Luke's Gospel & the Spirit of Christmas, part 1
Luke's gospel envisions the world of a vast empire. We might expect Luke, our narrator, to engage in schmaltzy flattery of the exalted emperor or gush about the enormity and dominion of the Roman kingdom. He introduces us to the great emperor, Augustus – also known as Octavius – and our minds might flash to the seat of splendor in Rome. If I were writing the movie script, I would flash to Caesar in his palace, signing a decree that all his subjects should be registered. Caesar would say, "I want to know the exact size of my empire." One of his minions would exclaim, "Yes, very good, my lord. Why, my lord?" And the emperor would reply with a scowl, "So you can calculate our tax revenue and so I can know how many men can fight in my armies."
But I'm not writing the story. Our gospel account doesn't linger in places of power. Luke's story will eventually lead to Rome, but for now we are as far as possible from the halls of sovereignty. In a quiet, remote corner of the empire, the emperor's commands trickle down to the common folk. Luke is a preacher, not a historian. Historians usually tell the stories of formidable kings and powerful benefactors. They don't bring their readers to forgotten and neglected backwaters.
People sometimes get sucked into the belief that the empire is everything, that it is what matters. Because empires of this world are so important to some folks, they get extremely uptight about what happens in the worldly places of power. So when they dislike the empire's direction, many feel threatened. They rant, they rage and they write against the empire.
Not so with Luke. And for the people of God shaped by Luke's gospel, not so with us. Luke strangely weaves his two-volume story in the shadow of the empire, but he seems oddly unconcerned by it. Rome is not the threat. The main menaces, according to Luke, are magic, love of money and the failure to repent. The great emperor is nothing but a historical reference, a footnote to explain why Jesus of Nazareth is actually Jesus of Bethlehem. For Luke, empire is nothing but a canvas upon which to sketch a far more beautiful and more important picture. What matters to Luke is not what Caesar thinks. He doesn't even care about the opinions of local rulers and leaders.
The story begins not on the Appian Way but on a small road from Galilee to Judea. There we home in on a young man named Joseph. He's traveling to his ancestral home, Bethlehem, because of the census. He's not alone, though. He has a traveling companion, a young girl. She's engaged to him – which is as good as married in those days. Luke adds an innocent but curious statement. The young fiancée Mary is pregnant. If the story started here, we might wonder how this happened. Well, not that we don't know how those kinds of things happen. I mean, we might wonder what led to this development and whether or not they were deeply embarrassed by this. After all, it's a culture that could stone women to death for less.
But Luke already told us how an angel appeared to Mary and told her of the special child she would carry. Her cousin Elizabeth had also miraculously given birth. Not only was Elizabeth barren and too old for having kids, her husband Zechariah lost his voice when an angel told him she would become pregnant. His voice was publicly restored only when the baby John was born. Zechariah's tongue was loosened and he spoke, praising God. And he prophesied about a mighty Savior who would redeem God's people.
People sometimes get sucked into the belief that the empire is everything, that it is what matters. Because empires of this world are so important to some folks, they get extremely uptight about what happens in the worldly places of power. So when they dislike the empire's direction, many feel threatened. They rant, they rage and they write against the empire.
Not so with Luke. And for the people of God shaped by Luke's gospel, not so with us. Luke strangely weaves his two-volume story in the shadow of the empire, but he seems oddly unconcerned by it. Rome is not the threat. The main menaces, according to Luke, are magic, love of money and the failure to repent. The great emperor is nothing but a historical reference, a footnote to explain why Jesus of Nazareth is actually Jesus of Bethlehem. For Luke, empire is nothing but a canvas upon which to sketch a far more beautiful and more important picture. What matters to Luke is not what Caesar thinks. He doesn't even care about the opinions of local rulers and leaders.
The story begins not on the Appian Way but on a small road from Galilee to Judea. There we home in on a young man named Joseph. He's traveling to his ancestral home, Bethlehem, because of the census. He's not alone, though. He has a traveling companion, a young girl. She's engaged to him – which is as good as married in those days. Luke adds an innocent but curious statement. The young fiancée Mary is pregnant. If the story started here, we might wonder how this happened. Well, not that we don't know how those kinds of things happen. I mean, we might wonder what led to this development and whether or not they were deeply embarrassed by this. After all, it's a culture that could stone women to death for less.
But Luke already told us how an angel appeared to Mary and told her of the special child she would carry. Her cousin Elizabeth had also miraculously given birth. Not only was Elizabeth barren and too old for having kids, her husband Zechariah lost his voice when an angel told him she would become pregnant. His voice was publicly restored only when the baby John was born. Zechariah's tongue was loosened and he spoke, praising God. And he prophesied about a mighty Savior who would redeem God's people.
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