Born a child and yet a king
Commentary
Object:
One morning in 1872, David Livingstone wrote this in his diary: “March 19, my birthday. My Jesus, my King, my Life, my All, I again dedicate my whole self to Thee. Accept me, and grant, O gracious Father, that ere the year is gone I may finish my work. In Jesus’ name I ask it. Amen.”
Just one year later, servants came to check on their master’s delay. They found him on his knees in prayer. He was dead.
Livingstone’s testimony is powerful on many levels. But the one that is most striking is his claim upon Jesus as “my king.” This has been a common declaration of the church throughout the ages. Even in our era, when democratic social movements topple kings and weigh in against tyrannical regimes, the largest social organization in the entire human race, the Church of Jesus Christ, holds as one of its core tenets of belief that Jesus is king.
Each of this Sunday’s lectionary readings is focused on Jesus as king. Micah foretells a royal deliverer who will rise out of David’s family to redeem the people of God. The writer of Hebrews quotes Psalm 40, in which King David remembers his deliverance from a difficult time and celebrates God’s protections provided as great King. And in the gospel lesson, Mary articulates the upside-down world in which the kingship of God changes all power balances when the Mighty One is born as her child.
Micah 5:2-5a
Israel’s prophets often appear, at first glance, to be strange creatures. A number of them harangue with incessant tirades (e.g., Amos), making us uncomfortable to spend too much time with such grumpy old men. Some are constant political gadflies (e.g., Jeremiah), always taking positions opposite of those in power. Others veer off into strange visions that are worlds removed from our everyday lives (e.g., Zechariah), chafing readers with their oddness. There are even a few who have very compromised personal lives (e.g., Hosea), leading us to suspect more than a little psychologizing in their soap opera-ish theology.
Still, there is an inherent consistency of message and focus among all of these diverse religious ruminations and rantings. First of all, the prophetic sermons are invariably rooted in the web of relationships created by the Sinai covenant. Israel belongs to Yahweh, and her lifestyle must be shaped by the stipulations of that suzerain-vassal treaty. Obedience to Yahweh triggers the blessings of the Sinai covenant, while disobedience is the first reason for Israel’s experiences of its curses: drought, war, famine, enemy occupation, destruction of cities and fields, deportation, etc. For this reason the prophetic writings are laced with moral diatribes that carry a strong emphasis on social ethics.
This is not to say that Israel was held to a different behavioral standard than would otherwise be expected among the nations of the earth. Rather, through Israel’s lifestyle there was supposed to flow a witness toward its neighbors, revealing the unique splendor of its God. By looking at the people of Yahweh, living in Canaan, other tribes and nations were to gain a sense of the true character of life when it was experienced in harmony with the forgotten Creator of all. For this reason the public actions of Israel were crucial to its covenant existence. Both Isaiah and Micah succinctly summarized it in this way:
In the last days the mountain of the Lord’s temple will be established as chief among the mountains; it will be raised above the hills, and all nations will stream to it. Many peoples will come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob. He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths.” The law will go out from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore. Come, O house of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the Lord.(Isaiah 2:2?5; nearly identical is Micah 4:1?5)
Second, the function and message of prophecy were very political. Since Yahweh alone was Israel’s sovereign, for the nation to come under the domination of other political powers was always seen as a divine scourge resulting from the application of the covenant curses due to Israel’s disobedience. How Israel handled its international relations showed plainly whether she trusted Yahweh, or if she had otherwise become enamored with power and politics rooted in lesser gods. Constantly the prophets asked whether Israel was Yahweh’s witnessing people, or if she was merely another nation with no particular mission or divine purpose. Israel’s self-understanding was thus always very religious, and at the same time invariably political.
It is in this light that the typical prophetic litany against the nations surrounding Israel must be read. These other social and political entities were assessed for public moral behavior by Yahweh alongside Israel because Yahweh was the creator of all, and continued to be Lord of the nations. All countries are chided for their own internal social sins as well as for their inappropriate aggressions toward one another, including and especially for their treatment of Israel. While they may be used by Yahweh as a temporary tool of chastisement, punishing Israel according to the covenant curses, they might never presume to hold dominance over either Israel or her God. This typical hubris of nations was regularly condemned as idolatrous by the prophets, and any society afflicted by it would receive divine retribution in its own turn.
