Dusting Off the Nativity Set

I wonder if Mary ever worried about the kind of world she was bringing a child into. Being born in first-century Palestine would be like being born today in some tense, war-ravaged area of our world. Violence and extortion were a way of life. Evil dictators and petty warlords conspired together to terrorize the population and to squeeze every dime from increasingly oppressed people. Any word of protest was met with a bludgeon — or a cross.

   When Luke, the Gospel writer, begins to tell the story of Jesus' birth, the first person he mentions is not Mary or Joseph or the shepherds. The headliner in Luke's script is Caesar Augustus: "In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world" (Luke 2:1). In the eyes of the average citizen, Caesar Augustus was the supreme ruler, the imperator, the emperor over the vast

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empire of Rome. His personal name was Gaius Octavius; his aristocratic credentials were impeccable. His rise to power began in 44 B.C., when his mother's uncle, Julius Caesar, was assassinated. To the surprise of nearly everyone, the nineteen-year-old Octavius, who had been serving as one of Caesar's staff officers, was named sole heir in Caesar's will. Those who laughed at the thought of an untried boy in a position of leadership over the Roman world soon discovered that Octavius was a cunning, ambitious and exceptionally cruel young man. Octavius and his ally Marc Antony brought bloody vengeance on his great uncle's murderers. Then Octavius turned on Antony and emerged in 31 B.C. as the sole ruler of the Roman Empire.

   The Senate, in gratitude for the peace he had restored to a battered empire, heaped honors and power on Octavius. They proclaimed him emperor ("Caesar") and gave him the title Augustus, which evoked reverential awe and authority. The Senate and people of Rome gave him unhindered control over the affairs of the empire. He was a god.

   At the time of Jesus' birth, the Roman Empire encompassed nearly 55 million people and stretched from the English Channel through present-day Europe to the lands of the eastern Mediterranean and Egypt back across north Africa to Spain. In the eyes of those living in the empire, Rome controlled virtually the entire civilized world.

   All of this political intrigue would have affected Mary and Joseph very little if sixty years earlier (in 64 B.C.) the Roman general Pompey had not conquered Asia Minor and forced the kingdoms around the eastern Mediterranean, including Judea and Galilee, to acknowledge Roman authority. In time the Jewish rulers in Palestine were replaced by puppet-kings, most notably Herod the Great in 37 B.C. As a result, when Caesar Augustus decided that the entire Roman world should submit

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to a census, everyone in Herod's kingdom, including Joseph of Nazareth in Galilee, was forced to comply. A decree from Rome could not be ignored, even if the emperor lived fifteen hundred miles away.

   Augustus had several reasons for ordering a census. An enrollment would give the emperor some idea of how many male Roman citizens lived in the empire. Augustus was deeply disturbed by a decline in marriage and birth rates among the official citizens of Rome and a corresponding increase in births among subject people and slaves. He was even known to lecture groups of single Roman men who were loitering around the forum. He passionately reminded them of their responsibility to raise up legitimate descendants for the glory of Rome!¹

   Caesar's enrollment also pushed the noses of the empire's conquered peoples down into Roman authority. As much as they resented this intrusion into their lives and as inconvenient as the census requirements might be, noncitizens had no choice but to obey the Roman decree.

   The most useful function of the census was taxation. The "IRS" was around in the first century too! Running an empire requires money, and Caesar Augustus wanted everyone's contribution. So a decree went out that everyone in the Roman world should register at the city of their ancestral family's origin.

   I don't think Mary and Joseph understood until later that behind the decision of the earthly sovereign in Rome stood a sovereign God working out his eternal plan. God used a man like Caesar Augustus to sign a decree affecting the whole empire so that one little prophecy tucked away in a forgotten Old Testament book would be perfectly fulfilled. That's how serious God is about his promises. Six hundred fifty years before Caesar signed that imperial order, God had moved a prophet named Micah to write that the Messiah would be born in David's city

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of Bethlehem (Micah 5:2). Mary and Joseph lived in Nazareth of Galilee, eighty miles north by the straight route from Bethlehem, ninety miles by the more traditional route along the Jordan River. God saw to it that a decree issued from Rome would cause an unknown man and his pregnant wife to travel to Bethlehem just in time so that Jesus would be born where God had said he would be born. Caesar, strutting around in Rome, thought the census was his idea, but it was God moving in human history to fulfill his own Word. Caesar Augustus thought he was in control, but he wasn't.

