Chapter 9: Coming of Luke, the Call in Macedonia
Chapter 9
The Coming of Luke and the Call Into Macedonia
1. Across Asia
(Acts 16:6) AND THEY, HAVING MADE PROGRESS THROUGH THE PHRYGIAN REGION OF the province GALATIA, AND HAVING BEEN PREVENTED BY THE HOLY SPIRIT FROM SPEAKING THE WORD IN the Province ASIA, (Acts 16:7) AND HAVING REACHED A POINT OVER AGAINST MYSIA (or perhaps, on the skirts of Mysia), WERE ATTEMPTING TO MAKE THEIR WAY INTO the province BITHYNIA; AND THE SPIRIT OF JESUS SUFFERED THEM NOT; (Acts 16:8) AND, NEGLECTING MYSIA, THEY CAME DOWN TO the harbour TROAS. (Acts 16:9) AND A VISION APPEARED TO PAUL BY NIGHT: THERE WAS A CERTAIN MAN, A MACEDONIAN, STANDING, AND EXHORTING HIM AND SAYING, “COME OVER TO MACEDONIA, AND HELP US”. (Acts 16:10) AND WHEN HE SAW THE VISION, IMMEDIATELY WE SOUGHT TO GO OUT from Asia INTO the province MACEDONIA, ASSUREDLY GATHERING THAT “GOD HAS SUMMONED US TO BRING THE GOOD NEWS TO THEM”.
Paul and his companions made a missionary progress through the Phrygian Region of the province Galatia (p. 104), and then crossed the frontier of the province Asia: but here they were prevented from preaching, and the prohibition was made absolute for the entire province. They therefore kept to the north across Asian Phrygia with the intention of entering the adjoining Roman province Bithynia; but when they came opposite Mysia, and were attempting to go out of Asia into Bithynia, the Spirit of Jesus suffered them not. They therefore kept on towards the west through Mysia, without preaching in it (as it was part of Asia), until they came out on its western coast at the great harbour of Alexandria Troas. The expression marks clearly the distinction between the prohibition to preach in Asia, while they were actually in it, and the prohibition even to set foot in Bithynia. It was necessary for them to cross Asia in order to fulfill the purpose for which they were about to be called. The geographical facts of this paragraph are stated with great clearness in the text followed by the Authorised Version and the older editions; but the reading which they give is rounded on Manuscripts of an inferior class (while the great mss. have a different text), and is characterised by the sequence of three participial clauses, a sequence almost unique in Luke’s writings, and therefore suspected and altered. But the strange form of construction by a succession of participles suits so perfectly the strange and unique character, the hurry, and the deep-lying emotion of the passage (see Section 2) that, as Lightfoot’s judgment, Bibl Essays, p. 237, perceived, the inferior mss. must here be followed. The text of the great mss., though it does not quite conceal the feeling of the passage, yet obscures it a little, and, by approximating more to Luke’s ordinary form of sentence, loses that perfect adaptation of form to sense, which so often strikes us in this history. We have already noticed, p. 115, that Luke loves the triple iteration of successive words or clauses to produce a certain effect in arresting attention. The reading of the inferior mss. suits the South-Galatian theory admirably; but that fact never weighed with me for a moment in the choice. As long as the question between the two theories was alone concerned, the thought of following the inferior mss. did not even present itself: I followed the great mss. and interpreted them in the best way possible, neither looking aside nor feeling the slightest wish to adopt the rival text. But when the question of literary feeling came up, after the delicate adaptation of expression to emotion throughout Acts gradually revealed itself, it became clear that here the choice lay between a cast of sentence unusual in this author, and one that was quite in his ordinary style, in a place where the feeling and the facts were strange and unique: hesitation was then impossible: the unusual emotion demanded the unusual expression. See note, p. 211 f. In this passage the distinction observed by Luke between Roman provincial designations and the older national names is specially clear. Wherever he mentions districts of mission work, he classifies according to the existing political (Roman) divisions (as here, the Phrygo-Galatic Region, Asia, Bithynia, Macedonia); but where he is simply giving geographical information, he either uses the pre-Roman names of lands (e.g., Mysia), or omits the land from his narrative. The “neglecting” of Mysia is a remarkable expression, one of those by which Luke compels attention at a critical point. As a rule he simply omits a country where no preaching occurred (p. 90 f.); but here he accumulates devices to arrest the reader. His effects are always attained, not by rhetorical devices, but by order and marshalling of facts; and here, in a missionary tour, the “neglecting” of a great country is a fact that no one can pass over. Not catching the intention, many understand “passing without entering” (
