ROUGH DRAFT--NOT FOR CITATION. 

THE PUBLISHED FORM OF THIS WORK APPEARED IN

CURRENTS IN BIBLICAL RESEARCH 1.2 (2003): 231-69.

READING RECENT READINGS OF ISSUES OF WEALTH AND POVERTY

 IN LUKE AND ACTS

Thomas E. Phillips

Colorado Christian University

 

Throughout much of their history, the third gospel and the Acts of the Apostles have prompted readers to reflect upon appropriate Christian responses to issues of wealth and poverty.  The history of Lukan interpretation is marked by readers’ diverse attempts to incorporate the social and economic directives, prohibitions, structures and patterns within these texts into their lives and the lives of their Christian communities.  Although no comprehensive treatment of history of these interpretations has been created, partial surveys of and preliminary bibliographical suggestions regarding these attempts have been provided by a number of scholars (Olsen 1984: 341-53; McGee 1990: 163-78; Verheijen 1976: 48-66; Johnson 1977: 1-2; Phillips forthcoming). With the rise of modern critical scholarship in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, several scholars began to suggest that social and economic factor played a decisive role in the message of Jesus and the early church (e.g., Holtzmann 1894; Schilling 1908; Grant 1922; Grant 1923a; Grant 1923b; Votaw 1918).  As interpreters became more aware of the distinctiveness of each of the synoptic gospels, interpreters of the third gospel began to observe the particular attention given to issues of wealth and poverty in this gospel and a theory of the Ebionite origins of the gospel temporarily gained favor (e.g., Campbell 1891; recently revived by Horn 1983).  Interpreters of Acts likewise noted the prominence of economic themes in the early chapters of that book and thus began to reflect upon the economic implications of the ‘community of goods’ (Acts 2:43-45; 4:32-35).  Many scholars of Acts sought to discern the historicity of these traditions and to establish what parallels these traditions had to modern communist practices (Holtzmann 1884; Schmiedel 1898; Cobb 1897; Baumgartner 1920; Bigelmair 1922; Behm 1920; Hauck 1921).  Although this question of the parallels between communistic social and economic structures and agendas on the one hand the social and economic structures and agendas presented in the early chapters of Acts on the other hand is occasionally still asked (e.g., Merkel 1992; Mönning 1978), the question has largely been recognized as anachronistic since the middle third of the last century (see Lake 1933).

Although the history of nineteenth and early twentieth century scholarship on issues of wealth and poverty in the Lukan writings is interesting in its own right, the story of research that can be rightly be called current or contemporary begins with the rise of redaction criticism in the middle of the last century.  This era saw the rise of the primary characteristic which most clearly distinguishes recent critical reading strategies from earlier reading strategies, that is, the desire to present a consistent reading of the final form of the texts.  In their attempts to extract historical data (historical criticism), or to discern the history of a particular tradition’s pre-canonical transmission and preservation (tradition criticism), or to distinguish between different traditional forms (form criticism), earlier reading strategies tended to focus upon selected texts or selected types of texts in relative isolation from their Lukan context.  The redaction critics, on the other hand, attempted to present a consistent reading of the whole of the third gospel (and often Acts).  Acting on the impulse provided by redaction criticism, critical readers quickly began to offer consistent readings of various aspects of ‘Lukan theology’.  Amidst the flurry of specialized studies on assorted theological and social concerns within the third gospel and Acts, H.-J. Degenhardt’s Lukas Evangelist der Armen (1965) became the first major effort to present a consistent reading of issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts.  The novelty of Degenhardt’s effort is witnessed by the fact that in his 1974 dissertation, ‘The Poor in Luke-Acts,’ T. Hoyt, described Degenhardt’s monograph as the only ‘full-scale study of Luke as a Gospel of the poor’ (Hoyt 1974: vi).  The novelty of Degenhardt’s and Hoyt’s inquiries was, however, short lived.  In the decades between then and now, scores of studies on issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts have appeared.

            The swell of scholarship on issues of wealth and poverty in Luke and Acts has resulted from two factors: (1) the sheer number of Lukan texts which relate to these issues and (2) the immense diversity of perspectives which these texts contain related to those issues.  For those interested in issues of wealth and poverty the problem has not been finding material to interpret, but rather providing a single reading which encompasses all of the diversity of the Lukan materials.  In J. Donahue’s words:

While there is almost universal agreement on the importance of possessions, there is no consensus on major issues of interpretation, nor any consistent perspective within Luke-Acts. . . . Dispossession of goods, common possessions, and almsgiving are all praised (1989: 135).

 

Similarly, L. Johnson made the same point in the form of rhetorical questions, asking:

 

If Luke wants to present an ideal for his community to follow, which ideal emerges as his own: the one in which missionaries travel with nothing at all?  the one in which the missionary supports himself by his labor?  the one in which leaders of communities likewise work to supply the needs of those poorer than they?  or the one in which the leaders, like the Apostles in Jerusalem, preside over a community of goods?…The problem we face is that although Luke consistently talks about possessions, he does not talk about possessions consistently (1977: 129-30).

            Readers have responded to this lack of a ‘consistent perspective’ in two ways.  On the one hand, many readers (including most redaction critics) have posited first century readers who create a consistent reading of the texts on the basis of their first century extratextual knowledge or experience (e.g., knowledge of particular first century philosophical constructs or the experience of religious persecution in the Roman Empire).  The assumptions of this approach are illustrated by R. J. Karris’s insistence

that for purposes, themes, or tendencies to have complete validity it must be demonstrated that they arise from a concrete situation within Luke’s                 community.  Otherwise, it is too easy for them to lose their grounding in reality and to float freely on some high level of abstraction where they can generate other ideas and combine with them to form clusters of ideas.  These clusters of ideas may have captivating intrinsic beauty, but say little about the reality which they are supposedly designed to explain (1976: 219).

On the other hand, another (much smaller) group of readers has declined to posit historical readers and has instead suggested that the texts’ consistency is found at a symbolic level, that is, the texts’ presentation of economic issues serves one consistent symbolic function throughout the texts (e.g., a demonstration of attachment to an institution or of submission to God’s prophet).  The assumptions of this approach are enunciated in L. Johnson’s insistence that

The more generalized and pervasive a motif, the less likely it is to be attached to a specific community stimulus, and this is particularly the case when it can be shown that a passage or motif serves a literary function. . . . In Luke-Acts we should recognize that: a) the literary structure as a whole has meaning; . . . b) individual elements within this structure have as their primary meaning a literary function; . . . and c) composition can be motivated as much by aesthetic or theological aims as by instructional or polemical ones (1979: 1, 92; emphasis Johnson’s)

The following survey of recent scholarship will present representative examples of how each of these two dominant reading strategies has been employed by critical readers of issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts.  It will focus most closely on scholarship which addresses issues of wealth and poverty throughout the whole of the third gospel and Acts in their canonical form.  However, before proceeding with this investigation, we must first must address a popular reading of issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts which has sometimes leached over into critical circles.

A Popular Reading (Richard J. Cassidy)

Although the central issue for most critical readers of issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts has been the texts’ conflicting views toward these issues, some readers have failed to discover any inconsistent or conflicting views within the texts in regard to issues of wealth and poverty.  Perhaps the most important proponent of this view is R. J. Cassidy, who argues that Luke’s point of view (especially as demonstrated by his redactional activities) is consistently favorable to those who were ‘literally poor’ (Cassidy 1978: 22-23).  While the poor receive blessings and consolation, the rich, whom Cassidy defines as persons with ‘surplus possessions’ (1978: 25, 143), are confronted with a call ‘to divest themselves of their wealth’ (1978: 24).  Although Cassidy argues that the third gospel consistently commends an ethic of economic divestiture, he is careful not to suggest that the third gospel was composed exclusively for or read solely by the poor, but he insists that rich persons who appropriated the message which Luke put on Jesus’ lips would ‘give up their possessions’ (1978: 26-27, 30-31).

By assuming the validity of this call to self-impoverishment, Cassidy momentarily mutes the chorus of competing views within the text.  In fact, his entire reading strategy is utterly insensitive to the diversity within the text.  For example, in commenting upon the story of the ‘rich ruler’ (Luke 18:18-30), Cassidy asserted:

The radical nature of the call that Jesus addressed to the ruler has frequently been noted, but it has been frequently overlooked that the particularly disconcerting element, ‘sell all that you have and distribute to the poor’, is not a stray note that finds its way into Luke’s description of Jesus only in this one instance.  Rather, it is thoroughly consistent with Luke’s general description of Jesus (1978: 27).

