The right gift
Commentary
Object:
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).
Each of today’s lectionary readings reflects on what it was that God was giving as Messiah came into our world. However Jesus’ coming was understood in anticipation or retrospect, he is always the right gift!
Isaiah 7:10-16
While the Hebrew prophets address many social issues, they cannot be understood if isolated from the political turmoil of their times. The prophets are social and political critics, constantly analyzing the actions of their own people along with the affairs of the nations surrounding Israel, and making judgments about leaders and policies.
Isaiah stands at the head of the collection of Old Testament prophets, for good reason. While he is not the earliest among them (Samuel was already considered a prophet three centuries before, and many of the first prophets noted in the Bible -- e.g., Nathan, Ahijah -- were evidently not “writing prophets”; they have bequeathed to us no documents to peruse), Isaiah is chief over them. He gave the prophetic message lyrical power, and addressed every theme that others would pursue only in part. Isaiah is the grand master of covenant prophecy.
According to the list of kings that Isaiah identifies, during whose reigns he received and declared messages from Yahweh, this prophet’s work spanned about 50 years (740-690 BC). For all of that time, Assyria was the constant superpower threat in his contemporary world. “Israel” (the northern portion of David and Solomon’s kingdom) had been split off from “Judah” for nearly 300 years (since 922 BC). Because of the tenacious advance of the Assyrian war machine, Israel was desperately seeking ways in which to form alliances that might hold it back for a time. Syria and Israel became partners throughout most of the eighth century, often as much by the sheer dominance of Syria’s military might coercing Israel into defensive pacts as by the choice of the Samaria-based government. This temperamental twosome made many overtures, both friendly and threatening, toward Judah, seeking to draw the smaller kingdom into their anti-Assyria alliances either by compliance or force. Throughout a succession of kings, Judah tried to retain its own identity in several ways:
* Uzziah chose to come under the protectorate of Israel, and thus allowed Judah to become a vassal province of the Israel-Syria alliance.
* Ahaz made an end run around his northern neighbors and appealed directly to Tiglath-pileser of Assyria for protection against Israel and Syria, hoping that in their destruction Judah would regain some of the old territory as its administrative district.
* Hezekiah first formed a tentative alliance with ambassadors from Babylon, as that eastern province of Assyria was beginning to stir in rebellion. Later he joined Egypt in a stop-payment of tribute to Assyria, which roused their ire against him until he was forced into reasserting submissive ties to Nineveh. Later, after a miraculous escape from what seemed an imminent crushing defeat by Assyrian forces, Hezekiah renewed his subversive contacts with Babylon.
All of these international political policies (and several more beside) were possible choices for tiny Judah. The prophets probed them all, assessing each according to the evaluation of Yahweh, and then asserting what they believed was the only political option true to the theology of the ancient Sinai covenant. In summary, these were the options:
* Join Egypt, the only nearby strong nation, in opposing Assyria.
* Join the Israel-Syria confederation in opposing Assyria.
* Declare allegiance to Assyria, and become a vassal province of that empire, in hopes of reaping enlarged borders when the fighting was finished and northern neighbors Israel and Syria were destroyed.
* Ally with Babylon, the restless eastern province of Assyria, in hopes of an overthrow of Assyria, which would net independence in their remote mountainous locale.
* Stay neutral from all international alliances, relying solely on Yahweh for protection and deliverance.
Only this final piece of political and religious advice was put forward consistently by Isaiah and the other prophets. This was the single viable path open to those who truly believed that Yahweh was sovereign over all nations, and that Israel’s (Judah’s) mandate was to continue as a witness to the surrounding nations rather than becoming a subservient vassal to their gods and cultures. This is the context behind today’s lectionary reading. Isaiah confronts King Ahaz as he is deliberating what move to make in these international machinations. Declining with fake modesty when Isaiah offers a sign of King Yahweh’s good intentions and powerful protections, God declares a sign nevertheless, one which will become not only the hope of Israel, but of all nations as well.