Third, as the epochs of Israel’s political fortunes unfolded, the message of the prophets became increasingly apocalyptic. There was a growing sense that because things had not gone the way they should have, producing heartfelt and ongoing national repentance and covenant restoration, Yahweh would have to intervene directly again, in a manner similar to that which happened during the time of Moses. When Yahweh interrupts human history the next time, however, along with judgments on the wickedness of the nations of the world, Israel will also fall heavily under divine punishment. But because Yahweh is on a mission to restore the fallen world, this next major divine intervention will be paired with a focus on establishing a new world order as well, even while the old is falling away under the conflagration. In this coming messianic age, everything in both society and the natural realm will finally function in the manner the Creator had intended in the beginning. Furthermore, because Yahweh is faithful to promises made, Israel will not be forgotten, and a remnant of God’s servant-nation will be at the center of all this renewal and restoration and great joy.
This increasingly forward-looking thrust of prophecy, as is shown by Micah in today’s lectionary reading, leads some to think of it as primarily foretelling, a kind of crystal-ball gaze into the future. In reality, however, the nature of prophecy in ancient Israel is more forth-telling: declaring again the meaning of the ancient Sinai covenant, explaining the mission of Yahweh (and thus Israel also) as witness to the world, and describing the implications of the morality envisioned by the suzerain-vassal treaty stipulations. Included in this forth-telling is the anticipation of how things will look when everything is renewed. This becomes the basis for the “new covenant” of Jeremiah and Ezekiel. This forms the background to the prophecies about the “new heavens and new earth” in Isaiah. This shapes the contours of the messianic age described by Isaiah, Ezekiel, Joel, Micah, and Zechariah, and shapes our prophetic reading on this fourth Sunday of Advent.
Although more polished and less dramatic than some of his fellow prophets, the message of Micah spoke primarily of judgment, with windows of hope and expected deliverance. Micah orated his prophecies over a period of about five decades, from 740-690 BC. He began this ministry in the north, but after Israel was destroyed by the Assyrians in 722 BC he headed south and used the terrifying international political threat as a warning to Judah. God is faithful, Micah intoned, but Israel (and also Judah) has been unfaithful to the Sinai covenant. Therefore judgment is surely coming. Indeed, precisely during Micah’s prophecies it arrived in vengeful force against the northern kingdom, wiping it out of existence.
Yet Micah’s dark message was not without hope. As Philips Brooks captured so well in his lovely Christmas carol, in the dark times of Assyrian domination God was about to send a bright and saving light to glow from David’s little town:
Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light;
The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight!
Hebrews 10:5-10
For Israel through the centuries of her sometimes much-scarred existence, the promise of an eternal reign for David’s great sons was like Christmas gifts bought early in November or December and packaged prettily for display under a tree until Christmas. One even has my name on it; all in the family know that it will bring me wonder and joy and blessing, but its exact content remains a mystery until the wrappings are ripped away. So too with God’s long-planned activity of salvation. The package was clearly set before the world in the national identity of Israel; but until the specifics of the gift were revealed through the person of Jesus, it remained a “mystery.” Even the prophets were somewhat in the dark about the exact contours of the great gift that was to be revealed. But now, according to the writer of Hebrews, the wrappings are off and the proclamation of Jesus is the hope of the world.
Some gifts we receive are simply add-ons to the polite niceties of the relationship. For instance, a man might give a woman a book as a Christmas gift. He knows she likes to read, and this happens to be a best-seller she has not yet gotten into, so he gives it to her as a reflection of his thoughtfulness.
At a second level, however, other gifts might more directly tie into their relationship. He might buy a bottle of expensive perfume. When she opens the gift she is not only aware of his care, but also enters a conspiracy with him toward a deepening level for their friendship. She applies the perfume to her body, and its scent becomes part of their special language of love. When she uses the perfume she thinks uniquely of him. When he smells the perfume, he thinks solely of her. The gift is not simply an add-on in their friendship; it has become a symbol of their relationship itself.
But there is also a third level of gifting. Suppose the man and the woman are married. Along with gifts like books and perfumes they also have sexual intercourse as an expression of their love. When a baby is born it is a gift for both of them, since neither could produce it alone. Yet it is more than just an outside gift that is brought into the relationship; it is itself the relationship come to expression. The gift is not just a thoughtful gesture (level 1) or even a meaningful enhancement to the relationship (level 2); this gift is the essence of the relationship come alive in a unique and special way (level 3).
