The Fear of Herod Versus the Faith of Mary

Reflections on Matthew 2:13-23
Alyce M. McKenzie

In her book Amazing Grace: a Vocabulary of Faith, contemporary Christian author Kathleen Norris contrasts the fear of Herod with the faith of Mary and Joseph.

Everything Herod does, he does out of fear. Fear can be a useful defense mechanism, but when a person is always on the defensive, like Herod, it becomes debilitating and self-defeating. To me, Herod symbolizes the terrible destruction that fearful people can leave in their wake if their fear is unacknowledged, if they have power but can only use it in furtive, pathetic, and futile attempts at self-preservation (Norris, 225).

The tradition of Herod’s “slaughter of the innocents” (Mt. 2:16-18), offers an account of the tragic consequences of such defensive, self-preserving, paranoid fear. This brand of insecurity never leads to anything good. Ironically it most often backfires, shrinking rather than enhancing the one who fears. Herod is a case study that proves the truth of the first half of Proverbs 29:25: “The fear of others lays a snare, but the one who trusts in God rests secure.”

In the process of fearing others, sadly, the one who fears seeks to douse the light of other lives and often appears to succeed. We could make a long list of the sufferings inflicted on others by those who in the past and today are both powerful and paranoid. We hold to the faith that such fear cannot douse the light of the world we celebrate at Christmas. This passage forces us to stay real—paranoid insecurity is a persistent force.

Norris points out that Herod’s fear is the epitome of what Jung calls “the shadow.” Herod demonstrates where such fear can lead when it does not come to light but remains in the dark depths of the unconscious. Ironically, Herod appears in the Christian liturgical year when the gospel is read on the Epiphany, a feast of light (Norris, 226).

Norris tells of preaching about Herod on Epiphany Sunday in a small country church in a poor area of the Hawaiian Island of Oahu. It was an area of the island that tourists were warned to stay away from, an area where those who served the tourist industry as maids and tour bus drivers could afford to live. The church had much to fear: alcoholism, drug addiction, rising property costs, and crime. The residents came to church for hope.

In her sermon Norris pointed out that the sages who traveled so far to find Jesus were drawn to him as a sign of hope. This church, Norris told her congregation, is a sign of hope for the community. Its programs, its thrift store have become important community centers, signs of hope. The church represented, said Norris, “a lessening of fear’s shadowy power, an increase in the available light.” She continued to say that that’s what Christ’s coming celebrates: his light shed abroad into our lives. She ended her sermon by encouraging the congregation, like the ancient wise men, not return to Herod but find another way. She encouraged them to “leave Herod in his palace, surrounded by flatterers, all alone with his fear” (Norris, 226).

There is the fear of Herod and there is the fear of the Lord exemplified by Mary and Joseph which, we are promised, is the beginning of knowledge and wisdom (Pr. 1:7). When we open our doors, even just a crack, to allow the fear of the Lord to enter in, we have taken the first step in a lifelong process of exchanging the fear of Herod for the faith of Mary and Joseph.

The fear of the Lord is the Bible’s code word for a full-bodied faith that includes trembling before the mystery of a Transcendent God and trusting in the tenderness and faithfulness of an imminent God. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of our being able to say, with Mary, “Here am I, a servant of the Lord. Let it be to me according to your word” (Lk. 1:38). It is the source of Joseph’s wordless obedience (Mt. 1:24) and Jesus’ words from the cross in Luke: “Into thy hands I commit my spirit” (Lk. 23:46). The fear of the Lord opens us to the comfort and stamina God offers even in times of undeserved and profound suffering. The fear of the Lord is the impulse that shuts our self-righteous lips when we look upon the suffering or mistakes of others. It impels us, rather than to retreat in cold judgment, to reach out with comforting, capable hearts and hands.

When we put aside our paranoid, self-centered fears and embrace the fear of the Lord, we face the reality of an unknown future with the good news that we are accompanied by a God who never abandons us. The shadows of fear are illuminated by the light—Immanuel, God with us!