2. The Call Into Macedonia This is in many respects the most remarkable paragraph in Acts. In the first place the Divine action is introduced three times in four verses, marking and justifying the new and great step which is made at this point. In Acts 13:1-11 also the Divine action is mentioned three times, leading up to the important development which the author defines as “opening the door of belief to the Nations”; but in that case there were only two actual manifestations of the Divine guidance and power. Here on three distinct occasions the guidance of God was manifested in three different ways - the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Jesus, and the Vision - and the three manifestations all lead up to one end, first forbidding Paul’s purpose of preaching in Asia, then forbidding his purpose of entering Bithynia, and finally calling him forward into Macedonia. Now, amid “the multitude of the revelations” (2 Corinthians 7:7) granted to Paul, Luke selects only those which have a distinct bearing on his own purpose as an historian, and omits the vast majority, which were all important in their influence on Paul’s conduct and character. What is the reason for his insistence in this case?
It is not easy to account on strictly historical grounds for the emphasis laid on the passage to Macedonia. Lightfoot, in his fine essay on “the Churches of Macedonia,” recognises with his usual insight that it is necessary to acknowledge and to explain that emphasis; but his attempt cannot be called successful. As he himself acknowledges, the narrative gives no ground to think that the passage from Troas to Philippi was ever thought of by Luke as a passage from Continent to Continent. A broad distinction between the two opposite sides of the Hellespont as belonging to two different Continents, had no existence in the thought of those who lived in the Aegean lands, and regarded the sea as the path connecting the Aegean countries with each other; and the distinction had no more existence in a political point of view, for Macedonia and Asia were merely two provinces of the Roman Empire, closely united by common language and character, and divided from the Latin-speaking provinces further west.
After an inaccurate statement that Macedonia was “the natural highroad between the East and the West” (the Aegean was the real highroad, and Corinth was “on the way of them that are being slain to God,” Church in R. E., p. 318 f.), Lightfoot finds in Alexander the Great the proof of the greatness of the step which Luke here records in Paul’s work, and even says that “each successive station at which he halted might have reminded the Apostle of the great services rendered by Macedonia as the pioneer of the Gospel!” That is mere riot of pseudo-historical fancy; and it is hardly possible to believe that Lightfoot ever composed it in the form and with the suggestion that it has in this essay. This is one of not a few places in his Biblical Essays in which the expansion of his own “briefest summary” by the aid of notes of his oral lectures taken by pupils has not been thoroughly successful. The pages of the essay amount to a practical demonstration that, on mere grounds of historical geography alone, one cannot explain the marked emphasis laid on this new departure. In the second place, the sweep and rush of the narrative is unique in Acts: point after point, province after province are hurried over. The natural development of Paul’s work along the great central route of the Empire was forbidden, and the next alternative that rose in his mind was forbidden: he was led across Asia from the extreme south-east to the extreme north-west corner, and yet prevented from preaching in it; everything seemed dark and perplexing, until at last a vision in Troas explained the purpose of this strange journey. As before (p. 104), we cannot but be struck with the fact, that in this paragraph the idea seems to clothe itself in the natural words, and not to have been laboriously expressed by a foreign mind. And the origin of the words becomes clear when we look at the concluding sentence: “immediately we sought to go forth into Macedonia, assuredly gathering that ‘God has called us for to preach the Gospel unto them’”. The author was with Paul in Troas; and the intensity of this paragraph is due to his recollection of the words in which Paul had recounted the vision, and explained the whole Divine plan that had guided him through his perplexing wanderings. The words derive their vivid and striking character from Paul, and they remained indelibly imprinted on Luke’s memory.
