Gospel for the Outsider

The Gospel in Luke & Acts

Patrick Whitworth

• Publisher: Sacristy Press
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781908381743
• Topic: Théologie et religion
• Subtopic: Études bibliques

The Gospel of Luke uniquely proclaims that the message of good news was for the outsider in Jewish society, and indeed for any outsider in any society where the sleek, the successful and the slick are often preferred to the loser, the lonely and the lowly.

In this book, Patrick Whitworth explores how this compassion for the outsider is clear from several levels, and should direct our mission to those who, in whatever shape or form, are outsiders today in our communities.

At the end is a study guide, providing an excellent opportunity for groups to study the Gospel from the outsider's perspective, and help us to discern the outsiders in our own communities and go to them with the love of Christ and the hope of the gospel-a gospel for outsiders.

"Mark may challenge you, Matthew reassure you and John inspire you, but it is among the real people of Luke's gospel that you will find yourself. And that, I suggest, is the task of our times-to find ourselves, to discover who we are and how it is that we can play our part in shaping a new world. This is a readable, compelling invitation to walk into the story and find yourself, whoever you may be, within its pages. Indeed the outsider, as Patrick so clearly and beautifully demonstrates, becomes the insiderthrough his or her encounter with Jesus."

- The Revd Dr Alison Morgan,
Author, ReSource

Chapter 1

Outsiders at the Birth of Christ

To say that Luke was the only gospel writer who focused on outsiders at the nativity would be an overstatement. Matthew (albeit using different sources) also demonstrates the significance of outsiders: the visit of the Magi and the genealogy of Jesus both bear witness to this. The Magi are endlessly fascinating in their origin, belonging either to the Persian priestly caste or to the ruling class of some distinctive religion, or a people with strong astrological knowledge. [10] They were certainly outsiders, following a star for many hundreds of miles until they found and worshipped the infant king with their presents of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

Matthew also hinted at the destiny of the Messiah as Saviour of the world by including outsiders in his intriguing genealogy of Jesus (Matthew 1:1–17). Placed at the outset of the Gospel and divided into three blocks of fourteen generations each from Abraham to David, David to the Exile, and from the Exile to Jesus (Matthew 1:17), Matthew mentions five women, some of colourful reputation, in an otherwise all male list of Jewish ancestry. They are Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba (mentioned interestingly as the wife of Uriah the Hittite), and Mary. Ruth and Mary were devout; Ruth was a non-Israelite. Tamar procured a child and heir by crafty and illicit intercourse with Judah, her father-in-law, in an extraordinary interlude to the Joseph story (see Genesis 38). Rahab was the prostitute who recognised the presence of God with the invading armies of Israel in the conquest of her native land, Canaan, as a result hiding their spies (Joshua 2:8). Bathsheba needs little introduction. She was the beauty whom David fell for when he was looking out of a window rather than going out to war (2 Samuel 11:1–3). From these women Jesus was descended. Several were not Jews, nor were they especially pious, but neither, for that matter, were many of the men.

If in Matthew’s Gospel there is a clear sense of the Christ being born from mixed racial ancestry and for the nations, in Luke’s account the idea of Jesus’ birth being for the outsider is equally clear. In Luke we do not have Magi from the East, but poor shepherds. We do not have a genealogy placed before the birth of Jesus like a herald’s announcement before the birth of a prince, but we have a genealogy of 77 generations tracing Jesus neatly back to God (Luke 3:23–37). This genealogy is placed not before the birth of Jesus, confirming his human ancestry as in Matthew, but before the outset of his ministry. Again in Luke we have a telling comparison between the response of the insider Zechariah to the angelic news of a longed for child, and a much more faith-filled response by the outsider Mary to the news that she will have a child outside her union with Joseph. We have an additional comparison between the domestic arrangements of a family caught in Imperial policy, and the fate of the Empire itself. And, lastly, in Luke we have the spontaneous, Spirit-inspired utterances of praise, which place the outsider at the centre of God’s plan of salvation. Such emphases appear at the beginning of Luke’s Gospel and continue to the very end.

