January 2, 2010Josh Broward
Read Luke 2:1-20.
The Roman Emperor called for a census, so Mary and Joseph took a trip. Trips are not always easy. When my family travels back to the USA, it usually takes us more than 24 hours to get from our front door to our family’s front door. It is stressful, tiring, and not very much fun.
Mary and Joseph had to take a much longer trip - at least in terms of time, and Mary was very, very pregnant. Doctors suggest that pregnant women should not travel in the last month or two of their pregnancy. There are two reasons why pregnant women should not travel. First, it’s not safe for the mother and baby. Second, it’s not safe for the dad! Have you ever been around a pregnant woman?
When my mom was 9 months pregnant with my sister, Dad was driving them to church. A few minutes away from the church, Mom started crying wildly. My dad looked over at her, confused: “What’s wrong?”
“My dress doesn’t fit. It hangs crooked.” Her belly was so big that the dress didn’t go down as far in the front as it did in the back.
Dad said, “You’re 9 months pregnant. Your dress is supposed to hang crooked.”
“Take me home!”
“But we’ll miss church.”
“Take me home!!”
“Can’t you just sit in the back?”
“TAKE ME HOME NOW!!!”
“OK.”
I’m telling you it’s not safe to be around a pregnant lady. They get irrational and violent. So here are Joseph and Mary going to Bethlehem, and don’t be fooled by Luke’s simple words, “He went there … with Mary” (2:5). Nazareth was 90 miles (145 kilometers) from Bethlehem. 90 miles from Nazareth, and they didn’t have the KTX. They didn’t even have the slow train. They had the slow donkey. Realistically, that trip probably took them more than a week. 90 miles with Joseph walking and Mary riding that donkey, and her bladder felt every bump. They stopped about every 10 feet because Mary had to go pee.
I imagine that Mary asked about 1,000 times, “Why does Caesar Augustus want to count us now? Can’t he wait a few months? Can’t we wait until my feet aren’t the size of small boats?”
Korea recently held a census. Someone came to our apartment with a little clipboard and asked me a few questions. She filled out about 10% of the form. Then she ran out of English, and I ran out out of Korean, so she left. All in all, it was pretty painless.
Doing the census in Bethlehem would have been a completely different story. Everyone had to go to their family’s hometown to register. Bethlehem was just a small country village that nobody cared about except for one thing. King David was born there. As a king, David had five wives and lots of kids, and his son Solomon had 700 wives and 300 concubines. How many kids do you think he had? And that was around 1,000 years before Jesus. Tens of thousands of people were packed into the tiny town of Bethlehem for the Roman census. It took days, maybe weeks or months, to get an appointment to register for the census.
So after all the bathroom breaks, Mary and Joseph get to Bethlehem, only to find the town is already full of people. Joseph checks every inn, hotel, motel, and spare room in town. Nothing. They’re all full. I can just hear that pregnant woman now: “I told you to make a reservation! Didn’t I tell you to make a reservation?!” She is starting to lose it, slipping into crazy pregnant land. She grabs some guy walking by, “I told him to make a reservation. Did he make a reservation? No! I told you to make a reservation!” Finally, Joseph and Mary find a barn or a cave where they could at least have a warm place to sleep out of the rain.
The next verse gives us irrefutable evidence that Luke is a man. Luke writes 5 verses about the census. He tells us the name of the Roman Emperor and the governor of Syria. He tells us whether this was the first or second census for Quirinius. He tells us where Mary and Joseph started. He tells us what’s special about Bethlehem and Joseph’s connection with Bethlehem. I’m surprised he didn’t draw a little map write there in the text.
But Luke only says one little sentence about the birth of the baby: “While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son” (2:6-7). That’s it. The time came, and the baby was born. No details. No horror stories. Nothing.
If a woman were telling this story, we would know what Mary ate the night before and how it gave her heart burn that morning, and that’s how she knew the baby was coming. We would know where she was when her water broke and how it ruined her best dress. We would know that she went through 17 hours of labor that felt like 17 years. We would know that Mary felt like her abdomen was the epicenter of the worst earthquake in human history. We would know Jesus’ size and weight. We would know all the stupid things Joseph said to try to make her feel better, and we would know how Mary’s heart melted when she held Jesus in her arms for the first time.
But instead, all we got was: “She gave birth to a boy.” Without a doubt, based simply on this passage alone, we know that Luke was absolutely a man.
