Martyrdom in Luke-Acts and the Lukan Social Ethic

This research dealt with the Passion Week in Christianity. This term refers to the events that led to the death of Jesus (peace be upon him) and his resurrection - as they claim - and to his sufferings (peace be upon him) due to the cruelty of the Jews. It showed the most prominent events that took place in this week, such as his entry (peace be upon him) into Jerusalem, and his dialogue with the Jews. Depending on the texts of the gospels that mentioned the events, it also showed how Christians derived their most important beliefs and rituals from this week such as the belief of crucifixion, resurrection, and the Lord's Supper. The days of this week are the holiest days of the year for Christians. The research also included the most prominent violations of this week from an Islamic perspective such as their belief that Christ (peace be upon him) is the true reviver of the dead because, in their belief, he is God and the Son of God. And they claim that whoever eats the Lord's Supper in the Church - which is bread and wine - his/her flesh and blood intermingle with the flesh and blood of Christ. They also believe that God never forgives Adam (peace be upon him) as he ate from the tree and this sin passed on to his children. The purpose of this research is to explain how Christians deviated from the right belief

Abstract: Without the death of Jesus Christ, there will be no forgiveness of sins nor the eternal salvation for human. The salvation that happens, cannot be separated from the faith of believers to Christ, for what He has done on the cross. By the grace of His forgiveness, the sinful people experience the freedom, which is the restorative key towards the broken relationship between God and human. What Christ has done should be the model for believers in forgivining themselves, also accepting and giving forgiveness. In fact, it needs big effort in forgiving, because of the complex reason. Not only the unbelievers, but also the believers, more than that, God’s servants that have been serving, do not want to give forgiveness to others, which gives impact to the ministry itself. A lot of people are dissapointed, and some leave their faith to Jesus Christ, because they don’t understand the meaning of Christ’s forgiveness through His death in their lives. The unwillingness in forgiving causes the unfinished conflict, and at the end, there will be no harmony between one to another. The forgiveness of God in and through Christ Jesus is totally perfect and enough for human. God’s forgiveness is total, and does’t talk about the sin in the past anymore. The forgiveness that is given by God in and through Jesus Christ is the foundation and model for the forgiveness of believers. The unlimited and perfect forgiveness of Jesus Christ enabled believers in forgiving others.

The symbolic action of baptism—washing or burial in water—became separated from its assigned effects as a result of continuing conflicts in African theology over the efficacy of the ritual. Augustine focused on the baptismal oath to Christ as the basis for an indestructible and unrepeatable dedication. The forgiveness of sins was accounted for by the baptizand's being joined into Christ's death, a destruction of the flesh bearing the "likeness of sin," and thus of the sin itself. The symbolic causality of Christ's sacrifice did not relate the liberation from sin to the water ritual.

To read the Gospel of Matthew within its 1st century religious context is to read an intensely Jewish narrative. Central to the world of this Gospel are the Jerusalem temple, its administrators, the chief priests, and the sacrificial system which they are charged by Jewish law to officiate. This article assesses the Matthean portrait of the Jewish chief priests of Jesus’ day against the scriptural backdrop which lays out their prominent role within Jewish religious life, namely ‘making atonement’ before God for the ‘sins’ of the people. In section one I sketch out the Matthean portrait of the scripturally assigned role of the priests, connecting this portrait to its biblical antecedents. In section two I assess the overall performance of the Matthean chief priests against the backdrop of their assigned role. In section three I address the question of atonement. Crucial here is 27:3–10, the account of Judas Iscariot, who returns his 30 silver coins to the chief priests and says (27:4a; emphasis mine), ‘I have sinned, because I have handed over innocent blood’. Here I highlight Matthew’s ironic modus operandi as he portrays the chief priests’ non-priestly response to Judas. Additionally, I contrast Matthew’s portrait of the Jewish chief priests with a brief portrait of Jesus’ own ministry within the Jewish community, a ministry which fulfils the priestly role abandoned by the chief priests. I conclude my article in section four with brief reflections on the rhetorical impact of Matthew’s portrait of the Jewish chief priests within his overall narrative.

