked for the kingdom as God’s future rule, when God would reign unchallenged, as attested in regular Jewish prayers. Because “heaven” was a common Jewish periphrasis for “God,” some other Jewish texts use “kingdom of heaven” as a periphrasis for “kingdom of God” (e.g., Sipra Qed. pq. 9.207.2.13; y. Qidd. 1:2, §24; Matthew, passim). Sometimes they also seem to use “kingdom” as a periphrasis for the divine name.

Jesus’s picture of the kingdom, as well as of the Son of Man, may derive especially from Dan 7, a passage less frequently mined by Jesus’s followers than in the Jesus tradition itself. With its collocation of language such as “mystery” about God’s “kingdom,” “son of man,” and God’s kingdom ending worldly empires, Daniel provided the most fertile (and immediate) background for Jesus’s teachings about the kingdom. Daniel’s kingdom intervened at the climax of all earthly kingdoms, in the time of the fourth human kingdom, which ancient interpreters (at least in the Roman period) understood as the Roman Empire.

Because virtually every stratum of gospel tradition testifies that Jesus regularly announced the kingdom, there should be no doubt that this was a characteristic emphasis of Jesus’s teaching. Scholars have sometimes debated, however, whether Jesus emphasized a present or a future kingdom. More clear evidence seems to favor Jesus announcing a future (impending) kingdom. Yet many have noted an emphasis on the presence of the kingdom in the Gospels, especially in the kingdom parables and in sayings such as the one about entering the kingdom as a child (e.g., Luke 13:18–21; 18:17; Mark 4:26–32; 10:15).

If one examines the entire evidence available in the Gospels, the kingdom appears to be both present and future, as is widely recognized today. It was only natural for Jesus and his first followers, once they recognized that Jesus would need to come again to establish his kingdom fully, to recognize that the anticipated kingdom would arrive in two stages corresponding to Jesus’s first and second coming. If one does not arbitrarily exclude either set of evidence by posing a contradiction that the first generations of disciples would not have recognized, both sets of evidence fit together adequately. If Jesus implied his messiahship and spoke of a future Son of Man, we may thus assume that when he announced the kingdom, he undoubtedly announced God’s imminent rule in the final sense (rather than simply God’s providential rule over creation or over Israel through the law). But his claim also suggests that he expected to play a role in the kingdom, already active in a hidden way in the present (Luke 13:18–30).

Early Christians (most notably in the Pauline circle) continued the present and future tension in eschatology required by a Messiah who had not yet visibly completed Israel’s eschatological hopes. As Jesus’s resurrection is the first installment on the future resurrection of the righteous, guaranteeing that it will occur (1 Cor 15:20), so Jesus’s demonstrations of God’s rule at his first coming would foreshadow the completed revelation of God’s rule when he returns. In the interim, according to the distinctive perspective probably shared by most early Christians, believers enjoy the Spirit as the “down payment” of their future hope (Rom 8:23; 2 Cor 1:22; 5:5; Eph 1:13–14; Heb 6:4–5). The present significance of the future kingdom in early Christian teaching was thus that God’s people in the present age were citizens of the coming age, people whose identity was determined by what Jesus had done and what they would be, not by what they had been or by their status in the world.

Some contemporary scholars, who maintain that Jesus’s future kingdom is an unrealistic hope for modern people, label the kingdom a myth and translate it into existential language more appropriate for their own academic circles of thought. But other scholars respond that their position presupposes modern contempt for apocalyptic thought rather than a detailed historical argument. Further, a future kingdom hardly appears irrelevant to the persecuted and oppressed, who nurture hope that God’s justice will ultimately triumph and vindicate them. Finally, on the historical level, whatever modern readers’ application, it would be naive to presuppose that the members of the early Jesus movement shared modernity’s noneschatological perspective; had they wanted a noneschatological mode for expressing their convictions, Sadducees and much of Diaspora Judaism offered such options.

Whereas Acts 1:3 summarizes Jesus’s appearances and preaching about God’s kingdom (similar to the closing summary of Paul’s preaching in 28:31), in 1:4–11 Luke provides one or two scenes of Jesus’s final preascension communications in more concrete detail. The events in Luke’s material here presumably did not all happen at once; 1:4a probably suggests table fellowship, but Luke has identified the scene of the ascension as near Bethany (Luke 24:50), on Mount Olivet (Acts 1:12). Despite its potentially disparate chronology, however, all of the material that Luke portrays is thematically connected: the Spirit is the foretaste of the kingdom and the empowerment to prepare a people for it. The Spirit thus enables the witnesses to carry on Jesus’s mission after his ascension, just as Elisha received a double portion of the Spirit to carry on Elijah’s work after his ascension. Although the coming of God’s reign included fire for the wicked, it would be realized in the lives of the repentant through the Spirit (Luke 3:16).

Presumably, “sharing salt” (συναλιζόμενος) here functions as a metonymy for “sharing a meal,” which Luke clearly affirms Jesus did with his disciples after the resurrection (Luke 24:30, 35, 41–43; Acts 10:41), probably including on this occasion. Thus one character in a story “shared salt” (ἁλῶν ἐκοινωνοῦμεν) with his fellow travelers. (Early versions, including Coptic, Latin, and Syriac, also understood this expression with reference to eating together.)

This final meal would provide continuity between Jesus’s ministry that preceded (Luke 5:29; 7:34, 36; 9:16–17; 11:37; 14:13; 15:2; esp. 22:14; 24:30) and the church’s life that follows (Acts 2:42, 46; 16:34; 27:35; cf. Luke 10:7; Acts 9:19). It may also suggest an emphasis on realized eschatology, if Jesus now eats and drinks with his disciples “in the kingdom” (Luke 22:16–18), but it must prefigure future eschatology as well (13:29; 14:14–15; the likelier sense of 22:16, 18). If Luke indicates eating here, he alludes to a scene where he has offered a more concrete sample of this activity, namely, in 24:41–43. Since a spirit probably would not eat (cf. 24:37), this scene emphasizes the corporeality of Jesus’s resurrection.

