Luke 2:1-7
About that time Caesar Augustus ordered a census to be taken throughout the Empire. This was the first census when Quirinius was governor of Syria. Everyone had to travel to his own ancestral hometown to be accounted for. So Joseph went from the Galilean town of Nazareth up to Bethlehem in Judah, David’s town, for the census. As a descendant of David, he had to go there. He went with Mary, his fiancée, who was pregnant.
While they were there, the time came for her to give birth. She gave birth to a son, her firstborn. She wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in a manger, because there was no room in the inn.
This is our second week looking into the Gospel according to Luke. One of the major – and unique -- themes of Luke’s gospel account starts out right at the beginning – and the way it begins happens twice. An angel, who identifies himself as “Gabriel who stands in the presence of God” appears - twice - and announces an impending birth – actually, two impending births. One son each to mothers who should not have been mother material. Elizabeth was barren and Mary was an unmarriwed virgin but such things matter little to angels carrying messages from God.
Elizabeth would give birth to John, the one we call the Baptist, and Mary, of course, would be the mother of Jesus. One son’s role in life would be to prepare the way for the other – to announce his arrival in the world of humankind.
This is a birth narrative much different from the one we read in Matthew’s gospel. In that one John the Baptist isn’t mentioned at all until he appears as an adult, preaching in the desert, and Mary and Jesus himself are almost footnotes to the story.
Matthew’s version of the story, written nearer the actual time of Jesus’ life, it written for a specific community of people in a specific time and place. It has one purpose, and one only, to “prove” Jesus’ Davidic descent, and legitimize him in the eyes of the traditional Jewish community and set him up in their minds as the “new Moses”. Matthew's only agenda is to convince "the Jews" that far from being a heretic leading people away from true Judaism, Jesus is instead the culmination of all those centuries of prophesying and waiting. Luke ignores this aspect almost entirely, except for one brief sentence explaining that the couple had to go to Bethlehem, the city of David, for the census because Joseph was descended from the house and family of David.
Luke’s story is written for a much broader audience inhabiting a more cosmopolitan world. Written farther in time from Jesus’ actual life this account attempts to relate the story of a Jesus that farther-flung peoples, often from other cultures, can find palatable. This gospel also shows the effect that time has had on the mythologizing of Jesus. Jesus has become, not just a local Jewish boy from a good family, but a “hero” figure, and especially in the near-eastern/Mediterranean world of this time the birth of the "hero" was always attended by lots of supernatural trappings. Most cultures had at least one story of a god impregnating a human woman, with strange unnatural events surrounding the birth of the half-human/half-divine child. By the time that Luke is written, Jesus’ story has attained exactly this status. Luke's version of Jesus' birth would feel comfortable to his hearers.
Mary is by far the star player in Luke’s story, with her conversation with an angel, her visit to see her cousin Elizabeth, and our deeply ingrained image of the young mother, tenderly holding her child and “treasuring all this and holding it in her heart,” and especially for her beautiful Magnificat, her hymn of praise to God for blessing her so. We’ll look at this piece more closely in a moment.
But the biggest difference between the two versions lies in the casts of supporting characters. In Matthew, the main person other than the family itself is the wicked King Herod, followed by three more kings, as we have come to call them even though they were most likely astrologer-priests. Whoever they were, they were important people, come from far nations to acknowledge the superior claim of this newborn Jewish king.
In contrast, Luke’s bit players are as common as dirt: an inn-keeper, a slew of shepherds, one old man who is described as “holy” but of no particular rank when the baby is presented in the Temple, and an old woman, likewise in the Temple and likewise of no particular rank. Of course, there are choirs of angels but their presence merely contrasts with and points out the ordinary humbleness of the rest of the story.
And do not overlook that because it is precisely all this ordinariness that matters most. The fact is that what was, in truth, a monumental divine act (hence the angels) – took place among the most ordinary of mortals. Jesus was born, not in a palace in Jerusalem, but in a stable in Bethlehem, the smallest of back-country towns. The only attendants were shepherds who had likely been out for weeks with no one around but their sheep – not your most elegant of guests.
Luke will make the point, over and over in this gospel, that those ordinary people are precisely the ones for whom Jesus came – the ones God favors. This is made clear right at the start in Mary’s reply to Gabriel, her Magnificat:
Elizabeth would give birth to John, the one we call the Baptist, and Mary, of course, would be the mother of Jesus. One son’s role in life would be to prepare the way for the other – to announce his arrival in the world of humankind.
