Crisis in Thessalonica and Confrontation in Athens
The period following the first church founding in Europe (Philippi) was an unsettled one. The missionary strategy is clear: (1) to concentrate on the principal cities (Thessalonica was the capital of the province); (2) to focus the missionary effort in and through the synagogue. The pattern which emerged in the mission from Antioch (13.44–14.20) is repeated — initial interest and positive response among Jews and Gentile sympathizers, followed by Jewish opposition, resulting in civic unrest and departure to another city (17.1–16). The pattern is one which Luke may have shaped or extended, but he assuredly did not invent it, since Paul himself recalls such trials and tribulations, including Jewish involvement, on what must have been several occasions (II Cor. 6.4–5; 11.23–27).
The climax of the chapter is the encounter with the Greek philosophies and their religious presuppositions in Athens, the historic and famed centre of Greek culture. In what becomes the last evangelistic sermon attributed by Luke to Paul, Paul again preaches God and appeals to the first principles of a natural theology against the false human misconceptions of God, with the distinctive Christian message drawn in only allusively at the end (17.22–31). The response is equally as disappointing as that of the Jewish communities: a few believe, but most hear the distinctive Christian claim with scorn (17.32–34). As Paul himself was to note, the typical Jew and Greek thought that the Christian gospel had little appeal and made little sense (I Cor. 1.22).
Success and opposition in Thessalonica and Beroea
17.1–15
A feature of Paul’s evangelistic tactic is brought to the fore in this sequence — the appeal to and exposition of scripture as providing proof of the claims made regarding Jesus (17.2–3, 11). Although the tactic was in effect acted out in the speech in Pisidian Antioch (particularly 13.32–37), Luke said nothing of it during the rest of the mission from Antioch. But here it constitutes the whole of the message delivered by Paul in the synagogues of Thessalonica and Beroea. We may deduce that the various shifts in focus of emphasis reflect at least in part Luke’s editorial decisions, to prevent the reports of successive preachings from becoming too repetitive. But the emphasis is one which both Luke (Luke 24.27, 44–47) and Paul (e.g. I Cor. 15.1–4) shared, so there is no call to play the one off against the other here.
According to Luke the Thessalonian mission covered little more than a three-week period, but I Thess. 2.9 and Phil. 4.16 suggest a longer period — another example of Luke’s concertina-ing of history? On the other hand, the report that Paul’s preaching attracted mainly Gentiles, and that it provoked Jewish resentment at and opposition to preaching to Gentiles is confirmed by I Thess. 1.9 and 2.14–16. A further indication that Luke has been able to draw on good tradition is the mention of Jason (17.5–9) without introduction or further identification as one whose name was sufficiently well known; he may have provided the work of which Paul speaks in I Thess. 2.9, though characteristically Luke only alludes to such day to day details in passing later on (18.3 and 20.34). Here also it is noteworthy that Luke was well aware of the proper title for the authorities in Thessalonica (‘politarchs’).
17.1–3 The route follows the main highway, the Egnatian way, following the northern coastline of the Aegean (a distance of nearly one hundred miles). Luke here notes that attendance at the synagogue was part of Paul’s custom. The structure of the sentence implies that the purpose was to use it as a base for his preaching (see on 13.5); but the thought is not excluded that, as with Jesus (Luke 4.16), it was his custom to attend the synagogue on the sabbath anyway, that is, as the appropriate place for a Jew to take part in communal devotions. The implication is that, as a distinguished visitor, Paul was invited to give a word of exhortation on the basis of the scriptural readings (cf. 13.15), and that his first exposition proved sufficiently interesting for the invitation to be renewed for successive sabbaths (cf. and contrast 13.44–45). It was as natural (and proper) for Paul to take the scriptures as his starting point in the synagogue as it was later to take the poets as his starting point in Athens (17.28–29). For the scriptures referred to see on 17.11. The central claim should probably best be translated as, ‘This is the Messiah, Jesus whom I am proclaiming to you’ (NRSV) (similarly 18.5, 28).