Zechariah and Mary

The initial contrast in Luke’s Gospel is both between John the Baptist and Jesus, and between Zechariah and Mary. John the Baptist is the last of the Jewish prophets; Jesus is the Saviour of the world. The former was to bring Israel to repentance, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, while Jesus would make possible that forgiveness through his death and give the Holy Spirit to the nations (Acts 3:16b). Likewise in Acts, salvation would be made known to outsiders: to the Jews from the Diaspora who were visiting in Jerusalem at Pentecost (Acts 2:5), then to the Samaritans, and lastly to the Gentiles as represented by Cornelius’ household (Acts 10:47). Paul would then take the Gospel to communities throughout the Empire. But John was the essential precursor to Jesus, preparing the nation for him spiritually, until Jesus opened the Kingdom to all peoples. Likewise Mary was the willing “vessel” for the Messiah whereas Zechariah was the astonished and unbelieving father of the final prophet of Israel. We can compare the two as insider and outsider.

Zechariah, if we can put it like this, was the insider. He was a priest, one of about 18,000 in Israel. The Jewish priesthood was divided into twenty-four courses, each composed of four to nine families. And, apart from the great festivals, they performed their duties for only two separate weeks a year. [11] Zechariah’s family belonged to the priestly division of Abijah, eighth in the list of the divisions (see 1 Chronicles 24:10). He was married to Elizabeth, the name shared by Aaron’s wife (Exodus 6:23) meaning “God is my fortune”. Elizabeth was also of priestly stock, being descended from Aaron himself. They were both of impeccable Levite pedigree but they were unable to have children.

One day during his priestly service in the Temple, Zechariah was chosen by lot to burn incense in the sanctuary. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to enter the Sanctuary (not the Holiest of Holies which only the High Priest could enter once a year on the day of Atonement) and burn incense; a symbol of prayer at the time of the evening sacrifice. While the Priest burnt incense on the burning coals the people outside the holy place would pray, “May the merciful God enter the holy place and accept the offering of his people”. [12] Perhaps the words of Psalm 141:2 were recalled, “Let my prayer be counted as incense before you, and the lifting up of my hands as an evening sacrifice”. It was while this most precious moment in Zacariah’s life occurred that the Angel Gabriel appeared with his message. Elizabeth, he said, was to have a child, and he would be special; John will be:

A joy and delight to you, and many will rejoice because of his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord . . .
He will be filled with the Holy Spirit even from birth . . . Many of the people of Israel he will bring back to the Lord their God.

Luke 1:14–16

But Zechariah’s response was not all that it might have been: “How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is well on in years” (Luke 1:18). For such an uncertain and unbelieving response, not dissimilar to Sarah’s in Genesis 18:12, Zechariah was punished by being made dumb. The people, no doubt wondering what had happened to Zechariah on his big day, rightly concluded that God had appeared to him in some way (Luke 1:22). He returned home and Elizabeth became pregnant (1:24). But, in contrast, the young teenage girl, the comparative outsider in Israel compared with Zechariah and confronted by an even more extraordinary prospect through the same angel, responded quite differently.

Mary was betrothed to be married to Joseph, a descendant of David. Engagement could be embarked on then by a girl as young as twelve. It probably lasted up to a year and was arranged by the families concerned. [13] Betrothal was considered as binding as marriage, the couple being regarded as virtually legally married. It was not normal for sexual intercourse to take place during this period. It was during such a time that the Angel Gabriel appeared to Mary, announcing that she would have a child. At the news she was described as “greatly troubled” (1:29). Despite this she responds thoughtfully and profoundly to the word spoken to her by Gabriel, as Ratzinger points out:

Mary appears as a fearless woman, one who remains composed even in the presence of something utterly unprecedented. At the same time she stands before us as a woman of great interiority, who holds heart and mind in harmony and seeks to understand the context, the overall significance of God’s message. [14]

The fact that she would be pregnant at some point in the future could not have been too surprising since she was already betrothed. So her question, “How will this be now since I am only a virgin?” (1:34) arises not so much from how she will become pregnant—for that would be her normal expectation after marriage—so much as how this child prophesied by the Angel who will “be great and will be called the Son of the Most High” (1:32a) will be conceived. The question thus shows remarkable presence of mind and perception on Mary’s part, in that she must have not only have understood Gabriel’s message of her giving birth to the Messiah, but at the same time also must have wondered how that could this come about outside of her marriage to Joseph. She was told: “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the Holy one to be born will be called the Son of God” (1:35). That Elizabeth, her cousin or relative, was already six months pregnant despite having given up hope provided further proof.