So with Jesus. In the past God spoke of the divine commitment of care to the human race (providence; level 1). God also gave unique testimony of love through the nation of Israel (revelation; level 2). Now, however, God comes to live with us, to be part of our world, and to transform our lives in ways that we had never before considered (salvation; level 3). This is the constant message of the writer of Hebrews, and the key theme of today’s lectionary reading.
Luke 1:39-45 (46-55)
Mary’s beautiful song is one of the key passages undergirding all New Testament theological testimonies that declare Jesus to be King. Why should Jesus be a king? He was born into a poor family during a time of foreign occupation of their country. He was never trained in schools of leadership, and had no desire to claim any throne. He seemed to alienate the rich and powerful, rebuffed the efforts of his disciples to start an armed rebellion, hushed the adulation of those who were the recipients of his mighty power, told the existing rulers that if he had a kingdom it was not in direct competition with theirs on their terms, and died an ignoble death meant for the worst of society’s scalawags.
Yet from the first connections people made with Jesus, he was often identified as king. Foreigners traveled hundreds of miles to Judea when he was born, telling folks along the way of their astrological readings and projections: a truly great international king had been born! Palestine’s powerful King Herod was afraid of Jesus, and felt he might be competing for the throne Herod had worked so hard to control. Jesus’ own words, while never clearly self-identifying him as a king, were constantly filled with language about the Kingdom of Heaven or the Kingdom of God, of which he seemed to know a great deal more than anyone who was not directly connected with the key governing authority. And then a Roman centurion assigned to Jesus’ execution squad made the remarkable testimony, using language otherwise reserved only for the emperor himself, that “surely this man was the Son of God.” Somehow people kept viewing Jesus as a king.
And the affirmations only continued after Jesus disappeared from the scene. He is above all principalities and powers, Paul wrote, and said that every knee in heaven and on earth would bow to him. John saw him as an all-powerful ruler (Revelation 1), and had a vision of him as conquering king (Revelation 19). Even in their prayers, members of the early church addressed Jesus as “Sovereign Lord,” a term that could hardly be less than royal acknowledgement (Acts 5).
Application
How do we measure power? Alan Redpath tells of a prominent businessman in South Africa who was duly impressed with the luxury of Rolls Royce automobiles. The businessman ordered one for himself and marveled at its speed and handling. He looked through the manual but found no test results listed indicating the horsepower of the engine. So he went to the dealer.
“I’m sorry,” the dealer told him. “The company never states the horsepower of their engines.”
But the man was not to be put off. And he was too powerful a person to be ignored. So the dealer sent a cable to Derby, England, asking the head office for an answer in the matter.
Within a short time there was a reply. It was brief and to the point, a response of only a single word. How much horsepower does the Rolls Royce engine develop? “ADEQUATE.” That’s all. That’s enough.
So it is in the birth story of Jesus. The power of God will come down and engender this powerful life. How powerful will the baby be? He will be king. With how much authority? Enough. Adequate. To rule all nations on earth. And everything within them will change.
Alternative Application
Luke 1:39-45 (46-55). Mary is a marvelous figure. Although Reformers rightly reacted against the excesses of “Mariolatry,” she deserves a lot more honor than many Protestants have accorded. So it would seem that today’s gospel reading ought to raise Mary’s name and identity as a key component in our Advent preaching. But that is not necessarily the case. Although the story is largely about Mary, the message is not. True, she is “highly favored.” But when Gabriel explains why, the focus is on Jesus, not Mary. She will conceive and bear a son, but the son’s name is already declared (mother Mary has no choice in the matter). Her son (not her) will be great. In fact, he will be identified with God, not Mary. And all the promises made to great King David in 2 Samuel 7 will come true in this person she will carry for nine months.
Even when Mary questions how such marvelous tales could become reality, she is again set in the background. “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you.” Mary will be acted upon, and almost consumed under the weight of glory that crushes her. The only thing people will remark about, as these things unfold, is that “the holy one to be born will be called the son of God.”
Why does Luke tell us the story this way? He reminds us, at the beginning (Luke 1:1-4), that there are other reflections on the life and teachings of Jesus in circulation. Mark, in his gospel, did not think it appropriate even to talk about the weakness of Jesus when he was just a baby; so his tale begins as the full-grown Jesus strides decisively through the hills and valleys of Galilee, healing and teaching and proclaiming the Kingdom of God in sanctified frenzy. Later in the century John too will follow this path, speaking of Jesus’ initial coming only in the metaphors of philosophy and liturgical symbolism. And Matthew’s approach included a few notes about Jesus’ miraculous birth, but tied them quickly to stories of other great deliverers who were born to save Israel.