17.4 The verb usually translated ‘joined’ means literally ‘were allotted or assigned to (Paul and Silas)’ — the implication being that this was by divine action (cf. 2.47; 13.48). The ‘some’ who were persuaded must be Jews. It is taken for granted that participating in the synagogue devotions were a substantial number of Godfearing Greeks, including a fair number of women of high social status. This certainly accords with the impression given in other sources that many Gentiles did find the Jewish religious and ethical traditions attractive, including the respect accorded to women within Judaism (see on 10.2). Once again we should note that the Jewish community in a major city was not a small despised group but of sufficient social status to attract significant numbers of Gentile adherents. This is what gives realism to the repeated pattern in Luke’s account of Paul’s missionary work: that Paul won both Jews and Greeks to the gospel. At the same time we should note the contrast between ‘certain (Jews)’, and ‘a great crowd’ of Godfearers and ‘not a few’ women of high standing: only a few Jews were attracted, but many Gentiles. The strength of Christianity’s appeal to women was a feature from the first. Paul himself vividly recalled the character and effectiveness of his preaching in Thessalonica in I Thess. 1.5–2.13.
17.5 The bulk of the Jews take offence at this success — the term, ‘the Jews’, again indicating the predominant feeling of the Jewish community in the city. The description of their ‘jealousy’ again may include an allusion to Jewish ‘zeal’ (same word) to maintain Jewish ethnic and religious distinctives in the face of assimilating or syncretistic pressures of a major Greek city (see on 13.45 and 21.20). The pleasure at Gentiles expressing interest in affiliation or even conversion to Judaism would be replaced by anger that a liberal Jewish sect which sat light to the Jewish distinctives was proving more attractive. Again the fact that ‘the Jews’ could arouse such popular resentment among the city mob (the term indicates those who hung about the market place) is an indicator that the Jewish community was part of the city’s establishment, able to trade on populist resentment at new and strange teachings brought into the city (cf. again I Thess. 2.15–16). Luke displays some class consciousness in the different descriptions used in verses 4 and 5, as again in verses 11–13.
17.5–7 The story assumes and does not need to explain that the otherwise unknown Jason was acting as host to the visiting missionaries. It is not said whether he was Jew or Gentile (the Greek name in itself is not decisive on the point), but he was evidently a man of some substance, with a house large enough to provide such hospitality and where the brothers could meet. The implication is that those who had been persuaded and joined the missionaries had been baptized forthwith and formed one or more house churches; also that Paul and Silas were not present in Jason’s house at the time of the disturbance. Luke the storyteller evidently felt no need to complete every pedantic detail (cf. 14.20, 22, and the silence in 16.19 regarding Timothy and the one implied by the ‘we’).
The accusations against Paul and Silas (in absentia) and Jason reflect the degree to which religion and politics of state were closely related in those days. They also express the sort of exaggerated populist rhetoric so readily drawn upon in all ages on such occasions of public confrontation. To ‘turn the world (or empire) upside down’ was to threaten the foundations of established order and custom (cf. 16.20); new ideas can always provide an excuse for populist conservative reaction, though if Paul’s teaching in Thessalonica included a strong eschatological emphasis (cf. I Thess. 5.1–11; II Thess. 2.1) one can see how the accusation might arise. So too any proclamation of a new focus for religious commitment linked to talk of God’s kingdom (cf. 14.22; 19.8; 20.25; I Thess. 2.12; II Thess. 1.5) could be readily presented in populist rhetoric as a seditious threat to Caesar’s rule (cf. Luke 23.2), however farfetched the accusation might seem to a more objective onlooker.
17.8–9 The people at large as well as the authorities were bound to be disturbed by such accusations. The authorities take security (bail money) from Jason and the others, presumably to guarantee the departure of Paul and Silas, and then let them go. The response suggests that they recognized the realities of the situation and knew how to defuse a potentially dangerous situation involving an uncontrolled mob. Use of the mob was a well-known demagogic tactic within the history of Greek democracy; so they would not be short of precedents.
