The Conversion of Saul and Peter’s Mission in the Judaean Coastal Plain
Luke now interrupts the account of Hellenist expansion (he will resume it in 11.19) to swing the spotlight of his narrative on to Saul. Since the whole of the second half of his book will be devoted to Saul/Paul, Luke clearly regarded the episode of Saul’s conversion as one of the most significant events (if not the most) in the beginnings of Christianity. Hence the exceptional prominence he gives to it by recounting the story no less than three times (9.1–19; 22.3–21; 26.4–23).
The three accounts vary in detail, sometimes quite markedly. For example, it is unclear how Saul’s companions were affected: did they all fall to the ground (26.14) or only Saul (9.4, 8)? Did they hear the voice of Jesus (9.7) or not (22.9)? Ananias has considerable prominence in chs. 9 and 22 but does not appear in ch. 26. And the commission to the Gentiles comes once on the road itself (26.16–18), once through Ananias (9.15–17), and once later on in Jerusalem (22.21). The point of significance, however, is that all three variant traditions are used by one and the same author. Luke himself evidently saw no inconsistency in retelling the same story in such diverse terms. This tells us something about what a responsible historian like Luke saw as good practice. And it should caution us against making too much of such variations when they appear in different documents (e.g. different Gospels), whether in terms of historical accuracy or in terms of their theological significance. Most of what we have here are the variations which a good storyteller introduces to maintain interest in his story despite its repeated telling.
What is important, both historically and theologically, is that all three accounts centre on the encounter between Saul and the Jesus who appears to him (9.4–6; 22.7–10; 26.14–16) and climax in Saul’s commissioning to take the gospel to the Gentiles (9.15–16; 22.15, 21; 26.16–18, 23). These are clearly the points on which Luke wished his readers to concentrate. The fact that Paul himself gives equal emphasis to just these two points (I Cor. 9.1–2; 15.8–10; Gal. 1.13–16) shows that Luke and Paul were at one in their assessment of his conversion and its importance. We can also be confident that Luke owes this central thrust of his account to good sources, probably Paul himself.
At the same time Luke attends to his own concerns. In particular, he did not hesitate to exclude emphases dear to Paul’s own heart and to tell his story in a way that runs somewhat counter to Paul’s own recollection. Thus, he avoids describing Saul as an ‘apostle’ as a result of this encounter — an emphasis central to Paul’s assessment of it (as again I Cor. 9.1–2, 15.8–10 and Gal. 1.1, 12, 15–16 demonstrate). In contrast, Luke’s earlier definition of the qualifications of an ‘apostle’ (1.21–25) would seem to exclude Saul/Paul (see also on 14.4). Similarly, his restriction of resurrection appearances to the forty days after Jesus’ resurrection (1.1–11) would seem to dispute Paul’s claim that he too belonged to the circle of resurrection witnesses, even if he only just made it (I Cor. 15.5–8; see also Introduction to Ch. 1(2)).
In some ways more striking is the implication of 9.23–30, that Saul went up to Jerusalem relatively soon after his conversion (‘after some time’, or even ‘after many days’) and was there introduced to the apostles. In contrast, Paul almost falls over himself to deny that he went up to Jerusalem so soon after his conversion. No less than three years transpired before he did so, and even then he visited only Peter and saw none of the other apostles (Gal. 1.17–20). Of course, this may be a further example of Luke’s telescoping or collapsing into briefer compass events which had actually been separated by some time (see Introduction to 8.1–3). But the contrast here is so sharp that it raises a double suspicion: that Paul was writing to dispute just the sort of account of his conversion and its aftermath as we find in Acts; and that Luke has chosen to follow the version which downplays the independence from Jerusalem on which Paul had found it necessary to insist. This would certainly fit with Luke’s eirenic concern to demonstrate the unity of the movement in its earliest days.