Luke’s purpose is more clearly seen when the gospel as a whole is read with care. Among the many things that mark Luke’s literary passions and style is his desire to locate the story and message of Jesus within its historical context. These are the days of Caesar Augustus and Quirinius and Pontius Pilate and Claudius. And the way that Luke relates the events and actions of Jesus’ life reflects on incidents that others in the larger Greco-Roman world would appreciate quickly. Everyone knew, for example, that Cyrus the Great of the Persians, who had conquered the Babylonians and sent the Jewish exiles home, was miraculously born. His mother claimed that on the night of his conception a bolt of lightning had flamed from heaven and pierced her womb. That is why her son became powerful, a ruler of nations.
So too with the next “Great” ruler of recent history. Alexander, born to Philip of Macedon (supposedly a direct descendent of the god Heracles) and his wife Olympias, was reputed to have come along only when one of the gods visited each of them in dreams and declared the divine qualities of their future son. Not only that, but the Temple of Artemis (or Diana) in Ephesus caught fire the night Alexander was born. Rumor had it that the gods were so busy midwifing this birth that they neglected their usual care of that honored site.
Then there was the case of Caesar Augustus himself. An astrologer had foretold incredible things about him when he was born. Although his early years as Gaius Octavius Jr. did not betray great promise, by the time he was 12 he gave a funeral oration for his grandmother that stunned the crowds with its insight, passion, and brilliance. He was on his way to becoming a truly divinely appointed ruler.
While Luke would not wish to merely place Jesus among that crowd as a product of myth and superstition, he does understand that the exceptionally great leaders among the nations are prepared and equipped by God. Thus, at the start of Jesus’ life story it is important to Luke that the great divine plans be highlighted. Only in this way will the full impact of Jesus’ ministry be understood.
So we need to honor Mary. But we must be careful not to take any of the attention away from her son. Mary’s role in the birth of the messiah was truly unique. Yet it was only a portion of the long and heaven-directed planning by which God took up residence on earth for the salvation of all nations. This is Luke’s emphasis, and Mary’s song. The balances of power on earth are about to be tipped through this new king, born in the most unlikely of circumstances.
Just one year later, servants came to check on their master’s delay. They found him on his knees in prayer. He was dead.
Livingstone’s testimony is powerful on many levels. But the one that is most striking is his claim upon Jesus as “my king.” This has been a common declaration of the church throughout the ages. Even in our era, when democratic social movements topple kings and weigh in against tyrannical regimes, the largest social organization in the entire human race, the Church of Jesus Christ, holds as one of its core tenets of belief that Jesus is king.
Each of this Sunday’s lectionary readings is focused on Jesus as king. Micah foretells a royal deliverer who will rise out of David’s family to redeem the people of God. The writer of Hebrews quotes Psalm 40, in which King David remembers his deliverance from a difficult time and celebrates God’s protections provided as great King. And in the gospel lesson, Mary articulates the upside-down world in which the kingship of God changes all power balances when the Mighty One is born as her child.
Micah 5:2-5a
Israel’s prophets often appear, at first glance, to be strange creatures. A number of them harangue with incessant tirades (e.g., Amos), making us uncomfortable to spend too much time with such grumpy old men. Some are constant political gadflies (e.g., Jeremiah), always taking positions opposite of those in power. Others veer off into strange visions that are worlds removed from our everyday lives (e.g., Zechariah), chafing readers with their oddness. There are even a few who have very compromised personal lives (e.g., Hosea), leading us to suspect more than a little psychologizing in their soap opera-ish theology.
Still, there is an inherent consistency of message and focus among all of these diverse religious ruminations and rantings. First of all, the prophetic sermons are invariably rooted in the web of relationships created by the Sinai covenant. Israel belongs to Yahweh, and her lifestyle must be shaped by the stipulations of that suzerain-vassal treaty. Obedience to Yahweh triggers the blessings of the Sinai covenant, while disobedience is the first reason for Israel’s experiences of its curses: drought, war, famine, enemy occupation, destruction of cities and fields, deportation, etc. For this reason the prophetic writings are laced with moral diatribes that carry a strong emphasis on social ethics.