3. The Coming of Luke The introduction of the first person at this striking point in the narrative must be intentional. This is no general statement like Acts 14:22 (though even there the first person has a marked effect, p. 123). Every one recognises here a distinct assertion that the author was present. Now the paragraph as a whole is carefully studied, and the sudden change from third to first person is a telling element in the total effect: if there is any passage in Acts which can be pressed close, it is this. It is almost universally recognised that the use of the first person in the sequel is intentional, marking that the author remained in Philippi when Paul went on, and that he rejoined the Apostle some years later on his return to Philippi. We must add that the precise point at which the first-personal form of narrative begins is also intentional; for, if Luke changes here at random from third to first person, it would be absurd to look for purpose in anything he says. The first person, when used in the narrative of 16, 20, 21, 27, 28, marks the companionship of Luke and Paul; and, when we carry out this principle of interpretation consistently and minutely, it will prove an instructive guide. This is the nearest approach to personal reference that Luke permits himself; and he makes it subservient to his historical purpose by using it as a criterion of personal witness.
Luke, therefore, entered into the drama of the Acts at Troas. Now it is clear that the coming of Paul to Troas was unforeseen and unforeseeable; the whole point of the paragraph is that Paul was driven on against his own judgment and intention to that city. The meeting, therefore, was not, as has sometimes been maintained, prearranged. Luke entered on the stage of this history at a point, where Paul found himself he knew not why. On the ordinary principles of interpreting literature, we must infer that this meeting, which is so skillfully and so pointedly represented as unforeseen, was between two strangers: Luke became known to Paul here for the first time. Let us, then, scrutinise more closely the circumstances. The narrative pointedly brings together the dream and the introduction of the first-personal element, “when he saw the vision, straightway we sought to go”; and collocation is everywhere one of the most telling points in Luke’s style. When we examine the dream, we observe that in it “a certain man of Macedonia” was seen by Paul. Paul did not infer his Macedonian origin from his words, but recognised him as a Macedonian by sight. Now, there was nothing distinctive in the appearance or dress of a Macedonian to mark him out from the rest of the world. On the contrary, the Macedonians rather made a point of their claim to be Greeks; and undoubtedly they dressed in the customary Greek style of the Aegean cities. There was, therefore, only one way in which Paul could know the man by sight to be a Macedonian - the man in the dream was personally known to him; and, in fact, the Greek implies that it was a certain definite person who appeared (
Beyond this we cannot penetrate through the veil in which Luke has enveloped himself. Was he already a Christian, or did he come under the influence of Christianity through meeting Paul here? For the prohibition against preaching in Asia would not preclude Paul from using the opportunity to convert an individual who was brought in contact with him. No evidence remains; “something sealed the lips of that evangelist,” so far as he himself is concerned. But we have gathered from the drift of the passage that they met as strangers; and in that case there can be no doubt where the probability lies. The inference that they met accidentally as strangers is confirmed by the fact that Luke was a stranger to the Levant (p. 317). In one of the many ways in which men come across one another in travelling, they were brought into contact at Troas: Luke was attracted to Paul; and the vision was taken by Luke, as well as by Paul, for a sign. He left all, and followed his master.
All this he suggests to us only by the same kind of delicate and subtle literary devices, consisting merely in collocation of facts, order of words, and slight changes of form, by which he suggested the development of Paul’s method and the change in his relation to Barnabas (p. 82 f.). Luke always expects a great deal from his readers, but some critics give too little attention to literary effect. These will ask me for proofs; but proofs there are none. I can only point to the facts: they that have eyes to see them know; they that have not eyes to see them will treat this section (and others) as moonstruck fancy. All that can be said is that, if you read the book carefully, observing these devices, you recognise a great work; if you don’t, and follow your denial to its logical consequences, you will find only an assortment of scraps. Probably there will always be those who prefer the scraps.