Over the last three decades, scholarly study of Jesus' crucifixion shifted from concern over who killed Jesus, to the question why Jesus was put to death on a Roman cross. The New Testament materials testify to Jesus' crucifixion with references to the crucifixion especially in the speeches in Acts, and through information scattered throughout the letters and the Apocalypse. This chapter explores the motivations for and the meaning of Jesus' death from three perspectives: that represented by the Jewish leadership in Jerusalem, the viewpoint of the Empire and its representatives, and the understanding of Jesus himself. These three categories are not so discrete as author's characterization might imply, but organizing relevant considerations in this way will remind us that multiple human characters or groups were required to bring about Jesus' death, that his execution served multiple aims, and that the one event, Jesus' crucifixion, could be comprehended in distinct ways. Keywords:Apocalypse; crucifixion; death of Jesus; Jerusalem; Jewish; new Testament; Roman cross

Augustine of Hippo tells us that Jesus was lauded by many pagans for his “unsurpassed wisdom”. Nevertheless, the most common conviction in pagan circles in the first centuries CE is stated by the god Apollo in a text by the Platonic philosopher, Porphyry: Jesus was justly “sentenced to die the worst of deaths”. For Apollo, the crucifixion of Jesus is neither a mystery nor a tragedy; it is a proof of Roman legal efficacy. This chapter shows that a pagan commitment to Pilate’s innocence is much older than Constantine’s revolution in 312 CE. For all the pagan intellectuals and deities mentioned in this chapter, the figure of Pilate is—if he is named by them—an innocent man and a just judge.

In my The Death of the Messiah, preparatory to examining the Gospel accounts of the trial/interrogation of Jesus by the chief priest(s) and San-hedrin, I surveyed the extra-Gospel evidence for authoritative Jewish involvement in the death of Jesus, derived from Jewish, Christian, and pagan sources. From the Jewish evidence I discussed two items: the witness of Josephus (Ant. 18.3.3; #63–t) and a baraita from TalBab Sanhedrin 43a which I quoted from the London Soncino translation (Nezikin volume 3.281):On the eve of Passover Yeshu was hanged. For forty days before the execution took place, a herald went forth and cried, ‘He is going forth to be stoned because he has practised sorcery and enticed Israel to apostacy. Anyone who can say anything in his favour, let him come forward and plead on his behalf.’ But since nothing was brought forward in his favour he was hanged on the eve of Passover.

Jesus' mission to revitalize Israel brought him into conflict with Roman and Jewish leaders, and to a shameful death by crucifixion. So he died as he had lived: committed to the ways of God, he rejected the quest for power and status. His followers were thus able to hold together his elevated status as Messiah and his scandalous death on a cross.

This appendix answers the question of why Josephus did not speak of Jesus in his War, which he wrote around 75 ce, but then did speak of him in his Antiquities, written in 93/4 ce. The appendix shows that Josephus could not have omitted mentioning Jesus in his War due to lack of knowledge since Jesus would have been well known no later than 62 ce when Josephus’ future commander Ananus II was publicly removed from the high priesthood for executing Jesus’ brother, James. The appendix proposes that Josephus likely omitted Jesus from the War because Jesus had little to do with the subject of the treatise, the Jewish war with Rome. Further, in the War Josephus attempts to shield from criticism two famous Jewish leaders, Ananus II and Simon son of Gamaliel. However, in his Antiquities Josephus openly criticizes both leaders. Because Ananus II and Simon also had to do with the crucifixion of Jesus, Josephus likely also omitted mentioning Jesus in his War because it would have risked generating criticism of the two Jewish leaders whom he was attempting to protect. However, later in his Antiquities, Josephus was willing to critique them and hence felt free to mention Jesus.