Upon closer examination, however, this bold assertion about ‘Luke’s general description of Jesus’ proves to be entirely unfounded.  In fact, this story contains the third gospel’s only command to ‘sell everything’.  Even more ironic in light of Cassidy’s claim, this command is not obeyed on this one occasion when it is uttered!

Many aspects of Cassidy’s reading can legitimately be questioned.  For example, he frequently transforms warnings against the attitude of covetousness into warnings against the act of possession (e.g., 1978: 25).  More careful readers of Luke and Acts have long noted the importance of distinguishing between a condemnation of greed and covetousness on the one hand and a condemnation of wealth and possession on the other hand (e.g., Koch 1957).  Ultimately, however, the demise of Cassidy’s reading is necessitated by its facile dichotomy between the rich and the poor.  Although some readers have defended the literal connotations of the term ‘poor’ in Luke’s gospel (e.g., Bammel, 1968; Albertz 1983; Hoyt 1974), many others have argued that the ‘poor’ in Luke’s gospel should be understood as the ‘pious poor’ or spiritually needy (e.g., Lohse 1981; de Villiers 1986; Dietrich 1985; Balch 1995; Ernst 1977) or as the socially and religious marginalized (e.g., Aymer 1987; Green 1994; Bergquist 1986; Sabourin 1981; Beavis 1994) or as an eschatological character group who highlights Jesus’ messianic role (Roth 1997; Meadors 1983 and 1985).  Even if Cassidy’s unexamined assumption of the literal meaning of ‘rich’ and ‘poor’ is accepted, his sharp dichotomy between the two categories is unsustainable.  If the rich are those who have surplus possessions and the poor are those who have needs, then what of those who are neither rich nor poor, those who have only enough to meet their essential needs?

Whereas most critical readers have attempted to account for the diversity of views within the text in some manner, Cassidy has chosen simply to overwhelm the diversity via a false dichotomy between the ‘rich’ and the ‘poor’.  The rich, who have possessions beyond those needed to meet their immediate needs, receive ‘generalized criticism’ (1978: 28); the ‘poor’, who have insufficient resources to meet their immediate needs, receive ‘blessings’, ‘definite sympathy’, and ‘concern’ (1978: 23).  This simplistic dichotomy between the literal rich and the literal poor can be employed to impose consistency upon the third gospel—and the Acts of the Apostles (Cassidy 1987), but only as the expense of oversimplification.  Although Cassidy’s reading is shared by a few New Testament scholars (e.g., O’Hanlon 1981) and by a several scholars sympathetic to liberation theologies (e.g., Abraham 1987; Brown 1984; Bemile 1986; Freiere 1978; Sider 1979), its failure to address many important questions has left it unable to withstand the sustained scrutiny of critical readers—even third world readers (e.g., Garlatti 1987).  For example, can the ‘poor’, in spite of their lack of possessions, be guilty of the covetousness which the text condemns (e.g., Luke 12:15; 16:14)?  Cassidy makes no allowance for this possibility.  If Luke wanted his readers to accumulate only enough possessions to meet their immediate needs, then how are the readers to understand the commands which could only be fulfilled by those who held significant resources beyond those needed for their own immediate needs (e.g., Luke 6: 35-35; 10:25-37; 14:13)?  In other words, how can those who exist at subsistence level practice generosity?  Cassidy does not address the issue.  And how does one account for Jesus’ seeming acceptance of a number of persons who possess more resources than are required to meet their own immediate needs?  Cassidy’s suggestion that Jesus accepts their hospitality but calls for their self-impoverishment (1978: 24) is not supported by the text.  In spite of the facts both that Jesus is frequently a dinner guest (i.e., is shown hospitality) in the third gospel and that these meals often become the setting for controversy stories (e.g., 5:29-39; 7:36-50; 10:38-42; and 14:1-6), Jesus never rebukes any of his hosts or hostesses for failing to divest themselves of their wealth.   

Although readings like Cassidy’s have been influential among non-specialists, it is no surprise that such readings have gained little support among Lukan scholars.  Readings like Cassidy’s offer no plausible explanation of the texts’ diversity of views.  This essay will now examine readings which have gained support among critical Lukan scholars by offering more plausible explanations of how the texts’ diversity is to be addressed.

The Ecclesiastical Reader (Hans-Joachim Degenhardt)

            H.-J. Degenhardt, an early redaction critic, made the problem of the diversity of views within the third gospel and Acts his central concern.  In fact, the primary interest of his Luke Evangelist of the Poor is better revealed by the subtitle, Property and the Renunciation of Property in the Lukan Writings, than by the title (1965; all translations in this paper are mine).   Degenhardt quickly rejected the thesis that the third gospel or its sources display any ‘Ebionite’ exaltation of poverty, suggesting that ‘a purely material-economic meaning’ of the term ‘poor’ in Luke was ‘very improbable’ and that the connotations of the term in Luke was ‘mostly religious’ (1965: 53, 65, 216).  He did acknowledge, however, that some key texts within the third gospel and Acts contain ‘a radical demand for the renunciation of property’ (1965: 215).  The question of how to read these striking calls for renunciation of possessions within the context of Luke’s general acceptance of Christian ownership of property and resources became the springboard for Degenhardt’s central thesis. 

            Degenhardt presents his argument quite clearly.  After a brief introductory section, his work is divided into two major sections, the first dedicated to examining the themes of possessions and renunciation of possessions in the third gospel and the second to examining these same themes in Acts.  Degenhardt, like most redaction critics, insisted that Luke was not concerned to produce an ‘uninterested, objective depiction of the past, but rather reform of the church of his time’ (1965: 19).  The key to a consistent reading, Degenhardt argued, was found in a proper appreciation for the importance of the ecclesiastical status of the persons for whom the texts were crafted.

As his major thesis, Degenhardt argued that Luke maintained a strict distinction between the ‘disciples’ (mathātai)  and ‘people’ (laos) in the third gospel and that ‘disciples’ designated a group of individuals called out from among Jesus’ larger group of followers (1965: 36-39).  He claimed that the demands placed upon disciples in the third gospel did not apply to all Christians, but only to a particular group of office holders (1965: 41).  This distinction between the demands placed upon Christian office holders and non-office holding Christians resulted in a two-tier ethic which called ecclesiastical office holders to a more radical set of economic demands than those placed upon other believers.  Although Degenhardt suggested that this separation of believers into ‘disciples’ and ‘people’ was rooted in the teachings of Jesus (1965: 209-14), he believed that it was particularly helpful for Luke in addressing the ‘concrete needs and  relations’ within his own community (1965: 214).  According to Degenhardt, Luke’s depiction of the disciples as a uniquely called group within the larger group of believers served the interest of his day.  Degenhardt asserted that in his gospel, Luke separated out the ‘disciples’ from the larger group of ‘people’ and that Luke subjected the ‘disciples’ to a more stringent economic ethic.  In Degenhardt’s understanding, this distinction served as a basis for Luke to place more stringent demands upon Christian leaders in his time, two or three generations after the time of Jesus (1965: 215).

            Although this two-tier ethic and the interpretation of ‘disciple’ upon which it rested have been severely criticized as ‘an unbearable interpretation of the term “disciple”’ (Bovon 1987: 392; also see Donahue 1989: 136; Schmithals 1973-74; Seccombe 1982: 14), Degenhardt was able to offer a consistent reading of issues of wealth and poverty in Luke-Acts by constructing historical readers who, via their extratextual knowledge about the ecclesiastical structure of the Lukan community, applied the demands of the texts to themselves selectively.  Ecclesiastical office holders were to renounce all possessions, though not necessarily in an absolutely literal sense (Degenhardt 1965: 217).  All other believers were to practice an ethic of ‘Christian love activity’, but were free from this ‘radical’ demand for renunciation of property (1965: 221-22).

