1. Prologue (1:1–4)
In approaching any literary work, we will always find that genre matters. This should be obvious enough on considering the differing strategies readers adopt when they take in a newspaper article as opposed to, say, a science-fiction story. Consciously or unconsciously, we rely on certain textual signals as we discern a text’s genre. This was as true in antiquity as it is today. As Luke beckons his readers into his story through the doorway of this prologue, he immediately offers us the calling card of a historian. Everything about Luke 1:1–4 seems to say in so many words, ‘This is serious history.’
Modern Western readers tend to associate ‘serious history’ with a dispassionate and objective recounting of events. Good historians, we tell ourselves, at least try not to let on that they have a particular agenda. Nothing could be further from the case when it comes to ancient historiography. For the ancient historians, it was exactly their commitment to the facts and interpretation that qualified them to speak authoritatively. That is why Luke never claims to be objective, either here or at any other point in his two-volume set. He is unapologetically committed to the facts, true enough, but he is also – equally unapologetically – motivated by his theological interests. Like those before him who also had ‘undertaken to set down an orderly account’ (namely, Matthew and Mark), Luke wants to impress upon his readers the wonders of the earthly and Risen Lord Jesus Christ, as well as the necessity of placing faith in him.
1. Luke states that many have undertaken to set down an orderly account (diēgēsis), similar to the story he is about to tell. The word diēgēsis was a semi-technical term, referring to a ‘well-ordered, polished product of the historian’s work’.1 This would certainly support the Evangelist’s attempt to position his material as credible history. But in Luke’s writing, the verbal cognate of the same noun is regularly used in connection with God’s mighty acts.2 This implies that the author seeks to provide not just a biography of Jesus but also a narrative of God’s works through Jesus. These mighty works include certain salvific events which have been fulfilled among us. For Luke, then, the story which he is about to tell must be set in the broader context of God’s purposes – past, present and future.
2. Eager to vouch for the accuracy of his own account, Luke next informs his readers that the materials he received were handed on (paredosan) by eyewitnesses and servants of the word. The verb here often refers to the transmission of official traditions (1 Cor. 11:23; 15:1–3; 1 Thess. 4:1–2), suggesting that the process of passing on ‘Jesus stories’ was a carefully executed, even solemn task. Meanwhile, governed by a single article, the nouns eyewitnesses and servants actually refer to two aspects of the same role. The mediators of this tradition are eyewitness-servants, who are likely the apostles themselves (cf. Acts 26:16).3 The apostles serve God’s people by collectively standing by their traditions as authoritative eyewitnesses of the events they relate. As such they are also the self-identified guarantors of the gospel truth which now stands to be perpetuated through established ecclesial structures.
3. Luke himself claims to have investigated everything (1) from the very first, (2) carefully and (3) in an orderly fashion. The phrase from the very first (anōthen) speaks of Luke’s decision to begin with the birth narrative, as well as to the overall comprehensiveness of his biographical account.4 Working within the framework of transmitted traditions yet building upon them, Luke claims to have done fresh investigative work according to the best historiographical practices of his day. He does so for the sake of one Theophilus, a figure who was either a fictitious construct representing every friend (philos) of God (theos) or, as maintained above, an actual person.
4. The point of all this is to assure the truth (asphaleia) or certainty of the proclaimed gospel – in regard to not only the isolated historical facts but also their apostolic interpretation. For Luke, salvific event and interpretation are inseparable; together both must stand up to scrutiny. History and faith together stand as the bedrock for the gospel story he is about to tell.
Luke calls his story an ‘orderly account’ or a ‘narrative’ (ESV) of events. Now, as Aristotle pointed out, the very concept of narrative – complete with a beginning, a middle and an end – assumes a logical sequence of events. The concept of sequence is important. Far too often, modern readers of the Gospels have treated the authorized stories of Jesus as a hodgepodge of random incidents and teachings with little discernible relationship to one another. The same readers may wonder whether there is any rhyme or reason to the ordering of the stories, aside from a rough chronological interest. But by identifying his story as a diēgēsis and therefore an orderly account, Luke is claiming that his plot has a linear progression. This means that the Evangelist’s readers need to be sensitive to the narrative as a whole, even when examining the shortest of sayings or stories. Nothing is arbitrary: every word, sentence, paragraph, must be appreciated in relation to that which precedes and that which follows. Because Luke offers an organic narrative, the responsible interpreter must constantly look to the Gospel writer as his own best interpreter.
Moreover, because the Evangelist sees the events surrounding Jesus’ life, death, resurrection and ascension as having been ‘fulfilled among us’, he also sees his own narrative as an authorized extension of the Old Testament narrative, the writings of the likes of ‘Moses, the prophets, and the psalms’ (24:44). If the second-century heretic Marcion reduced the four Gospels to a pared-down version of Luke’s story simply because the third Gospel seemed to have the least to do with the God of Israel, it is only because he badly misunderstood that story in the first place. According to our Evangelist, the revelation of Jesus Christ is a progressive revelation, which fits snugly within the larger, overarching framework of the story of Israel.
1. Van Unnik, ‘Prologue’, pp. 12–13.
2. Green, p. 38.
3. Though see Kuhn (‘Beginning the Witness’), who wants to extend the term to select individuals from Luke 1 – 2.
4. Some commentators (e.g. Fitzymer, p. 298), however, understand from the very first as from the start of Jesus’ ministry in Luke 3:23.