This is not to say that Israel was held to a different behavioral standard than would otherwise be expected among the nations of the earth. Rather, through Israel’s lifestyle there was supposed to flow a witness toward its neighbors, revealing the unique splendor of its God. By looking at the people of Yahweh, living in Canaan, other tribes and nations were to gain a sense of the true character of life when it was experienced in harmony with the forgotten Creator of all. For this reason the public actions of Israel were crucial to its covenant existence. Both Isaiah and Micah succinctly summarized it in this way:
In the last days the mountain of the Lord’s temple will be established as chief among the mountains; it will be raised above the hills, and all nations will stream to it. Many peoples will come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob. He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths.” The law will go out from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore. Come, O house of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the Lord.(Isaiah 2:2?5; nearly identical is Micah 4:1?5)
Second, the function and message of prophecy were very political. Since Yahweh alone was Israel’s sovereign, for the nation to come under the domination of other political powers was always seen as a divine scourge resulting from the application of the covenant curses due to Israel’s disobedience. How Israel handled its international relations showed plainly whether she trusted Yahweh, or if she had otherwise become enamored with power and politics rooted in lesser gods. Constantly the prophets asked whether Israel was Yahweh’s witnessing people, or if she was merely another nation with no particular mission or divine purpose. Israel’s self-understanding was thus always very religious, and at the same time invariably political.
It is in this light that the typical prophetic litany against the nations surrounding Israel must be read. These other social and political entities were assessed for public moral behavior by Yahweh alongside Israel because Yahweh was the creator of all, and continued to be Lord of the nations. All countries are chided for their own internal social sins as well as for their inappropriate aggressions toward one another, including and especially for their treatment of Israel. While they may be used by Yahweh as a temporary tool of chastisement, punishing Israel according to the covenant curses, they might never presume to hold dominance over either Israel or her God. This typical hubris of nations was regularly condemned as idolatrous by the prophets, and any society afflicted by it would receive divine retribution in its own turn.
Third, as the epochs of Israel’s political fortunes unfolded, the message of the prophets became increasingly apocalyptic. There was a growing sense that because things had not gone the way they should have, producing heartfelt and ongoing national repentance and covenant restoration, Yahweh would have to intervene directly again, in a manner similar to that which happened during the time of Moses. When Yahweh interrupts human history the next time, however, along with judgments on the wickedness of the nations of the world, Israel will also fall heavily under divine punishment. But because Yahweh is on a mission to restore the fallen world, this next major divine intervention will be paired with a focus on establishing a new world order as well, even while the old is falling away under the conflagration. In this coming messianic age, everything in both society and the natural realm will finally function in the manner the Creator had intended in the beginning. Furthermore, because Yahweh is faithful to promises made, Israel will not be forgotten, and a remnant of God’s servant-nation will be at the center of all this renewal and restoration and great joy.
This increasingly forward-looking thrust of prophecy, as is shown by Micah in today’s lectionary reading, leads some to think of it as primarily foretelling, a kind of crystal-ball gaze into the future. In reality, however, the nature of prophecy in ancient Israel is more forth-telling: declaring again the meaning of the ancient Sinai covenant, explaining the mission of Yahweh (and thus Israel also) as witness to the world, and describing the implications of the morality envisioned by the suzerain-vassal treaty stipulations. Included in this forth-telling is the anticipation of how things will look when everything is renewed. This becomes the basis for the “new covenant” of Jeremiah and Ezekiel. This forms the background to the prophecies about the “new heavens and new earth” in Isaiah. This shapes the contours of the messianic age described by Isaiah, Ezekiel, Joel, Micah, and Zechariah, and shapes our prophetic reading on this fourth Sunday of Advent.
Although more polished and less dramatic than some of his fellow prophets, the message of Micah spoke primarily of judgment, with windows of hope and expected deliverance. Micah orated his prophecies over a period of about five decades, from 740-690 BC. He began this ministry in the north, but after Israel was destroyed by the Assyrians in 722 BC he headed south and used the terrifying international political threat as a warning to Judah. God is faithful, Micah intoned, but Israel (and also Judah) has been unfaithful to the Sinai covenant. Therefore judgment is surely coming. Indeed, precisely during Micah’s prophecies it arrived in vengeful force against the northern kingdom, wiping it out of existence.
Yet Micah’s dark message was not without hope. As Philips Brooks captured so well in his lovely Christmas carol, in the dark times of Assyrian domination God was about to send a bright and saving light to glow from David’s little town:
Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light;
The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight!