Who was Isaiah? His name meant “Salvation is of Yahweh,” and this truly typified his words and prophecies. He was married (Isaiah 8:3) and had at least two children (Isaiah 7:3, 8:3), who were themselves illustrations of Isaiah’s prophetic declarations. The commissioning scene of Isaiah 6, with its Temple location, along with all of the liturgical language surrounding Isaiah’s call suggests that Isaiah might have been a priest, or at least a member of a Levite family. At the same time, his easy and constant access to successive kings (cf. Isaiah 7:3, 38:1, 39:1) might imply that he was an employee of the royal court, although his statement in 37:6 (“Say to your master...”) could be interpreted as setting him outside of the political system, at least at some point. Nevertheless, with the narratives of chapters 36-39 incorporated directly into the book, Isaiah obviously was at minimum a court recorder or scribe or historian of some kind (see also 2 Chronicles 26:22). Most likely he was the chief historian in the royal house, and possibly even a member of the extended royal family. In his duties he appears to have functioned as the official scribe or court recorder. Using that platform as a pulpit, he expressed magnificently worded prophetic analyses and judgments about the religious and political actions of the kings.
Isaiah was overwhelmed by a divine commissioning (chapter 6) that took place in the Temple during the year that King Uzziah died. He was guided by the theology of the Sinai covenant (chapters 2-5), which mandated that Israel was supposed to have a unique lifestyle among the nations, a set of behaviors which would serve as a missional call for others to join this holy community in a global return to the ways of their Creator. He was confident that Yahweh could resolve all political problems (chapters 7-11), no matter how daunting they might seem. He believed Israel/Judah needed to repent (chapter 12), and recover their original identity and purpose as Yahweh’s covenant partners and witnesses. He was certain that Yahweh was sovereign over all nations (chapters 13-35), even if Yahweh’s primary focus was attached to Israel/Judah. He heard the heartbeat of divine love and compassion, wrestling for the soul and destiny of Israel/Judah as a loved companion and partner (chapters 36-41). He saw Yahweh transforming Israel’s/Judah’s identity and fortunes through a “Suffering Servant” leader (chapters 42-53). He envisioned a future age in which all the world and every society and even the universe itself would be restored to harmony with its Creator, and would resonate with magnificent glory (chapters 56-66).
Among the prophets of ancient Israel Isaiah was truly a prince, and his writings shaped the language of theological reflection among his peers and on into the age of the New Testament church.
Romans 1:1-7
Somewhere around late 53 AD the social and economic impact of the Christian gospel began to be felt acutely in Ephesus. Among the many cultural and civic resources of that city was its shrine to Artemis (known among the Romans as Diana). This temple was considered to be one of the seven wonders of the world. In fact, a great portion of the economy of Ephesus was derived from the cultic activities surrounding the temple, along with the religious tourist trade it brought to the city. As Christian adherents multiplied in Ephesus, and numbers of participants in the religious and social services related to the temple decreased, the local business world felt deeply challenged.
In response, “a silversmith named Demetrius” called together other craftsmen and incited a public riot that brought the city to a standstill (Acts 19:23-41). Local government officials eventually defused the situation, but Paul believed the time had come for him to move on. He traveled around the Aegean Sea, collecting the offerings that had been set aside in the churches for the large benevolence gift he was planning to bring to Jerusalem. Paul arrived in Corinth either late in 53 or early in 54, and stayed three months with his friend Gaius (Acts 19:1-3; Romans 16:23). When he found that another acquaintance (and a leader in the Christian congregation located in Cenchrea, one of Corinth’s seaport suburbs) named Phoebe was making a trip to Rome (Romans 16:1), Paul quickly penned what has become the most orderly summary of early Christian theology.
Because Paul had not yet made a visit to Rome, this letter was less personal and more rationally organized than was often otherwise true. Paul intended this missive to be a working document; the congregation, already established in the capital city of the empire, would be able to read and discuss it together in anticipation of Paul’s arrival, which was planned for some months ahead (Romans 1:6-15). Paul summarized his working theme and emphasis up front: a new expression of the “righteousness of God” had been recently revealed, with great power, through the coming of Jesus Christ (Romans 1:17).
Theme: “The Righteousness of God”
Paul moves directly from his brief declaration about the righteousness of God into an extended discourse on the wrath of God as revealed against wickedness (Romans 1:18). Because of this, many have interpreted Paul’s understanding of God’s righteousness as an unattainable standard against which the whole human race is measured and fails miserably. Only then, in the context of this desperate human situation, would the grand salvation of Christ be appreciated and enjoyed.
