Luke. Diane G. Chen
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Greco-Roman writings, from histories and biographies to rhetorical and scientific treatises. Generally they identify the author and the person to whom the work is dedicated, vouch for the importance of the subject matter, evaluate prior work of a similar nature that might warrant comparison or critique, and comment on the methodology that support the research and composition.16
The first four verses of Luke’s Gospel contain the classic components of a prologue. These verses comprise a single, elegant Greek sentence, its vocabulary and structure indicating a highly educated author. Luke is quick to admit that his project is not an original idea (1:1a). Yet even as he aligns himself with his predecessors he also distinguishes his work from theirs. It is not as though he found terrible fault with others’ narratives about Jesus. Rather, he gleans from available written sources, adds other traditions to which he has access, and creates an integrated piece to deepen his audience’s understanding of Jesus’ story.
Without mentioning Jesus by name just yet, Luke highlights the significance of his subject matter as pertaining to “events that have been fulfilled (peplērophorēmenōn) among us” (1:1b). The passive voice and perfect tense of the participle peplērophorēmenōn indicate that these events constitute a culmination of a plan or a promise that has its beginning far back in time. The passive here signifies a divine passive; God is bringing to fruition the plan that he has promised and put in motion. The perfect tense denotes a past event with ongoing present effects. The historical events that Luke is about to narrate belong to a larger framework, as their effects continue beyond the narrative time to the present.
Luke is not an eyewitness, but having obtained his materials from eyewitnesses, he meets the standard of credibility expected of an ancient historian.17 His sources were there from the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, and, after Jesus’ departure have since become “servants of the word” (1:2). “The word” refers to the message of salvation embodied in the life and mission of Jesus (Acts 4:4; 8:4). At the time of writing, some eyewitnesses might still be alive to recall and verify the sayings and deeds of Jesus. But even if some traditions came to him as second- or third-hand transmission, they could still be traced back to original eyewitnesses and thus deemed trustworthy.
Since the Jesus traditions were highly valued and used in teaching in the early church, maintaining accuracy in transmission was a high priority. A conscientious historian, Luke verifies his sources by “investigating everything carefully from the very first” (1:3a). Although the adverb anōthen can mean “for a long time” or “from the very first,” the latter translation is preferred. “From the very first” echoes verse 2 where it describes the eyewitnesses as “from the beginning.”
All this preparatory work culminates in an “orderly (kathexēs) account” for Theophilus to “know the certainty18 concerning the things about which [he has] been instructed” (1:4). Normally, kathexēs (“orderly”) implies a sequential arrangement, putting one thing after the other, as linearity is necessitated by a narrative genre. Having received some traditions in snippets and others in a more organized form, Luke would not have all the temporal information to lay out in exact chronological order when Jesus said and did all these things. His notion of an orderly account must be interpreted realistically as an order that makes the best sense in view of his ultimate goal. Luke’s aim is to assure his readers that what they have been taught is eminently trustworthy. Surely Luke’s checking for the veracity of these historical events is an essential part of the work of a careful historian, but as a writer he also has the prerogative to tell stories in a way that serves his theological agenda. Luke wants his readers to subscribe to his interpretation of Jesus’ significance in light of God’s overarching plan of salvation. The orderliness of the narrative serves his persuasive intention.
Theophilus, which means “friend of God,” was a common name among both Jews and Greeks, attested in writings as far back as the third century BCE. While Theophilus may function as a stand-in for any God-loving reader, symbolic dedication was uncommon in ancient prologues. Theophilus was likely a person of standing, worthy to be addressed as “your Excellency” (1:3b), an honorific title befitting of a Roman official (Acts 24:3; 26:25). The assumption that he funded the writing of the Gospel is speculative. A literary patron could facilitate the dissemination of the book through influence and access to educated friends without supporting the author financially.19 With Luke’s level of education, the author might have been a man of means himself. The identity of Theophilus remains a mystery beyond the fact that he was a first century Christian of recognizable stature in the community. We can safely assume that he was not the sole reader, but others in his circle of believers would also have benefited from the public reading of this Gospel.
Annunciation of John’s Birth (1:5–25)
Without warning, the style, tone, and vocabulary of the polished, literary, and secular-sounding prologue give way to an account that sounds as though it were taken straight out of the OT with its Semitic and pietistic flavor. Bringing the readers to the world of first century Palestine, Luke reaches back to the promises of God in the OT and points forward to the next phase of God’s salvific plan for Israel and the nations.
Luke begins with an important time stamp: “In the days of King Herod of Judea” (1:5),20 which hints at the religious, social, and political tensions in the Jewish world at the time of John’s and Jesus’ birth.21 Herod the Great was ruler over Judea, Samaria, Galilee, parts of Idumea, and parts of Perea from 37 to 4 BCE. Of Idumean origin, he came into power by election of the Roman Senate. A pro-Roman vassal king, he was known for his paranoia and cruelty, killing off rivals, and executing even his wife Mariamne. He also embarked in massive building projects, establishing towns and monuments. His most impressive achievement was the restoration of the temple in Jerusalem, which gave him control over the priestly families and strengthened his clout with Rome.22 Under Roman rule, the yearning for God’s salvation and the anticipation of the promised Messiah continued to percolate in the Jewish consciousness when the curtains of the Lukan narrative were drawn.
The opening scene features Zechariah and Elizabeth, a couple struggling with a tension of their own. Zechariah is a priest of pure Aaronic pedigree. His ancestors, from the family of Abijah, constitute the eighth of twenty-four divisions of priests named after Aaron’s descendants. These divisions were reconstituted upon the Jews’ return from exile in Babylon.23 Zechariah’s wife, Elizabeth, is also notably a daughter of Aaron. Priests may marry any Israelite virgin, but to take a wife within the priestly family is preferable to maintain the purity of the blood line (Lev 21:14). This couple represents the purest of priestly stock, which underscores the high standard of piety maintained on both sides of the family for many generations.
Zechariah and Elizabeth live up to their pedigree. “Both of them were righteous (dikaioi) before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord” (1:6a). Luke applies the descriptor “righteous” (dikaios) to the likes of Simeon, Jesus, and Cornelius (2:25; 23:47; Acts 10:22). In the OT, righteousness (dikaiosyne) means more than moral uprightness; it connotes a right relationship with God.24 Zechariah and Elizabeth are exemplary in their obedience. Their consistent fidelity to God is a way of life.
All should be well for these good priestly folks, but it is not. Elizabeth has been unable to have children, and both are now old and beyond childbearing age (1:7, 18). In today’s world, we tend not to attribute infertility to moral failure or divine retribution. Empathy, rather than ostracism, is the typical response. In the biblical world, however, barrenness was viewed as a curse from God.25