This is a birth narrative much different from the one we read in Matthew’s gospel. In that one John the Baptist isn’t mentioned at all until he appears as an adult, preaching in the desert, and Mary and Jesus himself are almost footnotes to the story.
Matthew’s version of the story, written nearer the actual time of Jesus’ life, it written for a specific community of people in a specific time and place. It has one purpose, and one only, to “prove” Jesus’ Davidic descent, and legitimize him in the eyes of the traditional Jewish community and set him up in their minds as the “new Moses”. Matthew's only agenda is to convince "the Jews" that far from being a heretic leading people away from true Judaism, Jesus is instead the culmination of all those centuries of prophesying and waiting. Luke ignores this aspect almost entirely, except for one brief sentence explaining that the couple had to go to Bethlehem, the city of David, for the census because Joseph was descended from the house and family of David.
Luke’s story is written for a much broader audience inhabiting a more cosmopolitan world. Written farther in time from Jesus’ actual life this account attempts to relate the story of a Jesus that farther-flung peoples, often from other cultures, can find palatable. This gospel also shows the effect that time has had on the mythologizing of Jesus. Jesus has become, not just a local Jewish boy from a good family, but a “hero” figure, and especially in the near-eastern/Mediterranean world of this time the birth of the "hero" was always attended by lots of supernatural trappings. Most cultures had at least one story of a god impregnating a human woman, with strange unnatural events surrounding the birth of the half-human/half-divine child. By the time that Luke is written, Jesus’ story has attained exactly this status. Luke's version of Jesus' birth would feel comfortable to his hearers.
Mary is by far the star player in Luke’s story, with her conversation with an angel, her visit to see her cousin Elizabeth, and our deeply ingrained image of the young mother, tenderly holding her child and “treasuring all this and holding it in her heart,” and especially for her beautiful Magnificat, her hymn of praise to God for blessing her so. We’ll look at this piece more closely in a moment.
But the biggest difference between the two versions lies in the casts of supporting characters. In Matthew, the main person other than the family itself is the wicked King Herod, followed by three more kings, as we have come to call them even though they were most likely astrologer-priests. Whoever they were, they were important people, come from far nations to acknowledge the superior claim of this newborn Jewish king.
In contrast, Luke’s bit players are as common as dirt: an inn-keeper, a slew of shepherds, one old man who is described as “holy” but of no particular rank when the baby is presented in the Temple, and an old woman, likewise in the Temple and likewise of no particular rank. Of course, there are choirs of angels but their presence merely contrasts with and points out the ordinary humbleness of the rest of the story.
And do not overlook that because it is precisely all this ordinariness that matters most. The fact is that what was, in truth, a monumental divine act (hence the angels) – took place among the most ordinary of mortals. Jesus was born, not in a palace in Jerusalem, but in a stable in Bethlehem, the smallest of back-country towns. The only attendants were shepherds who had likely been out for weeks with no one around but their sheep – not your most elegant of guests.
Luke will make the point, over and over in this gospel, that those ordinary people are precisely the ones for whom Jesus came – the ones God favors. This is made clear right at the start in Mary’s reply to Gabriel, her Magnificat:
My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
…..
He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
Those are, in truth, radical words. They are revolutionary words. Luke’s passion for justice for the poor, the overlooked and voiceless is apparent all throughout this gospel. When we first meet John the Baptist as a preacher in the desert he is calling the people to repentance, reminding them that it isn’t enough to be a practicing Jew, a son of Abraham, because God can call up children of Abraham from the very rocks around them if he should want. And when they ask just what they must do then, John answers in unmistakable social-justice language: “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.”
For anyone who reads this gospel with an open mind, as free as possible from past teaching and indoctrination (and admittedly, this is not an easy task) the primary message of social justice calls out loudly and clearly. It is in this gospel account that Jesus begins his public ministry teaching in the local synagogue in Nazareth and quoting Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.”
This social-justice agenda will be reinforced even more when we read Luke’s version of the Beatitudes, comparing them with Matthew’s version from the Sermon on the Mount, but that is going to take more time than we have today so we will start with that next week as we continue our way through Luke.
For anyone who reads this gospel with an open mind, as free as possible from past teaching and indoctrination (and admittedly, this is not an easy task) the primary message of social justice calls out loudly and clearly. It is in this gospel account that Jesus begins his public ministry teaching in the local synagogue in Nazareth and quoting Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.”
This social-justice agenda will be reinforced even more when we read Luke’s version of the Beatitudes, comparing them with Matthew’s version from the Sermon on the Mount, but that is going to take more time than we have today so we will start with that next week as we continue our way through Luke.
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