But more scholars believe that Paul’s assertions about the righteousness of God actually have a positive and missional thrust. In their understanding of what Paul says, it is precisely because of the obvious corruption and sinfulness in our world, which are demeaning and destroying humanity, that God needed again, as God did through Israel, to assert the divine will. In so doing, the focus of God’s righteousness is not to heap judgment upon humankind; instead God’s brilliant display of grace and power in Jesus ought to draw people back to the creational goodness God had originally intended for them. In other words, the Creator has never changed purpose or plan. The divine mission through Israel was to display the righteousness of God so that all nations might return to the goodness of Yahweh. Now again, in Jesus, the righteousness of God is revealed as a beacon of hope in a world ravaged by evil bullies. The power of God is our only sure bodyguard against the killing effects of sin and society and self.
Matthew 1:18-25
While built upon Mark’s earlier gospel manuscript, Matthew’s expansion includes the birth narratives of chapters 1-2, extensive inserts of Jesus’ teaching material (“the Sermon on the Mount” in chapters 5-7, missionary teachings in chapter 10, kingdom parables in chapter 13, instructions about the church community in chapter 18, and the eschatological discourses of chapters 24-25), and a more fully developed conclusion (chapter 28). Our first glimpse of Jesus through this gospel’s lens clearly connects Jesus with the Jewish community (Matthew 1:1-17). Jesus is identified as a son of David and a son of Abraham. The link with Abraham ties Jesus to the unique covenantal community of Old Testament Israel, and all of the religious and missional implications that it carries. The filial relationship with David identifies Jesus as royal stock, and forms the basis for the many references in the gospel to consider Jesus as the true king of Israel or the Jews, based upon the eternal promise of Yahweh in 2 Samuel 7. Both of these themes are more fully developed throughout the gospel as a whole.
Although it might seem strange to begin the story of Jesus in a cemetery, reviewing genealogical tables (Matthew 1:1-17), Matthew turns this unusual prologue into a fine homiletic art. Since there are no numerals in the Hebrew language, letters stood in for numbers when communicating quantities. The arithmetical values attributed to the characters found in David’s name, when added together, equaled 14. Matthew uses 14 as a reference when defining the movement of salvation history. He counts out 14 generations from Abraham to David, 14 more from David to the exile, and another 14 from the exile to Jesus’ birth. In so doing, even though he has to elide some generations together, Matthew declares that the very flow of Israel’s existence gives evidence that God was about to do something extraordinary and of great redemptive significance. In other words, Jesus’ coming as Messiah was heralded by the very insistence of time itself. Furthermore, whatever God was doing on this anticipated occasion required double-dipping into the resources of heaven, for “Jesus” is actually the 13th name of the third set of 14 generations, with the additional name “the Christ” completing the count for this category. Putting it all together, according to Matthew, history itself tells us that God is going to act in powerful ways once again, and the double nature of Jesus-as-the-Christ explains the uniquely potent dimension of this next great revelation. In symbolic communication, Matthew insists that we know Jesus to be both human (“Jesus”) and divine (“the Christ”).
Next, in our gospel reading for today Matthew gets into the birth narrative itself. Immediately he brings a further insight, declaring that Jesus, like Isaac, Samson, and Samuel, is a divinely sent deliverer (Matthew 1:18-25). Each of these great figures in Israel’s history was miraculously born to mothers who were barren, and all of them provided new hope for their families and also the whole of the people of Yahweh. As with those earlier stories, here an angelic messenger explains the matter to one of the soon-to-be parents (Joseph), and provides a name for the child. Even more significant, in this case, Jesus will be recognized as both a local and a global ruler from birth. “He will save his people,” says the angel. But then, almost immediately, foreign dignitaries (the magi of Matthew 2:1-12) follow an internationally available heavenly sign, seeking a king who is of the Jews, but who also serves as a beacon to the nations.
Matthew then does a quick-step through a variety of incidents in Jesus’ early life to reveal even more about the essential character of this unique lad. Jesus, Matthew makes clear, is actually destined to replay or relive the life of Israel in a host of dimensions:
* Jesus copies Israel’s miraculous existence and purpose, born through divine intervention as savior of nations (1:18-25).
* He is spared from the murderous intents of a scheming king (2:3-8) who goes on to slaughter the innocents (2:16-18), just as Moses was delivered in Exodus 2 while many Israelite boys were slaughtered.
* Like the nation as a whole, Jesus is gathered out of Egypt (2:15).
