The Christmas story is filled with angels, messengers from God who bring startling news. It is through the angels that we learn the significance of Christ's birth. Salvationist asked four writers to reflect on these encounters and what they mean.
BY MAJOR CATHIE HARRIS
Does God have an operating policy on when to send an angel? There aren't many angelic appearances throughout the Bible. Many important characters, such as David, never see an angel, as far as we know. Yet the Christmas story is filled with angels.
Luke's Gospel doesn't help us with the question of “Why an angel?” He just states what happened: “the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth.” I find it interesting that the place is named before the person: go to Nazareth in Galilee, “to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin's name was Mary” (Luke 1:27 NRSV). God chose a particular woman in a particular town in a particular region. God rarely deals in generalities.
We know Mary was a devout Jew, familiar with the sacred writings of the Hebrew Bible. She had been betrothed to Joseph in a public ceremony, but had not yet gone to live in his house. Perhaps she was wondering what marriage would be like, when the angel Gabriel appeared and shared unbelievable news. She was to conceive and bear a son, who would be called “the Son of the Most High.”
Mary raised a most pertinent question: “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” She had not yet been intimate with Joseph. Gabriel tried to explain, but how could Mary possibly understand what it meant to be overshadowed by the Holy Spirit? She would have known the story of Abraham and Sarah, who bore a son in their old age, but through natural means. Mary had no precedent to draw on. This was new ground altogether.
Mary responded: “Here I am, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word” (Luke 1:38 NRSV). What led her to such an affirmative response? It's hard to believe that Gabriel's answers are what convinced Mary. Could it have been the openness of the conversation between them, the angel acknowledging her feelings of fear and confusion? Could it have been the way the angel received her question about how this would happen and the angel's willingness to try to explain? Or perhaps it was an unexplainable sense that “surely the presence of the Lord is in this place.”
We don't know. Something happened in that interaction. God chose her. God sent the angel Gabriel to her. We don't know why God chose that means of announcement, but Mary responded with faith. Do we respond, as Mary did, “Here I am”—with or without an angel?
BY DONALD E. BURKE
Matthew's account of the birth of Jesus in Matthew 1:18-25 has one primary concern: to establish the identity and mission of Jesus from the very beginning of his story. For Matthew, Jesus is the Messiah or Christ (see Matthew 1:18), the agent of God who will establish God's kingdom and save his people from their sins (see Matthew 1:21).
But beneath these overarching claims made by Matthew is a very human story involving a young couple: Joseph and Mary. Matthew grounds his lofty message about Jesus' identity and mission as the Christ in the earthiness and complexities of human life. It doesn't get much earthier than a pregnancy out of wedlock; put that together with the fact that the young couple had not yet had sex and you have the makings of a real potboiler.
Yet while this story has the potential to become quite bawdy, the characters in the story draw our attention in another direction. Mary's pregnancy and the statement that Joseph and Mary had not yet had intercourse forced Joseph to the conclusion that Mary had been unfaithful to him. Under the terms of the Torah, a woman who was found unfaithful was to be punished. In earlier times, the Torah would have required a death sentence for Mary. But by Joseph's time, most rabbis required a lesser penalty, including divorce and public shaming.
Matthew portrays Joseph as a righteous man who confronted a significant dilemma. We usually understand the description of Joseph as “righteous” to mean that he was a good man, a kind man. But Joseph's “righteousness” in this context has a specific meaning: it refers to Joseph's thorough adherence to the law, the Torah. Joseph was a devout, practising Jew. His decision to divorce Mary was the right one according to the law.
But Matthew tells us more about Joseph. He notes that while Joseph had decided to sever his relationship with Mary, in accordance with the law and the custom of his time, he had decided to do so “quietly,” evidently to reduce Mary's public disgrace. Joseph had found a way to be faithful to the requirements of the law, but to do so in a respectful and sensitive manner. Joseph struck a remarkable balance between righteousness and compassion.
Joseph's righteousness, however, became even more startling when, after the appearance of an angel in a dream, he abandoned adherence to the law by accepting the angel's exhortation to take Mary as his wife. In this extraordinary situation, Joseph's righteousness transcended the letter of the law. For Joseph, being righteous no longer meant blind, literal adherence to the Torah; the instruction from the angel trumped the law. The imminent arrival of Jesus somehow transformed the righteousness expected of Joseph. This is a theme that Jesus would articulate again and again later in this Gospel: there is a righteousness greater than the law.
When I read this story, I am haunted by Joseph's decision and the questions it raises about my own adherence to rules of righteousness and how they are best tempered by compassion and an openness to God's directive to follow an unexpected path.
BY MAJOR DANIELLE STRICKLAND
Have you ever shared a “good surprise” with a little kid? They immediately start to enlarge with the news … until eventually they can't contain the excitement and it bursts out of them. A rush of goodness. Even as they blurt out the surprise, their face is filled with the happiness of the announcement. Good news has to be shared.