The Persecuted Reader (Walter Schmithals)

            Within a decade, another redaction critic, Walter Schmithals, applied himself to issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts.  Schmithals acknowledged that Degenhardt’s study had succeeded in establishing a number of important points: Luke’s particular redactional interest in issues of wealth and poverty; Luke’s unwillingness to idealize poverty in an Ebionite fashion; and the texts’ seemingly inconsistent views regarding property and the             renunciation of property (Schmithals 1973-74: 153-59).  Schmithals argued, however, that Degenhardt (and redaction critics in general) had failed to appreciate the importance of another of Luke’s particular redactional interests, persecution (Schmithals 1973-74: 159-63).  

Schmithals then suggested that the relationship between these two seemingly unrelated themes (renunciation and persecution) was, in fact, the key to understanding how statements regarding wealth and poverty functioned in the third gospel and Acts.  Schmithals argued that Christians under persecution from the Roman Empire or local officials faced three progressively intensifying levels of punish.  First, Christians would face a financial penalty in the form of property confiscation; second, they would face banishment from their home and family; finally, they would face the death penalty (1973-74: 163.)  For Schmithals, these three progressive levels of persecution became the key for understanding the diversity of economic demands within the third gospel and Acts.  He surmised that believers and potential believers within the Lukan community were faced with the possibility of immediate loss of their goods.  In light of this threat, Schmithals argued, ‘Luke’s position toward possessions and renunciation of possessions becomes immediately understandable’ (1973-74: 164).  On the one hand, Luke urged Christians to renounce their possessions if (and only if) their persecutors forced them to choose between apostasy and confiscation of their goods.  On the other hand, from those Christians who were not faced with the immediate confiscation of their goods, Luke demanded generosity toward those who had suffered the loss of their possessions for the sake of Christ.  Thus, Schmithals argues, ‘in the concrete situation of persecution, this contradiction dissolves itself’ (1973-74: 164-65).

Thus, Schmithals was able to offer a consistent reading of issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts by positing historical readers with the extratextual experience of persecution or the threat of persecution or both.  Readers who were faced with the dreadful choice between renunciation of their possessions or apostasy were to renounce their possessions.  Readers who did not face this choice were to practice generosity toward believers who had been forced to renounce their possessions.

The Financially Secure Reader (An Emerging Consensus)

In the mid1970’s, the redaction critic R. J. Karris presented what was to become an emerging consensus among Lukan scholars (Karris 1976).  He argued that the Lukan community contained both the rich and poor, but that Luke’s presentation of issues of wealth and poverty was primarily addressed to the rich (1976: 219-33; also see Karris 1978 and 1979b).  This understanding of the Lukan readership had occasionally been advocated by earlier scholars (Cadbury 1926; McCormick 1960; Bammel 1968; Hengel 1973; Wansbrough 1968), but only after Karris’s work did there emerge ‘a consensus that Luke is written primarily for the “rich” in the community described as either the soically more respected or the economically more prosperous’ (Donahue 1989: 143).  Although examples of this emerging consensus can be found throughout Lukan scholarship (e.g., Held; 1997: 29-35; Mealand 1980: 20; Pilgrim 1981: 164; Horn 1983: 119; Ireland 1992: 166; Heard 1988: 47-80; Osborne 1978: 135-48; Gillman 1991: 24-27; Kim 1998: 36-53; Esler 1987: 150-65; Gill 1994: 105-18; Robbins 1991: 305-32; Moxnes 1994: 379-89; Blomberg 1999: 14-18; Holgate 1999; Moxnes 1991a: 241-68; Shoemaker 1992: 181-205), W. Stegemann’s contribution to Jesus and the Hope of the Poor (1986) offers one ‘lucid, elegantly argued analysis’ (Johnson 1987: 302) that may serve as an example of how this emerging consensus tends to read issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts.

Stegemann, like Degenhardt and Schmithals, acknowledged the existence of the ‘supposed contradictions’ within the third gospel and Acts regarding issues of wealth and poverty, but he believed that consistency could emerge from these contradictions ‘if we take Luke and Acts as a single complete work’ (Stegemann 1986: 68).  In spite of this plea for examination of Luke’s literary context, Stegemann found the key to understanding issues of wealth and poverty in Luke’s historical context.  For Stegemann, Luke’s presentation of issues of wealth and poverty was ‘directly related to the concrete situation in Luke’s own community’ (1986: 120).  Stegemann characterized this community clearly, explaining that               

Luke has in mind a group that lives as an independent community in a city of the Roman empire (though not in Palestine).  It evidently does not have members who belong to the upper class, but neither does it have members among the destitute (beggars, etc.).  There are nonetheless serious tensions within the community.  These are caused, on the one hand, by economic differences: in addition to rich people there are others who are in need, ordinary folk such as tax collectors, manual workers, and the like.  On the other hand, there are also social tensions.  Respected and respectable Christians look down on the ordinary folk, especially when the latter have a reputation for engaging in illegal dealings (tax collectors, soldiers) (1986: 116).

Stegemann’s reading of wealth and poverty followed Degenhardt’s suggestion that Luke distinguished between Jesus’ instructions to the disciples and to the people.  According to Stegemann, complete renunciation of all possessions is required from the disciples in the third gospel, but the ‘people’ are not called to this ethic (1986: 69-77).  Stegemann differs from Degenhardt’s understanding of the ‘significance’ of the disciples’ renunciation however.  Whereas Degenhardt had argued that ‘office holders’ within Luke’s community had assumed the role (and requirements) of the disciples, Stegemann suggested that such discipleship (and its demand for complete renunciation) is ‘a phenomenon of the past’ (1986: 78-79).

For Stegemann, the disciples’ ‘poverty is a literary ideal in Luke’, which ‘has the function of a critique of the rich’ and which is modeled after Cynic criticisms of the rich (1986: 80, 83).  He insists that a

Hellenistic reader would immediately have thought of the wandering Cynic philosophers when he came upon Luke’s picture of the lifestyle of the disciples of Jesus. . . . The entire lifestyle of the disciples of Jesus, as described by Luke, might well be understood as comparable to the utterly modest lifestyle of the Cynics (1986: 85).

            Stegemann argued that the disciples’ voluntary poverty functioned like that of Pseudo-Lucian’s Cynicus.  No one is called to imitate it, but his simple lifestyle nonetheless served to highlight the dangers which the luxurious and self-indulgent lifestyle of the rich presents to the wealthy themselves (1986: 86).  By describing the disciples’ lives in a manner analogous to this Cynic pattern of voluntary poverty, Luke was able to offer ‘a critique and warning for the rich of his own day’ and to present ‘his uncompromising critique of the rich’ (1986: 86-87).  Luke’s criticism of the rich was not entirely negative, however.  It was intended to effect repentance on the part of the rich (1986: 105-06; similarly Schmidt 1987 against a Jewish apocalyptic background).

This repentance was then to be followed by appropriate fruits of repentance: almsgiving, cancellation of debts and outright gifts to poor persons outside the Christian community and an equalization of property and generous charitable activity within the Christian community (1986: 106-17).  Stegemann’s distinction between the character of one’s benevolent activity inside and outside of the Christian community is rooted in his reading of Luke’s ‘concrete social utopia’ in Acts 2:41-47 and 4:32-37 (1986: 117).  Stegemann argues that Luke presents an ideal Christian community in which no need exists.  This elimination of need was not produced by an ‘ethic of undifferentiated almsgiving’, but rather by an ‘equal distribution of property’ within the Christian community (1986: 117).  Although this equalization of property precludes the possibility of destitute persons within the Christian community, such persons do still exist outside the Christian community (1986: 119).  Thus, according to Stegemann, Luke continues to accept ‘the duty of Christians to be compassionate to the poorest of the poor’—even though those poor stand outside the Christian community (1986: 110).

            Although Acts recorded the ‘undermining’ and ‘dissolution’ of this ideal society via the actions of ‘the respectable and prosperous’ in Acts 5-6 (1986: 118-19), according to Stegemann, Luke regarded the ‘social utopia’ (Acts 2:41-47; 4:32-37) as normative for the Christian community.  He explained that

the circumstances described here reflect the situation in the Lucan community and turn this into a picture of what Luke thinks this community should be.  The picture of the primitive community thus takes what actually was (as Luke sees it) and uses it to show how things should be (1986: 117; similarly, see Horn 1983).