17.10–12 The pattern is repeated. Paul and Silas slip away by night — but it would take more than one day’s journey to reach Beroea (about sixty miles to the southwest). On arrival they head at once for the synagogue. Here, however, the response from the local Jews is presented as much more positive: they were more ‘noble’, ‘fairminded’ (REB), received the word eagerly, and ‘scrutinized/critically examined’ the scriptures daily to see if the scriptures supported the interpretation put upon them by Paul and Silas. The implication is that the synagogue in Beroea functioned as a house of study, where the scrolls were kept, and where members of the Jewish community could attend daily (not just on the sabbath) for scripture study. The success is greater among the local Jews (‘many’, as opposed to the ‘few’ in Thessalonica), with a similar number of Gentile women of high status (‘not a few’ on both occasions) and Gentile men, also of high social standing. Again the resulting church consists of Jews and Gentiles. The reference to Sopater of Beroea in 20.4 (= Sosipater in Rom. 16.21?) indicates that the church became established, even though it is mentioned nowhere else.
17.13–15 As in the mission from Antioch (14.19), the troublemaking Jews who stirred up opposition in the previous mission posts saw Paul’s message as a threat not only to their own community but to Jewish self-understanding. No doubt the fears were occasioned by a message which treated Gentiles as already equivalent to Jews in their acceptability and thus threatened Jewish identity as the people of God set apart from the other nations. Here again the attractiveness of the synagogue community to women and men of high social standing and the ability of the Jews from Thessalonica to stir up the local mob indicate that the Jewish community itself was not a target for local hostility to strangers.
The fact that Paul alone is sent off presumably indicates that he was the main exponent of the new message and so drew the fire of the opposition on to himself. That his companions escorted him to Athens (probably by sea) before returning to Beroea suggests either that they feared for his safety or that they wished to introduce him personally to friends or relations in Athens. The communication from Paul which his companions were to take back to Thessalonica foreshadows the extensive letter writing and network of communication Paul was soon to establish for his churches.
The gospel of God encounters Greek philosophy
17.16–34
It is important that the next section be taken as a unit and that the famous speech on the Areopagus is not studied in isolation from its context. For Luke describes the context out of which the speech arises with some care; the speech addresses the concerns raised in the paragraph which introduces it. So although the initial strategy is the usual one, to seek out Jews and Godfearers (17.17), it is the prevalent idolatry of the city which first catches his attention (17.16), and what then happens takes Paul into a new dimension of apologetic and evangelism. He encounters Epicurean and Stoic philosophers who find his talk of Jesus and Resurrection (two new deities?) confusing and give him the opportunity for a fuller exposition (17.18–20).
The speech which follows is one of the briefest of the more substantial speeches in Acts. At its heart is a twofold protest: against the multiplication of deities as the proper expression of religiosity; and against the assumption that God can somehow be contained within humanly made shrines or images. The first claim, then, is not presented in terms of the Christian story, but starts with a proper understanding of God, of the one God, Creator of all that is. The language used builds as much as possible on contacts with the wider philosophies of the time (particularly Stoicism) but is basically Jewish monotheism and creation theology presented in its universal implications. God, the Creator, is sovereign, maker of all things and of all nations. God’s creation means that there is a God-given relatedness between God and humanity, which only finds appropriate expression in a non-idolatrous worship. Human attempts to manipulate God through the service offered him in shrine and cult, or to image God in representations of gold, silver or stone, are thus things of which to repent. In this way the expression of Athens’ religiosity in the multiplication of idols is corrected, and the complete continuity of Christian preaching with already traditional Jewish apologetic and polemic within the wider Hellenistic world is reaffirmed. Implicit also is the fact that this strand of Jewish theology provides a different basis for relations between Jew and Gentile than had developed within mainstream Judaism. Here it is humanity as a whole which is in view, at a more basic level than that of Jew versus Gentile, or indeed of Greek versus barbarian.