* From his earliest days, he is dedicated to a divine mission (so the play on the words “Nazirite” and “Nazarene” in 2:23).
* His ministry is set in motion by passing through waters (ch. 3), right at the same spot where Israel crossed the Jordan River in order to begin its witness to the nations from the Promised Land.
* Jesus also wanders in the wilderness for 40 days (4:1-11) before he can fully assume his adult responsibilities, mirroring Israel’s traumatic 40 years described in the book of Numbers.
As Matthew brings these quick comparisons to a close, he relates that Jesus goes up on a mountain (Matthew 5:1), and from that vantage point restates and reinterprets the Law or Covenant as it was previously mediated through Moses (note the content of Matthew 5-7, particularly as most major points of the original Sinai covenant are reiterated and renewed and reinterpreted). What has come to be known as the “Sermon on the Mount” is deliberately cast by Matthew in a manner which identifies Jesus as the new Moses for a new age.
Application
Jesus comes to us as God’s gift, yet he arrives in a very small and seemingly inconsequential package. So how do we measure his worth and power? Alan Redpath tells of a prominent businessman in South Africa who was duly impressed with the luxury of Rolls-Royce automobiles. He 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
Matthew 1:18-25. 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.
But 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).
How did such nomenclature, which we today take for granted, come about? The key is in the promise made by God through Nathan to David in 2 Samuel 7. David was an unlikely king himself, set on a track to power during Israel’s trial run at monarchy under the roller-coaster leadership of King Saul. Although he tried not to compete with the one he knew had also been selected for high office by Yahweh, David increasingly found himself on a trajectory that put him on Israel’s throne. Yet he wanted, even there, to affirm that this nation’s truest political structure was a theocracy. The God of the Exodus and the Sinai Covenant was Israel’s primary ruler.
For this reason David brought the Ark of the Covenant, Yahweh’s portable throne on earth, to Jerusalem, the new capital city of the nation (2 Samuel 6). Moreover, he wished for the building that would house the Ark to be a splendid palace, worthy of the nation’s Great King. To this task he set his purposes and resources, affirmed at first by his advisor, the prophet Nathan (verse 3).
Yet that night Nathan received a new word from the Lord. Although David’s desires were laudable, he was too much a man of battle to build a palace of peace. David should gather the resources and make the plans, and then pass along to his son the mandate of Temple building.
But the prophetic word went further. Because David had tried to do the right thing, God wanted to honor him in a unique way. Although David was not permitted to build a house for God at this time, God would build a house for David. God made a pledge, a promise, a non-conditioned royal grant covenant to David. For all the years to come (as Randy Travis would sing: “Forever and ever. Amen!”), into perpetuity, David would have a descendent on the throne of the nation that was called God’s chosen people.
This was an amazing commitment, and it came back in big ways as Israel’s history unfolded. Even when Solomon’s stupid son Rehoboam should have lost the throne entirely, a remnant of the nation stuck with him as king. Their faithfulness to God’s commitments proved accurate, for later the large portion of the nation that split off under Rehoboam’s rival Jeroboam was destroyed by the Assyrian empire in 722 BC. Through the shenanigans of Queen Athaliah and King Ahaz, or the turncoat despotism of King Manasseh, or the selfish panderings of Kings Jehoiakin and Zedekiah, Yahweh remained faithful to the divine promise, and the nation survived international threats that beat down many more powerful neighboring kingdoms. In fact, Judah was never really destroyed. While the Assyrians obliterated the Northern Kingdom, and Judah was made subject to Babylon for a while, a good portion of the nation survived intact as exiles. Eventually they returned to their patrimony, and began hoping anew for the return of the Davidic monarchy and national restoration.
That’s when good ancestral records became vitally important. Every family connected to the royal line would remember this promise of Yahweh and hope and pray that from their household the next great ruler would arise. So it was that to an otherwise unimportant couple in Nazareth, about a thousand years after Yahweh made this pledge to David, a miraculous birth happened for two people who were both members of the royal family. On the basis of 2 Samuel 7, Jesus was born a king. While there was much that needed proof and confirmation about his character and his potential, once these things were seen by those around Jesus the pieces quickly fell into place. That is why, when Jesus entered Jerusalem a week before his crucifixion, the crowds could shout with certainty and conviction “Hosanna to the Son of David!” King Jesus had arrived.
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 the wrappings are off, and the proclamation of Jesus is the hope of the world.