The final section of the chapter, on Peter’s ministry along the coastline of Judaea (9.32–43), is presumably drawn from early memories of the mission associated with the name of Peter (cf. Gal. 2.7–9). Again, however, it enables Luke to display his evenhandedness: that the chief hero of the first half of his history (Peter) was not immediately eclipsed by the hero of the second half (Paul). So, in particular, he is able to recall a raising from the dead (9.40–41) to parallel Paul’s later feat of the same kind (20.9–10). More to the immediate point, these brief recollections prepare the way for the next central episode (the conversion of Cornelius), the triple reference to which (chs 10, 11 and 15) marks it out in Luke’s estimate as the only event to rival Paul’s conversion in importance for earliest Christianity.
The conversion of Saul
9.1–22
Given the emphasis which both Luke and Paul put upon the event, the question has often been asked in recent years: should this episode be called Paul’s conversion or Paul’s commissioning?
The question arises, since the term ‘conversion’ in its common usage (conversion from no religion to religion, or from one religion to another) is inappropriate here. Neither Luke nor Paul saw the new movement as a new religion. It was not simply a continuation of Judaism, certainly not as Judaism was understood by the high priest, or (Paul would say) as Judaism had been understood by himself when he was a zealous Pharisee (Gal. 1.13–14). But it was a continuation of the religion of Israel. In all Luke’s (and Paul’s) concern to clarify the identity of the Jesus sect, continuity with Israel’s own identity as embodied in its scriptures, its belief in the one sovereign God, and its heritage of faith and devotion was fundamental. So what happened to Paul on the Damascus road was not a renunciation of that identity and heritage. On the contrary, both would say that it was an awakening to the responsibility which had always been Israel’s — to be a blessing to the families of the earth (3.25), to be a light to the nations (13.47; 26.17–18). Hence, the emphasis in the accounts is more on a prophetic calling or commissioning, as in Isa. 42.7 (cited or echoed in both the previous references), or in Isa. 49.1, 6 (echoed in 26.23 and Gal. 1.15–16).
Yet, at the same time, we can hardly avoid describing what happened to Saul on the Damascus road as a ‘conversion’. For conversion it was in the basic sense of the term — a complete turn around to go in precisely the opposite direction. And the account in Acts implies the sort of inner trauma and transformation which has properly made the Damascus road encounter a (if not the) classic example of sudden conversion.
Historical and theological accuracy would best be served, therefore, if we speak of a conversion from one sect of first-century Judaism to another (on the term ‘sect’ see Introduction to chs 1–5(6) [p.2] and on 5.17); that is, conversion from a mainline sect (Pharisees) which wished to reinforce Israel’s separation from the Gentile world, to a sect which, in the light of its experience of Jesus and the Spirit, was coming to understand Israel’s commission as a ‘light to the nations’ to be its own.
Luke dates the event in direct sequence from the initial persecution consequent upon Stephen’s martyrdom. Even though there is reason to believe that more had happened between Stephen’s death and Saul’s conversion (see again Introduction to 8.1–3), nevertheless it is likely that Paul was converted within two or three years or less of Jesus’ crucifixion. Apart from anything else, the sequence of apostle-making resurrection appearances did come to an end (I Cor. 15.8 — ‘last of all’). For Paul’s claim to be accepted it must have followed quite closely upon those which had preceded. Most telling, however, is Paul’s own account (Gal. 1.18; 2.1) that a period of fourteen to seventeen years elapsed between his conversion and the Jerusalem council (usually dated to the late 40s).
9.1–2 We have already noted the historical issues relating to Luke’s account of Saul’s early involvement in the persecution following Stephen’s martyrdom (see Introduction to 8.1–3). The information, surprising to the reader, that a significant number of those scattered from Jerusalem had established themselves in Gentile territory (in some contrast to 8.1) is a reminder that Luke’s account cuts corners. But we should also note the recurrence of the description ‘disciples’ (as in 6.1–2, 7; also 9.10, 19, 25, 26, 36, 38), and the first occurrence of the title of the new movement as ‘the Way’ (cf. 19.9, 23; 22.4; 24.14, 22). Both of these Luke probably derived from tradition. The latter was also used in self-reference at Qumran (1QS 9.17–18; 10.21; CD 1.13; 2.6), for whom, curiously enough, Damascus had also been an early centre of exile (CD 6.5, 19). We know from Josephus (Jewish War 2.561) that a large Jewish minority population lived there.
