Monday, December 23, 2013

Luke: Chapters 19 to 24

Click here for the previous part of Luke.


CHAPTER 19

The first half is a new story, but one that plods old ground.  A tax collector pledges to Jesus that he’ll give half of what he has to the poor (it’s the least he can do, given that he admits he extorted from the poor).  He’ll turn a new leaf, though, and be good.  Jesus thanks him and says he’ll be saved for this.

Yeah, that’s not such a good one.  First off, he hasn’t done anything yet.  He’s just announced his intention to do it.  Let’s see the follow-through before salvation.  Second, he’s being saved for giving money to the poor- though he only has it because he extorted from the poor.  Under those circumstances, why is he allowed to keep half?  Doesn’t that strike anyone as being badly off?  If Christ tells another rich guy that he must give up all his possessions to gain entry into the kingdom of salvation, then why does this guy get off so easily? 

The next part of this chapter is the parable from Matthew 25 that tacitly condones charging interest rates. 

Oh, and Christ finally enters Jerusalem.  It’s about time – Luke had Christ departing for the big town back in Chapter 9.  When Christ enters town, his followers proclaim, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord.  Peace in heaven and glory in the highest.”  You know, if Pilate was walking around and heard them say that, he probably would’ve had Jesus executed on the spot.  Excuse me – did you just publicly call this man “the king”?  Oh, king in the name of the Lord, not early powers – but just two centuries ago the Maccabbees rebelled in name of God.  Better be careful about that “K” word. 

Christ also immediately foretells the doom of Jerusalem.  I don’t recall him doing that so swiftly in either Matthew or Mark.  In fact, he does it even before the incident at the temple.  That also comes here in Luke – but after Christ says the town is so, so doomed.  And it’s also a shorter incident that before.  (checks).  It’s six verses in Matthew, five in Mark, and just four verses here in Luke.  Yeah, I already know the story, but an event this big typically gets plenty of detail no matter what.

CHAPTER 20

We get a host of famous Christ teachings – so famous that I believe they’ve all appeared in Matthew and Mark already.  Let’s see – he jousts with the Pharisees about what authority he has to give these teachings.  (He asks them what authority John the Baptist had, and when they don’t respond, neither does he). He gives some parables, he gives unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and denounces the scribes.  Well, that’s one thing different.  In previous gospels, he mostly denounced the Pharisees, but here the enemy is the scribes. It’s the same thing to Luke, I guess.

The Sadducees also joust with Jesus.  They ask him about life after the resurrection. This isn’t about Jesus’s own personal upcoming resurrection, but about when the kingdom of God will arrive and the dead will rise.  The upshot is that there is no gender difference after that happens – we’ll all be like angels. 

CHAPTER 21

Again, it’s teachings that pretty much all of the gospels cover. Jesus salutes a poor widow for contributing to the church, because it hurts more for her to give than it does a rich person.

Then Christ gets apocalyptic on us.  He foretells the destruction of the Temple, and not only that – but tells of the persecution that the Christians will have to endure.  The talk of persecution makes this sound like it was written well on later, not the talk of Jerusalem and the temple.  Heck, I can half-see Christ saying that will happen.  But the persecution sounds much more like a lived experience for the people writing these gospels, in this case Luke.  You get more detail and emotion put into that part, I think.  But don’t worry – the Son of Man will come.

You just need to be vigilant until then.  And with those final teachings, we now head into the typical three-chapter for a gospel: betrayal, death, and resurrection.

CHAPTER 22

Luke starts off the betrayal chapter differently than Matthew and Mark.  First, it’s the scribes that are seeking to ruin Jesus, not the Pharisees.  I guess it’s all the same to Luke.  (As our Gentile gospel writer, I guess he didn’t have as strong a command on the inner-workings of Jewish religious sects.  So screw it – just call them scribes). 

Second, Luke actually gives Judas a motivation.  The others just have Judas betray Christ.  Well, Matthew partially gives him a motive – 30 silver pieces.  But that only happens after Judas decides to betray Christ, so it’s not clear how much a motivation that really is.  Mark is totally silent on why Judas betrays Christ.  But Luke has a reason: the devil made him do it.  Luke tells us: “Satan entered Judas.”

Well, that’s a reason.  I don’t know if I believe that one.  It’s too pat and trite an answer.  OK, so the stakes are high here, but did Judas lose all free will?  On a seemingly unrelated note, Luke also leaves out the bit where Christ has perfumed oils put upon him.  Both Matthew and Mark note that just before Judas betrays Christ, but it’s not here.  There’s an implicit argument in those gospels that Judas betrayed Christ because of that.  It’s never stated like that, but given the lack of reasons given and the timing; it’s a reasonable default interpretation.  So it’s all the more interesting that the gospel that tries to give Judas a different motivation entirely ejects that story.