   Mary was probably not required to go to Bethlehem with Joseph. The thought of a four- or five-day journey at her advanced stage of pregnancy was certainly not very appealing. But the thought of being all alone at the time of Jesus' birth was a possibility Mary refused to consider. The picture of Joseph leading a donkey on which Mary sits is enshrined in the art and literature of Christianity. Nothing is said in Scripture, however, about a donkey. In their relative poverty it is questionable whether Joseph even owned a donkey. On a donkey's back or on foot, the journey would have been difficult and exhausting, and when they arrived in the small village of Bethlehem, the inn built to house traveling pilgrims was full.

Away in a Manger

That there was "no room in the inn" for a tired, obviously pregnant woman sounds very unfair until you understand what the inns were like. Rural inns in the first century were not Holiday Inns or Red Roof Inns! They were not much more than a large room sheltered by four walls and a roof. The center of the room was designed to house the animals of the people who lodged there. Around the perimeter of the room a low platform was built for the people to sleep on. There were no beds, no privacy. Families simply slept where they could find

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room. The inn was crowded and noisy.

   It was probably a compassionate innkeeper or his tender wife who directed Mary and Joseph to the stable behind the inn. If tradition is correct, the stable was simply a cave, one of many that perforate the hills around Bethlehem. In the quiet and privacy of that stable, Mary gave birth to a son.

   Two thousand years have made very few changes in Bethlehem. Compared to the larger cities around it, Bethlehem is still a small town, six miles southwest of Jerusalem. Manger Square dominates the center of the city and leads any visitor to the ancient Church of the Nativity. Constantine, the first Christian emperor of Rome, had the original church built in A.D. 326 over the cave earlier identified as the birthplace of Jesus by the early church fathers Origen (A.D. 185-254) and Justin Martyr (A.D. 100-165). A stairway leads down to a small cavern under the high altar of the church. The cavern, called the Grotto of the Nativity, is supposed to be the spot where Jesus was born. A silver star on the floor is inscribed with these words: "HIC DE VIRGINE MARIA JESUS CHRISTUS NATUS EST" (Latin for "Here Jesus Christ was born of the virgin Mary").²

   Unfortunately we have romanticized this scene in Bethlehem. We've painted the stable in the warm golden glow of a Christmas card. In reality it was pretty dreadful. Imagine coming upon a young woman giving birth to a baby in an abandoned car in some urban alleyway and you come closer to the way it really was. I've never been in a cave — or a stable — that looked or smelled like a place I would want to sleep.

   It strikes me too that even though Mary and Joseph had some privacy in that stable, they were also all alone. At a time when Mary needed help and care as at no other time in a woman's life, no one was there to help except faithful Joseph. No member of Mary's family had traveled with them; apparently no midwife came to help. Luke, the gentle physician, is

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careful to say that Mary gave birth to the child. She wrapped him in strips of cloth to comfort and warm him. She laid him in the manger. She did it (Luke 2:7). Mary is a young woman and Jesus is her first child, but she did it all herself.

   When God came to earth, he bypassed the palace of Caesar Augustus and the chambers of the temple. He came into this world poor and lonely and virtually unnoticed. Maybe that is how you feel as you read these lines. Maybe you are gripped by sorrow or loss or loneliness. You may be out of work or out of hope. I want you to know that when God came to earth for you, he came lower than you are right now. You may think that nobody cares and that nobody understands your situation, but you are mistaken. Our God knows what it's like in the pit of despair. He has been there.

"Shepherds, Why This Jubilee?"

In contrast to the loneliness and poverty of the birth in the stable, a scene of incredible glory was unfolding outside the town of Bethlehem. Luke 2:8-9 tells us that some shepherds were out that night, guarding their flocks, when suddenly an angel of the Lord stood at their campsite. His brilliance blazed in the night sky, and the poor shepherds were scared to death. The angel said, "Don't be afraid!" Why not be afraid? Who wouldn't be afraid? "I bring you good news," the angel continued, "of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord."