Image credit: Stained glass window, Sts. Joseph & Paul Catholic Church, Owensboro KY | PD

The Date of Christmas

Christians around the world will gather to celebrate Jesus’ birth. The season is punctuated by carols, gatherings and parties, good cheer, brightly wrapped gifts, festive foods, and family traditions. In my parish we need ten Masses between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to accommodate all the folks who come to celebrate the Nativity. At the masses the familiar and traditional gospel readings are proclaimed telling of angels, shepherds, and a child wrapped in swaddling born to save us. All of this on the same date each year: December 25th.

How did December 25 come to be associated with Jesus’ birthday? The Bible does not specify the date of the Nativity. Which is interesting in that the gospels are quite specific as regards the Last Supper, the Crucifixion and the Resurrection. Lots of people might offer, it can not have been December since shepherds were tending their flocks in pasture lands; that would be during the spring lambing season; in the cold month of December, on the other hand, sheep might well have been corralled. But then one should have a bit of caution when trying to exact a date from an incidental detail whose purpose is theological.

But it is interesting to note that the earlier New Testament scripture – St. Paul’s epistles and the Gospel of Mark – make no mention of Jesus’ birth. But the Gospels of Matthew and Luke provide us with the well known accounts, although without mentioning a date. The writings of the early Christian era, the first and second century, has no mention of birth celebrations in the writings of folks such as Irenaeus (c. 130–200), Tertullian (c. 160–225) or Origen of Alexandria (c. 165–264). 

In the second century, we see additional details of Jesus’ birth and childhood – but they are written in books not considered part of the Canon of Sacred Scripture (apocryphal writings) such as the Infancy Gospel of Thomas and the Proto-Gospel of James. These texts provide everything from the names of Jesus’ grandparents to the details of his education, but not the date of his birth. In about 200 AD, Clement of Alexandria notes that several different days had been proposed by various Christian groups. Surprisingly, December 25 is not mentioned at all. The dates being bandied about were August 28th and May 20th. By the fourth century we find references to two dates, Dec 25 (West) and January 6 (East), that seemed to be celebrated in the Roman Empire.  In time December 25 would prevail as the date for celebrating  the Nativity, while January 6 eventually came to be known as the Feast of the Epiphany, commemorating the arrival of the magi in Bethlehem.

But why December 25th?

A popular theory is that the Christian Church borrowed from the pagan celebration of Sol Invictus (the Unconquered Sun), a Roman celebration established in 274 AD by the Roman emperor Aurelian. According to this theory, early Christians deliberately chose these dates to encourage the spread of Christmas and Christianity throughout the Roman world. Despite its popularity today, this theory of Christmas’s origins has its problems. It is not found in any ancient Christian writings. Some Christian authors of the time note a connection between the solstice and Jesus’ birth, but in connection with setting a calendar date. Rather they see the coincidence as a providential sign, as natural proof that God had selected Jesus over the false pagan gods.

It’s not until the 12th century that we find the first suggestion that Jesus’ birth celebration was deliberately set at the time of pagan feasts. A marginal note on a manuscript of the writings of the Syriac biblical commentator Dionysius bar-Salibi states that in ancient times the Christmas holiday was actually shifted from January 6 to December 25 so that it fell on the same date as the pagan Sol Invictus holiday. In the 18th and 19th centuries, Bible scholars spurred on by the new study of comparative religions latched on to this idea. They claimed that because the early Christians didn’t know when Jesus was born, they simply assimilated the pagan solstice festival for their own purposes, claiming it as the time of the Messiah’s birth and celebrating it accordingly. This line of argument was extended to show that many of the Christmas holiday’s traditions reflect pagan customs borrowed from pagan practices, e.g., the Christmas tree. But all of these traditions are from a much later period as Christianity expanded into northern and western Europe. 

There are problems with this popular theory. Most significantly, the first mention of a date for Christmas (c. 200) and the earliest celebrations that we know about (c. 250–300) come in a period when Christians were not borrowing heavily from pagan traditions. In the first few centuries, the persecuted Christian minority was greatly concerned with distancing itself from the larger, public pagan religious observances, such as sacrifices, games and holidays. This was still true as late as the violent persecutions of the Christians conducted by the Roman emperor Diocletian between 303 and 312 C.E.