Then comes the Last Supper, and according to Bart D. Ehrman’s “Misquoting Jesus,” in this scene there is reason to believe the manuscript we have has had an addition made by an early scribe.  During the meal, Christ says, “This is my body, which will b given for you; do this in memory of me.”  Problem: in our oldest and best recovered copies of Luke, it’s just “This is my body” and not the rest of it.  Either a scribe added in the rest, or an earlier scribe accidentally deleted the key phrase.  The former is more likely.  Sometimes a scribe would miss a line because the page he was copying form had two straight line with similar words in it.  That doesn’t happen here though.  And you can figure why a scribe would add it. As it was, the thing sounded a little underwritten.  Compared to the other gospels it was, so you bring Luke up to code by adding in the line.

After the Last Supper, Christ tells his apostles that one of them will betray him.  This also sparks debate about the apostles in all the gospels, but this time it’s different.  This time, they just debate amongst themselves who it is.  None of them deny it here, and in the other gospels they always do.  That sounds more realistic.  Jesus just laid a bomb on them, and denial is a natural reaction.

Actually, right after the bomb is dropped, Jesus tells the apostles their role.  They are to spread the word and send it out to all the people.  For doing that, they will be able to sit on the thrones judging the 12 nations of Israel. OK, Jesus had said similar things in the previous gospels – but not right here.  This is some pretty weird timing.  How do you segue from telling the apostles that one of them is a betraying to giving out marching orders to them all?  That’s quite the shift in focus. 

In fact, he then shifts back and forth one more time.  Christ follows that up by telling Peter about the upcoming denial.  Then Jesus shift back, and tells them how to handle themselves in their upcoming trials.  Jesus keeps alternating back and forth and it’s weird. 

OK, so everyone goes to rest, except for Jesus.  Then comes a scene that Bart D. Ehrman informs us isn’t in the oldest copies of the Gospel of Luke.  Well, most of it is in the oldest known copies of Luke – Christ goes to the Garden, and prays.  Then he goes back to his apostles.  But there is a two-verse bit in the middle that isn’t in the oldest copies.  In fact, my Bible has the verses in brackets, with a footnotes saying it’s not in the original texts.  The bit: “And to strengthen him an angel from heaven appeared to him.  He was in such agony and he prayed so fervently that his sweat became like drops of blood falling upon the ground.”  That’s one of the more memorable images of Luke – sweating like it was blood.

But it’s not in the oldest copies.  Why the addition?  Theology.  Some early bands of Christians denied that Christ had ever been actual flesh and blood.  That didn’t suit their view of this world being bad and the other world being good.  Their favorite gospel was Luke, because it has Jesus in the most not-of-this-world.  (Wait until the execution next chapter for a since of what this means).  So you put a moment where Christ appears very human to negate their early brand of Christianity.

In fact, Ehrman notes that without the above verses, the remaining passage is a chiasmus, which is a literary structure.  In such a passage, the first statement corresponds to the last one; the second to the second-to-last and all throughout.  It’s an intentional design, and it’s how Luke was designed – but the blood sweat messes it all up. 

It’s seven statements without the blood sweat. In the first one, Christ tells his disciples to pray to avoid temptations.  Second, Jesus leaves them.  Third, he kneels in prayer. Fourth – in the heart of the chiasmus – Jesus prays to God.  Fifth (in a part that mirrors the third section) Christ kneels from prayer.  Then he returns to his disciples (mirroring the second part), and then he addressed them, using some of the same words he used in the first part.  It’s a classic chiasmus.  But the blood sweating comes and messes up the structure.

Well, Christ is arrested.  This time the apostles ask Jesus if they should fight back and he says no, don’t.  When the priest’s servants gets his ear cut off anyway in the initial scrum, Christ heals it right there.  That’s mighty nice of him.  It’s also not found in Matthew or Mark. 

Peter denies Christ thrice, and though that’s where the other gospels end this chapter, this one keeps going.  His interrogation is in this chapter.  They ask him if he’s the Son of God and he replies “You say that I am” and that’s enough to convict.  Wait – that’s a terrible reason to convict.  He hasn’t really confessed, you dummies.  But, they’re out to kill him, so no matter.

CHAPTER 23

I’ve read that Luke is supposed to be the most anti-Semitic of the gospels, but so far I haven’t seen too much evidence of that.  But you get some here in the all important crucifixion chapter.

Meet Pilate.  He’s the Roman official in charge of sentencing Christ, and for the life of him, he can’t find anything that Jesus did wrong.  Oh sure, he’s like that in all of the gospels, but great googily-moogily is he ever going overboard here.

