If someone took on the task of writing your biography, what might they include about the early years in your family of origin that would inform the reader of what to expect as your story unfolded? What from your past shaped you in ways that can be traced back to childhood?
I was born into a Dutch-and-German heritage middle-class home in Overland Park, KS, a suburb of Kansas City. I was the youngest of four kids. My parents were happily married (and still are). Home was devoid of negativity for the most part, and was a calm, stable space. I have no Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs). My dad being a pastor, we never missed church, and we enjoyed the community we found there. Faith was central to our lives and we practiced it religiously. All six of us can sing well and can read music. All six of us can play musical instruments, too. Between us all we hold six Bachelors, three Masters, and two Doctorate degrees. We all like each other (and our spouses and kids), and when we get together, laughter abounds.
Based on my family of origin story, what would you guess would be true of me as I grew up?
We need to think similarly about Jesus’ birth narratives. The Gospels of Matthew and Luke are the only ones that give us such stories, and while they share some details, they are also very different from one another – they really don’t match up in some respects. This very old truth comes as breaking news to many who have simply assumed that the stories fit together seamlessly. If that’s your experience, don’t fret – the point of the birth narratives is to set us up for the rest of Jesus’ life, alluding in the beginning about things we will see again and again in his life, his death, and reflected in the lives of his followers.
The Jewish people living in what we refer to as Israel had been living under the thumb of foreign oppressors for centuries (with a short blip of independence before being pummeled once more). At the time of Jesus’ birth, they were fully aware that they were no match for the Roman Empire, and were also aware that there was a degree of corruption at the top of their Jewish leadership. They could count on Rome to be very Roman in their tyranny, and they could count on the High Priest and the Jewish elites in Jerusalem to look after their own wellbeing to the neglect of the poor, which comprised the vast majority of Jews (including Jesus’ family). As one might guess, many of the everyday folks were enraged, and wondered if God would come to their aid as God had in their stories of old. In their view, even a rag-tag pitchfork militia could defeat the military machine of Rome if God showed up. As Ronald Sider fleshes out in his book, If Jesus is Lord (Baker Publishing Group, 2019):
The evidence is clear. From the time of the death of Herod I in 4 BC, there were repeated violent rebellions against Roman rule in Palestine. Both in Galilee and especially in Jerusalem, “revolution of one sort or another was in the air, and often present on the ground.” The sources often indicate a religious motivation. Frequently, N. T. Wright points out, these movements “were led by messianic or quasi-messianic figures.” And the Romans frequently squelched them with crucifixion. Violent messianic revolt, grounded in the belief that God would intervene to bring the messianic kingdom if the Jews would dare to rebel, was clearly part of Jewish life in this period. (37)
Historians provide evidence that there were many wannabe leaders around the first century BCE who claimed to be messiahs anointed by God to raise up an army of peasants to challenge the Empire. Centuries-old prophecies were employed to encourage people to trust them (and God) to bring victory. One after another were squashed by Rome, very often using the most horrific means of torturous and publicly humiliating form of execution ever exercised: crucifixion. Stripped, beaten, and hung up to very slowly and painfully die, this means was meant to send a warning to every would-be messiah to come. Yet the desire to overthrow Rome with some sort of violent uprising remained at fever pitch.
Imagine if this was happening all over again, and we were looking for such a figure today to lead us in some sort of military offensive to overthrow the Roman Empire. What sort of person would help make the case for their designation as the anointed messiah? What would you want? I imagine we would look for someone who may have been born into a successful, strong family that had patriotic sensibilities, and even more, military heritage. We’d want Grandpa to be a WWII hero, and Dad to have worked his way into the upper echelon of leadership throughout the Cold War, perhaps. We’d want the child-messiah to be at the top of his class, a multi-sport gifted athlete, and an incredible musician. (Well, I guess the musician part is wishful thinking for all performing artists everywhere…) We would want to see this kid grow up and become the man that would make his dad and grandpa proud: a military standout. This kind of beginning would signal to us that the one calling for our allegiance had everything he needed to lead the charge. The childhood narrative of the leader would serve as an allusion to the adult he would become and the worldview that would shape his vision for the future. I imagine that the first century Jews would be looking for something relatively similar.
Now consider Jesus’ birth narrative. His mom was of no particularly impressive social status. His dad was a carpenter – a day laborer – a loser by societal standards. They made their way to Bethlehem (on/in a donkey/Chevy S10 not a horse/Hummer) for a census, but there wasn’t any room in any inn, and nobody would take them into their own home. Think about that: a woman at 40 weeks gestation in a culture where hospitality is a core value, and nobody would welcome her inside? The option the story provides: a shitty cave (vulgarity intended!) to be shared with filthy animals – could there be a worse setting for a distinctive birth? Of course, there are other figurines in our Nativity sets: shepherds who were treated to a heavenly announcement about the child’s birth, and wise men from afar who saw a star signaling a new king had been born. Both of these character sets would serve to validate that God was somehow endorsing this humble beginning. This narrative of humility and humiliation sets the stage for what is to come.
What are we to make of this? Regardless of where you come down on the historicity of the story – that it is factually true because God wanted it to be so, or that the stories were fabricated to provide context for Jesus’ life – the truth of the story is clear: we’re not looking at a militaristic messiah when we read the Christmas Story. Far from it. As far away from it as one could get. Have you ever given this any deep reflection? If you were living back then, and you were hoping to violently overthrow the empire, how would this story inform your understanding of what Jesus was likely to become? If his origin story serves as an allusion of things to come, would you want any part of him?