Hebrews 10:5-10
For Israel through the centuries of her sometimes much-scarred existence, the promise of an eternal reign for David’s great sons was like Christmas gifts bought early in November or December and packaged prettily for display under a tree until Christmas. One even has my name on it; all in the family know that it will bring me wonder and joy and blessing, but its exact content remains a mystery until the wrappings are ripped away. So too with God’s long-planned activity of salvation. The package was clearly set before the world in the national identity of Israel; but until the specifics of the gift were revealed through the person of Jesus, it remained a “mystery.” Even the prophets were somewhat in the dark about the exact contours of the great gift that was to be revealed. But now, according to the writer of Hebrews, the wrappings are off and the proclamation of Jesus is the hope of the world.
Some gifts we receive are simply add-ons to the polite niceties of the relationship. For instance, a man might give a woman a book as a Christmas gift. He knows she likes to read, and this happens to be a best-seller she has not yet gotten into, so he gives it to her as a reflection of his thoughtfulness.
At a second level, however, other gifts might more directly tie into their relationship. He might buy a bottle of expensive perfume. When she opens the gift she is not only aware of his care, but also enters a conspiracy with him toward a deepening level for their friendship. She applies the perfume to her body, and its scent becomes part of their special language of love. When she uses the perfume she thinks uniquely of him. When he smells the perfume, he thinks solely of her. The gift is not simply an add-on in their friendship; it has become a symbol of their relationship itself.
But there is also a third level of gifting. Suppose the man and the woman are married. Along with gifts like books and perfumes they also have sexual intercourse as an expression of their love. When a baby is born it is a gift for both of them, since neither could produce it alone. Yet it is more than just an outside gift that is brought into the relationship; it is itself the relationship come to expression. The gift is not just a thoughtful gesture (level 1) or even a meaningful enhancement to the relationship (level 2); this gift is the essence of the relationship come alive in a unique and special way (level 3).
So with Jesus. In the past God spoke of the divine commitment of care to the human race (providence; level 1). God also gave unique testimony of love through the nation of Israel (revelation; level 2). Now, however, God comes to live with us, to be part of our world, and to transform our lives in ways that we had never before considered (salvation; level 3). This is the constant message of the writer of Hebrews, and the key theme of today’s lectionary reading.
Luke 1:39-45 (46-55)
Mary’s beautiful song is one of the key passages undergirding all New Testament theological testimonies that declare Jesus to be King. Why should Jesus be a king? He was born into a poor family during a time of foreign occupation of their country. He was never trained in schools of leadership, and had no desire to claim any throne. He seemed to alienate the rich and powerful, rebuffed the efforts of his disciples to start an armed rebellion, hushed the adulation of those who were the recipients of his mighty power, told the existing rulers that if he had a kingdom it was not in direct competition with theirs on their terms, and died an ignoble death meant for the worst of society’s scalawags.
Yet from the first connections people made with Jesus, he was often identified as king. Foreigners traveled hundreds of miles to Judea when he was born, telling folks along the way of their astrological readings and projections: a truly great international king had been born! Palestine’s powerful King Herod was afraid of Jesus, and felt he might be competing for the throne Herod had worked so hard to control. Jesus’ own words, while never clearly self-identifying him as a king, were constantly filled with language about the Kingdom of Heaven or the Kingdom of God, of which he seemed to know a great deal more than anyone who was not directly connected with the key governing authority. And then a Roman centurion assigned to Jesus’ execution squad made the remarkable testimony, using language otherwise reserved only for the emperor himself, that “surely this man was the Son of God.” Somehow people kept viewing Jesus as a king.
And the affirmations only continued after Jesus disappeared from the scene. He is above all principalities and powers, Paul wrote, and said that every knee in heaven and on earth would bow to him. John saw him as an all-powerful ruler (Revelation 1), and had a vision of him as conquering king (Revelation 19). Even in their prayers, members of the early church addressed Jesus as “Sovereign Lord,” a term that could hardly be less than royal acknowledgement (Acts 5).
Application
How do we measure power? Alan Redpath tells of a prominent businessman in South Africa who was duly impressed with the luxury of Rolls Royce automobiles. The businessman ordered one for himself and marveled at its speed and handling. He looked through the manual but found no test results listed indicating the horsepower of the engine. So he went to the dealer.