Table fellowship invited covenant relationship among those who shared it. For example, those who have eaten together should behave as friends and avoid slandering each other (Aeschines Embassy 22, 55). Injuring or slaying those who had eaten at one’s table was a terrible offense from which all but the most wicked would normally shrink; such behavior was held to incur divine wrath. The language of “salt” may evoke this image of covenant relationship even more explicitly (cf. Lev 2:13; Num 18:19; 2 Chr 13:5); in the semitized Greek of the East (and perhaps Luke’s informants), it may be more significant that an Aramaic verb etymologically involving eating salt had also come to mean simply eating together (cf. Ezra 4:14). The Greek verb can, however, simply refer to coming together, the one element of meaning here that is most clear.

Although Jesus gave various commands before his crucifixion and presumably after his resurrection (Acts 1:2), Luke explicitly states only one postresurrection command here (and, by implication of its consequence, another in 1:8): they must wait for the Spirit so that they can fulfill their mission (1:4; also emphasized in Luke 24:49). (By implication, the command probably also includes their promised witness to the nations in Acts 1:8; cf. the same verb in 10:42, though Luke employs it in various ways elsewhere.) That Luke emphasizes the necessity of this empowerment both in the conclusion to his Gospel and in the introduction to Acts reveals how pivotal it is for Luke’s theology of the divine mission.

The importance of this command comports with Luke’s approach elsewhere. Just as Jesus did not begin his public ministry before receiving the Spirit around age thirty (Luke 3:22–23; 4:1; Acts 10:38), the disciples were not to attempt their mission on their own strength; to do so, in fact, would be disobedience. Jesus praised Mary and made her a model of discipleship for waiting at Jesus’s feet instead of engaging in direct activity (in contrast to Martha, Luke 10:38–41); likewise, it is only after prayer and fasting that the Spirit sends out Barnabas and Saul for the work to which they were already called (Acts 13:2).

The disciples could not generate the Spirit or spiritual experience; “waiting” for the “promise” entailed faithful dependence on God. Certainly Luke emphasizes dependence on God’s power to fulfill tasks assigned by God. Luke’s pneumatology emphasizes especially the Spirit’s empowering the church for mission. (This connection of the Spirit with apostolic evangelism was widespread in early Christianity—for example, 1 Thess 1:5; 1 Pet 1:12; Mark 13:11; John 15:26–27; Rev 19:10.)

That the original apostles stay in Jerusalem much longer than necessary for evangelizing Jerusalem (Acts 15:2–6, 22–23; 16:4; though not as late as 21:18) may imply their misunderstanding (cf. 1:6; 10:14, 28). Jesus tells them to stay there only until they receive the Spirit (Acts 1:4; Luke 24:49), with the mission to the nations (Acts 1:8; Luke 24:47) demanding that they go beyond Jerusalem, from which they initially venture only in response to others’ example (Acts 8:14–25) or under duress (12:17). Peter exemplifies a pattern closer to Luke’s ideal in 9:32–11:1, but the other “apostles” are not with him physically (11:1) and, probably at that point, theologically (11:1–3; cf. 10:28–29).

Luke is probably not, however, accusing them of deliberate disobedience. The Twelve are mostly reliable characters in Acts, and hence they may have seen themselves as supervising the expansion while remaining in a headquarters (their imminent capital) in Jerusalem (cf. 8:1, 4), guaranteeing the connection with Israel’s heritage. If they understand Jesus’s words as referring to Diaspora Jews (which is not the most natural way to construe them but perhaps the only way conceivable to them), perhaps they think that shepherding the Hellenist Jews among them fulfills their call, at least initially (though some scholars think that they delegate this responsibility in 6:3–6). They might also construe the Isaiah allusion in 1:8 in light of Isaiah’s words about the eschatological gathering of God’s people to the Holy Land. This understanding would not require them to relocate; Jerusalemites believed that people from the ends of the earth were already coming to them for worship (Jos. War 5.17). More likely, they want to complete the Jerusalem phase of the mission before moving on to the next phase (a logical plan), which would signify misunderstanding but not disobedience.

In view of Luke’s (and perhaps their) eschatology, they may have seen themselves as seeking to turn Israel to repentance, the final prerequisite for Christ’s return (Acts 1:6–11; 3:19–20). In Luke’s perspective, Jerusalem’s final rejection of the mission to the Gentiles (22:21–22) may have effectively sealed Jerusalem’s fate (Luke 11:49–50; 13:34; 19:42; 21:20–24), ending most of the Jerusalem mission until the time of the Gentiles would be fulfilled (21:24; cf. Rom 11:25–26). In this case, the mission that occasioned their prolonged stay might appear to prove futile from the standpoint of a longer range of history, the immediate future lying with the Gentile mission. But in Luke’s perspective, borrowed from the prophets, a currently “futile” mission might be nevertheless a legitimate one (cf. Luke 8:10; Acts 28:27; Isa 6:9–10; 30:10–11).

The Twelve do not ultimately prove hostile to the Diaspora mission (though they at first receive news of the successes among Gentiles, and apparently in Samaria, with concern or caution; Acts 8:14; 11:3, 22). They learn more about the mission from others who already have cultural bridges beyond the Jewish people (8:25), and by the time of Paul’s visit in Acts 21, they themselves no longer seem to be in Jerusalem.