When Constantine came to power and converted to Christianity, Christianity took over pagan temples and converted them to churches, but there is no evidence of Christians adopting pagan festivals in the third century, at which point dates for Christmas were established. Thus, it seems unlikely that the date was simply selected to correspond with pagan solar festivals.

There is some evidence that the Donatist Christians in North Africa were celebrating the Nativity of the Lord on December 25th in the 3rd century before the age of Constantine and perhaps even before the establishment of Sol Invictus.  Which still leaves us with: why December 25th?

Around 200 AD Tertullian of Carthage calculated that the date of Jesus’ death, given in the Gospel of John at 14th of Nissan, was equivalent to March 25th in the Roman calendar.  That date should stand out as it is the date the Catholic Church celebrates the Feast of the Annunciation, Jesus’ conception. And yes, that date is 9 months prior to December 25. 

An idea of the time was that Jesus was conceived and crucified on the same calendar date. The idea appears in an anonymous Christian treatise titled “On Solstices and Equinoxes”, which is likely from fourth-century North Africa. The treatise states: “Therefore our Lord was conceived on the eighth of the kalends of April in the month of March [March 25], which is the day of the passion of the Lord and of his conception. For on that day he was conceived on the same he suffered.” St. Augustine was familiar with this association. In On the Trinity (c. 399–419) he writes: “For he [Jesus] is believed to have been conceived on the 25th of March, upon which day also he suffered; so the womb of the Virgin, in which he was conceived, where no one of mortals was begotten, corresponds to the new grave in which he was buried, wherein was never man laid, neither before him nor since. But he was born, according to tradition, upon December the 25th.”

In Eastern Christianity the same idea was present, but rather than March 25th, the starting date was April 6th. Bishop Epiphanius of Salamis writes that on April 6, “The lamb was shut up in the spotless womb of the holy virgin, he who took away and takes away in perpetual sacrifice the sins of the world.” This led to the dating of the Nativity on January 6th. Thus, we have Christians in two parts of the world calculating Jesus’ birth on the basis that his death and conception took place on the same day (March 25 or April 6) and coming up with two close but different results (December 25 and January 6).

Connecting Jesus’ conception and death is an odd connection for us to make, but it reflects ancient and medieval understandings of the whole of salvation being bound up together. One of the most poignant expressions of this belief is found in Christian art. In numerous paintings of the angel’s Annunciation to Mary, the moment of Jesus’ conception, the baby Jesus is shown gliding down from heaven on or with a small cross; a visual reminder that the conception brings the promise of salvation through Jesus’ death.


Image credit: The Annunciation | Master Bertram, 1379-1383 | Altarpiece at St Peter (Grabow) | Kunsthalle, Hamburg.  Source credit: Andrew McGowan, Bible History Daily | July 10, 2025

The Costs of Christmas

Yesterday the Church sang of angels, shepherds, light, and joy. Quite jarringly, today we are shown stones, hatred, and death. On the very day after Christmas, the Church places before us St. Stephen, the first martyr. This is not accidental. It is profoundly intentional. Because Christmas is not only about a child in a manger; it is about a life that will be given, and about what happens when that life truly takes root in human hearts.

In the first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, Stephen stands before the Sanhedrin, accused, threatened, misunderstood. Yet we are told: “Stephen, filled with the Holy Spirit, looked up intently to heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God” (Acts 7:55).

Stephen does not defend himself. He does not bargain. He does not save his life by silence. Instead, he remains faithful to what God has revealed, even when that fidelity leads directly to his death. This is obedience of faith in its most costly form: trusting God not only when obedience brings blessing, but when it brings suffering.

The story of Stephen’s martyrdom is a lesson in seeing what others cannot see. While his accusers see a blasphemer, Stephen sees heaven opened. While stones are raised against him, Stephen entrusts his spirit to Christ: “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” (Acts 7:59) And like his Master, he prays: “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” (Acts 7:60)

Stephen’s death mirrors Christ’s death, because the obedience of faith always conforms us to Jesus.