It is usually assumed that the high priest’s writ would not have been recognized as running beyond Jerusalem or Judaea. On the other hand, he was the leading political as well as religious figure within Judaea. Diaspora communities in effect acknowledged his authority in the devotion of their regular payment of the Temple tax (the Roman authorities made exceptional provision in this respect). And since the Temple also served as a bank it could even be the case that some of the scattered Hellenists had had to abandon their deposits, giving the high priest some leverage over diaspora communities not so far distant. So it is quite possible to conceive of some sort of authorization or letter of introduction from the high priest lying behind Saul’s mission to Damascus (cf. 9.14; II Cor. 3.1; and earlier I Macc. 15.15–24). Whether such authorization could have stretched to bringing members of the Way back to Jerusalem in penal custody is probably another question. On the other hand, synagogues did have the right to administer corporal punishment (II Cor. 11.24), and Paul himself did recall his persecution to have been exceedingly fierce (Gal. 1.13).
9.3 Paul nowhere indicates where his conversion took place, but the claim that it took place near Damascus is consistent throughout all the Acts accounts, and it is probably confirmed by Paul’s reference to Damascus in Gal. 1.17. That the encounter itself was one of blinding light is probably recalled by Paul in II Cor. 4.4–6, though it is also a common feature of heavenly visions (see on 6.15 and 7.55). The persecutor is converted by the same vision as that enjoyed by the persecuted (7.55–56).
9.4–6 In each of the three accounts the brief exchange between Saul and the exalted Jesus is word for word: ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?’ ‘Who are you, sir?’ ‘I am Jesus (the Nazarene), whom you are persecuting; rise . . .’ (22.7–10; 26.14–16). This gives a good illustration of how stories would be told, then as now. The core of the story is preserved, maintained with almost rigorous consistency, while the supporting details can be treated with greater flexibility, as circumstances may demand. We can well, and quite fairly imagine that the exchange had been burned into Saul’s memory, and so from the first was fixed in the tradition by which the event of the great persecutor’s conversion was retold and celebrated among the churches (cf. Gal. 1.23).
The christological implications of the exchange are not entirely clear. Saul at first simply hears an unidentified voice addressing him. He naturally asks the figure bathed or hidden in blinding light who he is; the address, usually translated ‘Lord’, can also be a polite form of address to a superior (’sir’), but here to a glorious heavenly being (cf. 10.4, 14). Only then does the voice identify itself: ‘I am Jesus (22.8 adds ‘the Nazarene’) whom you are persecuting.’ Presumably only then did Saul begin to grasp the significance of the encounter: that the glorious figure was none other than Jesus; and so, conversely, Jesus had the status of someone clothed in divine glory (so we may deduce also from II Cor. 4.4–6). How quickly all these corollaries became clear to him, Luke does not say at this point, but see 9.20 and 22.
It has been suggested that the personal identification implied in the words between Jesus and his persecuted followers (‘Why do you persecute me?’) provided the basis for Paul’s later theology of the church as the body of Christ. But that may be pressing the language too hard (cf. Matt. 25.40, 45). On the other hand, the question suggests that it was personal hostility towards Jesus himself, presumably because of the claims made for him, which was the chief motivation for Saul’s persecution.
9.7–9 The shock to Saul’s companions and the severe trauma into which the experience threw Saul are vividly narrated. We should not assume that they were a troop of soldiers accompanying Saul, as has often been represented (the high priest would not have had so much authority). They were probably just travellers who found greater security (and companionship) in making the journey together. The contrast between Saul’s previous power and now his helplessness (9.8) would hardly be missed by the good storyteller (cf. II Macc. 3.27–29). The fasting implies holding oneself in disciplined readiness for further revelation (e.g. Ex. 34.28; Dan. 10.2–3).
9.10–14 This is the first of the visions which Luke will recall over these next crucial chapters as authenticating radical departures (also 10.3–7, 10–17; 11.5–10), all making the point that these unexpected changes of course were fully authenticated from on high (cf. 2.17). That Saul was praying and had also seen a vision serves to authenticate Ananias’ vision (similarly in 10.3–6 and 10–16). ‘The Lord’ here is clearly Jesus (9.15 puts the point beyond dispute). In what follows Jesus as Lord exercises a sovereignty elsewhere attributed only to God (9.15 — ‘my chosen instrument’).