The truth is there isn't enough good news lately. It's hard to make your way through the international headlines with any expectation of “good” in the mix. Wars, violence, fear, moral failures, abuses of power. Our world isn't much different from the one the shepherds lived in, on the hillside near Bethlehem thousands of years ago. It was dark.
The Scripture makes this clear—it was “at night.” I don't think Luke just meant the time of day. God's people had received a lot of bad news for a long, long time. The shepherds were at the low end of the social spectrum, among people barely making a living, doing tiresome work, paying inflated taxes for limited freedom at best. The Israelites were oppressed. The future was dismal, hope almost gone. It really was dark.
I have a friend who was forced into prostitution at 11 years old. She describes herself as so wrapped in the darkness of the street that she was blind to the light. When we offered her a warm place and something to drink, we were offering good news. She didn't understand why we bothered at first. She said she was a lost cause, that she couldn't even see our faces, she had been “blind” for so long. We smiled, served her, loved her and gave her the same message the angels gave the shepherds thousands of years ago: don't be afraid. The darkness cannot hold. The light has come. Everything is changing. God is here.
Bruce Cockburn sings it like this: “Gotta kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight.” That's exactly what happened when Jesus was born: daylight.
It's no wonder that one of Jesus' titles in the Bible is “the Morning Star”: the star that appears at the darkest time of night. And it's right here in the Christmas story that the angels spill the good news. I imagine the angels like children who can't keep the surprise in anymore, bubbling over with pure, infectious joy. I like to think of God laughing out loud as the drama unfolds and the unsuspecting shepherds, left in the dark for a long time, are baffled by the brightness … and when it dawns on them (yes, I used that word deliberately), they begin to run. They run toward the light. Because on that night, the darkness was bleeding daylight. The Morning Star had arrived. Good news was spilling from the earth and the angels. Don't be afraid. The darkness could not hold. The light had come.
The good news is still spilling out, by the way. The darkness, little by little, giving way to the dawn of his coming. Jesus, who came to save us. This message is to be shared. Have you heard? Do not be afraid. The darkness cannot hold. The light has come. His name is Jesus. Run toward the light.
BY NANCY TURLEY
Christmas is my favourite time of year. Singing carols, decorating the tree and being with family and friends as we celebrate the birth of Christ all bring such joy. I love the words of Scripture that paint a picture of that silent, holy night in Bethlehem so long ago, when the shepherds heard the good news: “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:11 KJV). Joy to the world, the promised Messiah has finally come!
Our picture-perfect Christmas cards focus on the lovely, quaint manger scene. But the Christmas story does not end with the worshipping Magi on bended knee, bringing gifts to the newborn King. In Matthew's account, we take a sharp turn from great joy to suffering and tragedy. The Christmas story has a dark side. An angel appears to Joseph in a dream once again to warn him of Herod's plot to eliminate the new King, who threatens his position and power. Jesus and his family become refugees as they flee the tyranny of a cruel dictator and run to Egypt for safety. The Saviour is saved in a land that had once held his people in bondage.
Matthew is the only Gospel writer to include this part of Jesus' story. It is dark and difficult to tell, yet for many reflects the reality of their own Christmas story—private sorrow and hardship, grief and pain, intensified by the expectation of a perfect Christmas that doesn't come. Perhaps this is why Matthew includes this dark side, as a reminder that Jesus, Immanuel, experienced all that we do—fear, disappointment, violence and even death. This is a brutal world. Jesus entered our world of grief, brokenness and political oppression. This is what the Incarnation is all about.
Anguish is still part of Christmas today. There are many who are suffering, lonely and grieving, and finding little joy in the season. Around the world, people in power are still committing horrific acts to prevent the message of the Saviour from being shared. It is this part of the Christmas story that connects most closely with our human experience—sadness, disappointment, fear, loss of life—and reminds us that suffering and joy can co-exist.
I find it interesting that Jesus and his parents flee to Egypt, a nation that had been the enemy of God's people. The very place of bondage for Israel is now a place of refuge for Jesus. Bible scholar Matthew Henry reminds us that “God, when he pleases, can make the worst of places serve the best of purposes.” Matthew shows his readers how this part of the story is the fulfilment of prophecy recorded in Hosea 11:1, “out of Egypt, I have called my Son.” As Joseph responded obediently to God's message through the angel, we see that the safest place to be is always where God leads.
It's time to put away my sentimentalized notions of Christmas. Jesus came into a world not that different from our own. Many today are seeking refuge from evil forces. God yearns for justice for the innocent, marginalized, poor and displaced. As we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, we remember that the Herods of this world will not be able to stand against us when we live obediently and go where he leads us. Christmas is the season of light and hope.