But why the day after Christmas? I think the Church places the Feast of St. Stephen immediately after Christmas teaches us a hard but necessary truth: if Christmas is real, it will change how we live and it may cost us something. Christmas proclaims that God has entered the world. St. Stephen shows us what happens when that truth is lived without compromise:

Love becomes dangerous.
Truth becomes costly.
Faith becomes visible.

The Gospel becomes a warning as Jesus tells His disciples: “You will be hated by all because of my name, but whoever endures to the end will be saved.” (Mt 10:22) Stephen is the first to prove that these words are not symbolic. The obedience of faith does not promise safety. It promises Christ’s presence.

I suspect most of us are challenged by Stephen’s obedience of faith and our own. Most of us will not face stones or martyrdom. But this feast day celebration invites us to examine the quieter ways we resist obedience to the faith:

When faith costs social approval
When truth creates tension
When forgiveness feels unjust
When fidelity requires sacrifice

Stephen teaches us that obedience of faith is not about heroic gestures but rather it is about faithfulness to Christ, even when the outcome is uncertain or painful.

The world sees Stephen’s death as a failure. The Church sees it as a birth. Stephen dies while heaven stands open. The child born yesterday is already reigning. And one of those who watches Stephen die will one day become St. Paul, apostle to the nations. The obedience of faith may look like loss in the moment, but God never wastes it.

On this day after Christmas, the Church reminds us that the manger leads to the cross. The cross leads to glory. And no matter the cost, obedience of faith leads to life.


Image credit: The Stoning of Stephen | Rembrandt, 1625 | Musée des Beaux-Arts de Lyon | PD-US

Matthew and the Holy Family

In the short span of time between our celebration of Christmas and the Feast of the Holy Family, there is not sufficient time to have a week of posts – and besides, I hope your days are filled with visits from friends and family and you’ve got a fun-filled day ahead of you. But if you are interested, you can read a detailed commentary on the gospel reading for the Feast of the Holy Family. The commentary covers the flight to Egypt, the slaughter of the Holy Innocents, and the Holy Family’s return to Nazareth. Enjoy.


Image credit: Stained glass window, Sts. Joseph & Paul Catholic Church, Owensboro KY | PD

Joy in the days after

 “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice! The Lord is near.”  Such were the words on the Third Sunday of Advent, Gaudete Sunday.  Perhaps we should rephrase the words: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice! The Lord is here.”  All of Advent we have been waiting and praying for the coming joy of Christmas. On this night the angels proclaim the message of “good news of great joy;” for unto us has born a child, Emmanuel, who is Christ, Lord and Savior. This good news of great joy is for all the people of God. 

The Church’s liturgical seasons of Advent, Christmas and Ordinary Time are shaped to lead us to the experience of joy. In a way it matches a pattern of life of which we are intuitively aware because we are people that live among patterns shaping our lives. It might be simply described simply as three “seasons” similar to the Church’s liturgical seasons. The first season is “Preparation” for an event. It is a season which carries along with it a sense of anticipation. Next comes the “day” itself, when anticipation is realized in an occasion of great joy. And then comes the time after the event and that season where we move on into life but we want to hold on to the joy of the day. Like Christmas: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice! The Lord is [here].” 

The joy of Christmas is here; all around us, before, behind us, surrounding us.  How do we appropriate it? How do we grab some and put it in our pocket for later? How can we bottle it? How can we capture the joy which pervades this night. And once we have it, keep it safe, and share the joy?

There are lots of events in our life that have that same pattern of anticipation, preparation, and finally the day comes:

  • Your first day of high school
  • Moving into the dorm at college
  • Your first job after college
  • Getting married
  • Your first home
  • Your first child (…second child and more until you have at least four and then you can have your own swimming relay team!)
  • Your children’s first day of school, high school, college… and so the cycle continues.

Parents and grandparents look back and remember the joy.