Reviewed by: Forbidden Fruit and Fig Leaves: Reading the Bible with the Shamed by Judith Rossall Reed Lessing judith rossall, Forbidden Fruit and Fig Leaves: Reading the Bible with the Shamed (London: SCM, 2020). Pp. v + 216. Paper $35. Rossall, a tutor in church history and preaching at the Queen’s Foundation in Birmingham, UK, presents a biblical and pastoral approach for people who exist in deep-seated shame. The problem, R. argues, is that the church has plenty to say about guilt but is frequently silent about shame. God cares, however, about both the damage done by us and the damage done to us. “Read the Bible carefully and it says as much about shame as it does about guilt” (p. vii). Throughout this book the author maintains that Christian theology says too much about the sinner and not enough about those wounded by sin, which frequently leads to shame. What is shame? Shame distorts how we see ourselves and how we think God sees us. “Shame involves a form of knowledge that sees accurately but judges harshly, and knowledge that consists in unforgiving scrutiny” (p. 10). People whose lives are darkened by shame often use most of their emotional energy to fight their shameful thoughts. At the heart of shame is the feeling of worthlessness that brings with it depression, blame, and/or aggression against others. Shame, in and of itself, is shaming—it is a vicious circle. To unpack these ideas biblically as well as offer solutions, R. combines a close reading of texts (both biblical and ancient Roman) with social and psychological sensitivity. She reaches back into the world of the Bible and forward into twenty-first century application. R. consistently pays attention to the Bible’s historical, literary, and rhetorical nuances, while also combining pastoral sensitivity. Rossall’s exegesis of Job 42:6 is outstanding. She notes how most English versions (e.g., RSV, NASB, ESV) have Job despising himself and repenting in dust and ashes. The problem with this translation, though, is that it attributes to Job the very response his friends urge upon him throughout the book and that he has been resisting with all his might. Further, in Job 42:7 God announces divine anger against the “friends” while commending Job for speaking rightly. [End Page 325] What is going on? R. points out that contextually the Hebrew verb mā’as—normally rendered “despise/reject/retract”—is better understood as “dissolving/melting.” Job is expressing his complete awe and wonder after seeing God. R. then translates the second line of Job 42:6 as, “I turn away concerning the dust and ashes.” According to this reading, Job is overwhelmed by God’s revelation and changes his mind about dust and ashes. He is moving beyond misery and shame. Rossall doesn’t argue that all shame is bad. She points to Jer 6:15 and 8:12, where the problem with Judah’s leaders is that they were shameless—they didn’t know how to blush. There was nothing to keep their behavior in check. There is a shame, therefore, that keeps people practicing proper hygiene and not acting on every impulse. “Good shame reminds us that there is an appropriate way to be concerned about what others think of us, without being dominated by their opinions.” (p. 72) In what R. identifies as the heart of her book, she carefully unpacks the suffering, crucifixion, and death of Jesus who stood in the place of both the injured (the shamed) and the offender (the guilty). Shame is difficult for us, yet it was catastrophic in the days of Jesus. “Society had a much stronger sense that a person could be ‘put to shame’ by people” (p. 170). R. surveys ancient Roman literature and arrives at this conclusion—the heart of crucifixion was its utter and unspeakable shame. What is more, the group of men in a position to honor Christ (the disciples and Jewish leaders) betrayed, denied, judged, condemned, and treated him with contempt—thus piling up the shame. R. then clarifies the Pauline hymn in Phil 2:5–11, stating, “Humble service, putting others first, accepting even the humiliation of the cross...