Mary's Song
BY MAJOR CATHIE HARRIS
Does God have an operating policy on when to send an angel? There aren't many angelic appearances throughout the Bible. Many important characters, such as David, never see an angel, as far as we know. Yet the Christmas story is filled with angels.
Luke's Gospel doesn't help us with the question of “Why an angel?” He just states what happened: “the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth.” I find it interesting that the place is named before the person: go to Nazareth in Galilee, “to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin's name was Mary” (Luke 1:27 NRSV). God chose a particular woman in a particular town in a particular region. God rarely deals in generalities.
We know Mary was a devout Jew, familiar with the sacred writings of the Hebrew Bible. She had been betrothed to Joseph in a public ceremony, but had not yet gone to live in his house. Perhaps she was wondering what marriage would be like, when the angel Gabriel appeared and shared unbelievable news. She was to conceive and bear a son, who would be called “the Son of the Most High.”
Mary raised a most pertinent question: “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” She had not yet been intimate with Joseph. Gabriel tried to explain, but how could Mary possibly understand what it meant to be overshadowed by the Holy Spirit? She would have known the story of Abraham and Sarah, who bore a son in their old age, but through natural means. Mary had no precedent to draw on. This was new ground altogether.
Mary responded: “Here I am, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word” (Luke 1:38 NRSV). What led her to such an affirmative response? It's hard to believe that Gabriel's answers are what convinced Mary. Could it have been the openness of the conversation between them, the angel acknowledging her feelings of fear and confusion? Could it have been the way the angel received her question about how this would happen and the angel's willingness to try to explain? Or perhaps it was an unexplainable sense that “surely the presence of the Lord is in this place.”
We don't know. Something happened in that interaction. God chose her. God sent the angel Gabriel to her. We don't know why God chose that means of announcement, but Mary responded with faith. Do we respond, as Mary did, “Here I am”—with or without an angel?
A Righteous Man
BY DONALD E. BURKE
Matthew's account of the birth of Jesus in Matthew 1:18-25 has one primary concern: to establish the identity and mission of Jesus from the very beginning of his story. For Matthew, Jesus is the Messiah or Christ (see Matthew 1:18), the agent of God who will establish God's kingdom and save his people from their sins (see Matthew 1:21).
But beneath these overarching claims made by Matthew is a very human story involving a young couple: Joseph and Mary. Matthew grounds his lofty message about Jesus' identity and mission as the Christ in the earthiness and complexities of human life. It doesn't get much earthier than a pregnancy out of wedlock; put that together with the fact that the young couple had not yet had sex and you have the makings of a real potboiler.
Yet while this story has the potential to become quite bawdy, the characters in the story draw our attention in another direction. Mary's pregnancy and the statement that Joseph and Mary had not yet had intercourse forced Joseph to the conclusion that Mary had been unfaithful to him. Under the terms of the Torah, a woman who was found unfaithful was to be punished. In earlier times, the Torah would have required a death sentence for Mary. But by Joseph's time, most rabbis required a lesser penalty, including divorce and public shaming.
Matthew portrays Joseph as a righteous man who confronted a significant dilemma. We usually understand the description of Joseph as “righteous” to mean that he was a good man, a kind man. But Joseph's “righteousness” in this context has a specific meaning: it refers to Joseph's thorough adherence to the law, the Torah. Joseph was a devout, practising Jew. His decision to divorce Mary was the right one according to the law.
But Matthew tells us more about Joseph. He notes that while Joseph had decided to sever his relationship with Mary, in accordance with the law and the custom of his time, he had decided to do so “quietly,” evidently to reduce Mary's public disgrace. Joseph had found a way to be faithful to the requirements of the law, but to do so in a respectful and sensitive manner. Joseph struck a remarkable balance between righteousness and compassion.
Joseph's righteousness, however, became even more startling when, after the appearance of an angel in a dream, he abandoned adherence to the law by accepting the angel's exhortation to take Mary as his wife. In this extraordinary situation, Joseph's righteousness transcended the letter of the law. For Joseph, being righteous no longer meant blind, literal adherence to the Torah; the instruction from the angel trumped the law. The imminent arrival of Jesus somehow transformed the righteousness expected of Joseph. This is a theme that Jesus would articulate again and again later in this Gospel: there is a righteousness greater than the law.
When I read this story, I am haunted by Joseph's decision and the questions it raises about my own adherence to rules of righteousness and how they are best tempered by compassion and an openness to God's directive to follow an unexpected path.
Certain Poor Shepherds
BY MAJOR DANIELLE STRICKLAND
Have you ever shared a “good surprise” with a little kid? They immediately start to enlarge with the news … until eventually they can't contain the excitement and it bursts out of them. A rush of goodness. Even as they blurt out the surprise, their face is filled with the happiness of the announcement. Good news has to be shared.