            Although Stegemann’s reading, with its suggestion of a Lukan desire for the equalization of property, places a more narrowly defined demand upon the financially secure reader than do most other critical readings with a similarly constructed reader (see especially Heard 1988; Horn 1983; Nichelsburg 1979; Nickelsburg 1998), it produces a consistent reading of the Lukan texts in much the same manner as do the other readings with a similarly constructed reader.  The financially secure readers’ extratextual knowledge or experience (knowledge about Cynic traditions in Stegemann’s case) is posited within the mind of the financially secure first century readers.  This posited knowledge within historically reified readers then enables these readers to infer that the harsh renunciation ethic given to the original disciples belongs in the past and is not to be literally followed.  Yet, in spite of this easing of the renunciation theme, these readers are faced with a strong demand to share their economic resources with those in need.

The Financially Secure God-Fearer (David Peter Seccombe)

            Like all of the important interpreters of issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts, D. P. Seccombe understands that the ‘important question’ is: ‘How is it possible to reconcile the existence in Luke-Acts of two apparently contradictory pictures?’ (1982: 12).   In a number of ways, Seccombe’s reading of these issues and his answer to the perennial problem of inconsistency within the texts resemble the consensus reading represented by Stegemann.  Seccombe agrees with that consensus in his understanding that the third gospel and Acts were addressed ‘to the rich about the poor’ (1982: 3), do not contain ‘any idealization of poverty’ (1982: 134, also see 95, 188, 195, 219, and 228), and reflect a concern that the wealthy use their wealth in order to help relieve the misery of the poor (1982: 227-28, 135-96).

Seccombe has, however, refined the idea of the financially secure reader in a manner that sets his work apart as ‘one of the best’ (Goldsmith 1985: 149) studies of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts.  Whereas Stegemann envisaged historical readers who stood within the church (a socially and economically divided church, but a church nonetheless), Seccombe envisages historical readers who stand just outside of the church (1982: 133-34, also see 130-32, 188, 227).  Seccombe’s reader is knowledgeable about and attracted to the church and particularly its Jewish heritage, but remains reluctant to commit to the Christian faith.  He suggests the likelihood that

Luke was addressing well-to-do hellenistic God-fearers who were attracted to the Christian movement, but hesitant as to whether such a newcomer on the scene could possibly be authentic, and afraid of what might be the cost to them socially and economically if they were to declare themselves publicly and unreservedly for Christ and his church (Seccombe 1982: 229, also see 131, 188).

             The familiarity of Seccombe’s readers with first century ‘messianic Judaism’ (1982: 93-94) caused them to interpret the references to ‘the poor’ in the early part of the third gospel (Luke 1:46-55; 4:16-30; 6:17-49; and 7:22-23) as ‘a characterization of the nation Israel’ in accordance with their understanding of the ‘poor’ in the books of Isaiah and Psalms (1982: 93, also see 24, 43).  This identification of the ‘poor’ in the early part of the third gospel with the people of Israel is significant because it enables Seccombe, in contrast to Stegemann, to assert that the third gospel’s interest in the ‘poor’ serves to reinforce Luke’s eschatological concern to demonstrate that the salvific hopes of Israel have been fulfilled (1982: 45-96; similarly Roth 1997: 142-206).  As an additional consequence, Seccombe is able to deny that the literal poor are granted privileged status in the third gospel and Acts (1982: 95).

Having deprivileged the poor by drawing upon a store of extratextual data, Seccombe is ready to address the problem of renunciation in the third gospel.  He argues that the third gospel’s calls for renunciation are not calls for a general renunciation on the part of all Christians, but rather they each address a specific situation within the Christian life (1982: 99).  He argues that these calls demonstrate the importance of being willing to suffer the loss of all for Christ (Luke 14:25-35) and the importance of not allowing one’s possessions to prevent one’s entry into the kingdom (Luke 18:18-30 and 19:1-10).  For Seccombe, such stories are ‘paradigms of response… Renunciation, therefore, is not the issue’ (1982: 132).  Such readings are not unique to Seccombe (e.g., Liu 1992), but he further emphasizes that these calls deal with the importance of ‘a person laying hold of the Kingdom when it comes within his reach.  Neither of these passages yields anything specific about the Christian’s ongoing use of possessions . . .’ (1982: 134; emphasis Seccombe’s).

            Having suggested that the calls for renunciation in the third gospel apply primarily (but not literally) to those entering the Christian life, Seccombe turned his attention to those Lukan passages which speak to the Christian’s ongoing use of possessions.  Although Seccombe’s analysis is detailed (and often insightful), it is not especially novel and may, therefore, be briefly summarized.  Seccombe argues that Luke views possessions as having little intrinsic value in comparison to the riches of the Kingdom and that Luke, therefore, encourages his readers to use their possessions in a manner consistent with their confession of a final just judgment.  In practical terms, Luke urges his readers to avoid the needless stockpiling of possessions and to give generously to the poor in society.  In spite of the diminished value placed on possessions, Luke does not, according to Seccombe, idealize poverty.  Rather, Luke envisages Christians retaining possession of their resources, but using them to alleviate the hardships which poverty brings upon other people (1982: 135-222).

Seccombe summarizes his findings quite clearly, asserting that

we are now able to affirm with confidence that Luke displays a consistency of outlook in his employment of poor-possessions material.  We have found nothing ascetic in Luke-Acts . . . Far from counselling a withdrawal from the world and its wealth, Luke demands                positive engagement: money is to be used positively to good effect in accordance with the values of the Kingdom. . . . The appearance of contradiction is due on the one hand to our unfamiliarity with Jewish and hellenistic thought forms, and on the other to an over readiness to make direct ethical applications of materials which Luke presents in such a way as to demand a more subtle and thoughtful application (1982: 228).

            Thus, by positing a God-fearer (or a similar person) as Luke’s historical reader, Seccombe was able to bring consistency to the texts by minimizing the impact of the texts which seemingly privilege the poor or call for renunciation or both.  The readers’ extratextual knowledge about Messianic Judaism enables them to interpret Luke’s apparent concern for the poor as a concern for the nation of Israel.  Their extratextual experience as those who             were hesitant to commit openly to the Christian faith enables them to discern that Luke’s apparent sympathy for the ideal of renunciation is actually a call to accept the ideal of ‘limitless discipleship.’  Yet these readers, like Stegemann’s readers, do find a strong call to employ their resources to promote the values of their Christian faith.

The Hostile, Self-Regarding Reader (Thomas E. Schmidt)

            Whereas the rest of the readings considered closely in this article examine both the third gospel and Acts, Schmidt analysis (1987) explores only the third gospel.  Schmidt begins with two assertions that challenge prevailing opinions.  First, he argues that ‘given the great difference in quantity and character of material between the Gospel and Acts, we should not ascribe the Gospel material either to a personal bias or to a unique problem in Luke’s own community’ (1987: 135).  Thus, Schmidt denies that the third gospel and Acts attach any particular significant to issues of wealth and poverty, a decidedly minority opinion within contemporary scholarship.  Second, he argues that the difference between the traditions about wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts probably resulted from the author’s ‘lack of reflective editorial comment in either volume’ (1987: 136).  Thus, Schmidt also asserts that one should not seek a consistent reading of these issues in both volumes of Luke’s writings since Luke probably did not alter his inherited materials with enough care to provide any consistency.

            In spite of these minority opinions regarding the Lukan texts, Schmidt has provided a coherent reading of issue of wealth and poverty in the third gospel.  Schmidt began this reading by explaining a pattern of ‘hostility toward wealth’ that he finds throughout the Hebrew and Jewish traditions in antiquity (1987: 17-100; see critique in Phillips 2001b).  This hostility toward wealth, in Schmidt’s view, existed independently of social-economic conditions and independently of concern for the poor.  He argues that in the Jewish tradition, and in the synoptic gospels, ‘the evil of wealth consists not primarily in lack of care for the poor but in independence from God: the opposite of Gottvertrauen [trust in God]’ (1987: 136).  The readers which Schmidt constructs are, therefore, both hostility toward wealth and self-regarding in their desire to be free of its corrupting influence.