In “the death of christianity,” Lawrence Swaim argues that the doctrine of substitutionary atonement “makes God out to be a vengeful, homicidal deity who can be satisfied only with the death of his son.” He eloquently elaborates how the doctrine of blood atonement is a product of Roman imperial power, injustice, and terrorism, and presents the cross as a sign of conquest that has shaped Christian identity and ecclesiastical might throughout the centuries. Urging us to embrace a counterstory of Jesus’s life, Swaim goes on to suggest that we replace the symbol of the cross with the image of “a woman holding a child.” Since the cross sends a message that violence can be redemptive, he argues, Christians must jettison the doctrine, story, and symbol of the cross.I do not think that we should drop the symbol of the cross, either from the story of Jesus or as a central Christian symbol. We need the symbol of the cross as a public sign of imperial injustice and murder, a symbol that challenges state and ecclesiastical powers, and empowers victims. Hence, it is necessary to retell the story of Jesus in terms of justice and not just in terms of internalized love.What is not obvious at first glance is that Swaim’s argument adopts the critical debate on the the*logy of the cross that has taken place in feminist the*logy and studies in religion. (Please note that my use of an asterisk in “the*ology” is not a typo but rather a way to speak about G*d in neither masculine [theology] nor feminine [thealogy] gender terms.) To my knowledge, Mary Daly was the first feminist the*logian to point out the significance of the discourse on sin, cross, and salvation in Beyond God the Father:The qualities that Christianity idealizes, especially for women, are also those of the victim: sacrificial love, passive acceptance of suffering, humility, meekness, etc. Since these are the qualities idealized in Jesus “who died for our sins,” his functioning as a model reinforces the scapegoat syndrome for women.Subsequent feminist christological discussions have underscored the problematic character of Christian beliefs in the cross and redemption. One example of this feminist the*logical discussion is Christianity, Patriarchy, and Abuse. In the introduction to this book, Joanne Carlson Brown and Rebecca Parker argue that Christianity has been a primary force in shaping our acceptance of abuse. They write:The central image of Christ on the cross as the savior of the world, communicates the message that suffering is redemptive. . . . The child who suffers without even raising a voice is loaded with the hope of the world.After reviewing the classical doctrines of atonement and discussing modern the*logies of suffering and the cross, they conclude:Christianity is an abusive theology that glorifies suffering. Is it any wonder that there is so much abuse in modern society when the predominant image or theology of the culture is of “divine child abuse” — God the father, demanding and carrying out the suffering and death of his own son. . . . This blood‐thirsty God is the God of the patriarchy who at the moment controls the whole Judeo‐Christian tradition.I agree with both this critique and with Swaim’s rejection of the doctrine of blood atonement, as well as his thorough elaboration of imperial Christian power and violence in the name of the cross throughout the centuries. However, I do not think that we should drop the symbol of the cross because it is a constant reminder of imperial injustice.The recent case of Trayvon Martin in Sanford, Florida, underscores why we need public signs challenging imperial injustice and murder such as the cross. In April 2012 the news broke that, after weeks of public protest, Martin’s killer was arrested. This was achieved because the injustice of Martin’s death was kept alive in public consciousness as a sign of unjust law and rampant police racism that targets young black men. While the cross, i.e., the unjust execution of Jesus, was not publicly invoked as an interpretive frame, its spirit of intolerable injustice was present.Catholics United for the Common Good articulated this critical public function of the cross this year during a demonstration on Good Friday with a fifty‐foot banner that asked, “Were You There When They Crucified the Poor?” In addition to standing in protest before St. Patrick’s Cathedral, the demonstrators submitted 6,400 signatures calling on the Roman Catholic bishops to defend the poor from budget cuts pushed for by House Budget Committee chairman Paul Ryan, a Roman Catholic.In order to keep the cross as the symbol of injustice before our eyes, we have to continue to ask, were you there when they crucified poor welfare mothers or women who insisted on their right to make their own reproductive decisions, or when they crucified young black men? In order to be able to understand the symbol of the cross as a sign of injustice, we need to tell its story differently. We need to abandon the story‐frame of blood atonement and tell the Jesus story in terms of struggles for justice. We must not cut the cross and resurrection out of the Jesus story but tell this story differently. We can do so if we read the New Testament not through the lenses of blood atonement the*logy but rather in light of the resurrection.Critical biblical scholarship has unearthed a host of different interpretations of Jesus’s death and resurrection that may or may not have a claim to being “historical.” While scholars disagree in their historical evaluation of individual texts about Jesus’s death, they almost universally agree that these texts have been generated by historical events. These “facts” consist in that Jesus suffered the excruciating death of crucifixion and that he was proclaimed by his followers as having been raised from the dead.The actual form of Jesus’s execution is not controverted. We know that the Roman imperial police did not hesitate to use crucifixion as a mode of execution, especially against seditious provincials and rebellious slaves. According to all four gospels, Jesus was charged with a political crime. The Roman governor Pontius Pilate had affixed a placard to Jesus’s cross proclaiming the crime for which he was killed. He gave as the reason for Jesus’s execution that he was the “king of the Jews.” Some scholars doubt that this official interpretation of Jesus’s execution is historical. Yet it would be difficult to argue for its later invention, since the statement serves neither Jewish nor Christian political‐religious interests. To the contrary, it caused great difficulties for both. In any case, Pilate’s public identification of Jesus as “king of the Jews” constitutes a very early explanation as to why