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).
Each of today’s lectionary readings reflects on what it was that God was giving as Messiah came into our world. However Jesus’ coming was understood in anticipation or retrospect, he is always the right gift!
Isaiah 7:10-16
While the Hebrew prophets address many social issues, they cannot be understood if isolated from the political turmoil of their times. The prophets are social and political critics, constantly analyzing the actions of their own people along with the affairs of the nations surrounding Israel, and making judgments about leaders and policies.
Isaiah stands at the head of the collection of Old Testament prophets, for good reason. While he is not the earliest among them (Samuel was already considered a prophet three centuries before, and many of the first prophets noted in the Bible -- e.g., Nathan, Ahijah -- were evidently not “writing prophets”; they have bequeathed to us no documents to peruse), Isaiah is chief over them. He gave the prophetic message lyrical power, and addressed every theme that others would pursue only in part. Isaiah is the grand master of covenant prophecy.
According to the list of kings that Isaiah identifies, during whose reigns he received and declared messages from Yahweh, this prophet’s work spanned about 50 years (740-690 BC). For all of that time, Assyria was the constant superpower threat in his contemporary world. “Israel” (the northern portion of David and Solomon’s kingdom) had been split off from “Judah” for nearly 300 years (since 922 BC). Because of the tenacious advance of the Assyrian war machine, Israel was desperately seeking ways in which to form alliances that might hold it back for a time. Syria and Israel became partners throughout most of the eighth century, often as much by the sheer dominance of Syria’s military might coercing Israel into defensive pacts as by the choice of the Samaria-based government. This temperamental twosome made many overtures, both friendly and threatening, toward Judah, seeking to draw the smaller kingdom into their anti-Assyria alliances either by compliance or force. Throughout a succession of kings, Judah tried to retain its own identity in several ways:
* Uzziah chose to come under the protectorate of Israel, and thus allowed Judah to become a vassal province of the Israel-Syria alliance.
* Ahaz made an end run around his northern neighbors and appealed directly to Tiglath-pileser of Assyria for protection against Israel and Syria, hoping that in their destruction Judah would regain some of the old territory as its administrative district.
* Hezekiah first formed a tentative alliance with ambassadors from Babylon, as that eastern province of Assyria was beginning to stir in rebellion. Later he joined Egypt in a stop-payment of tribute to Assyria, which roused their ire against him until he was forced into reasserting submissive ties to Nineveh. Later, after a miraculous escape from what seemed an imminent crushing defeat by Assyrian forces, Hezekiah renewed his subversive contacts with Babylon.
All of these international political policies (and several more beside) were possible choices for tiny Judah. The prophets probed them all, assessing each according to the evaluation of Yahweh, and then asserting what they believed was the only political option true to the theology of the ancient Sinai covenant. In summary, these were the options:
* Join Egypt, the only nearby strong nation, in opposing Assyria.
* Join the Israel-Syria confederation in opposing Assyria.
* Declare allegiance to Assyria, and become a vassal province of that empire, in hopes of reaping enlarged borders when the fighting was finished and northern neighbors Israel and Syria were destroyed.
* Ally with Babylon, the restless eastern province of Assyria, in hopes of an overthrow of Assyria, which would net independence in their remote mountainous locale.
* Stay neutral from all international alliances, relying solely on Yahweh for protection and deliverance.
Only this final piece of political and religious advice was put forward consistently by Isaiah and the other prophets. This was the single viable path open to those who truly believed that Yahweh was sovereign over all nations, and that Israel’s (Judah’s) mandate was to continue as a witness to the surrounding nations rather than becoming a subservient vassal to their gods and cultures. This is the context behind today’s lectionary reading. Isaiah confronts King Ahaz as he is deliberating what move to make in these international machinations. Declining with fake modesty when Isaiah offers a sign of King Yahweh’s good intentions and powerful protections, God declares a sign nevertheless, one which will become not only the hope of Israel, but of all nations as well.