Luke expects his audience to be able to fill in details surrounding the promise by remembering what they have already learned in Luke 24:49. There Jesus promises the believers “power” for their mission, which probably includes signs and wonders that would confirm their powerful message (see comment on ; cf. Acts 4:29–30; 14:3). In that passage Jesus also speaks of being “clothed” with this power, an image that might evoke a range of associations among ancient hearers. We read elsewhere of garments of wisdom and a belt of knowledge or of being “clothed” with righteous qualities. Pseudo-Philo’s Biblical Antiquities even claims that Kenaz “was clothed with the spirit of power” before he went out to battle. Special eschatological clothing also appears in early Jewish texts (cf. 1 Cor 15:53).

Of early Christian writers, Luke alone uses the distinctive phrase “the Father’s promise” (though some other early Christian writers describe the “promise” of the Spirit; see Gal 3:14; Eph 1:13; cf. Hag 2:5); in the NT documents, it appears only here, in Acts 2:33, and in Luke 24:49. Luke probably connects it with the earlier biblical eschatological promise of Israel’s inheritance (Acts 7:17), hence the resurrection (13:32–33; 26:6–7) and the messianic era (13:23), perhaps as a sort of foretaste of that inheritance (part of the sense of the promise of the Spirit in Gal 3:14; Eph 1:13). Certainly, the prophets promised the coming of the Spirit (Isa 44:3; 59:21; Ezek 36:26–27; 37:14; 39:29; Joel 2:28–29; perhaps Zech 12:10), but Jesus may also refer to his own current (Acts 1:5) promise and/or an earlier promise of the Spirit to his disciples, guaranteed by the Father’s words and character (see esp. Luke 11:11–13). (The pattern of Jesus’s words being fulfilled is larger than this promise; many of Jesus’s words in the Gospel are fulfilled in Acts.)

For Luke, the “promise” here is not only a matter of historical interest concerning Jesus’s first witnesses; it is paradigmatic for all Christians. This is clear from the fact that the promise is later reiterated for all who will repent (Acts 2:38), including the “far off” Gentiles (2:39). Although versions vary, diverse early Christian sources confirm that the disciples believed that Jesus promised them his continuing presence (Matt 18:20; 28:20; John 14:16–26) and that they experienced the expected prophetic Spirit in a dramatic way (John 20:22; cf. Rom 2:29; 7:6; Phil 3:3; see the introduction to Acts 2).

The promise here evokes John’s prophecy about Jesus’s mission in Luke 3:16: Jesus is the eschatological bestower of the Spirit. Luke omits here the parallel description of Jesus bringing “fire” because judgment is not immediately relevant in this context (see discussion at Acts 2:3).

The Spirit, promised in the Prophets and in the Gospel of Luke, provides an important “thematic link” between the two volumes. Though Luke parallels Peter and Paul with Jesus in his second volume, it is clear from the introductory framework that it is the Spirit working through disciples that carries on the activity that the Spirit had also empowered Jesus to do. Jesus (Luke 4:24; 13:33–34), his disciples (Luke 24:19; Acts 3:22–24; 7:37; cf. Acts 7:52), and others (Luke 7:16, 39; 9:8, 19) saw his ministry as prophetic; his Spirit-filled ministry (Luke 4:18; Acts 10:38) thus functions as a paradigm for the prophetically inspired ministry of his followers in Acts (Acts 4:8; 6:5; 7:55; 9:17; 10:44; 13:9; 19:6). (On the disciples as prophets in the broader sense, see also Luke 6:23; Acts 2:17–18; the prophetic “word of the Lord” throughout Acts refers to the good news about Jesus.)

The parallelism between Jesus’s and the church’s receiving the Spirit is clear in Luke’s narrative and, given Luke’s additions in the Gospel, surely deliberate:

Jesus’s promise of baptism in the Spirit here reiterates John’s promise and is central to Jesus’s promised mission (Luke 3:16), though not fulfilled in Luke’s first volume. If much can be read into the imperfect ἔλεγεν in Acts 11:16 (admittedly, this possibility is debatable), Jesus probably reiterated this promise on more than one occasion. Given the deliberate parallels between John and Jesus in Luke’s infancy narratives (see , , of the introduction), it is not surprising that Luke would emphasize the continuity between their messages on this point.

Because the promise is first uttered by John (as any of Luke’s audience familiar with the rest of the gospel tradition would know, even had they missed his first volume; cf. Mark 1:8; John 1:33; Matt 3:11), it is to that opening passage about Spirit baptism that we must look to understand what Luke’s audience would first assume. John’s water baptism foreshadows Jesus’s greater baptism in fire and the Spirit. Whereas John summarizes Jesus’s “mission” toward the wicked as a baptism of fiery judgment (Luke 3:9, 16–17), his mission toward the righteous is baptism in the Spirit (3:16). The immediate context thus guarantees the gift to all the righteous and hence is theologically part of salvation (as in the Q material Luke here reflects).

At the same time, in context in Luke 3, this promise must include power to fulfill one’s mission in the face of great opposition. Jesus receives the Spirit at his baptism (Luke 3:21–22) and thus becomes the model for the Spirit-baptized life, immediately afterward led by the Spirit in the face of testing (4:1–2). Jesus declares that God has anointed him with the Spirit for mission (4:18; cf. Acts 10:38). Although Luke retains the tradition in which baptism in the Holy Spirit includes the entire sphere of the Spirit’s activity to which God’s servants are introduced at conversion, his own special emphasis in his narrative usually lies on the more particular dimension of empowerment for mission.