Jesus was crucified. However, the gospels have the tendency to shift attention from this political reason for Jesus’s death to a religious‐ethnic one. Such a shift takes away the responsibility for Jesus’s execution from the Roman government and places it increasingly on the Jewish leadership and people.The execution of Jesus raised a difficult the*logical problem for his followers as to whether he and his message were wrong. It also engendered the need for a political apologetics capable of showing that the early Christians were not seditious enemies of the Roman order. Such a political apologetics shifted theological attention away not only from the political character of the death of Jesus to a religious symbolic interpretation of the cross, but also away from the culpability of the Roman imperial administration to that of the Jewish leadership and people. Since this shift had already been accomplished at the time when our canonical gospels were written, it is important to trace the pre‐gospel interpretation of the execution of Jesus.One of the first interpretations given to the execution of Jesus is the confessional formula “G*d raised him from the dead,” or “he was raised” (passive voice). This formula seems to be structurally patterned after the central Israelite confession “God brought Israel out of Egypt.” It asserts that G*d’s saving activity is manifested in the vindication of Jesus, who is now the Resurrected One. While the blood atonement interpretation sees Jesus’s death as the perfect sacrifice for appeasing G*d, the vindication by G*d interpretation sees his execution as unjust and his being raised as the exoneration of the just one. Such language of vindication is found in both apocalyptic and Hellenistic wisdom literature. For instance, Wisdom of Solomon 2:13–20 asserts that the righteous one will be numbered among the children of G*d and not be put to shame. The righteous one will be saved by G*d and exalted to glory as a witness to G*d’s help for those who are truly just. To stress that “G*d raised Jesus” expresses the conviction that Jesus’s message and person were vindicated despite all evidence to the contrary.Various other meaning‐making attempts in the face of the unjust execution of Jesus, including that he died for our sins, can be explicated if one explores not only Pauline texts but also christological titles, almost all of which were ascribed to Jesus after his death and resurrection. By giving dignity and value to the one who in his execution became a dehumanized non‐person, these titles seek to exonerate Jesus. One could also find increased instances of such “naming” and meaning‐ making rhetorical gestures by looking closely at how the oldest narrative traditions characterize Jesus. These early Christian attempts at making meaning in the face of the devastating execution of Jesus should not be conceptualized in terms of the history of ideas, but as critical arguments that begin with the very real experience of Jesus’s unjust dehumanization and crucifixion as a political criminal.In short, the cross and its early New Testament interpretations begin with the historical fact of unjust oppression, the experience of struggle for a different world, and the encounter of the victimization and death of the dehumanized person. They seek to make meaning in the context and situation of unjust suffering. In doing so, they claim the historical agency of those disenfranchised to define and change death‐dealing situations of dehumanization because execution is not the last word.Resurrection is a symbolic act, yet it offers real justification for Jesus and all those “little ones” or “nobodies” who struggle for survival, human dignity, and liberation from oppression. Faith in resurrection and hope in the overcoming of brutal suffering and execution celebrates the living. It does so with ever new names and images that reconstitute the human dignity, agency, and memory of those who were killed.All gospels mention Mary of Magdala as the primary witness to the resurrection, and they refer to other women as well. Moreover, these women are not only said to be the first proclaimers of Jesus’s resurrection, but they are also characterized as the primary witnesses to his execution and burial. Yet, no human being is reported to have witnessed the resurrection event itself!The Easter message is given to Mary of Magdala and to the other women who have come to the grave site. The kerygmatic formula proclaimed in Mark 16:6 and stylized in Matthew 28:5–6 mentions the death of Jesus not in general terms but specifically as a crucifixion. The resurrection stories state, “he is not here,” i.e., in the place where Jesus was buried, and the proclamation “he was raised” is the proof for it. The Easter message is an announcement requiring action rather than a statement of confession. It is future‐oriented rather than backward‐looking: the women “seek” Jesus among the dead but are told that the tomb is empty. The empty tomb proclamation locates the Resurrected One not in heaven but on earth, in Galilee. The imagination space of the empty tomb engenders the proclamation of Jesus as the unjustly killed one who has been vindicated.Positioning contemporary feminist discourses about the the*logy of the cross within the rhetorical space of the empty tomb as an ambiguous, open space allows one to reclaim this space of resurrection for women’s meaning‐making practices in the face of dehumanization and oppression. Religious discourses can take these spaces of brutal victimization seriously and at the same time claim the victims’ agency in either collaborating with or transforming such spaces of death.The texts of the empty tomb tradition take injustice, suffering, and death seriously but do not see them as having the last word. Since G*d was absent in the execution of the Just One, the women’s presence under the cross is a witness to this absence. The tomb is the brutal, final reality of the cross that eclipses G*d and negates all possibilities for the future. But the “tomb is empty!” The empty tomb does not signify absence but presence: it announces the Resurrected One’s presence on the road ahead, in a particular place of struggle such as Galilee or Sanford, Florida. The Resurrected One is present in the “little ones,” in the survival struggles of those who are impoverished, hungry, imprisoned, tortured, and killed in the wretched of the earth. Their claims to justice remain visible and audible in the symbol of the cross. We cannot afford to relinquish this Christian symbol of brutal injustice: the cross continues to challenge us to protest the imperial powers of victimization and injustice that shape both our society and our religions.