“I’m sorry,” the dealer told him. “The company never states the horsepower of their engines.”
But the man was not to be put off. And he was too powerful a person to be ignored. So the dealer sent a cable to Derby, England, asking the head office for an answer in the matter.
Within a short time there was a reply. It was brief and to the point, a response of only a single word. How much horsepower does the Rolls Royce engine develop? “ADEQUATE.” That’s all. That’s enough.
So it is in the birth story of Jesus. The power of God will come down and engender this powerful life. How powerful will the baby be? He will be king. With how much authority? Enough. Adequate. To rule all nations on earth. And everything within them will change.
Alternative Application
Luke 1:39-45 (46-55). Mary is a marvelous figure. Although Reformers rightly reacted against the excesses of “Mariolatry,” she deserves a lot more honor than many Protestants have accorded. So it would seem that today’s gospel reading ought to raise Mary’s name and identity as a key component in our Advent preaching. But that is not necessarily the case. Although the story is largely about Mary, the message is not. True, she is “highly favored.” But when Gabriel explains why, the focus is on Jesus, not Mary. She will conceive and bear a son, but the son’s name is already declared (mother Mary has no choice in the matter). Her son (not her) will be great. In fact, he will be identified with God, not Mary. And all the promises made to great King David in 2 Samuel 7 will come true in this person she will carry for nine months.
Even when Mary questions how such marvelous tales could become reality, she is again set in the background. “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you.” Mary will be acted upon, and almost consumed under the weight of glory that crushes her. The only thing people will remark about, as these things unfold, is that “the holy one to be born will be called the son of God.”
Why does Luke tell us the story this way? He reminds us, at the beginning (Luke 1:1-4), that there are other reflections on the life and teachings of Jesus in circulation. Mark, in his gospel, did not think it appropriate even to talk about the weakness of Jesus when he was just a baby; so his tale begins as the full-grown Jesus strides decisively through the hills and valleys of Galilee, healing and teaching and proclaiming the Kingdom of God in sanctified frenzy. Later in the century John too will follow this path, speaking of Jesus’ initial coming only in the metaphors of philosophy and liturgical symbolism. And Matthew’s approach included a few notes about Jesus’ miraculous birth, but tied them quickly to stories of other great deliverers who were born to save Israel.
Luke’s purpose is more clearly seen when the gospel as a whole is read with care. Among the many things that mark Luke’s literary passions and style is his desire to locate the story and message of Jesus within its historical context. These are the days of Caesar Augustus and Quirinius and Pontius Pilate and Claudius. And the way that Luke relates the events and actions of Jesus’ life reflects on incidents that others in the larger Greco-Roman world would appreciate quickly. Everyone knew, for example, that Cyrus the Great of the Persians, who had conquered the Babylonians and sent the Jewish exiles home, was miraculously born. His mother claimed that on the night of his conception a bolt of lightning had flamed from heaven and pierced her womb. That is why her son became powerful, a ruler of nations.
So too with the next “Great” ruler of recent history. Alexander, born to Philip of Macedon (supposedly a direct descendent of the god Heracles) and his wife Olympias, was reputed to have come along only when one of the gods visited each of them in dreams and declared the divine qualities of their future son. Not only that, but the Temple of Artemis (or Diana) in Ephesus caught fire the night Alexander was born. Rumor had it that the gods were so busy midwifing this birth that they neglected their usual care of that honored site.
Then there was the case of Caesar Augustus himself. An astrologer had foretold incredible things about him when he was born. Although his early years as Gaius Octavius Jr. did not betray great promise, by the time he was 12 he gave a funeral oration for his grandmother that stunned the crowds with its insight, passion, and brilliance. He was on his way to becoming a truly divinely appointed ruler.
While Luke would not wish to merely place Jesus among that crowd as a product of myth and superstition, he does understand that the exceptionally great leaders among the nations are prepared and equipped by God. Thus, at the start of Jesus’ life story it is important to Luke that the great divine plans be highlighted. Only in this way will the full impact of Jesus’ ministry be understood.
So we need to honor Mary. But we must be careful not to take any of the attention away from her son. Mary’s role in the birth of the messiah was truly unique. Yet it was only a portion of the long and heaven-directed planning by which God took up residence on earth for the salvation of all nations. This is Luke’s emphasis, and Mary’s song. The balances of power on earth are about to be tipped through this new king, born in the most unlikely of circumstances.