It is quite in Luke’s style to omit to mention that Paul related the vision to his companions. So also he omitted in Acts 13:7-8, to mention that Paul expounded the doctrine to the proconsul. Luke always expects a great deal from his readers. But here the Bezan Reviser inserts the missing detail, as he so often does (e.g.,Acts 13:9).
While there is no authority for the circumstances of the meeting, conjecture is tempting and perhaps permissible. It will appear that Luke, though evidently acquainted with Philippi and looking to it as his city, had no home there. His meeting with Paul, then, did not take place merely on an excursion from Philippi; and he was probably one of the many Greeks in all ages who have sought their fortune away from home. His acquaintance with medicine is certain from the words of Paul himself, “Luke, the beloved physician” (Colossians 4:14), and from the cast of his language in many places;9-1 and it is quite natural and probable that the meeting might have been sought by Paul on that account, if Luke was resident in Troas and well known there.
4. The Entrance into Macedonia
(Acts 16:11) WE SET SAIL THEN FROM TROAS, AND MADE A STRAIGHT RUN TO SAMOTHRACE; AND THE DAY FOLLOWING we came TO the harbour NEAPOLIS, (Acts 16:12) AND THENCE TO PHILIPPI, WHICH IS THE LEADING CITY OF ITS DIVISION OF MACEDONIA, AND having the rank of A ROMAN COLONY: AND WE WERE IN THIS CITY TARRYING CERTAIN DAYS.
It is remarkable with what interest Luke records the incidents from harbour to harbour. He has the true Greek feeling for the sea, a feeling that must develop in every race possessing any capacity for development, and any sensitiveness to the influences of nature, when settled round the Aegean coasts; for the Aegean sea is so tempting, with its regular winds and regular sunset calm, when the water lies dead, with a surface which looks like oil, dense and glistening and dark, that it seems to invite one to walk upon it. To a certain extent the wealth of maritime details might be accounted for by the loving interest with which Luke dwelt on his journeys in company with Paul; but caution that the author recognises as needful. This does not fully explain the facts. Every one who compares Luke’s account of the journey from Caesarea to Jerusalem (which might be expected to live in his memory beyond others), or from Puteoli to Rome, with his account of any of the voyages, must be struck by the difference between the scanty matter-of-fact details in the land journeys, and the love that notes the voyage, the winds, the runs, the appearance of the shores, Cyprus rising out of the sea, the Cretan coast close in by the ship’s side, the mountains towering above it from which the blast strikes down. At the same time, it is quite clear that, though he reported nautical matters with accuracy, he was not a trained and practised sailor. His interest for the sea sprang from his natural and national character, and not from his occupation.
Philippi was an inland city, and Neapolis was its harbour. Having once mentioned the port, Luke leaves it to be understood in Acts 20:6. As usual, Paul goes on to the great city, and does not preach in the port (cp. Acts 14:26, Acts 18:18). The description of the dignity and rank of Philippi is unique in Acts; nor can it be explained as strictly requisite for the historian’s proper purpose. Here again the explanation lies in the character of the author, who was specially interested in Philippi, and had the true Greek pride in his own city. Perhaps he even exaggerates a little the dignity of Philippi, which was still only in process of growth, to become at a later date the great city of its division. Of old Amphipolis had been the chief city of the division, to which both belonged. Afterwards Philippi quite outstripped its rival; but it was at that time in such a position, that Amphipolis was ranked first by general consent, Philippi first by its own consent. These cases of rivalry between two or even three cities for the dignity and title of “First” are familiar to every student of the history of the Greek cities; and though no other evidence is known to show that Philippi had as yet began to claim the title, yet this single passage is conclusive. The descriptive phrase is like a lightning flash amid the darkness of local history, revealing in startling clearness the whole situation to those whose eyes are trained to catch the character of Greek city-history and city-jealousies.
It is an interesting fact that Luke, who hides himself so completely in his history, cannot hide his local feeling; and there every one who knows the Greek people recognises the true Greek! There lies the strength, and also the weakness, of the Greek peoples; and that quality beyond all others has determined their history, has given them their strength against the foreigner, and their weakness as a united country.