A supplementary formulary focused on the relation between Passover and Holy CommunionCan a supplementary formulary that especially focuses on the relation between Passover and Holy Communion enrich the celebration of Holy Communion? After an investigation into the course of events during Passover and the two moments Jesus links up with during the institution of Holy Communion, the researcher found that the following aspects can at least add to the meaning and experience of the celebration. During the eating of the bread (at Passover: the bread of sorrow), the participant is guided to think of and experience the sorrow of slavery to sin and to consciously surrender this guilt to Christ. The believer directly receives the assurance of the forgiveness of sins. During the drinking of the cup of thanksgiving the believer experiences the festive joy of redemption and reconciliation, and consequently feels a new beginning breaking through. This urges the believer to purify his/her life from the old sinful habits (the old yeast) as the result and consequence of the celebration of the Communion. The Communion should, due to its unique eschatological perspective (in contradiction to Passover) have the effect that the death of Christ is proclaimed in the daily life of the believer until He comes. An example of such a possible supplementary formulary is included.

This is a review essay of Fernando Bermejo-Rubio’s book, They Suffered under Pontius Pilate: Jewish Anti-Roman Resistance (Lexington Books/Fortress Academic, 2023). The starting point for the book is the crucifixion of Jesus at Golgotha with him at the center and two bandits crucified on both sides of him. Since crucifixion was the Roman punishment for rebellion, Bermejo-Rubio conjectures that Jesus was the leader of a rebellion and that he must have had some connection with the two bandits. Bermejo-Rubio does this to counteract the predominant narrative in the Gospels that it was the priests, elders, and the scribes who were responsible for Jesus’ execution, in other words, that the Jews killed Jesus. This article argues that Bermejo-Rubio absolves the responsibility of the Jewish priest class and that it was most likely both them and the Romans who were responsible for Jesus’ death.