   That announcement did not come to Caesar Augustus or to the high priest of Israel. The angel did not burst in on worshipers in prayer in the temple. He came instead to men on a hillside who had hearts open enough to receive the message.

   The angel gave them a sign. The Savior would be wrapped in strips of cloth (not unusual for a newborn) but would be

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lying in a manger (highly unusual). Those shepherds knew exactly where to look in Bethlehem. They were very familiar with animal pens. They scoured every stable until they found Mary and Joseph — and the Savior.

   But before they left the hillside to go to Bethlehem, with the angel's words still ringing in their ears, suddenly the whole sky exploded with light and sound as a multitude of angels praised God. "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests" (Luke 2:14). The world may not have noticed this child born in a stable, but heaven couldn't be silent. The angelic hosts of heaven shouted the story.

   As suddenly as the angels had come, they left. And as soon as one of the shepherds found voice enough to speak, he said, "Let's go to Bethlehem and see." In the stable behind the traveler's inn they found Mary and Joseph and the marvelous baby.

Making It Personal

How can we respond to this incredible event? I realize that the Christian community celebrates Christmas every year, but if you are like me our Christmas observance always seems inadequate. More often than we would like to admit, our declaration that "Jesus is the reason for the season" is contradicted by our frantic activity and obsessive concern with gifts. So how can we genuinely celebrate Jesus' birth? And how can we extend our joy about God coming to earth beyond a few weeks in December? We can find some suggestions on how to celebrate Christ's birth in Luke's Gospel, in the verses we usually skip over when we are reading the story.

   One suggestion comes from the shepherds who saw the baby and then went out to spread the word. They became witnesses! They had heard the angels' song; they had seen the Savior, the Lord. How could they remain silent? They had good news to

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tell, just like we do. The shepherds knew their world desperately needed to hear their message, just as our world does. One way to celebrate Christ's coming is to imitate the shepherds in spreading the word about Jesus Christ.

   Another way to keep the joy of Christ's birth alive in our hearts is by being amazed at it. The people who heard the shepherds' story were amazed at what they heard (Luke 2:18). I think most of us have lost that sense of wonder and awe. We've heard the story so many times that we yawn our way through it. But the fact that the Lord of glory stepped down into human time and space to be our Savior ought to cause us to be amazed, to be filled with holy wonder.

   Mary's reflection on both Jesus' birth and the shepherds' visit gives us another biblical response to this wonderful event. "Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart" (Luke 2:19). Amazement and wonder produce the fruit of meditation, what Luke calls "pondering." Meditation is the devotion of time to think carefully and deeply about what God has done. It involves the mind and the emotions. Mary treasured the events in her heart. It's as if every time she thought about what had happened and its significance, she would take out a valuable jewel and turn it over and over, admiring its beauty, losing herself in contemplation. Meditation is another lost spiritual discipline for most of us. We live at such a frenzied pace that we rarely stop long enough to think carefully about God's marvelous works in our lives. You are probably reading this chapter with several other things on your mind that you could be doing or should be doing. One profitable way to keep the joy of Christ's coming vibrantly alive in our hearts is to spend some time remembering God's works and then using those memories to warm our affections for the Lord.

   A stirred mind and a warm heart of devotion will prompt another response to Christ's birth. Our hearts will overflow in

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words of praise to God. The feelings of love in our hearts find expression in the words that we speak to him or sing to him in adoration and worship. The shepherds "returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen" (Luke 2:20). I've always been impressed that the shepherds did not go to church to praise and glorify God. They returned. They went back to their sheep — to their jobs, to their homes. It's wonderful to lift our voices together in worship in church or in a small group, but the real secret to keeping the joy of Christmas ringing in our hearts and motivating our lives is to learn to praise and glorify God wherever we are.

   Maybe that is how you can conclude this chapter. Not by charging off to do the things that have pressed themselves on your mind while you have been reading but by taking a few quiet minutes to think about God's wonderful grace and goodness in your life. Write some things down that are sources of wonder. Then turn them over as you would a treasure and allow God's Spirit to fill your heart with love and adoration. When your heart is full, pour out a sacrifice of praise to God. Let him know how you feel about him. You may find your job on the hillside today transformed from drudgery or frantic busyness to an unbelievable opportunity to let others know about the wonderful Savior who has come.

Chapter 6  ||  Table of Contents