Because the promise of the Spirit in Acts 1:4 refers to Jesus’s promise of the baptism in the Spirit in 1:5, the promised gift of the Spirit in 2:38–39, which refers to Jesus’s followers’ experience on Pentecost (2:33), is a paradigmatic expression of baptism in the Spirit. Though Acts speaks again of being “baptized” in the Spirit only in connection with Cornelius’s household (11:16), that experience is also called “receiving” the Spirit (10:47; cf. 1:8; 2:33, 38), which also applies to the experiences of the new disciples in Samaria and Ephesus (8:15, 17; 19:2).

It appears that in Luke’s theology, as in Paul’s, “receiving” the Spirit is connected with conversion (2:38–39; 11:16–17; cf. Luke 3:16); but Luke’s narrative sometimes distinguishes them chronologically (Acts 8:12–17; cf. 2:4; 9:17; 19:5–6). This apparent dissonance could be because Luke emphasizes a particular dimension of pneumatology (prophetic empowerment; cf. 1:8; 2:17–18; see our introduction, , ; and comment on Acts 2:17–18), sometimes almost to the exclusion of other elements. For Luke, empowerment to tell others about Christ is central, not peripheral, to the Spirit’s activity with believers. If Luke focuses on this element, he is not obligated to depict every activity of the Spirit (in contrast to some other early Christian writers, Luke does not explicitly associate the Spirit with, or even employ the language of, regeneration) but does so most often with occasions of prophetic empowerment. He can affirm that all Jesus’s followers receive access to the sphere of the Spirit in a broader sense, yet he can focus on an empowerment dimension that sometimes appears subsequent to conversion in his narratives. His narratives (see comments ad loc.) usually appear to reserve the language of “receiving the Spirit” for his focus on empowerment for mission (whether experienced at or after conversion), which, for Luke (who emphasizes the Spirit’s activity in mission), is central to the church’s life.

Thus without (in the view presented here) denying that those who were delayed in receiving the Spirit (i.e., this aspect of the Spirit’s activity) were “converted,” Luke allows that, in some cases, people experienced this prophetic-empowerment dimension shortly after, or (from a different perspective) as a later stage in, their conversion process. Instead of reading his apparently ideal theological paradigm (2:38) into the narrative evidence, Luke allows for a diversity of pneumatic experience (8:12–17; 10:44–48; 19:5–6) and presumably invites his audience to show the same courtesy.

Members of Luke’s informed audience, who presumably know that Pentecost was fifty days after Passover (Lev 23:15–16; cf. 1 Cor 16:8) and can subtract the forty days of Acts 1:3, will understand that the fulfillment was due in “not many days” (1:5), a phrase that distinguished this occasion of the promise from others (Luke 3:16; Acts 11:16). Although the timing of eschatological events such as Israel’s restoration might be indefinite (Acts 1:6–7), the coming of the Spirit was imminent and its time plainly marked out.

Jesus was teaching the disciples both about the Spirit (1:4–5) and about the kingdom (1:3), and the disciples would have every reason to understand these two themes as inseparably linked. The sourcebook for much of Jesus’s postresurrection teaching was the Bible (Luke 24:27, 44), including what he taught them about their impending mission as his witnesses (24:45–47) and presumably about their reception of the Spirit (24:49).

The prophets had regularly linked God’s pouring out his Spirit with the time of Israel’s restoration, and so any talk about the Spirit’s outpouring was de facto eschatological in character. Indeed, in their contexts, the primary Spirit texts alluded to in all of Luke’s programmatic statements concern Israel’s restoration. For example, the program for Jesus’s mission in the Gospel appears in Luke 4:18–19, which quotes Isa 61:1–2; this passage refers explicitly to the comforting good news, which in context is the good news that God is restoring his people (Isa 40:1, 9; 41:27; 49:13; 51:3, 12; 52:7, 9; 54:11; 57:18; 60:6; 66:13).

Luke indicates that Jesus’s pre-ascension teaching to his disciples during this period reflected significant attention to the Scriptures (Luke 24:44–45); Luke presumably offers us samples of the content of Jesus’s midrash in apostolic sermons that expound Scripture (esp. in Acts 2:16–39; 7:2–53; 13:17–47) but even more explicitly in biblical allusions in his final instructions to the disciples. The primary allusion in Luke 24:49 (power “from on high,” ἐξ ὕψους) is probably to Isa 32:15 LXX (the Spirit “from on high,” ἀφ’ ὑψηλοῦ), which refers to Israel’s restoration (32:16–18; cf. 34:16–35:10). Luke’s parallel text in his second volume, Acts 1:8, might also evoke Isa 32:15 (given its use of ἐίέρχομαι with πνεῦμα) and alludes to Isaiah’s passage about the Spirit’s empowering Israel as God’s witnesses in the end time (Isa 43:9–12; 44:3, 8–9; on which see in more detail below). Indeed, the coming of the Spirit in Isaiah is often associated with Israel’s restoration (42:1; 44:3; 59:21; cf. 11:1–10; the new exodus material in 63:10–14). This is also the case with Joel 2:28–29 (quoted in Acts 2:17–18), which appears in the context of Israel’s eschatological restoration (Joel 2:27; 2:32–3:1).

Thus the disciples ask what seems, from their solely future eschatological perspective, the obvious question: When will Jesus restore the kingdom to Israel? Some view their question as shortsighted, but this context specifies that the problem is with timing (Acts 1:7), not with content. After all, “Luke’s own story forthrightly declares at the outset that Jesus will occupy the throne of his father David (Luke 1:32–33).” Nor are they the first to draw a wrong temporal inference from Jesus’s teaching about the kingdom.

Their question presupposes a theology of Israel’s restoration that is indeed affirmed in some texts in the Gospel (Luke 1:32–33, 54–55, 68–74; 2:32, 38; 22:15–16, 30; cf. 24:21) as well as occasionally in Acts (Acts 3:21, 25–26; probably 15:15–17). Luke does share this restoration eschatology in some form with the Israelite prophets and with Paul (e.g., Rom 11:15–26; cf. also Matt 23:39). Indeed, the restoration hope was widespread; long after Rome destroyed the temple in 70, many Jewish people continued to expect even the ten “lost” tribes to return in the end time.

