Reflections on the Christmas Stories

The gospels give us the only stories we know of Jesus’ birth. We really have two very different stories of the first Christmas, and two other introductions to Jesus.

The earliest gospel, the gospel of Mark, dives right in, with John the Baptizer appearing in the wilderness, proclaiming a gospel of repentance—change—and the forgiveness of sins. And that is how Mark introduces us to Jesus: John is preparing the way for Jesus, and Jesus comes to John to be baptized by him, and the Spirit descends on Jesus. What Mark wants us to know about Jesus’s origins is this: John prepared the way for Jesus, and Jesus is the fulfillment of John’s message.

The gospel of John begins in a very different way: with a Poem in the Prologue that harkens back to the book of Genesis and the beginning of time: “In the beginning was the Word—the Logos— and Word was with God, and the Word was God…. It continues: And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” The Gospel of John goes back to the beginning of the creation story, and there was the Word. “Word” in Greek is “Logos”, but this Logos in Greek thought wasn’t just a spoken word, but the divine principle of reason, of thought and ordered mind. And so John is linking Jewish thought and Greek thought in Jesus: Jesus is coming from the Jewish God, but is the Logos, Reason, The Word in flesh, is breaking in to the world. And then John jumps right in where Mark began: Jesus coming to John the Baptizer to be baptized.

And so now we come to the Gospels of Luke and Matthew, which give us the stories of Jesus’ birth that are familiar to us. The stories might actually be too familiar—they’re difficult for us to hear afresh. And though we’ve combined them in our minds into one Christmas story, with shepherds and Magi and Gabriel visiting Mary, Luke and Matthew tell us two very different stories of Jesus’s birth. The story we’ve created is somewhat sentimental, but Matthew & Luke are anything but. The stories are different, and each of them is a mini-gospel—what theologian Marcus Borg calls an “overture”, a statement of the theme of the gospel.

We have to begin, though, by getting our genre correct: we would never mistake John’s Prologue for a newspaper account: that’s a poem. And neither are these birth stories newspaper accounts: instead they tell a true story about who Jesus is, in a genre familiar to ancient readers—where great leaders have great origins— but not quite analogous to anything we’ve got now.

The Gospel of Matthew is perhaps the most “Jewish” of the 4 gospels: it presents Jesus as the New Moses—who gave the Law and who lead the Israelites out of Egypt. Jesus here is the authoritative interpreter of Moses, a Moses for Jews and for Gentiles alike.

Remember the story of Moses: Moses was born as Pharaoh was killing the infants of the Hebrews. Ancient Jewish legend says that Pharoah was murdering the children because he had a dream that a liberator of the slaves would be born.

Matthew’s birth story focuses on a series of dreams to Joseph—Mary doesn’t get a speaking part or a dream in this story. In Matthew’s story, Mary & Joseph are engaged, and they live in Bethlehem. Joseph is going to separate from Mary when he finds out she’s pregnant, but Joseph is told in a dream that it is ok, that Mary will bear a great savior. The Magi—wise men, gentiles from the East—show up in the story, looking for this great child. They encounter the Roman appointed king, Herod, and ask for the child who will be a great ruler. Herod doesn’t like that idea, and so like Pharoah, Herod decides to slaughter the infants to prevent the rise of a new king. God warns Joseph in a dream, and so Mary, Joseph and Jesus flee to Egypt. When Herod dies, they move to Galilee, not to Bethlehem.

This is not a warm and fuzzy Christmas story, but the start of a story where the world is turned upside down: Jesus is the new Moses, who will set his people free. And it is the Roman rulers and Herod, the Jewish collaborator, it is they who play the role of Pharoah; the holy family flees to Egypt, of all places, a refuge. Matthew is telling us that Jesus has come to save the people, not from some eternity in hell, but from living in the midst of oppression and injustice. It’s a story where the poor are blessed, and the dispossessed will inherit the earth, and gentiles are invited into the kingdom of God.

Luke’s story has more of the familiar elements you’d see in a Christmas pageant: pretty much everything, except for the Magi & Herod. Luke begins with two birth stories: first, the birth of John the Baptizer to his parent Elizabeth and Zechariah, and then, of course, the birth of Jesus to Mary and Joseph. Like Abraham and Sarah and other characters in the Hebrew scriptures, Elizabeth and Zechariah are “getting on in years”; they are old and childless, but then are blessed with a miraculous child. Mary also has a miraculous conception—but a type not found in the Hebrew Scriptures: a virgin birth, with a divine father, the start of a new thing. And unlike Matthew, Luke has a strong focus on women, as well as men: Mary & Elizabeth get major parts, and while Zechariah gets a major song, Joseph stays in the background.

In Luke’s story, Mary & Joseph are living in Galilee; Mary is visited by the angel Gabriel, and she is told the good news: she will bear a son, who will be great: the Son of the Most High, the Son of God—to which Mary essentially responds, “Ok”. A little while later we get Mary’s famous song, the Magnificat, which gives us a window into the meaning of Jesus’s ministry: Mary says her spirit rejoices in God, her Savior— because with Jesus, God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, lifted up the lowly, filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.

And then we come to the birth itself. Remember, Mary & Joseph are living in Galilee here. But, like Matthew, Luke has Jesus born in Bethlehem, the city of King David. And so we get the story of the Roman census , which required Joseph & Mary to travel to Bethlehem. They arrive in Bethlehem, and there is no place for them at the inn, and so Jesus is born in a manager.
Then we get the inspiration for many Christmas carols: angels appear to shepherds in the fields, and give the news that a Savior is born: singing “Glory to God and peace on earth.” It is the shepherds, low class and on the margins of society, who the first to hear of Jesus’ birth.
In his Christmas story, Luke tells us about the kingdom of God: it’s for all people, Jews and non-Jews, it’s here on this earth: there will be peace, the poor will be lifted up. And less obvious to the modern reader—Luke is setting the Kingdom of God against the Empire of Rome. The descriptors of Jesus— Savior, Son of God, Bringer of peace—these are what the Romans claimed for their leaders. But Luke says it’s not the great power, Rome, that will bring peace, but this guy, Jesus, born in a manger, honored by shepherds.

I invite you, this Christmas, to consider what these Christmas stories mean today—for you and how you live your life. The gospels say something very particular, to a particular time. It can be a lot of work to translate that into our own lives. I find inspiration in these stories because that are full of hope and promise, that a better world is possible, that God is breaking into history, that a mighty Savior has shown us the way to living in harmony with God. It can be hard to follow the Way during our Christmas season—shopping and gift giving can seem far from the Way of peace and justice. But there are also seeds of generosity and faithful living that can be planted this season, and with God’s grace, bloom.