Reviewed by: Luke 10–24 by Barbara E. Reid, OP and Shelly Matthews Sheila Klassen-Wiebe barbara e. reid, op, and shelly matthews, Luke 10–24 (Wisdom Commentary 43B; Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2021). Pp. x + 373. $49.95. The second volume on the Gospel of Luke, by Barbara E. Reid and Shelly Matthews, is a welcome addition to the Wisdom Commentary series. Since it begins immediately with Luke 10:1, readers will benefit from having the first volume at hand, not only to read the valuable Introduction but also to access the many references to the first volume. Like other commentaries in the series, this one aims to "offer detailed feminist interpretation" of the biblical text. R. and M. focus on gender inequities, but they are attentive to the intersection of patriarchy with oppression based on race, class, sexuality, physical ability, religious difference, and so on. For example, they reflect on how the story of the woman freed from a crippling spirit might perpetuate a "victim theology" when read through the lens of disability studies (13:10–27). They decry the use of the master–slave metaphor to characterize the divine–human relationship, and they resist drawing out moral teachings from parables built on "slave logic" (e.g., 12:35–48; 17:7–10). The co-authors of this commentary utilize a range of methodologies and exegetical tools in their interpretation of the text. Gender analysis is employed to interrogate passages in which demons "penetrate" vulnerable wo/men and virile men wage war against Satan (pp. 347–48, 375–77). Understanding cultural values of honor and shame illumines the countercultural nature of the friend at midnight, who "shamelessly" disregards social norms to provide hospitality (pp. 370–72). R. and M. also weigh in on historical questions; for example, they argue that it is "historically implausible" that Jewish leaders would have handed Jesus over to Rome on the charge of blasphemy (pp. 593–94), and they note the historical reference to Archelaus in the parable of the pounds (p. 509). Throughout the commentary, they rely heavily on redaction criticism and the conviction that Luke deliberately modified Mark's Gospel. This shapes their conclusions on some key issues. In volume 1, R. and M. identify two perspectives they prioritize in their study of the Gospel: Luke's portrayal of women and his attitude toward Jews who do not accept Jesus as the Messiah. Although Luke's Gospel is often viewed as the "friendliest" toward women, R. and M. challenge this perception. For example, the commentary dispels the myth that [End Page 361] women had no power in Judaism or Greco-Roman society by citing evidence of their participation in synagogues and symposia, but Luke includes no meal scenes where women participate in table talk (p. 433). Luke 22 and 23 reveal Luke's tendency to privilege "the twelve male apostles while rewriting traditions concerning women's agency in the direction of subordination and silence" (p. 558). By making the parable in 18:1–8 about persistent prayer, "Luke tries to tame the image of an unconventional widow who intrudes in traditionally male spaces" (p. 490). Although Luke's anti-Jewish proclivities are evident throughout the Gospel, they are particularly strong in the passion narrative. Jesus's lament in 19:41–44 "embodies the theology that Jerusalem deserved its destruction … because it rejected Jesus as messiah" (p. 520). Repeatedly in the passion narrative Luke shifts blame for Jesus's death from Rome to "the Jews" and fails to critique imperial power, even embracing an "elite ideology of just crucifixion" (pp. 613–14). Despite their overall negative conclusions regarding Luke's stance on women and Judaism, R. and M. not only employ a hermeneutics of suspicion but also search for what is liberative. For example, the anti-family sayings in 12:49–53 challenge traditional patriarchal households as the norm even as they fail to disrupt assumptions about slavery (pp. 405–6). The teachings on service and humility in 22:24–27 can perpetuate systemic injustice for those without power, but they may also "serve as resources in struggles toward justice" when read "as a call to renounce power and engage in solidarity...

This chapter examines social responsibility in relation to biblical faith and Christian social action in the grace of God that is present through the death of Jesus Christ. It first considers Christian ethics and how it corresponds to God's acts of grace before turning to a discussion of social actions associated with grace. It then explores the biblical concept of social ethic as opposed to community ethic and concludes by arguing that responsibility for the neighbor in the early church extended beyond the Christian community.