            For Schmidt, the emphasis of the materials in third gospel is ‘on dispossession, not charity’ (1987: 154).  For Schmidt, the third gospel is hostile to wealth, but not out of concern for the poor.  Schmidt finds ‘little evidence of sympathy for the poor as such’ in the gospel (1987: 161).  For Schmidt, the hostility toward wealth in the third gospel reveals ‘Luke’s active interest in communicating in a consistent manner, dispossession of wealth as a way of expressing Gottvertrauen’ (1987: 161-62).  For Schmidt, the problem with wealth is the religious threat it presents to its possessor who will be tempted to turn from trust in God.  Thus, Schmidt argues that issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel

cannot be understood apart from the pious dependence of the Jewish poor on God.  Numerous HW [hostility toward wealth] passages in the Gospel make no reference whatever to the poor.  The fact that the poor are the recipients of aid in other passages means only that the poor are the logical recipients of dispossessed wealth for a contemporary Jew (1987: 136).

For Schmidt, the third gospel assumes a reader (of any socio-economic) class who is hostile to wealth and willing to renounce wealth (in a spiritual, if not, literal) manner because wealth was associated with the sins of ‘spiritual autonomy and social pride’ (1987: 164).  This dispossession, however, was primarily intended to benefit only the individual who performed it.  Acts of charity were, in a word, self-regarding.  Not surprisingly, Schmidt’s work has met with scathing reviews (e.g., Kee 1989; Mealand 1988; Pilgrim 1990) and his thesis that all of the material regarding wealth and poverty in the third gospel can be reduced to a self-regarding hostility toward wealth is hardly convincing. 

The Residential Reader (John Koenig)

Although redaction critical approaches, like those just considered, have dominated post-war Lukan scholarship, in the last decade a number of critical readers have attempted to enhance their understanding of the third gospel and Acts by incorporating the tools and insights of social-scientific analysis into their reading strategies.  These studies have, however, either tended to be focused on a single socio-economic concept, practice or institution within the third gospel and Acts and have therefore considered only one aspect of the diverse views on these issues in the third gospel and Acts (e.g., Moxnes 1988; see review by Sheeley 1990) or else have tended to be insufficiently versed in social scientific theories and approaches (e.g., Esler 1987, see review by Neyrey 1990).  J. Koenig’s recent reading of the whole of the third gospel and Acts (1985) is, however, an exception to these tendencies—even if his social scientific analysis is largely borrowed from G. Theissen (1975 and 1978) and R. J. Dillon (1978).

Koenig begins by surveying the third gospel and Acts in order to demonstrate the prominence of the theme of hospitality (1985: 86-91; also see Byrne 2000).  Koenig observes that the traditions which Luke preserves about giving and receiving seem to assume two different audiences.  On the one hand, Koenig suggests that many of Luke’s traditions reflect the ethos of

‘wandering charismatics,’ that is, early missionary prophets who followed Jesus’ itinerant life style quite literally and with great rigor.  For these prophets, only someone who had renounced all things—home, family and possessions—could claim to be a true disciple of Jesus (1985: 93-94). 

He then explains that, on the one hand, many Lukan traditions contain harsh economic demands that originated as ‘a kind of propaganda literature’ for these wandering prophets (1985: 94).  Yet, on the other hand, Koenig acknowledges that many other Lukan traditions reflect the less harsh ethic of ‘residential disciples’ who enjoy the pleasures of family and home life without enduring the rigor of complete renunciation (1985: 95-103; similarly see Perez 1979).

By recognizing the existence of two apparently conflicting sets of economic ideals within the third gospel and Acts, Koenig has again drawn attention to the central problem for Lukan interpreters of issues of wealth and poverty, that is, the diversity of views within the texts (1985: 95).  As with the earlier redaction critics, Koenig constructed historical readers who create consistency out of the texts’ competing demands.  He argued that ‘Luke makes a special effort to address residential believers’ (1985: 103; also see 98-102, 105, 107, 109, 111, 119), who we also learn, are ‘well-to-do members of the Christian communities to which Luke writes’ (1985: 101).

            Koenig’s readers take Jesus and Paul as their ‘primary models’ of those who proclaim the gospel (1985: 85).  On the one hand, Koenig finds the life style of the wandering prophets (and the continued value of that life style) affirmed by Luke’s depiction of Jesus (1985: 91-94, 103).  Koenig even speculates that Luke ‘spent some time’ with these wandering prophets (1985: 94).  On the other hand, Koenig finds the life style of the residential leaders (and the continued value of that life style) affirmed by the depiction of Paul in Acts in which ‘Luke attempts nothing less than the residentialization of the great traveler Paul’ (1985: 98-99).  As Koenig reads the third gospel and Acts, Luke values both the fully renouncing itinerant and the non-renouncing residential life styles equally.  To Koenig’s eyes, ‘Luke appears to be sketching out a future for the church in which all parties can play a vital role’ (1985: 98).

Thus, as Koenig understands Luke’s message to his ‘target audience’ of residential Christians, the goal is neither to urge these residential Christians to adopt the ethos of the wandering prophets—because ‘residential believers are not asked to impoverish themselves’ (1985: 101) nor to suggest that the mission of the ‘wandering prophets’ has become passé or historically displaced—as Koenig suggests that G. Theissen has asserted (Koenig 1985: 98).  Rather, according to Koenig, Luke wants the residential Christians to create a ‘partnership with the wandering prophets’ (1985: 98).  Luke is ‘at work instructing his target audience of residential believers in the privileges and responsibilities that they are to share with their traveling colleagues’ (1985: 100).

Thus, according to Koenig’s reading, residential disciples are called to two tasks with economic implications.  First, they are to accept the validity of the itinerants’ prophetic ministry and to support that ministry by providing the itinerants with the level of hospitality accorded to equals (1985: 100-03).  For Koenig, in spite of past claims of superiority (as revealed in Luke 17:7-10), ‘neither group can claim superiority over the other’ (1985: 102).  Second, residential believers are to participate in the mission of the house churches by ‘generous disposition of their material goods,’ particularly their food (1985: 111).  This generosity toward both believers and nonbelievers (and the joy which it produces) becomes the primary means by which the message of the gospel is communicated to nonbelievers.  Koenig asserts:

Above all, Luke wants his special target audience of residential believers to understand that both the quality of their life together and the ways in which they reach out to make contact with their nonbelieving neighbors will prove crucial to the continued success of this mission (1985: 111).

Koenig summarizes the effect which the texts were to have on their readers, explaining that, according to the third gospel and Acts, ‘local churches must function as (a) banquet communities which attract their nonbelieving neighbors and (b) home bases for missionaries who travel . . .’ (1985: 119).

            Koenig was therefore able to create a consistent reading of economic issues within the third gospel and Acts by positing readers engaged in a set of extratextual social dynamics.  In light of their extratextual knowledge about the existence of ‘wandering prophets’ and their extratextual experience of a struggle for leadership against these itinerants, Koenig’s readers are able to read Luke’s renunciation themes as an endorsement of the itinerants’ ministry and his less stringent themes as an endorsement of their own residential ministry.  Koenig’s readers then discern a call both to support the itinerants’ ministry and to enhance their residential ministries by generous use of their possessions.

The (Metaphorically) Enslaved Reader (Kyoung-Jin Kim)

            Kim largely assumes the consensus position that the Lukan community contained both wealthy and poor members, but that Luke primarily addressed the wealthy (1998: 44-53).  Kim also accepts Koenig’s understanding of the possession renouncing itinerant disciples and the non-renouncing residential (Kim calls them ‘sedentary’) disciples (1998: 100-110).  Kim’s reading is unique, however, in its placement of the theme of wealth and poverty under the motif of slavery rather than the motif of discipleship.  Kim notes that Luke places ‘the master-slave motif in bold relief’ (1998: 128).  Kim then suggests that ‘the significance of this motif is that it reveals the position of the Christian as a servant with regard to his relationship to God or Jesus as the Lord’ and that ‘the master-slave relation is highlighted so that a Christian as servant should live up to the Lord’s instruction recognizing the sovereignty of the Lord in his daily life’ (1998: 128-29).  For Kim, Lukan readers should not understand themselves in a ‘teacher-pupil relationship’ with God and Christ, but rather in a ‘master-slave relationship’ with God and Christ (1998: 129).