As a community of faith we have anticipated and prepared for this evening – and here we are at Christmas. Not just us and not just now – but every year. And it has been this way since before the time of Jesus. The Prophet Isaiah, more than 2,500 years ago, looked forward to this day of “abundant joy and great rejoicing” when he prophesied:“For a child is born to us, a son is given us; upon his shoulder dominion rests. They name him Wonder-Counselor, God-Hero, Father-Forever, Prince of Peace.”  And the people of God waited and anticipated – through the days and nights, joys and sorrows, and all that makes up the cauldron of this life. They had faith that the day would come.

And then, out of the dark night sky, there shown above shepherds in the fields, the glory of the Lord and angels who proclaimed good news of great joy: “For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Christ and Lord.”  And then the heaven exploded in an angelic chorus.

Think of the anticipation those shepherds felt as they hurried into Bethlehem to witness what the angels proclaimed. Think of the anticipation of Mary and Joseph. The joy of the world focused on a manger is a backwater town of Bethlehem.

Be it on the grand scale of the history of Redemption, the celebration of one year’s Christmas, or so many events of our life – there is the pattern of anticipation all pointing towards “the day”- be it Christmas, the first day of college, your wedding day, and so much more.

And comes the day after Christmas, the second day of college, the end of the honeymoon and the start of building a life together.

Here at Christmas we are again asked to recall the words of St. Paul to Titus: “The grace of God has appeared, saving all and training us to reject godless ways and worldly desires and to live temperately, justly, and devoutly in this age.” And to carry those words and these memories into the cauldron of life, to face the next day. Likewise, to recall: 

  • Your first day of college – to remember what you hoped to achieve and to renew your efforts toward that goal. 
  • Your wedding day – to remember the covenant vows you exchanged and go back to the work of building a life together in love.  
  • The moment you child your child in your arms – all the promises you made – and to again strive to make those promises come true.

And Christmas – to remember the warm glow of this evening, the close comfort of friends and family, the good cheer, and to recall a Savior has been born to us, saving all, and asking us to be Christ for others. To renew our covenant with God in this Eucharist with our “Amen”, and then to go into the world to strive to make the promises of Christ come true for yourself, your loved ones, for friends, and for those you will meet in the days and years to come. 

With all the anticipation comes the day, and with the day, comes the day after. We are people of the day after but recall this day in memory and rejoicing, for to us a Savior has been born!

Merry Christmas.

The Days of Promise

I hope you have been following the readings here during the final week of Advent. These have been the gospel readings:

  • Friday: the “annunciation” of the birth of Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist
  • Saturday: the Annunciation to the Blessed Virgin Mary, the mother of Jesus
  • Sunday: the story of Joseph and the Word of God that came to him in a dream telling him to take Mary into his house and become the guardian of Jesus
  • Monday: as part of the Visitation of Mary to Elizabeth, the gospel is Mary’s exultant song of Hope: the Magnificat
  • Tuesday: the birth and naming of John the Baptist – “All who heard these things took them to heart, saying, “What, then, will this child be? For surely the hand of the Lord was with him.
  • Today, Wednesday December 24th, we hear Zechariah’s song of praise known as the Benedictus.

God is doing what he promised. His word will come to pass. These events are “as he promised through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old.” The promise involves rescue: God will save his people from their enemies and from all who hate them. Such salvation reflects the mercy of God and the recollection of the covenant made with Abraham. In this way the hymn actually combines two sets of divine promises – those about David’s son and those made to Abraham. What God will do for his people he does through Messiah. The fresh fulfillment of both covenants begins with Jesus’ arrival.

But what is the goal of this salvation? Here is perhaps the most insightful part of the hymn. Zechariah is not retreating from life or looking only to a future reward in heaven. His heart’s desire is to serve God “without fear … in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.” This is the expression of an exemplary soul. The meaning of life comes in faithful service to a holy God. 

Such was the goal and purpose of Advent that we too might serve God without fear and in holiness all the days of our life. And to be reminded these are the days of promises fulfilled.