But (like Paul) Luke also allows for an interim period before Israel’s final repentance and restoration, in which Gentiles are converted, perhaps to provoke Israel’s response (cf. Paul’s view in Rom 10:19; 11:11–14). He emphasizes realized eschatology more than Matthew or Mark (though less than John); like Paul (Rom 8:11, 23; 14:17; 1 Cor 2:9–10; 2 Cor 5:5; Gal 5:5; 6:8; cf. Eph 1:13–14; 2 Thess 2:13; Heb 6:4–5) and John (John 4:23–24; 7:37–39; 14:17–18; 16:13–16), he emphasizes realized eschatology through pneumatology. Like the Baptist, the disciples did not understand that the king would come twice, hence bringing the kingdom in two stages (Luke 3:16–17 with 7:19–20). The disciples’ lack of understanding (suggested again in Acts 1:11) provides a suitable transition from their character as learners in the Gospel to their mission in Acts.

The disciples by now understand that Jesus is the Messiah (Luke 24:46) but have not yet understood the implications for the present meaning of the kingdom. Luke-Acts portrays Jesus as heir to David’s throne, but the nature of his royalty is not immediately a “political, this-worldly restoration” or “re-establishment of the monarchy,” dramatically affecting the empire’s political situation. It redefines their hope and especially their immediate focus.

The disciples’ question is important enough to warrant more detailed discussion here. As noted above, writers often put essential ideas up front in their introductions. In this case, eschatology frames the transition from Jesus’s presence to the disciples’ mission: they ask about the time of Israel’s restoration (Acts 1:6), and angels declare the bodily character of Jesus’s future return (1:11).

Conzelmann set much of the tone for the past half century of discussion of Lukan eschatology by claiming that Luke responded to the parousia’s delay by leaving the parousia as a distant hope and instead emphasizing three epochs: the OT era, Jesus’s ministry, and the era of the church (cf. Luke 16:16). Haenchen also thinks that Luke denied the parousia’s imminence (while accepting that it would happen), seeking to shift the focus to the present mission, which must be fulfilled before the Lord’s return.

Conzelmann’s neat schema, however, is problematic. It cannot accommodate, for example, the positive portrayal of Jewish Christians valuing the law (Acts 21:20–26; cf. Luke 16:17). Moreover, the schema contradicts its key verse, Luke 16:16, in which the era of salvation starts with John’s ministry, not with his execution.

Many (and probably most) scholars have disagreed with the premise that Luke abandons imminent hope in the parousia, relegating it only to a distant future; Luke may allow for delay (certainly more than the disciples hoped for), but he also allows for the possibility of a nearer end. After all, Luke portrays the church’s experience of the Spirit and mission as the “last days,” the eschatological era (Acts 2:17).

The delay of the eschatological time remained a problem not only for early Christians but for other Jewish thinkers as well (e.g., 4 Ezra 4:33–37); some believed that God was being patient toward sinners. The Qumran scrolls evidence some theological grappling with delays in eschatological expectation. Others opined that the delay was meant to inculcate faithful waiting on God (b. Sanh. 97b). Many counted up eras to suggest various schemes for the time of the end; others cursed the very notion of trying to calculate it (also in b. Sanh. 97b). In some traditions, God depended on Israel to be righteous and hence precipitate the end (Pesiq. Rab. 31:5). Probably some earlier revolutionaries acted expecting their zeal (cf. comment on Acts 22:3) to help precipitate the end as well.

Yet others have contended that the importance of the parousia’s delay for early Christian thought has probably been overstated. Jesus and Paul may have spoken only of potential imminence, which would reduce the tension between promise and fulfillment. Indeed, the delay of the parousia did not by itself create even Gnosticism, although it probably strengthened it.

Although realized eschatology and eschatological fervency could remain two divergent responses to the parousia’s delay, the continuing eschatological fervency reduces the probability of the need for the parousia’s delay as an explanation for realized eschatology in some other sources. Certainly Revelation, probably authored somewhat later than Luke, has not lost any eschatological fervor (although it represents a very different stream of early Christian thought). Indeed, the expectation remains quite fervent in the most pneumatic and evangelistic sectors of Christendom today (as well as in a number of other now-old millennial and apocalyptic religions and sects). Some scholars even contend that, for Luke, the parousia’s delay invited all the more urgency in expectation.

Granted, Luke is a historian with historical, not just eschatological, interest, but these interests are not logically mutually exclusive, and the historical genre does not a priori predict the theological predispositions of those who used it. More significant in predisposing us to doubt Luke’s eschatology, he is a Hellenistic historian; but not all Diaspora Jews and God-fearers were equally hellenized in all respects, and Paul, despite his Diaspora mission, apparently maintained an imminent eschatology (e.g., 1 Cor 15:52; Phil 3:20–21), though it admittedly dominates more in his earlier writings (esp. 1–2 Thessalonians), before he contextualized for Greeks as fully as he would. Luke’s emphasis is on inaugurated eschatology (perhaps more than Paul’s yet less than John’s), but he affirms future eschatology (see remarks in the introduction, , ).