            For Kim, the reader of the third gospel and Acts is to view himself or herself as ‘a steward’ or ‘slave’ who owns nothing of his or her own, but who is entrusted with the master’s wealth and who will be called to give an account of his or her management of that wealth at the eschaton (1998: 166; but what of Peter’s conversation with Ananias in Acts 5:3-4?).  Kim explains that ‘what is required of a steward is that during the period of stewardship, that is, a period of probation, he should carry out his duty prudently, and be on the alert, being aware of the day when his work will be judged’ (1998: 166; similarly Hiers 1970; Obermüller 1978).  The steward may relate inappropriately to the master’s wealth by the ‘adherence to, waste of, and hoarding of, material possessions’ (1998: 216) or may relate appropriately to the master’s wealth by ‘distributing their wealth to the poor and sharing it with the destitute in their community’ through almsgiving (1998: 234).  Although Kim’s incorporation of the master/slave motif into his discussion of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts adds a unique dimension to his reading, his reading otherwise largely follows the consensus reading as Kim is able to ‘conclude that for Luke a proper way for a Christian as steward to use his possessions is almsgiving in the interest of the poor and needy inside and outside the community’ (1998: 286).

The Post-Apostolic Reader (Thomas E. Phillips)

            The key question which guides Phillips in his reading of issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts is found in the early discourse between John the Baptist and those seeking his baptism: ‘what shall we do?’ (Luke 3:10, 12, 14).  For Phillips, issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts are primarily issues of ethics, as they were for those baptized by John.  Phillips notes that each time that John is asked this question, he answers with economic directives (2001a: 93-95; similarly Scheffler 1990).  The driving question of Phillips’s investigation, therefore, becomes: ‘How is the reader’s understanding of and behavior related to issues of wealth and poverty affected by having read these texts?’ (2001a: 239, also see 83, 183).   Phillips seeks to answer this question by a sequential reading of the third gospel and Acts, using a reading strategy developed from W. Iser’s theory of the reading process (Phillips 2001a: 45-82).

            Phillips suggests that the themes of generosity and freedom from greed that are present in John’s answers (Luke 3:10-14) are the themes that characterized the life of Paul in Acts (2001a: 221-38).  Phillips argues that Paul, therefore, becomes the model for Christian believers who wish to embody the economic norms of the third gospel and Acts in their lives.  Phillips concludes that ‘the ethic of greedlessness and generosity which was preached by John the Baptist and was reaffirmed through the third gospel was, in fact, the ethic practiced by Paul and incumbent upon the reader’ (2001a: 240). 

Phillips is, of course, aware of the great diversity of ethical directives between the dialogue with John the Baptist and the example of Paul and he accounts for this diversity by appealing to the temporal framework of the narrative.  Phillips argues that Paul is separated from the apostles in the narrative and that Paul stands in ‘post-apostolic’ times with the narrator and readers of Acts.  For Phillips, the ‘apostolic conference’ of Acts 15 marks an important generational change within the narrative of Acts.  Before the conference, the apostles dominate the narrative; after the conference, the apostles never again appear in the narrative.  Before the conference, the narrator never appears in the narrative (outside of the prefaces).  After the conference, the narrator regularly appears in the narrative (2001a: 237-39).  For Phillips, this transitional event of the apostolic conference is significant for two reasons.  First, the reader stands with the narrator and Paul in post-apostolic times and can adopt Paul as an economic role model.  Phillips explains that the image of Paul in Acts ‘as a financially independent, hard working individual, who practices the ethic introduced by John the Baptist, provides a role model for the reader’ (2001a: 238-39).  Second, the transition from apostolic to post-apostolic times serves to historicize the stringent economic demands in the gospel and the early chapters of Acts.  Phillips explains that

the fact that history, from the implied author’s point of view, turns a page after the ‘apostolic conference’ explains the perplexing incongruity between the characterizations of the financial status of Peter and Paul [in Acts].  ‘Back then,’ in the time of the apostles (including Peter), things were different.  Poverty, vocational abandonment, and dependence upon the community were the norm then.  ‘But now,’ in the time of the implied author (and Paul), the temporary stringencies of apostolic times are past.  The reader, who stands with Paul and the implied author in post-apostolic times, should imitate the hard working, financially independent and generous Paul.  The time of the apostles is gone and the economic norms of their time and calling are also gone (2001a: 286).

Phillips, therefore, creates a consistent reading of issues of wealth and poverty by appealing to his understanding of the temporal framework of the texts.  For Phillips, Paul, the post-apostolic witness to the gospel, becomes the chief role model for the post-apostolic readers of the third gospel and Acts.  The apostolic conference (Acts 15) marks the end of the apostolic era and its stringent economic demands.  The narrator, the reader and Paul stand together in post-apostolic times and live a common post-apostolic economic ethic.

The Ascetic Reader (Susan R. Garrett)

            One of the more interesting and original readings of issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts to appear recently is S. Garrett’s.  Garrett draws upon recent studies of asceticism and suggests that reading the third gospel against this background can bring new insight to issues of wealth and poverty in Luke’s writings.  Garrett begins by adopting a functional definition of asceticism from R. Valantasis and suggesting that ascetic practices serve ‘to establish more firmly alternative subjectivities, patterns of social relationships, and ways of relating to the world that are consistent with an alternative symbolic universe already inhabited by the aspiring ascetic’ (Garrett 1999: 72; emphasis Garrett’s).  Garrett suggests that the characters in Luke-Acts (besides Jesus) fall into ‘two irreconcilable character types: those who have repented of their sin, calling upon Jesus to help or heal them, and those who refuse to repent’ (Garrett 1999: 75).  The former group consists of the ‘well’; the latter group consists of the ‘sick’ (Garrett 1999: 75).   

For Garrett, the souls that have been made well through Jesus’ name have been freed from the dominion of the devil and have entered into an alternative subjectivity, but they must establish this alternative subjectivity more firmly by ascetic practices.  Garrett insists that ‘Luke does seem to make a place for ascetic disciplines within the Christian life, and presumably his readers did also’ (1999: 81).  The function of these ascetic practices is to protect those who have been healed from again becoming sick.  As Garrett explains, Luke

presents certain ascetic disciplines as desirable and effective protections against such dangers, even if theoretically they are redundant of salvation through Jesus’ name.  In other words, in Luke’s scheme of salvation Jesus has power to heal and to reform, but ascetic practices also convey such power (1999: 82; emphasis Garrett’s).

In Garrett’s analysis, some of the key dangers faced by Christians in Luke’s narrative world are ‘the temptations of wealth and status’ (1999: 82).  Luke is keenly aware of this danger and, therefore, ‘to guard against this sort of danger Luke counsels followers to “deny themselves daily,” to be on guard against covetousness, and to renounce all that they have, even family, in order to follow Christ’ (1999: 82; emphasis Garrett’s). 

            Garrett acknowledges that her reading of issues of wealth and poverty in Luke places Luke in considerable sympathy with common Greek philosophy, explaining that ‘Luke seems to share certain key assumptions with the philosophers: notably, the notion that there are “sick” souls and “well” ones, and that certain measures must be taken to transform the former into the latter’ (1999: 87-88).  Garrett is sensitive to criticism at this point and therefore also emphasizes Luke’s distinctiveness from the philosophers, explaining

Luke’s notion of how a person moves from sickness to health is somewhat different from the view of the philosophers; Luke places a strong emphasis (unparalleled in the philosophers) on the agency of Jesus in effecting personal change.  It is Jesus’ words, or words in Jesus’ name, that move persons from sickness to health, from darkness to light, from the authority of Satan to God.  Such a strong emphasis on the personal agency of Christ would seem to leave no room for ascetic practices—and yet, Luke does make room.  Perhaps he does so because Christians in the church of Luke’s day experienced ongoing (postconversion) temptations contrary to perseverance and perfection as very real, and this needed effective countermeasures (1999: 88; emphasis Garrett’s).

            Although in many ways, this reading advances our understanding of these complex issues in the third gospel and Acts, its adequacy as a comprehensive reading of these issues must ultimately be subjected to criticisms like those earlier leveled against Schmidt.  This reading views Luke’s ethical directives regarding wealth and poverty as essentially and exclusively self-regarding.  One’s beneficence toward the poor has little to do with the poor, but rather is exclusively a matter of one’s own spiritual well-being.  This reading, though consistent with much of first century philosophy, is clearly inconsistent with much of early Christian (and Lukan) thought about love and concern for the other for the other’s sake.