Ananias appears only here and in the second account, where he receives a more fulsome description (22.12). He is not represented as a refugee from Jerusalem, so presumably he was a local diaspora Jew. The name itself, and the details of Saul’s lodging (9.11) must come from Luke’s tradition. Another new name for the followers of Jesus also appears, no doubt also from the tradition, since Luke makes little use of it on his own account — ‘your saints’ (9.13, 32, 41; 26.10). That such a title could be used so early (Paul also uses it with particular reference to the Jerusalem church — Rom. 15.25–26; I Cor. 16.1; II Cor. 8.4; 9.1, 12) indicates a conscious claim on the part of the first believers to belong to or even represent the people set apart by God to be his own (e.g. Pss. 16.3; 34.9; Isa. 4.3; Dan. 7.18). ‘Those who call upon his name’ (9.14) recalls 2.21 and the importance of Jesus’ name as an early mark of identity for the first believers (see Introduction to Ch. 3 [p.38]).
9.15–16 This is the first of the three versions of Saul’s commissioning which Luke gives us in his three accounts. Striking once again is the prominence Luke gives to the name — Saul’s mission will be to carry Jesus’ name before various audiences and to suffer for the sake of the name (cf. 5.41), a double emphasis thoroughly Pauline in character (see e.g. Phil. 1.29). As in chs 3–4, the name of Jesus continues to be a central identifying factor for the new movement and for its mission, the mission itself being an increasingly integral part of its identity.
The order, Gentiles, kings and sons of Israel, certainly reflects something of the subsequent course of Paul’s mission (cf. 25.13, 23; 26.1; 27.24; see Introduction to chs 21–28 [pp.277f.]). But the addition of the third item is a clear indication that Luke did not see Saul’s mission as mission to Gentiles as against Jews, far less to Gentiles in rejection of his fellow Jews (see Introduction §5(4)).
9.17 Ananias addresses Saul as ‘Brother’. Since the vocative is usually used in Acts as ‘fellow Jew’ (2.29; 3.17; etc.), but also as ‘fellow believer’ (1.16; see further on 1.15), it is not clear what its significance is here — that is, whether Ananias was accepting Saul as already committed to the cause of the Lord Jesus.
The actions of Ananias do not match the commission recorded in 9.11. But this is precisely the sort of complementary variation which keeps a repeated story fresh for the listener (note the further variation in 22.16). Luke naturally assumed that a primary objective of Ananias would be for Saul to be filled with the Holy Spirit. The Spirit is so much the mark of the disciple for Luke, it could hardly be otherwise. But since Ananias himself belonged to an enthusiastic sect marked by its reception of the Spirit, it would be equally natural for Ananias himself to have seen this as his role also. It is to be noted that Luke makes no attempt here to represent Ananias as a representative of Jerusalem or as ineffective as Philip had been in the previous chapter in dealing with the Samaritans. The Spirit’s filling is at the initiative of the Spirit, not under the control of the apostles. On this point at least, Luke’s account accords with the mind and memory of Paul (Gal. 1.1, 12).
9.18 The healing echoes that of Tobit in Tobit 11.10–13. Luke leaves it unclear whether the laying on of Ananias’ hands secured both the healing and the Spirit. We cannot assume that he intended his readers to infer that the Spirit’s filling preceded baptism. But neither can we assume that he subsumed Saul’s reception of the Spirit under the note of his being baptized. Luke has simply not made the point clear. The relationship of baptism and Spirit was dealt with sufficiently in the two surrounding incidents (8.14–17 and 10.44–48). Nothing is said of Saul’s being given instruction, though he must have received traditions like I Cor. 15.3–7 at some very early stage. Nor that Saul ‘repented’ his previous actions (unless it is implied in Saul’s fasting in 9.9), even though such repentance was regularly called for in the earliest preaching (2.38, etc.). Again the variation in Luke’s account is partly artistic in motivation, but also partly refusal to be bound by any stereotyped process of ‘reception of converts’.