Haenchen and Conzelmann certainly advance some correct ideas regarding Luke’s emphasis in the current passage. One need not accept Conzelmann’s neat chronological scheme or the textual basis he provides for it to recognize that Luke embeds the story of the church’s mission (sampled in Acts) in the story of Jesus (presented in the Gospel) and this story, in turn, in Israel’s history. Further, Luke occasionally adapts Mark’s wording to shift emphasis from eschatological details to the fulfilling of the church’s mission. More crucial is that the Spirit’s empowerment enables the church to witness to all nations, which probably functions here (on the analogy of some other early Christian sources, esp. Matt 24:14; Rom 11:25–26; 2 Pet 3:9, 15) as a prerequisite for the end. As Cullmann understands this passage, no one knows when the kingdom will come, “but there is one thing the disciples can be sure of: that they must proclaim the Gospel to all the world, until that ‘day’ comes.” Yet Luke may have believed that the church could complete this task of universal witness in his generation (cf. Col 1:23), just as Christians in many subsequent generations have believed they could; there is no reason, then, to suppose that he thought the parousia a necessarily distant event.

Just as various texts warn about some events that must precede the “imminent” end, so Luke 21 warns that before Jesus will really return (Luke 21:8), Jerusalem will fall (21:24). Beginning with the fall of Jerusalem, the end is “near” (21:28–32), but the duration of the interim remains undefined; after this indefinite period, there will be heavenly signs (21:11, 25–26) and the Son of Man’s return (21:25–27). Jesus in the Gospel emphasizes that the timing of the kingdom is unknown (17:20–21); it will surprise the world unexpectedly (17:22–37). Although the disciples know the kingdom’s mysteries (8:10), they do not know its timing. Elsewhere in Luke-Acts, the plural expressions “times” or “seasons” can refer to the past era of Gentile ignorance (Acts 17:30), the present “times of the Gentiles” (Luke 21:24), or the future era of restoration (Acts 3:20–21); these nouns, however, are not limited to, and do not necessarily specify, these examples. In a more general manner, they signify especially that God is in control (cf., e.g., Acts 14:17; 17:26).

Contrary to the later Gentile church’s de-Judaized way of reading Scripture, Jesus does not deny that Israel’s restoration will come. Rather, he merely warns the disciples that it is not their place to know the times (1:7), the sort of detailed chronological map offered in some apocalyptic documents; instead, they must focus on their mission (1:8, which may function as a prerequisite for the end). This warning coheres both with Luke’s eschatology elsewhere (i.e., leaving the interim period indefinite) and with the Jesus tradition (cf. Mark 13:32; Matt 24:36). (Indeed, as one might infer from Luke’s description, a saying of the historical Jesus very likely stands behind the close verbal parallel about unknown “times and seasons” in 1 Thess 5:1, which occurs in a section pervaded by Jesus tradition.) Although the time of Israel’s restoration (ἀίοκαθιστάνεις, Acts 1:6) is unknown, it presumably happens when the Christ comes “for” them (Acts 3:20), a coming promised at the close of this section (1:11). The “restoration” (ἀίοκαταστάσεως) that the prophets announced (3:21) is plainly Israel’s (as in 1:6). Other promises within Luke’s narrative are fulfilled (including, in this context, baptism in the Spirit); there is no reason to doubt that Luke expects the promise of Jesus’s coming (1:11) to turn out the same way.

Jewish traditions also comment on how the future time is unknown. Just as Jewish thinkers experienced a tension between the future time’s being divinely fixed and the need for human obedience to facilitate it, Luke notes both the fixed times of Israel’s restoration (1:6–7) and the period of the Gentile mission, of indeterminate duration, that will precede it (1:8; cf. 1:11).

Because Luke views Gentile Christians as grafted into Israel’s heritage (to borrow Paul’s language in Rom 11:17–24), they are a welcome part of Israel’s restoration; that is, the church is part of eschatological Israel, and the restored remnant of Israel will also belong to the church. (Even the Jewish people least optimistic about Gentile salvation would have expected sincere proselytes to share Israel’s eschatological salvation, and most further allowed for some righteous Gentiles outside this schema, as probably in Acts 15:17, 20. Naturally, they did not expect Gentile adherents to overwhelm Jews numerically, in contrast to the possible proportions in, and hence expectations of, Luke’s audience.) Israel’s end-time repentance and an end-time ingathering of Gentiles belong together in Isaiah and make good sense as part of Jesus’s own teaching. Israel’s repentance (3:19) would lead to the fulfillment of end-time promises on Israel’s behalf (3:19–21) and the completion of the Gentile era (Luke 21:24). Whether Luke expects more than a remnant of Jewish people to turn to Christ after Acts 28 (and, more critically, after Jerusalem rejects the prophet Paul in Acts 22:22 and faces the judgment of 70 C.E.; cf. Luke 13:34–35) continues to be debated, but on the whole, it seems very likely; see discussion in our introduction, , .

Most scholars recognize that the primary activity of the Spirit emphasized in Acts is the empowering of witnesses for their mission. As noted below, the witnesses specifically addressed in this verse are the Twelve, but their commission becomes paradigmatic for other, later witnesses (e.g., Paul, whom Luke especially emphasizes). They, too, are empowered by the Spirit, a gift for all believers (Acts 2:38–39).

Nevertheless, the consensus is not unanimous. Max Turner, a noted scholar of Lukan pneumatology, is skeptical that the Spirit’s primary function in Acts is to empower Christians for mission. He admits that the gift of the Spirit for all Christians (Acts 2:38–39) involves the Spirit of prophecy (2:17–18), that only eight Spirit texts in Acts do not immediately fit prophetic categories in the OT, and that even these can ultimately fit those categories. Yet remarkably, he argues that “with the exception of Paul (Acts 9) there is barely any evidence for the view that Luke thinks the Spirit is given to converts as empowering for mission.” He doubts that Acts portrays the Spirit “primarily (Shelton) or . . .  exclusively (Menzies)” as “empowerment for mission.” Turner objects that Luke’s summary passages “speak of a variety of aspects of church life” and emphasize only the witness of apostles, not ordinary disciples.