The Eschatological Reader (John O. York)

            For J. York, the key to understanding issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts is eschatological theme of divinely wrought reversal.  Although the theme of divine reversal in key Lukan texts (e.g., Magnificat, 1:53-55; the beatitudes, 6:20-26; and the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus, 16:19-31) has been explored by other scholars (e.g., Drake 1985; Minear 1976: 19-30; and, as applied to women, Arlandson 1997), York’s discussion placed the theme of economic reversal within the context of the entire third gospel and Acts more clearly than other treatments.  York begins by demonstrating that ‘bi-polar reversal [e.g., reversal from rich to poor, poor to rich, humiliation to exaltation, exaltation to humiliation] is a repetitive form in Luke which communicates a theme in the Lukan narrative’ (1991: 92; for a similar treatment of the Jubilee theme, see Ringe 1985; Blosser 1979; Sloan 1977; Sanders 1977).  York explains that this reversal theme ‘creates an expectation that divine action reverses opposite human conditions’ and ‘presents divine principles of action’ (1991: 93; similarly Himmelman 1976).  For York,

these divine principles describe God’s interaction with humanity.  God humbles those exalt themselves and exalts those who humble themselves; [God] makes last those who are first and makes first those who are last; [God] saves those who lose themselves for Jesus’ sake and those who seek to save themselves will be lost; [God] fills the hungry but sends the rich away empty; [God] causes those weeping to laugh and those laughing to mourn and weep (1991: 93).

            For York, issues of wealth and poverty serve this reversal theme, but are not the dominant aspect of the reversal theme.  Rather the dominant aspect of the reversal theme is the Greco-Roman cultural constructs of honor and shame and patronage (1991: 253-83; similarly on patronage, see Danker 1992).  York insists that ‘honor and shame, pivotal values in the culture, are seen to be embedded in the bi-polar reversal theme.  Throughout these narratives, already existing conditions of honor or shame are central to attitudes taken toward Jesus’ (1991: 162).  The ethical significance of this reversal is clear to York:

For the Lukan audience the theme of bi-polar reversal constantly reminds them that human action is to mirror the value system of God.  God reverses the human understanding of the values of honor and shame.  The proper human is therefore to reverse those values in one’s self-understanding and in the treatment of others (1991: 162-63).

York suggests that the reader’s discovery of this reversal theme in the early portions of third gospel prepares the reader for its subsequent appearance in the gospel to such a degree that the reversal of fortunes in later narratives like the rich man and Lazarus ‘is no surprise at all’(1991: 166).  The point of this reversal in the third gospel is primarily christological as it demonstrates the arrival of the kingdom of God in the person of Jesus (1991: 167-72).  York is aware of the absence of this reversal theme in Acts and accounts for this absence by insisting that ‘in Acts, bi-polar reversal as a theme gives way to a community in which the divine principles have been enacted’ (1991: 172).  For York, the absence of the reversal theme in Acts is occasioned by the fulfillment of eschatological reversal in the Christian community.  ‘The triumph of the value system means that the positive side—God’s exaltation—is normally seen.  Within the narrative of Luke-Acts, the theme of bi-polar reversal in its specific repetitions thus has great impact on the rest of the narrative’ (1991: 173).  The third gospel announces the arrival of a value system that reverses the existing categories of shame and honor; Acts depicts the community within which that value system has become reality. 

York’s eschatological reading of issues of wealth and poverty moved toward a symbolic reading of issues of wealth and poverty as he understood one’s wealth and poverty to be indicator of one’s status in an existing shame/honor value system and one’s use of wealth to be an indicator of one’s acceptance of an alternative value system.  York’s reading is certainly open to the criticism that it depersonalizes issues of wealth and poverty, that is, concern for poor becomes a depersonalized acceptance of an alternative value system.  The poor become objects.  However, York’s reading is surpassed in abstraction by other purely symbolic readings.

Possessions as Symbolic of One’s Person (Luke Johnson)

            Johnson took ‘the frequently noted inconsistencies in the narrative [Luke-Acts]’, particularly the inconsistency between the ideal of the ‘community of goods’ in Acts 4:32 and the ideal of almsgiving elsewhere in the third gospel and Acts, as a point of departure, noting ‘a possible conflict of ideology’ (1977: 10).  Johnson’s approach to solving this inconsistency problem was ‘resolutely literary in character’ (1977: 25).  He proposed to employ a reading strategy which read the third gospel and Acts as ‘story’ (1977: 21), explaining that

we must seek to place a passage precisely within the dramatic flow of the narrative, recognizing that there is in all probability a good literary reason for the passage occurring in this place and none other, and that the author has offered us in the story itself the possibility of grasping that reason (1977: 25).

 

            Johnson first concerned himself with understanding the dramatic flow of the narrative, suggesting that the narrative of the third gospel and Acts ‘progresses by means of the dynamic of acceptance and rejection by the people of the Men of the Spirit’, that is, ‘as the story of “the Prophet and the People”’ (1977: 78).  In the third gospel the dynamic of acceptance and rejection is played out as the people respond to the prophet Jesus and in Acts this dynamic is played out as the people respond to the apostles who assume Jesus’ prophetic role (1977: 77-78, 121-26).   Johnson claimed:

This pattern [of the Prophet and the People] is not one which was imposed from the beginning on the text by an alien theological, historical or even literary preconception, but is one which emerged from the text itself. . . . It does not run counter to, but rather is the very mainspring of the story, that which gives the story both coherence and color (1977: 121).

 

            Having established, to his satisfaction, the pattern which structures the dramatic flow of the narrative, Johnson turned his attention to the ‘distinct literary function played by the motif of possessions within that literary pattern’ (1977: 125, also see 130-31).  He argues that Luke’s use of the motif of possessions serves a symbolic function, to illustrate and reinforce his literary pattern of the Prophet and the People.  Johnson argued that ‘Luke sees the way a man handles possessions as an indication, a symbol, of his interior disposition’ (1977: 148).  Within the third gospel and Acts, Johnson suggested, one’s use of possessions reveals the inner response of that one’s heart toward God’s visitation and authority as expressed in Christ and his apostles (1977: 170).  

            Having laid all the necessary foundations, Johnson was then able to return to his point of departure, the ‘community of goods’, and explain:

we have already learned that the disposition of possessions is a direct symbol of the disposition of the self.  This is the meaning of having all things in common as an expression of spiritual unity.  When the believers lay their possessions at the Apostles’ feet, therefore, they were symbolically laying themselves there, in a gesture of submission to the authority of the Twelve (1977: 202; emphasis Johnson’s).

 

In his conclusion, Johnson restated the two primary theses which have directed his work.

The theses: a literary analysis of Luke-Acts at the level of story reveals a dominant dramatic pattern which structures the work as a whole; we have called this pattern the story of the Prophet and the People.  Within the telling of that story, Luke uses the language of possessions symbolically... Luke sees possessions as a primary symbol of human existence, an immediate exteriorization of and manifestation of the self (1977: 220-21).

 

Although Johnson’s symbolic reading strategy has been adopted and adapted by other readers, Johnson himself turns out to be a very selective ‘story’ reader.  He has, symbolically speaking (of course), walked out in the middle of the story.  Acts 9-28, including all of Paul’s ministry, gets scant attention, four pages early in the dissertation (1977: 29-32).  Paul’s activity comes up on two other occasions, one analyzing Luke’s ‘puzzling’ and ‘strange’ treatment of the collection for Jerusalem (1977: 32-36) and a second including Paul among the ‘Men of the Spirit’ (1977: 53-60).

The problem, of course, is that Paul’s use of possessions simply does not fit into Johnson’s pattern (see Karris 1979a).  If Paul is one of the ‘Men of the Spirit’ in Acts, then why does he refuse to accept gifts from those who accept his prophetic message (Acts 20:33-35)?  Johnson’s suggestion that Luke was merely following the portrayal which Paul himself gave of his economic relations with his converts (1977: 25, 32) brings in the very historical perspective which he has sought to avoid by emphasizing the category of story.  Further, do Paul’s offerings to the temple (Acts 24:17) reveal his symbolic submission to the authority of the Jewish leaders in Jerusalem?  These and other questions illustrate that Johnson has provided a consistent reading of the third gospel and Acts only by providing a truncated reading in which the last half of Acts (i.e., Paul’s life and ministry) is simply ignored.