What follows is a distinctly different response to that of Zechariah: compared to his “how can I be sure of this” (1:18a), Mary replies staggeringly, “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said” (1:38). Mary the teenage bride, a girl seemingly plucked from obscurity with no Jewish roots mentioned in the scriptures apart from her family ties to Elizabeth, accedes calmly to the news that she will bear the Messiah, the Son of God. [15] An Israelite yet still a comparative outsider, a teenage mother-to-be now lies at the centre of God’s will. It is to be a theme throughout Luke’s Gospel and the book of Acts: the weak, the rejected, the isolated, the despised, the foreigner, all take centre stage in God’s plan. Their comparative worldviews are expressed in their prophetic songs, which accompany the meeting of Mary and Elizabeth and the birth of John the Baptist.

The Songs of Mary and Zechariah

Zechariah’s ministry at the heart of the religious establishment of Israel was clearly very much one of an insider, especially since he and Elizabeth were also personally “righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord” (1:6). By contrast, Mary’s faith and insight are all the more remarkable. Mary, as a low born bride-to-be of a carpenter (1:48) was more of an outsider. It is possible to trace their respective religious and social positions reflected in their two great prophetic songs recorded by Luke. It is clear that both songs, which we know as Mary’s Song (the Magnificat) and Zechariah’s Song, arose not only from the circumstances that gave them birth, but also from the promises given to each by the angel Gabriel about their respective sons.

Mary’s song was given voice by her meeting with Elizabeth, six months ahead of her in her pregnancy (1:36b). At the meeting of the two expectant mothers, the neonate John the Baptist leapt in his mother’s womb for joy (1:44). The two children were to be inextricably linked in their lives and ministry: both were to suffer execution as a result of their calling; both were to bring joy and hope to their followers. And Elizabeth recognised prophetically the faith of Mary: “blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfilment of what was spoken to her by the Lord that the child within Mary was promised by God” (1:45). Mary’s response to this insight is her song of praise. In Luke, praise is the spontaneous result of God’s working. The theme of the song is praise to God for his essential nature: he is the one who raises the humble and lowly and who humbles the proud and powerful. This is what he has done for Mary, and this is what he will always do. Conversely, he is also the one who “scatters the proud” (1:51), who “brings down the powerful” (1:52) “who sends the rich away empty” (1:53). This is the way God works in the salvation He brings; not only to Mary herself but also to Israel as a whole, to whom God is now fulfilling his promise made generations ago to Abraham (1:55). In many ways it is the song of an outsider.

Zechariah’s song comes in a very different context. John has now been born, and he is about to be circumcised on the eighth day, according to the Law. Zechariah, still dumb, confirms by writing on a slate that his son is to be called John, as Elizabeth has already indicated at the assembled gathering. At that moment Zechariah regains his speech and his song pours forth, directed by the Spirit in a prophetic celebration. Zechariah knows that the saviour or horn of salvation is coming (1:69); he knows that the promise sworn to Abraham is about to be fulfilled in the birth of the Messiah (1:72–73) and that his son John is to be the forerunner or the prophet of the Most High (1:76). If Mary’s song exalts a king and a kingdom to come which loves humility and hates human pride, in keeping with the promises made to David, Zechariah’s song not only rejoices in that but also shows the need for a prophet to accompany the King in his mission. Coming from within the Aaronic priesthood, John was to be another great outsider (living ascetically in the desert) in the gospel, summoning people to repentance in preparation for receiving the Messiah. After all, Luke tells us that “he was in the wilderness until the day he appeared publicly to Israel” (1:80b).

The Emperor and a New Empire

Much of Jesus’ early life was spent under the rule of Octavian, given the title Augustus in 27 BC. It was Octavian—the posthumously adopted heir of the Julius Caesar who had been assassinated on the Ides of March in 44 BC—who brought both great expansion and peace (Pax Romana) to the Roman Empire. Initially, with Mark Anthony and Lepidus, Octavian formed the Second Triumvirate and took on the killers of Julius Caesar, Brutus and Cassius, defeating them at the Battle of Philippi in 42 BC and forming the Second Triumvirate. But Mark Anthony’s separation from Octavian’s sister for the fascinating charms of Cleopatra, and his formation of an alliance with Egypt against Rome, precipitated war with Octavian. Anthony was defeated at the sea battle of Actium and then again at Alexandria itself, where he and Cleopatra committed suicide, as recalled so powerfully and poignantly by Shakespeare. Three years later, Octavian was titled Augustus. From 27 BC to AD 27 he ruled supreme in an ever-expanding empire. [16]