9.20–22 Luke emphasizes the immediacy of Saul’s commitment to his calling. As regularly thereafter, Saul uses the synagogues as his platform (see on 13.5).
His message is summed up in a new way: ‘he proclaimed Jesus, saying “He is the Son of God”’. This may reflect a more Hellenist emphasis: ‘Son of God’ was a more meaningful title in Greek-speaking circles than ‘Messiah’ (but note also 9.22). God’s ‘Son’ is the title used in what is generally regarded as typical of Paul’s early preaching in the wider Greek world (I Thess. 1.9–10; cf. Acts 13.33; Rom. 1.3–4). But the usage belongs to earliest Christian perception of Jesus as well. It may be rooted in Jesus’ own remembered prayer address to God as ‘Abba’ (Rom. 8.15 and Gal. 4.6). And given the previous degree of interest in the Temple (chs 6–8) it is worth recalling that the ‘son of God’ title was also bound up with the Nathan prophecy of II Sam. 7.13–14 (see on 7.46–47). At the same time the modern reader should remember that the title did not have such exclusive focus on Jesus or embody such a high christology as it came to bear in the course of Christian controversy over the next four centuries. At this stage it could simply signify one highly or specially favoured by God. It was not a case of the title bestowing on Jesus a significance he would not otherwise have had. Rather it was Jesus’ significance which gave the title its importance within Christianity.
The other aspect of or way of summarizing Saul’s preaching is the more familiar ‘demonstration’ that Jesus was the Christ (cf. 5.42; 17.3; 18.5, 28). Here Luke takes the opportunity immediately to confirm that the apostle to the Gentiles was as much concerned to persuade his fellow Jews. This may be the first time (9.22) that the absolute ‘(the) Jews’ is used by Luke (though the definite article is lacking in the best manuscripts). The usage becomes more prominent in the course of Luke’s description of Paul’s mission (13.5, 45, 50; 14.1–5, 19; etc.), and has been cited in evidence that Luke is anti-Jewish and presents Christianity as completely other than and consistently opposed by ‘the Jews’. So it is worth noting that the reference here is to ‘(the) Jews who lived in Damascus’, a wholly natural, not to say unavoidable way of describing a large swell of opinion among a single ethnic group within a city. At the same time, however, the clear implication is that the Hellenist Jews who believed Jesus to be the Christ were a small minority within the Jewish community.
The initial opposition to Saul
9.23–31
Luke’s concern in this brief section is to link Saul to Jerusalem and then to show how it was that, although commissioned to take the gospel to the Gentiles (9.15), a gap of some time intervened before he did so. All this is necessary since, having recounted Saul’s conversion at this stage, Luke has still to describe the breakthrough to the Gentiles in Antioch by unknown Hellenists (11.19–20), and prior to that the breakthrough at Caesarea by the leading apostle, Peter, himself (10.1–11.18).
So far as historical detail is concerned, there is some inconsistency between Luke’s account of Saul’s preaching in Damascus (9.20–22) and Paul’s own recollection that he went away to Arabia before returning to Damascus (Gal. 1.17), though Paul does not say he spent all three years prior to his visit to Jerusalem in Arabia. And we have already noted that the terms of Saul’s visit to Jerusalem seem to be in some dispute between Luke and Paul (see Introduction to Ch. 9 [pp.117f.]). On the other hand, the record of Paul’s escape from Damascus by basket is common to both (9.25; II Cor. 11.32–33), and Luke’s conclusion that Saul returned to Tarsus is consistent with Gal. 1.21. In short, we may simply have to accept that we are confronted with two rather tendentious readings of the same basic data, Paul emphasizing his independence from the Jerusalem apostles, Luke emphasizing his acceptance by them (clearly implied in 9.28).
9.23–25 ‘The Jews’ are presumably the Jews just mentioned (again a quite natural usage), that is ‘(some of the) Jews who lived in Damascus’. But the phrase has an ominous ring and has helped feed the view that Luke did set ‘the Jews’ consistently in opposition to Paul. The plot here parallels the later plot in 23.12–30. Paul’s ministry begins and ends enshrouded in hostility. The circumstances occasioning the escape are recorded differently in II Cor. 11.32–33 (King Aretas was attempting to seize Paul). The two accounts could be complementary (the king responding to unrest within or complaints from the important Jewish community). But Luke may be cloaking more serious opposition to Saul (the reasons we do not know), or may have chosen to focus only on the opposition from within the Jewish community of Damascus. Unusually here Luke speaks of ‘his (that is, Saul’s) disciples’. Does he mean that Saul had been very successful in his preaching, or has he simply expressed himself casually — Saul’s fellow disciples?