 

Possessions as Symbolic of Commitment to Social Structures

(Kraybill and Sweetland)

 

            In an often overlooked and consistently underappreciated article, D. B. Kraybill and D. M. Sweetland applied themselves to the ‘nagging enigma’ of the ‘apparent incongruence’ of the economic demands made within the third gospel and Acts (1983: 21-39).  Drawing upon V. Turner’s conception of ‘structure’ and ‘anti-structure’ for theoretical orientation, Kraybill and Sweetland argue that Luke provides a ‘sociologically plausible model’ of the development of the Jesus movement (the third gospel) and the early church (Acts) and that an understanding of this development provides the framework for understanding the symbolic functions of possessions in the third gospel and Acts.  They begin by explaining:

In sociological perspective, Luke’s Gospel reflects the early stage of a social movement exhibiting a low level of internal organization . . . The radical itinerants are . . . betwixt and between the old structure of Judaism and their dream of a new community.  They have left their niches in the old system but the movement they have joined lacks its own identity and structure.  With the death of Jesus the movement ‘settles down’ in                 Acts and begins the long process of institutionalization.  A hierarchy of leadership emerges along with functional specialization and structural differentiation.  The shift from the Gospel to Acts is a step down the road toward structure . . . (1983: 227).

 

The importance of this ‘shift’ toward structure after the death of Jesus becomes apparent as Kraybill and Sweetland begin their analysis of possessions in the third gospel and Acts.  First, they argue that in the ‘Jesus Movement’ (the third gospel) the terms ‘rich’ and ‘poor’ symbolize ‘structure’ (a differentiated and hierarchical social system) and ‘anti-structure’ (the absence of such a system) respectively (1983: 232).   On the one hand, they explain that ‘“rich” in Luke’s Gospel is conveniently used as a root metaphor or key symbol to refer to the old social structure of hierarchical positions from which the Jesus Movement was seeking to disengage itself’ (1983: 233).  On the other hand, they explain that ‘the term poor is used consistently with other cognate social categories all of which express a liminal state either between, below or outside the formal social structures [that is, a state of anti-structure]’ (1983: 233).

            According to Kraybill and Sweetland, the categories of ‘rich’ and ‘poor’ were important symbols which indicated one’s relationship to the new community being brought into existence by Jesus.  The ‘rich’ stood within the existing social structures in opposition to the new community being created by Jesus; the ‘poor’ stood outside of the existing structures in expectation of a new community.  Yet in Acts, Kraybill and Sweetland were struck by the ‘sudden disappearance’ of the terms ‘rich’ and ‘poor’ (1983: 234).  They attribute this demise of rich/poor language to a development within Luke’s portrayal of early Christianity.  In the early chapters of Acts, the Jerusalem church has moved into ‘the second stage of a social movement’ (1983: 235).  At this point the ‘maturing group’ was developing its own ‘emergent structure’, and the previous identification of disciples with anti-structure and opponents with structure was no longer appropriate (1983: 235).  They explain:

We should not be surprised to find beliefs about possessions and the social role of possessions shifting between the Gospel and Acts since they reflect different stages of organizational development. . . .  We discover that the beliefs about possessions and their social function in the Gospel signify separation from the old structures while in Acts they symbolize reaggregation to the newly emerging structure (1983: 236; emphasis Kraybill’s and Sweetland’s).

 

Kraybill and Sweetland summarize their position by explaining

 

In the Gospel, possessions were something to leave behind and rid oneself of, but in Acts they are brought along to the community of faith.  Instead of being a sign of the disciple’s separation from the old order, they are now a symbol of his or her commitment to the new structure…. Instead of symbolizing separation from the old structure as was the case in the Gospel, possessions now signify an individual’s investment and integration into the new emergent group structure (1983: 237).

 

            For Kraybill and Sweetland, then, the use of possessions in the third gospel and Acts symbolizes one’s relationship to existing social structures.  Before the development of a unified church structure, the self-impoverishment of Jesus’ disciples symbolized their separation from existing social structures.  When a unified church structure emerged after Jesus’ death, the believers’ voluntary contributions symbolized their commitment to that emergent structure.

This reading is clear and sociologically plausible, but is, like Johnson’s, truncated.  Although Kraybill and Sweetland acknowledge the truncated nature of their reading (1983: 216), we should briefly point to the difficulties it leaves unanswered.  If gifts in Acts are ‘a sign of one’s allegiance and commitment to the group’ (Kraybill and Sweetland 1983: 238), would Paul’s offerings to the temple symbolize his commitment to that structure (Acts 24:17)?  Would Paul’s refusal to accept gifts from his converts symbolize his unwillingness to accept their ‘allegiance and commitment?’  Although Kraybill’s and Sweetland’s reading brings some new tools to the task of reading the third gospel and Acts, it ultimately creates consistency only by chopping off the end of the story.

The Sensitive Contemporary Reader (Michael Prior)

            Michael Prior’s multifaceted reading of Jesus’ inaugural sermon in third gospel (Luke 4:16-30) concludes with reflections about this sermon’s theme of liberation within the larger context of the third gospel and Acts.  Prior’s consideration of issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts is distinguished from most of the other readings surveyed in this article by the fact that he offers a self-consciously contemporary reading (1995: 184-202; 1999).  Although Prior is fully adept at the various methods of historical-critical exegesis—and employs them expertly throughout his work, he is clear in his insistence that the third gospel and Acts are primarily Christian scriptures which call for moral reflection beyond their first century context.  Prior asserts that ‘no sensitive reader can fail to be alerted to the social obligations implied in the Lukan call to repentance’ (1995: 192; emphasis added).  Regardless of its first century readership and context, in the present context Prior ‘find[s] it impossible to escape the conclusion that the Lukan theme of rich and poor must leave any Christian community fundamentally disturbed in the face of serious inequalities of wealth and social security in its own community’ (1995: 193).  For Prior, the third gospel and Acts call for readers to act in ways that go beyond anything imaginable in the first century.  He insists that ‘the programme outlined in Lk. 4.16-30, and in the passages which speak of the poor and rich, implies an invitation to respond…. Readers are left free to respond in proportion to their moral generosity and perhaps in the light of their political analysis’ (1995: 193).

            Prior’s reader is emphatically modern and distinctively Christian.  He has no interest in a reified first century who responds to the third gospel and Acts in ways irrelevant to the contemporary context.  For Prior,

What the poor can with justification require is that Christians use their power in their favor.  Modern Christians true to the picture presented by Luke are invited to subvert, rather than underpin, those cultures which produce poverty and ignore the plight to the poor (1995: 194; emphasis added). 

 

In the contemporary context, Prior believes that responsible appropriation of the Lukan message is also inherently political.  He believes that

the world needs politicians also, who can diagnose what is astray with the present order, describe a new order, define long-term goals and strategies, prescribe short- and long-term remedies, and, finally plan the structures of the rearrangements of society so that the goal of liberation is achieved (1995: 195).

 

            For Prior, the political insights of Liberation Theology provide important tools for the ‘social analysis and political options’ (1995: 199) needed for a faithful response to the Lukan message regarding wealth and poverty.  Although he rejects Marxism as a viable option for Christians in the contemporary world (1999: 200), Prior calls for a contemporary reading of issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts which goes individualistic and pietistic solutions to these complex social problems.  Prior proclaims: ‘Alas, much more is required than the purging of one’s individual malice!  There is no legitimate theology that is not politically involved’ (1995: 201).

Conclusion

 

            After initially brushing aside one popular, though utterly implausible, reading of issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts, this brief survey of recent critical scholarship has presented several different readings of these issues.  Although each reading offers a different set of explanations by which to create consistency out of the specific details within the texts, all of the readings employ one of two general reading strategies in order to overcome this diversity.  On the one hand, many scholars construct a reader whose unique insights, knowledge, experiences, or location provide an interpretive lens through which to view the diversity.  The characteristics of these constructed readers vary significantly, but the reading strategy employed is generally similar.  The constructed reader provides a social and historical context within which the reader can build consistency.  Although most readers have constructed a first century reader to build consistency, Prior is unique in making himself, a modern Christian (Prior is a Roman Catholic priest), the reader who is called to build consistency through contemporary social and political analysis.  On the other hand, advocates of the symbolic reading strategy tend to posit a symbolic function for possessions which transcends any particular reader and assumes only an ahistorical reader who is able to build consistency from the considerable diversity of perspectives on issues of wealth and poverty in the third gospel and Acts at the level of symbol.

 

  

 

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