Three times he tells the Jews that this man has done nothing wrong.  That’s a new Bible record.  But each time he says that, the Jews just push back, angrier than before.  It reminds me a little of the top of Luke, where the gospel writer tries to sell his case a might too much.   Also, I’ll point out that this is not the historical record we have of Pilate.  He was a ruthless administrator, willing to do whatever it took to maintain his order and power.  In a situation like this, he wouldn’t worry much about just or not, right or wrong.  Order and power – why bother kicking up a fuss about some hick son of a carpenter?  Well, doing so lets Rome off the hook for Christ’s death – and puts the blame squarely upon the Jews.

In fact, in order to make his case, Luke garbles up some details of previous gospels.  Mark and Matthew had the Romans engage in a custom where they’d free one prisoner a year at Passover.  In this case it was Jesus or Barabas.  That isn’t quite how it goes in Luke, though.  Here, Pilate never makes any such offer.  Instead, when he insists that Jesus should be freed because he’s innocent, the angry Jewish leaders say he should free Barabas instead.  Wait – what?  Who brought up that option?  What does that have to do with the Jesus case.

Luke gives us some odd details the other gospels lack.  At one point there is a jurisdiction dispute between Pilate and Herod.  We learn hat both men become friends over this affair, and agree that Jesus is innocent.  Again – the officials aren’t to be blamed – just them Jews.  Eventually, Pilate relents and orders the execution. 

Once again, Christ doesn’t carry his own cross.  It’s that Simon the Cyrenian who does it again.  (Also, shouldn’t that be Simon the Syrian?  That is what the word means, right?) 

On the cross, Jesus comes off very differently than he did in Mark and Matthew. Instead of asking Lord, why have you forsaken me?, Christ is much more calm and collected.  In fact, there is no sign he feels any real pain here at all.  (There is a reason why this is the gospel of choice for those who believed that he was never a flesh and blood human).  In Luke, Jesus says from the cross: “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.” 

Similarly, while he again between two criminals, this time only one castigates him.  The other defends Jesus, and Jesus calmly responds by telling his defender that he’ll join Christ in heaven.  Finally, just before dying, Jesus says, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”  That’s a very different image of Christ from Matthew and Mark, where he is desolated and denigrated by all. 

Oh, and I left out one key bit.  As in the other gospels, the veil in the Temple’s holiest spot rips.  But it’s different from Matthew and Mark.  There, the veil rips right after he dies.  In Luke, it rips just before he dies.  This has some key theological differences.  The veil separates God’s part of the temple from the rest; it’s where God dwells with the Children of Israel.  In Matthew and Mark, the ripping of the veil signifies that God’s place is no longer just behind a veil.  Christ’s death allows God to go among all people.  That’s why it rips just after Christ dies – the sacrifice made the change possible.  But in Luke, the veil rips just before.  It’s because God is angry with the Jews.  How can you kill my only son like that?  Jerks.  The heck I want any place in your lousy temple.

Christ is buried, setting us up for the resurrection.

CHAPTER 24

Once again, Jesus rises from the dead.  Luke makes a much bigger production out of it.  In Mathew, the apostles aren’t initially sure what they’re seeing.  In the original ending to Mark, the apostles never see him – in fact, no one really does.  (An ending tacked-on later changes that, and that’s the version in most Bibles).

It starts off with three women going to the tomb: Mary the mother, Mary Magdalene, and Joanna.  Luke earlier mentioned Joanna, but the previous gospels didn’t, but here she is.  When the women get there, though, there are two men “in dazzling garments” who tell the terrified women that Christ isn’t there.  So far, it’s a slightly more crowded version of the Mark story. 

Unlike the original Mark story, however, this time the women tell the apostles.  They don’t believe the women, in a Biblical version of the glass ceiling.  Peter goes anyway, and sees the Christ-less tomb. 

Now Christ appears to some followers on the roadside.  But he’s traveling incognito and they don’t recognize him.  Jesus feigns ignorance about what has just happened, too.  They figure out who he is – and he vanishes. 

Now it’s finally time for the main event – Christ appears to his apostles.  They first think he’s a ghost.  (That’s sensible – especially given how he just disappeared in the last part).  But he shows them his hands and feet.  He tells them to touch him to see if he’s real. Then he asks if they have any grub.  They’re stunned.  Sure, he said he’s return – but now he actually is retuning.

Oh, please note one key difference with the previous gospels.  Matthew had the seeing take place back in Galilee.  The original Mark story had the man in the tomb instruct the women to tell the apostles to go to Galilee to see Jesus.  (Admittedly, the later added-on ending has Jesus appear to them in Jerusalem – but the point is, when Luke was written, all stories of Christ’s return came in the north, not Jerusalem.  Now it’s taking place in Jerusalem. 

After a brief bit of words, Christ ascends to heaven.  The end.

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS

It’s an interesting book, but I’m getting some gospel fatigue.  Almost all of its high notes have already been hit.  It might be a better read than Mark, but I definitely see why Matthew is the most popular one.  Luke has his moments, but he tries too hard sometimes, like during the birth miracles. 

It’s a good gospel all things considered.

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