9.26–27 The suspicion of Saul would have been entirely understandable given his record and reputation as a persecutor, even if it runs counter to Paul’s own clear recollection in Gal. 1.18–20. The role attributed to Barnabas, however, is entirely consistent with his character (4.36), the memory of him as a bridge between the Jerusalem leadership and the Hellenists (11.22–24), and his later association with Saul/Paul (chs 13–14; see further on 4.36–37). Barnabas’ description of Saul’s Damascus preaching as ‘in the name of Jesus’ clearly signals that Saul meets one of the key identity markers of the new movement (similarly Luke in 9.28–29).
9.28–29 Again Luke makes a point of showing that Saul, the apostle to the Gentiles, began by preaching to his fellow Jews, and at the heart of Jewish religion and tradition. The claim should not be dismissed out of hand, since Paul himself seems to recollect some such preaching in Rom. 15.19. Its boldness, as well as preaching in the name of the Lord, identifies him firmly with the group who prayed the prayer of 4.29–30. In a similar way, the opposition from the Hellenists, who had brought about Stephen’s death (cf. 6.9–14), also identifies him with Stephen, that is, with those whom he had persecuted. ‘Our former persecutor now preaches the faith which once he tried to destroy’ (Gal. 1.23). The reported rejection (9.23, 29) of Saul by Jews (but Luke does not say ‘Jews’ here) sets a pattern to be regularly repeated in Paul’s later missionary work (see Introductions to chs 13–15 and 16–20).
9.30 For the first time since 1.15 the followers of Jesus are again called ‘brothers’ (see on 1.15; why not ‘the apostles’?). According to 22.3, Tarsus, chief political and cultural centre of Cilicia, was Saul’s home city. It would make sense for someone who had suffered such trauma and consequent total readjustment to withdraw from the area of severest friction. Paul’s own account of the period indicates a time of very fruitful evangelism (Gal. 1.21; 2.7–9).
9.31 The scattering of persecuted Hellenists into Judaea (8.1) had borne fruit. The ‘church’ (Luke uses the singular to embrace a number of groups of disciples across the single territory of ancient Israel) had also extended to Galilee. Luke’s account of Christian expansion inevitably had to be selective. But it is slightly surprising that he gave no space to a description of the initial expansion into ‘all Judaea’ since it was part of his own itemized programme (1.8). It is also something of a puzzle why church groups in Galilee receive no further mention. Luke’s silence has raised some suspicion regarding his motives: that Galilee may have been an alternative centre for Christian growth (led by disciples of Jesus who did not go to Jerusalem). But had there been such an alternative centre Luke would certainly have wanted to give some account of how it was absorbed into the Jerusalem centred mission (as he has in 8.14–17 and 11.22–24; cf. 18.24–19.7). The silence over Galilee is only a more extreme example of the relative silence over Judaea, and is adequately explained if such groups as there were in Galilee were few and of little influence.
The brief summary of Christian consolidation is the continuation of Luke’s technique of summarizing developments between significant episodes (see on 13.49). The ‘fear of the Lord’ is the traditional language of piety (Ps. 34.11; Prov. 1.29) but here carries some of the numinous overtones of the earlier references (2.43; 5.5, 11). Luke may deliberately have left it ambiguous whether ‘the Lord’ is God or Christ (cf. 2.21), allowing further reminder of the two clearest marks of Christian identity, the Lord and the Spirit. ‘The encouragement of the Holy Spirit’ is an important reminder that Luke’s understanding of the Spirit was not all in terms of speaking in tongues and inspiration. ‘Encouragement/comfort’ is one of the functions of the Spirit which all the principal New Testament writers prized (John 14.26; 15.26; Rom. 12.8; I Cor. 14.3). The overall impression is of a period of relative peace, consolidation and steady growth.