When my mom used to complain about how difficult delivery was, my dad - I kid you not! - my dad would always say, “Now over in China, those women just work in the rice patties right up until it’s time for the baby. Then, they squat down by the road, pop the baby out, swing it up on their backs and start working again.” That always drove my mom crazy. I think he said that just to drive her crazy.
When Sarah was 9 months pregnant with Emma, we were ready for Emma to come at any time. One day, when I was getting ready to leave for class at seminary, Sarah said she thought she had a contraction. I skipped class, and we went to the mall and walked about 10 miles trying to get that baby to come out. No baby. A few days later, Sarah woke me up in the middle of the night, and said she thought her water broke. We went to the hospital and stayed there for several hours. No baby.
A few days later, they induced labor for Sarah. They gave her medicine to make her body start having contractions to push the baby out. We went to sleep, and Sarah woke up about 3am with contractions. We spent the next 16 hours going through labor.
They had all of these cool machines hooked up to Sarah. You could see her heart rate and her blood pressure. There was even a machine that showed a graph of her contractions. The little line would go up and down as her body contracted. Sometimes, I was so curious that I watched the machine instead of Sarah. That little line would go way up, and I’d say, “Oooh, honey that was a big one.” “I KNOW!!!”
She liked to hold my hand when the contractions were coming, and she would squeeze really hard. Sometimes she would ask, “Am I squeezing to hard?” “No --- it’s OK. ---“
I used to watch the TV show Rosanne, and I’ll never forget the show when she had her last baby. Her husband is there by her side trying to support her. She is screaming and huffing in pain. She grabs him by the hair and says, “You did this to me!!!”
In the book Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy describes one young father watching his wife, named Kitty, give birth to their first child. Tolstoy says he “heard someone shrieking and moaning in a way he had never heard till then, and he knew these sounds were produced by what once was Kitty. … Kitty’s face did not exist. In its place was something terrible, both because of its strained expression and because of the sounds which proceeded from it.” He felt “that his heart was breaking. The terrible screaming did not cease, but grew yet more awful until, as it reached the utmost limit of horror, until it suddenly ceased.”
Emma was born by C-section, so we didn’t quite get to “the utmost limits of horror,” but Mary did. Sometimes, we forget that inside Luke’s little comment, “And she gave birth to her firstborn, a son,” – inside that short, little, manly description were hours of labor and pain and blood and water and shouting and crying. Jesus came into the world just like all of the rest of us, squeezed through a little tunnel hearing some crazy woman shout her lungs out.
I’ll never forget the first time I saw Emma. Actually, I only saw her head at first. The doctors are reaching inside of Sarah and pulling and pushing, and out pops this little purple head, just the head sticking out of her belly. I heard “schhchcuchch,” when the nurses vacuumed out all of the junk from inside her mouth, and then “waaaa.” That is one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard.
As soon as they got her out they brought her over to a special table with all kinds of special equipment. They cleaned her and measured her and tested her to make sure she was healthy. Then, they wrapped her in a blanket and took her to the nursery. I got to help give her very first bath. Then, they laid her on a specially designed baby bed with a special mattress, medically designed to keep her safe and warm. And they put that bed under a heat lamp to warm her up after the bath.
Maybe Jesus looked purple when he came out, too. He was definitely messy, and for a few minutes the Savior of the world was still covered in blood and connected to his mother by an umbilical cord. But in Jesus’ delivery room there were no nurses or hospital staff or special instruments. There were no heat lamps, no special beds. For Jesus, there were only strips of cloth and a pile of hay in cow feeder. Joseph and Mary were the poorest of the poor they couldn’t even bribe their way into a real house on the night of Mary’s labor.
I remember taking Emma to the window of the nursery to show her off to our family. There were a dozen grandmas and grandpas, aunts and uncles, all crowding around that little window to see Emma up close for the first time.
Luke tells us in chapter one that when Elizabeth gave birth to John the Baptist, there was a big party; “her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown her great mercy, and they shared in her joy” (1:58)
Apparently, there was no big celebration for Jesus’ birth. No one was there to celebrate Jesus’ birth until God rounds up a group of raggedy shepherds from outside the town.