Who was Isaiah? His name meant “Salvation is of Yahweh,” and this truly typified his words and prophecies. He was married (Isaiah 8:3) and had at least two children (Isaiah 7:3, 8:3), who were themselves illustrations of Isaiah’s prophetic declarations. The commissioning scene of Isaiah 6, with its Temple location, along with all of the liturgical language surrounding Isaiah’s call suggests that Isaiah might have been a priest, or at least a member of a Levite family. At the same time, his easy and constant access to successive kings (cf. Isaiah 7:3, 38:1, 39:1) might imply that he was an employee of the royal court, although his statement in 37:6 (“Say to your master...”) could be interpreted as setting him outside of the political system, at least at some point. Nevertheless, with the narratives of chapters 36-39 incorporated directly into the book, Isaiah obviously was at minimum a court recorder or scribe or historian of some kind (see also 2 Chronicles 26:22). Most likely he was the chief historian in the royal house, and possibly even a member of the extended royal family. In his duties he appears to have functioned as the official scribe or court recorder. Using that platform as a pulpit, he expressed magnificently worded prophetic analyses and judgments about the religious and political actions of the kings.
Isaiah was overwhelmed by a divine commissioning (chapter 6) that took place in the Temple during the year that King Uzziah died. He was guided by the theology of the Sinai covenant (chapters 2-5), which mandated that Israel was supposed to have a unique lifestyle among the nations, a set of behaviors which would serve as a missional call for others to join this holy community in a global return to the ways of their Creator. He was confident that Yahweh could resolve all political problems (chapters 7-11), no matter how daunting they might seem. He believed Israel/Judah needed to repent (chapter 12), and recover their original identity and purpose as Yahweh’s covenant partners and witnesses. He was certain that Yahweh was sovereign over all nations (chapters 13-35), even if Yahweh’s primary focus was attached to Israel/Judah. He heard the heartbeat of divine love and compassion, wrestling for the soul and destiny of Israel/Judah as a loved companion and partner (chapters 36-41). He saw Yahweh transforming Israel’s/Judah’s identity and fortunes through a “Suffering Servant” leader (chapters 42-53). He envisioned a future age in which all the world and every society and even the universe itself would be restored to harmony with its Creator, and would resonate with magnificent glory (chapters 56-66).
Among the prophets of ancient Israel Isaiah was truly a prince, and his writings shaped the language of theological reflection among his peers and on into the age of the New Testament church.
Romans 1:1-7
Somewhere around late 53 AD the social and economic impact of the Christian gospel began to be felt acutely in Ephesus. Among the many cultural and civic resources of that city was its shrine to Artemis (known among the Romans as Diana). This temple was considered to be one of the seven wonders of the world. In fact, a great portion of the economy of Ephesus was derived from the cultic activities surrounding the temple, along with the religious tourist trade it brought to the city. As Christian adherents multiplied in Ephesus, and numbers of participants in the religious and social services related to the temple decreased, the local business world felt deeply challenged.
In response, “a silversmith named Demetrius” called together other craftsmen and incited a public riot that brought the city to a standstill (Acts 19:23-41). Local government officials eventually defused the situation, but Paul believed the time had come for him to move on. He traveled around the Aegean Sea, collecting the offerings that had been set aside in the churches for the large benevolence gift he was planning to bring to Jerusalem. Paul arrived in Corinth either late in 53 or early in 54, and stayed three months with his friend Gaius (Acts 19:1-3; Romans 16:23). When he found that another acquaintance (and a leader in the Christian congregation located in Cenchrea, one of Corinth’s seaport suburbs) named Phoebe was making a trip to Rome (Romans 16:1), Paul quickly penned what has become the most orderly summary of early Christian theology.
Because Paul had not yet made a visit to Rome, this letter was less personal and more rationally organized than was often otherwise true. Paul intended this missive to be a working document; the congregation, already established in the capital city of the empire, would be able to read and discuss it together in anticipation of Paul’s arrival, which was planned for some months ahead (Romans 1:6-15). Paul summarized his working theme and emphasis up front: a new expression of the “righteousness of God” had been recently revealed, with great power, through the coming of Jesus Christ (Romans 1:17).
Theme: “The Righteousness of God”
Paul moves directly from his brief declaration about the righteousness of God into an extended discourse on the wrath of God as revealed against wickedness (Romans 1:18). Because of this, many have interpreted Paul’s understanding of God’s righteousness as an unattainable standard against which the whole human race is measured and fails miserably. Only then, in the context of this desperate human situation, would the grand salvation of Christ be appreciated and enjoyed.