Nationality is more conspicuous in the foibles and weaknesses of mankind, whereas great virtues and great vices have a common character in all nations. Luke shows himself the Greek when he talks of the Maltese as “the barbarians”; when he regards the journey to Jerusalem as a journey and nothing more; when he misrepresents the force of a Latin word (p. 225); when he is blind to the true character of the Roman name (the tria nomina); when he catches with such appreciation and such ease the character of Paul’s surroundings in Athens. His hatred of the Jews and his obvious inability to feel the slightest sympathy for their attitude towards Paul, are also Greek. On the other hand, his touches of quiet humour are perhaps less characteristically Greek; but he was not the old Greek of the classical period: he was the Greek of his own age, when Greece had been for centuries a power in Asia; when Macedonia had long been the leading Greek country; when Stoicism and Epicureanism were the representative philosophies (Acts 17:18);and when the Greek language was the recognised speech of many eastern Roman provinces, along with the Latin itself. To appreciate Luke, we must study the modern Greek, as well as the Greek of the great age of freedom.
I know that all such mundane characteristics are commonly considered to be non-existent in “the early Christian”! But an “early Christian” did not cease to be a man, and a citizen. Christianity has not taught men to retire from society and from life; and least of all did Pauline Christianity teach that lesson. It has impressed on men the duty of living their life better, of striving to mould and to influence society around them, and of doing their best in the position in which they were placed. When Luke became a Christian, he continued to be a Greek, and perhaps became even more intensely a Greek, as his whole life became more intense and more unselfish. It is a complete and ruinous error for the historical student to suppose that Luke broke with all his old thoughts, and habits, and feelings, and friends, when he was converted. He lived in externals much as before; he observed the same laws of politeness and good breeding in society (if he followed Paul’s instructions); his house, his surroundings, continued much the same; he kept up the same family names; and, when he died, his grave, his tombstone, and his epitaph, were in the ordinary style. It took centuries for Christianity to disengage itself from its surroundings, and to remake society and the rules of life. Yet one rarely finds among modern historians of Christianity in the first two centuries of its growth, any one who does not show a misconception on this point; and the climax, perhaps, is reached in one of the arguments by which Dr. Ficker attempts to disprove the Christian character of the epitaph of the Phrygian second-century saint, Avircius Marcellus, on the ground that a Christian epitaph would not be engraved on an attar. I presume his point is that the altar-shaped form of tombstone was avoided by the Christians of that time, because it was connected with the pagan worship. But a Pauline Christian would hold that “a gravestone will not commend us to God; neither, if we use it not, are we the worse, nor if we use it, are we the better” (1 Corinthians 8:8); and Avircius Marcellus mentions Paul, and Paul alone among the Apostles, in his epitaph. In fact, almost all the early Christian epitaphs at Eumeneia are engraved on altars, because there that shape was fashionable; whereas at Apameia they are rarely on altars, because there that shape was not in such common use. Our view that the author of Acts was a Macedonian does not agree with a tradition (which was believed to occur in Eusebius, see p. 389) that Luke was an Antiochian. The modern authorities who consider this tradition to be rounded on a confusion between Lucas and Lucius, an official of the Antiochian Church (Acts 13:1), seem to have strong probability on their side. The form Lucas may very well be a vulgarism for Lucius; but, except the name, these two persons have nothing in common. The name Lucas is of most obscure origin: it may be a shortened form of Lucius, or Lucilius, or Lucianus, or Lucanus, or of some Greek compound name. The Latin names, Lucius, Lucilius, etc., were spelt in earlier Greek
Note 1.
(1) Eusebius and Jerome repeatedly interpret Luke 3:1 in that way (see Expositor, Jan. 1894, p. 52; April, p. 289). (2)
Note 2.
Many are likely to rest on the authority of the great mss., and prefer this reading. It may be understood, by an ellipse common in Greek, “they made a missionary progress through the Phrygian land, viz., the Galatic part of it, inasmuch as they were prevented from preaching in Asia, and could not, therefore, do missionary work in the Asian part of it”. But, if this were the writing of Luke, I should prefer to hold that he meant