To this basic apologetic for Jewish anti-idolatry monotheism is added at the end, somewhat abruptly, reference to the ‘man’ appointed by God to judge the world and raised by God from the dead (17.31). This is the extent to which the Christian story is drawn upon. But the terms used to do so are worth noting. (1) Jesus is not identified and so the story of his continuity with Israel’s history and prophecy is not a factor — in marked contrast to the speeches to Jews (chs 2 and 13 in particular). (2) Jesus is named only as a ‘man whom he (God) has appointed’, so that the basic monotheistic thrust of the overall speech is not compromised and the misunderstanding implicit in the philosophers’ impression in 17.18 is corrected. (3) The attempted point of contact is through the idea of final judgment and resurrection; no mention is made of the cross. In short, the christology is subordinated to the theology; the developing christological distinctives of Christian faith are subordinated to the prior task of winning appropriate belief in God. At the same time, the focus on resurrection in both 17.18 and 31 confirms that in a Greek context as well as a Jewish (see on 2.24; also 4.1–2 and 23.6) the claim that God had raised Jesus from the dead stood at the centre of the Christian gospel.
As usual this speech will be Luke’s attempt to portray the message which he thought was appropriate to Paul’s mission to the Greek philosophers or what Paul would have said on the occasion. Again it is a cameo rather than a real exposition (a speech of some ninety seconds, and with such an abrupt reference to the resurrection of an unidentified man would hardly have done justice to the occasion). Luke hereby displays the diverse character of preaching necessary for the Christian mission, and his recognition (as also in 14.15–17) that the message about Jesus and his resurrection can only be rightly understood within the context of Jewish belief in the one God and Creator of all (a context which could, of course, be assumed in preaching to fellow Jews). Whether or not Luke presented this as some model for Christian apologetic to sophisticated Gentile audiences is less clear; but his account of the relatively modest success of the attempt (17.32–34) was probably realistic.
That Paul was quite capable of such an apologetic approach is confirmed by the differently angled Rom. 1.19–32 (and cf. again I Thess. 1.9–10). The more restrained presentation of Christ (a man appointed as judge of the world and raised from the dead) also strikes a chord not only with a passage like II Cor. 5.10 but even with the more developed christology of passages like I Cor. 8.6 and Phil. 2.6–11, where Paul takes care to maintain the monotheistic framework intact even while speaking of Christ’s role in terms of deity. Paul also preserves a memory of the mockery of Greek sophisticates at the gospel, as also of a limited success in winning men and women capable of sophisticated reflection on the cosmos (I Cor. 1.23, 26); Luke’s source recalled two of their names.
17.16 The reaction of Paul to the many statues and representations of the gods in Athens (a feature noted by other ancient historians) is characteristically Jewish; the verb is strong — ‘outraged’ (REB), ‘deeply distressed’ (NRSV). Nothing aroused Jewish contempt for the other religions of the Mediterranean and Mesopotamian world so much as idolatry (see on 7.41, 48 and 17.29). On their side polytheists found such Jewish abhorrence puzzling and atheistic, even though the austere worship of the supreme God as invisible did attract some. On the whole, however, this was one of the points of mutual incomprehension between Jew and Gentile which helped protect Jewish distinctiveness. The tensions within later Christianity between a worship aided by icons and images and a worship focussed on the word reflect something of the same dichotomy in human perception of the divine.
17.17 Quite why Paul should debate with his fellow Jews and the usual God-fearers, presumably on the subject of idolatry, is not clear. Has Luke added the note because he assumed Paul always started with the synagogue? Or does he imply that Paul criticized his fellow Jews for not protesting more about the idolatry in Athens? In which case Paul would be criticizing his fellow Jews for not being Jewish enough; his Christian apologetic would be out-Jew-ing the Jews!
The debate in the market place implies a different tack in evangelistic strategy — as implied also in 14.9. Or was it simply that Paul could not contain his irritation at the number of images? Certainly the market place in Athens would be a natural location if one wanted to encounter other views and to engage in discussion. Paul’s activities echo those of Socrates, and the ‘open air’ teaching of Cynic philosophers in particular is attested by other sources from the period.