But more scholars believe that Paul’s assertions about the righteousness of God actually have a positive and missional thrust. In their understanding of what Paul says, it is precisely because of the obvious corruption and sinfulness in our world, which are demeaning and destroying humanity, that God needed again, as God did through Israel, to assert the divine will. In so doing, the focus of God’s righteousness is not to heap judgment upon humankind; instead God’s brilliant display of grace and power in Jesus ought to draw people back to the creational goodness God had originally intended for them. In other words, the Creator has never changed purpose or plan. The divine mission through Israel was to display the righteousness of God so that all nations might return to the goodness of Yahweh. Now again, in Jesus, the righteousness of God is revealed as a beacon of hope in a world ravaged by evil bullies. The power of God is our only sure bodyguard against the killing effects of sin and society and self.
Matthew 1:18-25
While built upon Mark’s earlier gospel manuscript, Matthew’s expansion includes the birth narratives of chapters 1-2, extensive inserts of Jesus’ teaching material (“the Sermon on the Mount” in chapters 5-7, missionary teachings in chapter 10, kingdom parables in chapter 13, instructions about the church community in chapter 18, and the eschatological discourses of chapters 24-25), and a more fully developed conclusion (chapter 28). Our first glimpse of Jesus through this gospel’s lens clearly connects Jesus with the Jewish community (Matthew 1:1-17). Jesus is identified as a son of David and a son of Abraham. The link with Abraham ties Jesus to the unique covenantal community of Old Testament Israel, and all of the religious and missional implications that it carries. The filial relationship with David identifies Jesus as royal stock, and forms the basis for the many references in the gospel to consider Jesus as the true king of Israel or the Jews, based upon the eternal promise of Yahweh in 2 Samuel 7. Both of these themes are more fully developed throughout the gospel as a whole.
Although it might seem strange to begin the story of Jesus in a cemetery, reviewing genealogical tables (Matthew 1:1-17), Matthew turns this unusual prologue into a fine homiletic art. Since there are no numerals in the Hebrew language, letters stood in for numbers when communicating quantities. The arithmetical values attributed to the characters found in David’s name, when added together, equaled 14. Matthew uses 14 as a reference when defining the movement of salvation history. He counts out 14 generations from Abraham to David, 14 more from David to the exile, and another 14 from the exile to Jesus’ birth. In so doing, even though he has to elide some generations together, Matthew declares that the very flow of Israel’s existence gives evidence that God was about to do something extraordinary and of great redemptive significance. In other words, Jesus’ coming as Messiah was heralded by the very insistence of time itself. Furthermore, whatever God was doing on this anticipated occasion required double-dipping into the resources of heaven, for “Jesus” is actually the 13th name of the third set of 14 generations, with the additional name “the Christ” completing the count for this category. Putting it all together, according to Matthew, history itself tells us that God is going to act in powerful ways once again, and the double nature of Jesus-as-the-Christ explains the uniquely potent dimension of this next great revelation. In symbolic communication, Matthew insists that we know Jesus to be both human (“Jesus”) and divine (“the Christ”).
Next, in our gospel reading for today Matthew gets into the birth narrative itself. Immediately he brings a further insight, declaring that Jesus, like Isaac, Samson, and Samuel, is a divinely sent deliverer (Matthew 1:18-25). Each of these great figures in Israel’s history was miraculously born to mothers who were barren, and all of them provided new hope for their families and also the whole of the people of Yahweh. As with those earlier stories, here an angelic messenger explains the matter to one of the soon-to-be parents (Joseph), and provides a name for the child. Even more significant, in this case, Jesus will be recognized as both a local and a global ruler from birth. “He will save his people,” says the angel. But then, almost immediately, foreign dignitaries (the magi of Matthew 2:1-12) follow an internationally available heavenly sign, seeking a king who is of the Jews, but who also serves as a beacon to the nations.
Matthew then does a quick-step through a variety of incidents in Jesus’ early life to reveal even more about the essential character of this unique lad. Jesus, Matthew makes clear, is actually destined to replay or relive the life of Israel in a host of dimensions:
* Jesus copies Israel’s miraculous existence and purpose, born through divine intervention as savior of nations (1:18-25).
* He is spared from the murderous intents of a scheming king (2:3-8) who goes on to slaughter the innocents (2:16-18), just as Moses was delivered in Exodus 2 while many Israelite boys were slaughtered.
* Like the nation as a whole, Jesus is gathered out of Egypt (2:15).