Image credit: Stained glass window, Sts. Joseph & Paul Catholic Church, Owensboro KY | PD

The Birth of the Baptist

The gospel for the 4th Tuesday of Advent is from Luke 1:57 and following, describing the birth of John the Baptist. With the birth of John, God continues to fulfill what he promised in Luke 1:5-25. John’s father, mute till now, regains his power of speech as soon as the name designated by the angel is confirmed. The people are filled with fear — not terror, but awesome reverence in the face of God’s wonderful deeds. They are not simply shocked but show their awareness of deeper meaning in the events.

The birth and circumcision of John emphasize John’s incorporation into the people of Israel by the sign of the covenant (Genesis 17:1-12). The narrative of John’s circumcision also prepares the way for the subsequent description of the circumcision of Jesus in Luke 2:21. At the beginning of his two-volume work Luke shows those who play crucial roles in the inauguration of Christianity to be wholly a part of the people of Israel. At the end of the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 21:20; 22:3; 23:6-9; 24:14-16; 26:2-8, 22-23) he will argue that Christianity is the direct descendant of Pharisaic Judaism.

Though children were often named at birth in the Old Testament (Gen 25:25-26; 29:32-35), it appears that sometimes such naming was associated with circumcision. The presence of the parents at circumcision shows them as pious, law-abiding Jews (Gen 21:4; Lev 12:3).  However grounded in custom, many features of the naming of John are surprising. 

The crowd fully expects custom to be followed. They wish the child to be named Zechariah. Children were often named after fathers or grandfathers (1 Maccabees 1:1-2; Josephus Life 15; Antiquities 14.1.3 10; 20.9.1 197; Jubilees 11:15). Elizabeth rejects the crowd’s desire and goes her own way. The name she chooses is the one the angel gave Zechariah in v.13. The text is silent on how she knew this name, but that detail is unimportant. The choice of the surprising name indicates that God’s will has been fulfilled through human obedience. 

The protest of the crowd shows that they are unaware of what God is doing. Surely the father of the house will not sanction this breaking of custom. So they motion to Zechariah to find out what the name of the child should be. By repeating the name his wife gave, Zechariah echoes the instructions of the angel, not the crowd and custom. In typical Lucan fashion, the responses of the people are (1) amazement (thaumazo, v. 63) and fear (phobos, v. 65). Both of these words occur more often in Luke than in the other gospels. They are not words of faith. In addition, there is a possible contrast between Zechariah’s reaction and his neighbors. “He was speaking (laleo –something he couldn’t do in 1:20, 22). What was he speaking? Praises to God (v. 64b). The neighbors talk about or discuss [dialaleo] these things with one another (v. 65). The only other time this second word is used in Luke, it is the Pharisees who are filled with anger and discuss what they might do to Jesus (6:11).

The praises to God are captured in Zechariah’s song, traditionally called the Benedictus from its first word in Latin. It is the NT canticle sung at Morning Prayers. Culpepper (“Luke,” New Interpreter’s Bible, p.59) writes:

The progression of thought in the Benedictus shows, however, that the true end of God’s redemption is not merely deliverance from political domination — as important as that is — but the creation of conditions in which God’s people can worship and serve God without fear…The ultimate purpose of God’s salvation presupposes deliverance from the enemy but is in fact undisturbed worship. Deliverance makes worship in peace — unhindered worship — possible. [p. 59]

Johnson (Luke, Sacra Pagina, 48) says much the same thing:

The canticle gives the reader the first sure sense of what “liberation” means for Luke. It is defined in specifically “religious” rather than political terms. Negatively defined, freedom means release from the power of enemies. But its positive content is worship and holiness of life. Thus John’s role in preparing the people for “restoration” involves the forgiveness of sins rather than the rallying of troops. Likewise the Messiah’s role is not one of violent revolt but rather of leading the people “in the path of peace.”

Previously, Johnson had noted how Zechariah fulfilled this canticle: “Luke has thereby made the experience of Zechariah a miniature enactment of his canticle: God’s mercy liberates the people to worship fearlessly; Zechariah’s release from muteness is expressed in praise” (p.57).