17.18 In such an openness to dialogue, encounters with some of the most prominent philosophies of the day would be unavoidable, especially in Athens, where they held established and subsidized teaching positions. The portrayal of Paul ready to engage in argument with the leading thought of the day has rightly been inspirational for all eager to take their witness beyond the bounds of home and church and to engage in debate with contemporary ideologies. As the speech will demonstrate, the strategy includes a readiness to start where the audience is and to build on common ground as far as possible.
Epicureanism was a practical philosophy whose objective was to secure a happy life and to maximize the experience of pleasure. Among other things it taught that the soul died with the body (giving freedom from fear of death), and that the gods do not interfere with the natural world (giving freedom from fear of the supernatural). The relevance of a message such as Paul’s to Epicureans and the likelihood that it would find little resonance with Epicureans is at once clear.
The more influential Stoicism taught that the aim of the philosopher should be to live in harmony with nature, guided by the reason which they identified with God and which manifests itself both in providence and in human reason. To live in harmony with this reason is the only good; everything else is a matter of indifference. Here again it should be obvious where the speech of Paul attempts to build on points of contact and commonality between Stoicism and Jewish monotheism (17.26–29).
The initial impression gained by the adherents of these older (as they would see them) philosophies was, however, dismissive and disparaging — particularly, no doubt, on the part of the Epicureans. The term used of Paul, ‘babbler, chatterer’, evokes the image of one who made his living by picking up scraps, a peddler of secondhand opinions. The charge of proclaiming ‘foreign deities’ echoes that brought against Socrates (particularly in Xenophon, Memorabilia 1.1.1 and Plato, Apology 24B). This was no doubt deliberate on Luke’s part, since the trial and death of Socrates in 399 BC was one of the most famous episodes in Athens’ history. The implication of Luke’s description is that Paul was both misunderstood and a teacher of integrity, like Socrates himself.
In Luke’s perspective, then, and despite the presence of a Jewish synagogue, the Athenians seem to have had little conception of a coherent and ancient theistic system like Judaism. In particular, they could make little sense of Paul’s preaching about Jesus. According to Luke, they thought Paul was proclaiming two new ‘foreign deities’, namely, Jesus and Resurrection. From this we may deduce that Paul focussed his teaching on the central features of the Christian message (cf. again 4.2; 23.6), and that without a context (knowledge of Jewish history and religion) it proved meaningless to them. The point needs to be remembered wherever the gospel is proclaimed, that without an appropriate background of language and tradition the gospel is always likely to meet with incomprehension and misunderstanding. The speech attributed to Paul indicates that this was a lesson Luke wished to bring home to his readers and that Paul had learned it.
17.19–21 The Areopagus, or Hill of Ares (Ares being the Greek name for the God of war, Mars, so Mars Hill) was located to the northwest of the Acropolis. Here, however, it refers not so much to a place where speakers could hold forth (like Hyde Park Corner in London, or the Mound in Edinburgh) as to a council which met (or had met originally) on the hill. Among its functions was probably that of supervising education, not least in controlling the many lecturers who relished the honour of teaching in Athens. The picture Luke paints fits well within this context. His description of the Athenians and the foreigners who had taken residence there as interested in nothing other than ‘talking or hearing about the latest novelty’ (REB) is rather dismissive. But it catches well the sense of decadence and somewhat faded glory which had probably characterized the university town for many decades, despite its continuing high reputation as the city which more than any other evoked and preserved the greatness of Greek culture.
17.22–23 The opening of the speech makes a cultured compliment to the distinguished audience. The term used can often mean ‘superstitious’ (cf. 25.19), but the line between religiosity and superstition was recognized to be a fine one, so we should probably take it in a positive sense, as denoting a praiseworthy fear of or reverence for the deity. This religiosity was attested not simply by the abundance of altars to named gods and goddesses, but by their care to ensure that no manifestation of deity was left out. Such scrupulosity is well attested in other records, though in the plural form (‘unknown gods’). It is this openness of Athenian religion which gives Paul the point of contact: he proclaims no new god, but one they had themselves recognized, albeit inadequately. At the same time, however, the objective will be to proclaim this unknown God as the only God. A too liberal religiosity had lost all focus and coherence, to which the religious sense of Jewish monotheism was the answer.