The truth is there isn't enough good news lately. It's hard to make your way through the international headlines with any expectation of “good” in the mix. Wars, violence, fear, moral failures, abuses of power. Our world isn't much different from the one the shepherds lived in, on the hillside near Bethlehem thousands of years ago. It was dark.
The Scripture makes this clear—it was “at night.” I don't think Luke just meant the time of day. God's people had received a lot of bad news for a long, long time. The shepherds were at the low end of the social spectrum, among people barely making a living, doing tiresome work, paying inflated taxes for limited freedom at best. The Israelites were oppressed. The future was dismal, hope almost gone. It really was dark.
I have a friend who was forced into prostitution at 11 years old. She describes herself as so wrapped in the darkness of the street that she was blind to the light. When we offered her a warm place and something to drink, we were offering good news. She didn't understand why we bothered at first. She said she was a lost cause, that she couldn't even see our faces, she had been “blind” for so long. We smiled, served her, loved her and gave her the same message the angels gave the shepherds thousands of years ago: don't be afraid. The darkness cannot hold. The light has come. Everything is changing. God is here.
Bruce Cockburn sings it like this: “Gotta kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight.” That's exactly what happened when Jesus was born: daylight.
It's no wonder that one of Jesus' titles in the Bible is “the Morning Star”: the star that appears at the darkest time of night. And it's right here in the Christmas story that the angels spill the good news. I imagine the angels like children who can't keep the surprise in anymore, bubbling over with pure, infectious joy. I like to think of God laughing out loud as the drama unfolds and the unsuspecting shepherds, left in the dark for a long time, are baffled by the brightness … and when it dawns on them (yes, I used that word deliberately), they begin to run. They run toward the light. Because on that night, the darkness was bleeding daylight. The Morning Star had arrived. Good news was spilling from the earth and the angels. Don't be afraid. The darkness could not hold. The light had come.
The good news is still spilling out, by the way. The darkness, little by little, giving way to the dawn of his coming. Jesus, who came to save us. This message is to be shared. Have you heard? Do not be afraid. The darkness cannot hold. The light has come. His name is Jesus. Run toward the light.
Flight to Egypt
BY NANCY TURLEY
Christmas is my favourite time of year. Singing carols, decorating the tree and being with family and friends as we celebrate the birth of Christ all bring such joy. I love the words of Scripture that paint a picture of that silent, holy night in Bethlehem so long ago, when the shepherds heard the good news: “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:11 KJV). Joy to the world, the promised Messiah has finally come!
Our picture-perfect Christmas cards focus on the lovely, quaint manger scene. But the Christmas story does not end with the worshipping Magi on bended knee, bringing gifts to the newborn King. In Matthew's account, we take a sharp turn from great joy to suffering and tragedy. The Christmas story has a dark side. An angel appears to Joseph in a dream once again to warn him of Herod's plot to eliminate the new King, who threatens his position and power. Jesus and his family become refugees as they flee the tyranny of a cruel dictator and run to Egypt for safety. The Saviour is saved in a land that had once held his people in bondage.
Matthew is the only Gospel writer to include this part of Jesus' story. It is dark and difficult to tell, yet for many reflects the reality of their own Christmas story—private sorrow and hardship, grief and pain, intensified by the expectation of a perfect Christmas that doesn't come. Perhaps this is why Matthew includes this dark side, as a reminder that Jesus, Immanuel, experienced all that we do—fear, disappointment, violence and even death. This is a brutal world. Jesus entered our world of grief, brokenness and political oppression. This is what the Incarnation is all about.
Anguish is still part of Christmas today. There are many who are suffering, lonely and grieving, and finding little joy in the season. Around the world, people in power are still committing horrific acts to prevent the message of the Saviour from being shared. It is this part of the Christmas story that connects most closely with our human experience—sadness, disappointment, fear, loss of life—and reminds us that suffering and joy can co-exist.
I find it interesting that Jesus and his parents flee to Egypt, a nation that had been the enemy of God's people. The very place of bondage for Israel is now a place of refuge for Jesus. Bible scholar Matthew Henry reminds us that “God, when he pleases, can make the worst of places serve the best of purposes.” Matthew shows his readers how this part of the story is the fulfilment of prophecy recorded in Hosea 11:1, “out of Egypt, I have called my Son.” As Joseph responded obediently to God's message through the angel, we see that the safest place to be is always where God leads.
It's time to put away my sentimentalized notions of Christmas. Jesus came into a world not that different from our own. Many today are seeking refuge from evil forces. God yearns for justice for the innocent, marginalized, poor and displaced. As we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, we remember that the Herods of this world will not be able to stand against us when we live obediently and go where he leads us. Christmas is the season of light and hope.
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