‘second half of Luke’s Gospel. Both are addressed to an unknown recipient named ‘Theophilus’. Because both were written in Greek, many words and names have been translated into that language, and have probably, in a number of instances, altered in nuance, even in meaning, from their Hebrew or Aramaic originals. In any case, both Acts and Luke’s Gospel were written specifically for a Greek audience — a very different audience from that addressed by the Qumran scrolls.
Although focusing primarily on Paul, who monopolises the latter part of its narrative, Acts also tells the story of Paul’s relations with the community in Jerusalem composed of Jesus’ immediate disciples under the leadership of James, ‘the Lord’s brother’ — the enclave or faction who only later came to be called the first Christians and are now regarded as the early or original Church. In recounting Paul’s association with this community, however, Acts offers only Paul’s point of view. Acts is essentially a document of Pauline — or what is now deemed to be ‘normative’ — Christianity. Paul, in other words, is always the ‘hero’; whoever opposes him, whether it be the authorities or even James, is automatically cast as villain.
Acts opens shortly after Jesus — referred to as ‘the Nazorene’ (in Greek ‘
Acts 6:8 introduces the figure known as Stephen, the first official ‘Christian martyr’, who is arrested and sentenced to death by stoning. In his own defence, Stephen alludes to the murder of those who prophesied the advent of the ‘Righteous One’, or the ‘Just One’. This terminology is specifically and uniquely Qumranic in character. The ‘Righteous One’ occurs repeatedly in the Dead Sea Scrolls as ‘
Nor is this the only Qumranic concern to figure in Stephen’s speech. In his defence, he names his persecutors (Acts 7:53) — ‘You who had the Law brought to you by angels are the very ones who have not kept it.’ As Acts portrays it, Stephen is obviously intent on adherence to the Law. Again, there is a conflict here with orthodox and accepted traditions. According to later Christian tradition, it was the Jews of the time who made an austere and puritanical fetish of the Law. The ‘early Christians’ are depicted, at least from the standpoint of that stringency, as ‘mavericks’ or ‘renegades’, advocating a new freedom and flexibility, defying custom and convention. Yet it is Stephen, the first ‘Christian martyr’, who emerges as an advocate of the Law, while his persecutors are accused of dereliction.
It makes no sense for Stephen, a self-proclaimed adherent of the Law, to be murdered by fellow Jews extolling the same Law. But what if those fellow Jews were acting on behalf of a priesthood which had come to an accommodation with the Roman authorities — were, in effect, collaborators who, like many of the French under the German occupation, for example, simply wanted ‘a quiet life’ and feared an agitator or resistance fighter in their midst might lead to reprisals?3 The ‘early Church’ of which Stephen is a member constantly stresses its own orthodoxy, its zealous adherence to the Law. Its persecutors are those who contrive to remain in good odour with Rome and, in so doing, lapse from the Law, or, in Qumran terms, transgress the Law, betray the Law.4 In this context, Stephen’s denunciation of them makes sense, as does their murder of him. And as we shall see, James — James ‘the Just’, the ‘
According to Acts, it is at the death of Stephen that Paul – then called Saul of Tarsus — makes his debut. He is said to have stood watch over the discarded clothes of Stephen’s murderers, though he may well have taken a more active role. In Acts 8:1, we are told that Saul ‘entirely approved of the killing’ of Stephen. And later, in Acts 9:21, Saul is accused of engineering precisely the kind of attack on the ‘early Church’ which culminated in Stephen’s death. Certainly Saul, at this stage of his life, is fervent, even fanatic, in his enmity towards the ‘early Church’. According to Acts 8:3, he ‘worked for the total destruction of the Church: he went from house to house arresting both men and women and sending them to prison’. At the time, of course, he is acting as a minion of the pro- Roman priesthood.
Acts 9 tells us of Saul’s conversion. Shortly after Stephen’s death, he embarks for Damascus to ferret out members of the ‘early Church’ there. He is accompanied by his hit-squad and bears arrest warrants from his master, the high priest. As we have noted, this expedition is likely to have been not to Syria, but to the Damascus that figures in the ‘Damascus Document’.5
A modern psychologist would find nothing particularly unusual in Saul’s adventure. It may indeed have been produced by sunstroke or an epileptic seizure. It could equally well be ascribed to hallucination, hysterical or psychotic reaction or perhaps nothing more than the guilty conscience of a susceptible man with blood on his hands.
Saul, however, interprets it as a true manifestation of Jesus, whom he never knew personally; and from this his conversion ensues. He abandons his former name in favour of ‘Paul’. And he will subsequently be as fervent in promulgating the teachings of the ‘early Church’ as he has hitherto been in extirpating them. He joins their community, becomes one of their apprentices or disciples. According to his letter to the Galatians (Gal. 1:17-18), he remains under their tutelage for three years, spending much of that time in Damascus. According to the Dead Sea Scrolls, the probation and training period for a newcomer to the Qumran community was also three years.6
After his three-year apprenticeship, Paul returns to Jerusalem to join the leaders of the ‘community’ there. Not surprisingly, most of them are suspicious of him, not being wholly convinced by his conversion. In Galatians 1:18-20, he speaks of seeing only James and Cephas. Everyone else, including the apostles, seems to have avoided him. He is obliged repeatedly to prove himself, and only then does he find some allies and begin to preach. Arguments ensue, however, and, according to Acts 9:29, certain members of the Jerusalem community threaten him. As a means of defusing a potentially ugly situation, his allies pack him off to Tarsus, the town (now in Turkey) where he was born. He is, in effect, being sent home, to spread the message there.
It is important to understand that this was tantamount to exile. The community in Jerusalem, like that in Qumran, was preoccupied almost entirely with events in Palestine. The wider world, such as Rome, was relevant only to the extent that it impinged or encroached on their more localised reality. To send Paul off to Tarsus, therefore, might be compared to a Provisional IRA godfather sending a new, ill-disciplined and overly energetic recruit to muster support among the ‘Shining Path’ guerrillas of Peru. If, by improbable fluke, he somehow elicits men, money, materiel or anything else of value, well and good. If he gets himself disembowelled instead, he will not be unduly missed, having been more nuisance than asset anyway.
Thus arises the first of Paul’s three (according to Acts) sorties abroad. Among other places, it takes him to Antioch, and, as we learn from Acts 11:26, ‘It was at Antioch that the disciples were first called “Christians”.’ Commentators date Paul’s journey to Antioch at approximately ad 43. By that time, a community of the ‘early Church’ was already established there, which reported back to the sect’s leadership in Jerusalem under James.
Some five or more years later, Paul is teaching in Antioch when a dispute arises over the content of his