17.24–25 The starting point and axiom of Jewish (and Christian) religion is that there is one God (‘the God’), who has created all things (‘the world and everything in it’), and who is the sole sovereign (‘Lord of heaven and earth’). The claim is wholly consistent and continuous with fundamental Jewish self-understanding and apologetic as enshrined also in the Jewish scriptures (Ex. 20.11; Ps. 145.6; Isa. 42.5; Wisd. 9.1, 9; similarly Matt. 11.25 and Acts 4.24).
It follows, with the same traditional logic, that this God is not dependent on anything made or provided by human beings. The relation is completely the reverse: humanity is wholly dependent on God for everything, from life and breath itself to everything else (Isa. 42.5; 57.15–16; Wisd. 9.1–3; II Macc. 14.35; see also Acts 7.48). The implication is that humankind understands itself only when it understands its fundamental dependence on God, with the corollary that such an understanding calls for an appropriate worship (verse 27). The line of argument would be meaningful to both Epicurean (God needs nothing from humans) and Stoic (God as the source of all life).
17.26–27 The chief thrust of the argument, however, continues to draw directly on fundamental tenets of Jewish monotheism. Humankind is made from one common stock (Gen. 1.27–28; 10.32), an idea less familiar to Greek thought. God fixed the seasons (or epochs of history) and the boundaries of the nations (Gen. 1.14; Deut. 32.8; Ps. 74.17; Wisd. 7.18). His objective was that they should seek God (Deut. 4.29; Isa. 55.6), recognizing that only in relation to and dependence on this beneficent and overseeing God would they be able to recognize their status and function as individuals and peoples (similarly 14.17). The verbs used here (‘if perhaps they might grope for him and find him’) capture well the sense of uncertain reaching out in the dark of those moved and motivated by such considerations of natural theology (God at work in and manifest in an obscure way in the world). The world is full of people with such unformed and indistinct religious feelings and aspirations. The critique of a religion and theology drawn only from the testimony of nature should be noted. The hope in an apology like Paul’s would be that the clearer illumination provided by such scriptures will help dispel the darkness and uncertainty with the light of revelation (cf. Wisd. 13.5–9).
17.27–28 The clinching consideration is that this Creator God has not created a hunger for God within humankind only to leave it unsatisfied. This same sovereign Lord is not far from each of his human creatures. Again the thought is drawn immediately from the (Jewish) scriptures (Ps. 145.18; Jer. 23.23). But precisely at this point two sayings from Greek poets can be cited as amounting to the same thing. The first has an unknown source — ‘In him we live and move and are’; but the second is drawn from the Stoic poet, Aratus, Phaenomena 5. At this point the Jewish-Christian understanding of the relationship between God and humankind draws close to some traditional Greek religious sentiments and provides a bridge across which apologists could attempt to venture in the hope of drawing their audience over to their own side.
17.29 But the apologetic effort is not expended in simply looking for points of contact and possible cross-over. The challenge to what any Jew would regard as an inferior and inadequate conception of God must be made. The point of common perception (‘we are God’s offspring’), therefore, provides the basis for the thoroughly Jewish corollary that God should not be represented by images of gold, silver or stone, or any work of human imagination (cf. Deut. 4.28; īsa. 40.18–19; 44.9–20; Wisd. 13.10; see also on 7.41). Even if the response were made that such images are only aids to worship, the Jewish/Christian reply would be that the symbol too quickly comes to stand for that which is symbolized, too much invested with the aura of the divine as if in its own right; the icon becomes the idol, itself the focus of worship and the definition of the divine. Such a critique of popular Greek religion would not be new to sophisticated philosophers.