* From his earliest days, he is dedicated to a divine mission (so the play on the words “Nazirite” and “Nazarene” in 2:23).
* His ministry is set in motion by passing through waters (ch. 3), right at the same spot where Israel crossed the Jordan River in order to begin its witness to the nations from the Promised Land.
* Jesus also wanders in the wilderness for 40 days (4:1-11) before he can fully assume his adult responsibilities, mirroring Israel’s traumatic 40 years described in the book of Numbers.
As Matthew brings these quick comparisons to a close, he relates that Jesus goes up on a mountain (Matthew 5:1), and from that vantage point restates and reinterprets the Law or Covenant as it was previously mediated through Moses (note the content of Matthew 5-7, particularly as most major points of the original Sinai covenant are reiterated and renewed and reinterpreted). What has come to be known as the “Sermon on the Mount” is deliberately cast by Matthew in a manner which identifies Jesus as the new Moses for a new age.
Application
Jesus comes to us as God’s gift, yet he arrives in a very small and seemingly inconsequential package. So how do we measure his worth and power? Alan Redpath tells of a prominent businessman in South Africa who was duly impressed with the luxury of Rolls-Royce automobiles. He 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
Matthew 1:18-25. 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.
But 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).
How did such nomenclature, which we today take for granted, come about? The key is in the promise made by God through Nathan to David in 2 Samuel 7. David was an unlikely king himself, set on a track to power during Israel’s trial run at monarchy under the roller-coaster leadership of King Saul. Although he tried not to compete with the one he knew had also been selected for high office by Yahweh, David increasingly found himself on a trajectory that put him on Israel’s throne. Yet he wanted, even there, to affirm that this nation’s truest political structure was a theocracy. The God of the Exodus and the Sinai Covenant was Israel’s primary ruler.
For this reason David brought the Ark of the Covenant, Yahweh’s portable throne on earth, to Jerusalem, the new capital city of the nation (2 Samuel 6). Moreover, he wished for the building that would house the Ark to be a splendid palace, worthy of the nation’s Great King. To this task he set his purposes and resources, affirmed at first by his advisor, the prophet Nathan (verse 3).
Yet that night Nathan received a new word from the Lord. Although David’s desires were laudable, he was too much a man of battle to build a palace of peace. David should gather the resources and make the plans, and then pass along to his son the mandate of Temple building.
But the prophetic word went further. Because David had tried to do the right thing, God wanted to honor him in a unique way. Although David was not permitted to build a house for God at this time, God would build a house for David. God made a pledge, a promise, a non-conditioned royal grant covenant to David. For all the years to come (as Randy Travis would sing: “Forever and ever. Amen!”), into perpetuity, David would have a descendent on the throne of the nation that was called God’s chosen people.
This was an amazing commitment, and it came back in big ways as Israel’s history unfolded. Even when Solomon’s stupid son Rehoboam should have lost the throne entirely, a remnant of the nation stuck with him as king. Their faithfulness to God’s commitments proved accurate, for later the large portion of the nation that split off under Rehoboam’s rival Jeroboam was destroyed by the Assyrian empire in 722 BC. Through the shenanigans of Queen Athaliah and King Ahaz, or the turncoat despotism of King Manasseh, or the selfish panderings of Kings Jehoiakin and Zedekiah, Yahweh remained faithful to the divine promise, and the nation survived international threats that beat down many more powerful neighboring kingdoms. In fact, Judah was never really destroyed. While the Assyrians obliterated the Northern Kingdom, and Judah was made subject to Babylon for a while, a good portion of the nation survived intact as exiles. Eventually they returned to their patrimony, and began hoping anew for the return of the Davidic monarchy and national restoration.
That’s when good ancestral records became vitally important. Every family connected to the royal line would remember this promise of Yahweh and hope and pray that from their household the next great ruler would arise. So it was that to an otherwise unimportant couple in Nazareth, about a thousand years after Yahweh made this pledge to David, a miraculous birth happened for two people who were both members of the royal family. On the basis of 2 Samuel 7, Jesus was born a king. While there was much that needed proof and confirmation about his character and his potential, once these things were seen by those around Jesus the pieces quickly fell into place. That is why, when Jesus entered Jerusalem a week before his crucifixion, the crowds could shout with certainty and conviction “Hosanna to the Son of David!” King Jesus had arrived.
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 the wrappings are off, and the proclamation of Jesus is the hope of the world.