This objection, however, misses the mark: the focus of Acts is on certain leaders (particularly Peter; Stephen and Philip; and Paul and his companions) despite the appearance of “ordinary” disciples at points. Where such ordinary disciples do appear, however, they sometimes carry out similar tasks (e.g., 9:10–17; 22:12), including evangelism (8:4; 11:19–21; cf. the growth of churches, e.g., 2:47, and note moreover that the Seven and, in the Gospel, the Twelve began precisely as ordinary disciples). The primary leaders are both representative of, and paradigmatic for, the mission of the church as a whole. The particular language of “witness” is more often restricted to the apostles, but it is paradigmatic for the entire church’s cross-cultural evangelistic mission (see discussion below).

The promise of empowerment for mission is given directly to the apostles (1:8), but that the same power is promised to all the church at Pentecost (2:38–39) implies that all Spirit-empowered believers will contribute to the same task (albeit in diverse ways). The summaries do portray some other important aspects of church life, but the direct consequence of the Spirit’s empowerment, which Luke explicitly connects with this empowerment, is speaking for Christ, whether for leaders (4:8; 13:9) or for the entire community (4:31). Although the Spirit is also an eschatological gift associated with Israel’s restoration (as Turner rightly emphasizes and I comment on at Acts 1:6–8; 2:17–18), the aspect that Luke emphasizes more in his narratives in Acts is empowerment for the mission that must precede that restoration (e.g., 1:8; 2:17–18; 4:8, 31; 7:51; 8:29, 39–40; 10:38; 11:12; 13:2, 4, 9; 16:6–7). The other aspects that Turner notes are real, but they are not Luke’s primary narrative focus in most of his work. The immediate function of the Spirit within the narrative world is to empower eschatological mission; the larger function of the Spirit for Luke’s audience is as a sign of eschatological restoration; to make these two functions mutually exclusive (which Turner himself does not) is to confuse categories, mixing proverbial apples and oranges.

Luke is emphatic in his promise of “power,” repeating it in both Luke 24:49 and Acts 1:8 (though some other elements, including explicit mention of the Spirit, do not appear in both; cf. also Acts 4:33). With most scholars, the power here is directly connected with the task that Acts 1:8 specifically mentions and hence is power to be witnesses among the nations. It is no coincidence that not only this passage but the other dominant programmatic biblical texts in Luke-Acts (Luke 4:18–19; 24:45–48; Acts 2:17–18) refer to the Spirit’s empowering God’s agents for mission.

The OT and Jewish tradition sometimes spoke of the Spirit’s giving people physical strength (Judg 14:6, 19; 15:14; perhaps 1 Sam 11:6–7), and occasionally the Spirit is even called “the spirit of power.” But physical strength is not the dominant association here, and in this instance, Luke’s own usage elsewhere points in a different direction, one also attested in the OT. Power had other associations with the Spirit; for example, God sometimes gave prophets his Spirit as his power to boldly stand against false prophets (Mic 3:8).

The range of ancient sources about “power” is enormous, whether referring to divine power or power in general. For example, in one tradition, God called Noah (and, by implication for later chapters, Israel) to “grow strong” to subdue the earth. Likewise, God “renews the faithful in his strength.” But not all of these sources are as relevant as those above; demanding an explicit connection with the Spirit reduces our data about “power” to more workable proportions. God’s “power” is sometimes associated with the Spirit (Zech 4:6), sometimes filling individuals to act for God (Mic 3:8, noted above).

Like Paul (Rom 1:4; 15:13, 19; 1 Cor 2:4; Eph 3:16; 1 Thess 1:5; cf. 2 Tim 1:7), Luke elsewhere pairs the “Spirit” with “power” (in addition to here, Luke 1:17, 35; 4:14), sometimes focusing on Jesus’s ministry to work miracles as benefactions (Acts 10:38). Particularly distinctive, Luke regularly associates “power” with miraculous healing (Luke 5:17; 6:19; 8:46; 9:1; Acts 6:8; 10:38), although this power is not a permanent possession of Jesus’s agents but only of Jesus’s name, which they rightly carry (Acts 3:12; 4:7, 10). (One may also compare the potential semantic link to δυνάμεις as “miracles.”) The witnesses of Jesus—both the original ones and subsequent ones (14:3)—would bear witness backed by the Spirit’s power, which quite often would be expressed in miracles confirming their testimony (14:3). Not surprisingly, signs and wonders (especially healings and exorcisms) constitute the major means of drawing attention to the gospel in Acts (see the discussion in the introduction, , ).

“Witness” or “testimony” was a widespread motif in early Christianity; the terms μαρτυρέω, μαρτυρία, μαρτύριον, and μάρτυς appear in the NT 167 times. The clearest evidence in the Jesus tradition applies it to Christians’ expected testimony for Christ when tried in court for their faith (Mark 13:9), but multiple sources also indicate that his followers believed that Jesus urged such “testimony” in broader settings as well (Matt 24:14; Luke 24:48; John 15:27).

Jesus tradition is surely relevant here; there is considerable evidence that the distinctive emergence of the Gentile mission in this particular Jewish sect is no coincidence but relates to various elements in the Jesus tradition. More important for the saying in question, multiple sources, varying considerably in individual detail, share the common claim that the risen Christ sent his disciples to proclaim salvation through him (Matt 28:19–20; John 20:21–23; cf. Mark 16:15). (Whether by several of Jesus’s words reported ipsissima verba in Acts 1:8 or by an extrapolation from his words like those in this verse, it is possible that Jesus was also a source for Paul’s understanding of his own mission as being to the ends of the earth; see Rom 15:24, 28.) Jesus also taught them to depend on the Spirit’s help for their testimony, not only in Luke (Luke 12:11–12; 21:13–15) but also in the broader Jesus tradition (Mark 13:10–11; John 15:26). The very language of eschatological “witness” probably existed already in the Jesus tradition before Luke’s adaptation, although Luke presumably shapes the tradition as needed.