From the world’s perspective, Jesus’ birth was nothing special – just another poor baby born to another poor family. From the world’s perspective, a Savior for the world was born in the most unexpected country - Israel, in the most unexpected city – Bethlehem , in the most unexpected house – a house for animals, to the most unexpected people – a poor couple not even fully married, who were just passing through Bethlehem, not even permanent residents.
Luke has set up a great contrast in this story. Luke is quietly telling the story of two kings. The first king grew up in a small agricultural village outside the power centers of his time. However, he eventually became the most famous king in the world. He brought peace after a long time of darkness and despair. He fulfilled the longings of his people - as few people even believed possible.
His kingship was all about unity and reform - reform of every part of society. He was depicted in every form of art - music, painting, sculpture, literature. Poets wrote songs about him. Historians wrote the story of his life. The day of his birth was celebrated for years to come. In fact, his life was so momentous, so significant, that it started a new era. People reset their calendars, making year one the year of his birth. Messengers traveled around the world announcing the Good News of his Kingdom.
He was given names and titles never before given to another human being:
Prince of Peace - He was the king to end all wars. People could hang up their swords because of his peace.
Light of the World - Like the sun, the golden rays of his peace and wisdom warmed the whole world.
King of Kings - All kings in all lands must bow to him.
Lord - He was the Master, the Ruler, of everything known to humanity.
Savior - He rescued humanity from self-destruction, giving them mercy, justice, and freedom.
Son of God - His father was no mere mortal. He was human and yet also divine. He had Godly blood in his veins.
In the Eastern Mediterranean, people worshiped this king as god even before he died. But after he died, people around the world worshiped him as god.
Ironically, his great reign of peace was also associated with the single greatest torture device ever known to humanity - the cross. In a great irony, the cross was his means for giving peace.
Who is this great king? You all know him. He is mentioned in Luke’s story. He is Caesar Augustus, the Roman Emperor. Caesar Augustus came to power after years of civil war as a member of the Triumvirate - with Marc Antony and Marcus Lepidus. However, that union was ripped apart by greed and the struggle for power. Finally, after several bloody battles and betrayals, Augustus was the undisputed king and Emperor of Rome. He maintained this peace through a combination of bribes with the right hand and the threat of the cross with the left hand. Anyone who cooperated could share in Rome’s glory and luxury. All who rebelled could suffer Rome’s wrath and crosses.
When Luke begins his birth narrative with Caesar Augustus, he is not simply giving a marker for time. He is setting the back drop for a comparison of the greatest king of this world (Caesar) with the greatest King of all worlds (Jesus).
Luke tells us, Jesus is also a king - in the line of David. Jesus is also the Son of God - actually the Son of God, not an adopted heir of a human king. Jesus is also the Savior - a real Savior, not a brutal conqueror. Jesus is also Lord - Master of all, not only those he defeat with the sword, the bribe, or the cross. Jesus is also the Prince of Peace - thorough peace and goodness, not just a glossy surface. Jesus is also the center of Good News - and this is Good News for all people, not just those on the top, Good News for the poor and the rejected, delivered first to the shaggy shepherds.
Caesar Augustus became king with armies and violence. Jesus became king as a helpless, homeless baby in the hay. Caesar Augustus won friends and influenced people through the shrewd use of money and resources. Jesus called his friends to shrewdly give away their money and resources to benefit others. Caesar Augustus appealed to people’s desire for pleasure, sex, and luxury. Jesus appealed to people’s inner desire to give up themselves for the good cause of the Kingdom of God. Caesar Augustus proved his undeniable authority by nailing rebels to crosses to punish them for their sins. Jesus proved his undeniable love and authority by being nailed to a cross to forgive rebels of their sins. Caesar Augustus has long faded from the scene. Jesus’ fame and glory are still growing every day.
Yet the battle is not over. Like we celebrated last week, we still walk in the Twilight Hours. Every day, we make choices. Will we live for Caesar, or will we live for Jesus? Will we live like Caesar, or will we live like Jesus? Will we live for power, sex, and money, or will we live for love, grace, and truth? Will we pursue prestige, honor, and glory, or will we pursue humility, service, and mercy?
These battles never end. The Christmas story of two kings never ends. Jesus is always, always, always, waiting to be born anew in us and through us. Birthing Jesus as King in our lives is never easy. It wasn’t easy for Mary, and it’s not easy for us. Every day, we make the choice: Caesar or Jesus - the love of power or the power of love. Which King do you want in your life? What choice are you making?
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