17.30 What has been an apology for the Jewish understanding of God becomes an evangelistic thrust. Such misunderstanding should now be seen as a form of ignorance (cf. 14.16) and should now be repented of. As the Jews of Jerusalem should repent over the misunderstanding which occasioned Jesus’ death (3.17–19), so idolaters should repent of their idolatry in the face of this clearer understanding of God and of God’s relation to humankind. That repentance was necessary for all nations was clearly envisaged in Luke 24.47.
17.31 Somewhat as in 10.42, the first preaching to a Gentile, the conclusion is reached in a rush. Repentance is necessary, since this same God who began all things will bring all things to a conclusion with a day of judgment. The concept of a day of judgment is thoroughly Jewish (cf. e.g. Isa. 2.12 and Amos 5.18) and was carried over into Christian theology as a basic datum (e.g. Rom. 2.5, 16; I Thess. 5.2; II Thess. 1.10). The further description (‘he will judge the world in righteousness’) is drawn directly from the Psalms (Pss. 9.8; 96.13; 98.9). It is thus, once again, thoroughly Jewish in its conception — ‘righteousness’ as a word expressive particularly of the mutual obligations taken upon the covenant partners in the covenant between God and Israel (cf. e.g. Pss. 31.1; 35.24; 45.7; Isa. 26.2; 45.21; see also on 10.35). Some of the language would make sufficient sense to a Greek audience — ‘righteousness’ as referring particularly to the prescribed duties towards the gods. But one wonders what impact such a brief allusion to the theme of final judgment could have had on such a sophisticated and sceptical audience. At this point the cameo character of Luke’s presentation, simply alluding in a phrase to a whole theme requiring a much fuller exposition, diminishes the credibility of the picture he here paints.
Still more audacious and straining of credulity would have been the abrupt allusion to the ‘man appointed (to serve as judge)’ in the final judgment. Here again the thought would not be new to a Jewish audience (see on 10.42). But what a Greek audience would make of it is much less clear. The final straw would be talk of resurrection from the dead. The idea of a man ascended to heaven would be familiar in both Jewish and Greek thought, but resurrection from the dead was a peculiarly Jewish conception, implying, as it presumably would, a resurrection of the body. But Greek thought generally took for granted a basic dichotomy between spirit and matter (the latter including the body), so that deliverance was conceived as of the soul liberated from its material encumbrances.
Luke cannot have been unaware of the offensive character of such an abrupt and bald declaration. It is almost as though he wanted to set in the sharpest possible contrast the fundamental claim of Christianity and the mocking rejection of the Athenian sophisticates. In so doing it is possible that he was echoing Paul’s own sharp contrast in a passage which could also reflect the influence of the Athens confrontation (I Cor. 1.17–25).
17.32–34 The conclusion is briefly told. The message with its call to repentance for idolatrous conceptions of God might have struck a chord with some; Jewish apologetic would no doubt already be familiar to any who were ‘groping after God’ (17.27). But such a hopelessly brief allusion to the distinctive Christian claims regarding judgment and resurrection would have been bound to meet with incomprehension and dismissal, and a lengthier exposition would have demanded too great a leap in basic assumptions and conceptuality for most. Those more comfortable with their own philosophies or inattentive to what Paul would have said would indeed have been dismissive (particularly the Epicureans). Assuming a more sustained presentation by Paul, others might well have wished to hear more.
The actual recruits who take the step of believing were few — ’some men’. Among them Luke’s sources recalled Dionysius, a member of the Areopagus council, a man of high social status, and a woman named Damaris. Of neither do we hear any more in the New Testament. But it is not even clear whether a viable church was established. Paul is recalled as having left almost straight away (18.1), an unusual step for him where a new church was there to be nurtured. Athens does not feature in Acts after 18.1; nor does the only other New Testament reference (I Thess. 3.1) tell us anything. And elsewhere Stephanas of Corinth is given the honour of being called ‘the first convert in Achaia’ (I Cor. 16.15). All told, the experiment in meeting Greek philosophy in Athens head on does not appear to have had a lasting success and probably left its most lasting influence in Paul’s formulations in Rom. 1 and I Cor. 1 (not to mention Acts 17).