In the eastern part of the Empire, Augustus’ power was ever increasing. Egypt, with its vast corn reserves from the Nile Delta, became part of the Empire from 30 BC onwards and would remain so until the Islamic Rashidun Caliphate swept through North Africa in the seventh century. Ships with grain from Alexandria would feed the burgeoning population of Rome. By the time Luke wrote his gospel the population of Rome, standing at a million, was kept in bread by the grain fields of North Africa and in circuses by Emperors keen for the support of the populace. In Judea the client king of Rome, Herod the Great, would ingratiate himself with the Jewish population by re-building the Temple. It continued to be built throughout Jesus’s life, so massive was its construction. Herod died in 4 BC, soon after the birth of Jesus. Judea was then incorporated into the Roman province of Syria with its capital at the great city of Antioch, which became important to Luke’s narrative in the Acts of the Apostles. The church at Antioch, so large and diverse, would become the springboard for missions to the whole of the Western Roman Empire (see Acts 13:13ff).

In 4 BC a virtually unknown couple in a far-flung corner of the Empire, with an unusual domestic story of family life, responded to an edict from the newly established Governor of Syria, Quirinius (with powers over Judea since the death of Herod the Great), to register in their hometown. Joseph and the heavily pregnant Mary made their way from Nazareth to Bethlehem. The regular census of his subjects was a mark of the new Imperial policy of Augustus. Although there is no other record of a universal census being taken in the Empire in 4 BC, there were several separate censuses in Roman provinces, and with the increasing power of the Province of Syria in the affairs of Judea, there was good reason for a census at this point. [17] Exactly why Joseph felt the need to go to Bethlehem is not clear: he may have been born there, had family, or even owned some property there. The only reason Luke gives us is that Joseph “belonged to the house and line of David” (Luke 2:4). At any rate, Joseph believed that it was in Bethlehem that he would be expected to register.

With our outsider/insider theme for this study of Luke’s Gospel and the book of Acts, there emerges a further deeper vein of thought to explore. Luke was no stranger himself to Imperial power. After all, before he wrote this gospel, if our conjectures in the Introduction are right, the gospel was researched and written either soon after Luke’s journey to Rome with Paul (see Acts 27) or in part before. We know that Luke was there with Paul in Rome (AD 56?) as Paul records in his prison letter to Timothy, “Only Luke is with me” (2 Timothy 4:11). So Luke knew, at first hand, the workings of Imperial power whether in Philippi, Ephesus, or Rome. He knew its flavour, its power, its brutality, and its destiny. But he also knew that with the advent of Jesus, a greater Kingdom had been born into the world, and that a greater King had come (Luke 23:3). Jesus would talk about this kingdom continuously in his parables, many of which Luke includes in his gospel. So it is quite likely that in the back of his mind, indeed maybe in the very forefront of his thoughts, there was the idea that Joseph and Mary, summoned by Imperial edict to Bethlehem, were to give birth to a king and kingdom which would outlive, outshine and outdo all other kingdoms, including this Empire based in Rome with its Emperor claiming divine status. The prophecies of Daniel would be fulfilled (Daniel 7:9ff), and:

one like the Son of Man approached the Ancient of Days and was led into his presence. He was given authority, glory and sovereign power; all peoples, nations and men of every language worshipped him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that will not pass away, and his kingdom is one that will never be destroyed.

Daniel 7:13–14

This child, born in an obscure part of the Empire as a result of an Imperial edict, was not only the inheritor of all the promises of David, but the long awaited Messiah: the anointed King. The one who appeared as an inconsequential carpenter from unprepossessing town—an outsider –would in fact establish a kingdom surpassing and outliving every other. But it did not look that way, certainly not at first.

A Stable and Shepherds

An unusual collection of people went to an equally unusual maternity unit to see a baby heralded either by a star or by a choir of angels on the hillside. It is Luke who plainly tells us, “While they were there [Bethlehem], the time came for the baby to be born, and she wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room in the inn” (2:6–7). Matthew tells us of the coming of the Magi immediately after informing us of the birth of Jesus (Matthew 2:1–12), although it may have been some months or even years till the arrival of the Wise Men. What is clear from Luke was that there was no room in the guest room or inn (‘kataluma’, literally meaning ‘lodging’). The point that Luke is recording is that there was no place to be found in normal human habitation, so Jesus was born in a place commonly used for sheltering animals. A place where there was a manger. Kenneth Bailey makes the point that Jesus was probably born in a room or space commonly used for animals in a home where animals were frequently kept below the living accommodation of a family. [18] And there being no crib or cot, Jesus was placed in the only available place for a baby, a manger. Another tradition dating back to the second century was that Jesus was born in a hills...