Peter’s mission along the Judaean coastal plain
9.32–43
In a deliberate attempt at evenhandedness between Paul and Peter, Luke swings the spotlight back on to Peter. He has shown Peter as initially drawn from Jerusalem to investigate unexpected developments in Samaria (8.14–17), but then taking the opportunity for further preaching in Samaria, albeit on the way back to Jerusalem (8.25). The account which follows here is somewhat similar, in that Peter is shown as moving about among the local groupings of believers (‘saints’ — 9.32, 41). He has not yet taken the plunge or caught up with Philip in readiness to engage in pioneer missionary work (were ‘the saints’ converts of Philip? — 8.40). That it took a considerable jolt to his theology and self-understanding before he was prepared to do so is the chief burden of the Cornelius episode (10.1–11.18). This probably reflects fairly accurately the serious qualms and hesitation which many of the first Jerusalem-based believers experienced as they contemplated the possibility that their movement was beginning to break through the boundaries which in Jewish perspective God had established to mark out the difference and distictiveness of their religion (their set-apartness to God). It also probably signals that Peter himself was beginning a broadening process which was to take him away from Jerusalem (on mission among fellow Jews — Gal. 2.7–9), leaving James and the more traditionalist element in control there (see on 12.17).
9.32–35 The details of the names of the paralysed man (Aeneas, another Greek name for a Jew) and the local towns (Lydda and Sharon) surely indicate a well-rooted memory on which Luke has been able to draw. We may also observe that the healing is not particularly spectacular (afflicted for eight years; contrast 3.2). And the formula used by Peter is unparalleled — ‘Jesus Christ heals you’ (but to the same effect as 3.6). Luke does not seem to have made any attempt to draw out parallels here, except briefly with the mission of Philip (8.7). The effect of the cure (9.35) is consistent both with what might have been expected and with Luke’s consistent emphasis on the faith-generating effect of miracles. ‘All the residents’ means all Jews, since the towns were Jewish. ‘Turned to the Lord’ (note again the ambiguity) becomes one of Luke’s principal ways of describing conversion (11.21; cf. 14.15; 15.19; 26.18, 20).
9.36–42 This story too is assuredly rooted in good historical memory, as the mention of both name and location (Joppa was about ten miles northwest of Lydda), and probably also the vivid account of Tabitha’s reputation and the details of the arrangements made following her death all attest. The details of the raising of Tabitha by Peter may, however, be a little more contrived. They echo the account of the raising of Jairus’ daughter in the Gospel at two points: the expulsion of the crowd (Luke 8.51) and the formula used (personal address and the command to arise — Luke 8.54); still more closely the Markan account (Mark 5.40–41); and more distantly the accounts of similar recallings to life attributed to Elijah and Elisha (I Kings 17.17–24; II Kings 4.32–37). On the other hand the verbs used in the raising formula are different (Luke here, as in 9.34, uses the verb which elsewhere describes Jesus’ resurrection), and Luke’s failure to mention ‘calling upon Jesus or the name of Jesus’, more typical of his own healing accounts, may equally suggest he was also drawing on tradition at this point. Whatever the actual condition of Tabitha, which we have no way now of checking, it was no doubt the widespread understanding of those closest to the event that she had been raised from the dead.
By way of variation on the preceding episode Luke describes the impact of the healing this time using his favourite ‘believed on the Lord’ (as in 11.17; 16.31; 22.19). ‘Turning to’ (9.35) and ‘believing on’ (9.42) are complementary descriptions of the turn around of life which commitment to the Lord involves.
9.43 The final verse prepares for the spectacular next step, to be recounted immediately (ch. 10). But the description of Peter’s host as ‘a tanner’ may be significant. The smell associated with tanning made the job not only unpleasant but its practitioners unacceptable among those who regarded cultic purity as something to be maintained as far as possible (a tanner’s very work involved constant touching the skins of dead bodies). Does the mention of this fact indicate that Peter was already moving away from his previously Temple-centred focus of worship and ministry (5.42)? This is probably more likely than that Luke expected his readers to pick up such significance from the bare mention here.