Witness is also a central motif in Luke-Acts (especially Acts). Soards summarizes this motif as applying to five groups in Acts:

The language attributed to Jesus in this verse stems from what scholars often call “Second Isaiah” (esp. Isa 43:9–12; 44:8–9). An emphasis on Isaiah (and an assumption that it will be recognized) is not at all surprising, given its prominent use in this period. The disciples would understand this eschatological Isaiah allusion as relevant to their question about Israel’s restoration (Acts 1:6) and recognize its relevance as well to the nations (Luke 24:47) and ends of the earth (Acts 1:8).

In Isaiah, God promised to bring his dispersed people back from among the nations in a new exodus (Isa 43:1–7, 16–19), including from east and west, north and south (43:5–6; cf. Luke 13:29) and from the ends of the earth (as here; Isa 43:6). God would summon the nations to himself at that time and invite them to produce their own witnesses before his court (43:9; 44:9), something they could not do; their idols could not foretell the future (41:22–24; 42:8–9; 44:6–11; 46:9–10). God’s saved people, however, would be his own witnesses in that day (43:10–12; 44:8). This would be the time when God would equip his people with his Spirit to speak for him in order to bring justice to the earth (42:1; 44:3; 48:16; 59:21; 61:1).

Isaiah refers to the return of scattered Israelites, whom God would vindicate against the nations in that time. Many of the Gentiles, their gods vanquished, would honor and serve Israel, turning to their God and to their king and looking to their holy land (49:22; 52:10; 60:3–5, 11, 16; 61:6, 9–11; 62:2; 66:12, 18–20). Other Gentiles would be destroyed (54:3; 60:12; 64:2). But for Luke, eschatological Israel included the Gentile converts made while Israel was scattered among the nations, together with only part of ethnic Israel, the righteous remnant who truly followed God. Luke and his theological sources could have drawn on many passages in Isaiah to support their understanding (Isa 49:6; 52:15; cf., by inversion, 63:16; 65:1); Gentiles were welcome to join the Jewish dispersion and would receive an eternal name better than those of ethnic Jews who did not obey the covenant (56:3–8). Early in Luke’s Gospel, John was already announcing a widespread eschatological salvation, and the kingdom was, in some sense, soon to follow (cf., e.g., Luke 3:4–6, quoting Isa 40:3–5 LXX).

If an ideal Lukan reader might infer similar knowledge on the part of Jesus’s disciples in the narrative world and hence that they understood the allusions to Isaiah, these disciples might well still misunderstand the sequence of events to follow. In principle, an ancient hearer could approach Isaiah itself as a unity from various interpretive perspectives (various passages could be cited as pointing in various directions). Perhaps Israel would need to be saved and restored before the conversion of the nations, or perhaps the apostles were to be witnesses only against the nations (cf. Mark 6:11) instead of seeking their conversion (cf. the competing testimony of Israel and idolaters in Isa 43:9–12; 44:6–11). They might establish Jerusalem and expect the remnant of their people to return to Jerusalem, with righteous Gentiles coming there to worship, as in Isaiah.

Only gradually (e.g., Acts 10:28, 45–48; 11:18) will the apostles begin to realize that because their own salvation as God’s people has begun, the time for their Gentile mission also has begun. Luke’s realized eschatology in the context helps set the stage for this reading of the prophets: the eschatological Spirit signals the “last days,” the era of salvation for all humanity who call on the Lord (2:17), including those far off (2:39). The fall of Jerusalem in 70 C.E. and further scattering of Judeans (Luke 21:24) would finally vindicate this alternative eschatological plan of glorifying God among the nations. The two stages of the kingdom meant that the disciples should occupy themselves with their eschatological mission but leave the time of Israel’s restoration to God (Acts 1:6–8).

Jesus summons his followers to be witnesses to “the ends of the earth” (1:8), again echoing the range of Isaiah’s testimony to God’s saving glory (Isa 41:5, 9; 43:6; 45:22; 52:10). (Luke deliberately weaves an allusion to Isa 52:10 into his new exodus quotation in Luke 3:4–6, adding to both Isa 40:3–5 and Luke’s Markan source.) The disciples may have understood this witness “to the ends of the earth” as part of their mission in the Jewish Diaspora, since in Isaiah it was scattered Jews who would be witnesses for far-flung places when God saved and vindicated them (Isa 43:10–12; 44:8). In this light, the Gentile mission in Antioch (Acts 11:20–21) may not have seemed inappropriate (before questions about noncircumcision of converts arose); they could have treated it as analogous to Jews welcoming and making proselytes of interested God-fearers. Yet Jesus’s first apostles in this passage seem committed to their vision of converting Jerusalem before evangelizing the Diaspora; it is others (many of them presumably bicultural Hellenists already) who therefore precede them in the latter (8:1, 4).

Yet in Acts it is ultimately Paul’s deliberate mission to the Gentiles that gives an explicitly different understanding to the Isaiah passage (13:47) as an intentional mission to all peoples. Although others undoubtedly had engaged in such ministry before (and Luke’s mention of Isaiah in Acts 8:32–33 suggests that he does not begrudge them this role as forerunners), it is Paul’s mission to which Luke gives center stage as a model for subsequent mission to follow. Instead of the mission summoning the righteous to Jerusalem, they must scatter (8:4; 11:19; language reapplied from Diaspora Judaism to Jesus’s followers already in 1 Pet 1:1) to win Gentiles to obedience to Israel’s God. Retroactively, such an interpretation is easy to miss.

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