Zechariah’s canticle, like that of Mary, weaves traditional Hebrew quotations and themes into a hymn of praise. His hymn can be described as a “prophecy” under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Prophecy in this fundamental biblical sense does not mean primarily a foretelling of the future, as in modern parlance, but a divinely enlightened proclamation of the meaning of events. Zechariah sees in the birth of his son God’s remembrance of his covenant promises to David (2 Sam 7:8–16) and the definitive salvation for all the people. In the first part of the canticle, the salvation hoped for sounds roughly like the overthrow of national enemies (a concept of Messiah that would plague Jesus during his ministry), but in later verses salvation is understood more profoundly as freedom for worship.

The birth event of John the Baptist displays three unique features: (1) the old have given birth, (2) the child has an unexpected name, and (3) Zechariah’s handicap is taken away, whereupon he launches into praise about what God is doing. Such remarkable events cause the crowd to fear and reflect. Something different and surprising is happening, things worth remembering and considering. So they wonder, “What, then, will this child be?” Luke wants his readers to consider the same question. The story’s close indicates that “surely the hand of the Lord was with him.” Luke continues his purpose of giving the reader assurance of God’s faithfulness.

Luke’s way of ending this story of John’s birth is a good indication of his technique in keeping the reader’s attention on one episode at a time, even though several events are interlocked. Verse 80 has John growing up from infancy to manhood and taking his place in the desert even before Jesus’ birth is described. He is stationed there for his next appearance in the story thirty years later (3:1–3).


Image credit: Birth of St. John the Baptist, Artemisia Gentileschi, Prado Museum Madrid, Public Domain

The Ancestors of Jesus

There are four different Masses that rightly celebrate the Nativity of the Lord. They are the Vigil Mass (all the masses before 10 pm on Christmas Eve), Mass during the Night (“Midnight Mass”), Mass at Dawn, and Mass during the Day. Many parishes these days have several Vigil Masses. At our parish in Virginia we will have 6 vigil Masses. The vigil mass has two options for the Gospel reading.

The option that is most often selected is one that seems well suited to Christmas: “This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about. When his mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found with child through the Holy Spirit. Joseph her husband…”(Matthew 1:18-25) The reading goes on to describe the angel’s message to Joseph to take Mary into his home. “For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her. She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus.

Especially when one of the Vigil Masses is preceded by the Children’s Christmas Pageant this is a great choice and an easy one to be part of the evening’s homily.

The other option presents a few more challenges to listener and homilist alike: “The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham. Abraham became the father of Isaac, Isaac the father of Jacob,  Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers. Judah became the father of Perez and Zerah, whose mother was Tamar…” and on for a total of 25 verses (Matthew 1:1-25). It really is a great gospel, but…it just does not seem a good choice for what will undoubtedly be a Mass filled with families and lots of children. Still…

When we gather for Christmas Eve, most of us come already filled with excitement. Children can hardly wait for tomorrow morning. Families look forward to being together. Lights are shining in every corner of the church. In his gospel, before Matthew tells us about angels, shepherds, and the Baby in the manger, he begins with a long list of names. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob… Ruth, David… and on and on. I have never had the gumption to choose this gospel. I wonder that as I proclaimed the gospel and watched eyes wander, children get restless, and their foreheads wrinkle as people think: “why on earth is he reading that gospel? Where is Joseph, Mary and the baby Jesus?” – would I accelerate the reading to rush to the end as soon as possible… and then… and then what? Then, I have to preach. So, maybe I will just share my thoughts with you.

Why does the gospel start with a genealogy? Because Matthew wants to tell us something important about the story of Jesus, something that is a great message for Christmas: God keeps His promises. Always.

The genealogy is a description of God’s promise moving through history, through the almost 2,000 years that passed from Abraham to Jesus. In that stretch of time, the people of God paid were faithful and not-so-faithful. But God remained faithful and never forgot the promise. God never abandoned His people even when they abandoned Him. God remained faithful across centuries. That is exactly what St. Paul offers in the Vigil Mass’ second reading: “From his descendants God, according to his promise, has brought to Israel a savior, Jesus.” (Acts 13:23)

So before Matthew gets to the point when that promise becomes flesh — a Baby laid in a manger. Matthew wants us to be mindful that God works through ordinary—and imperfect—people. Look closely at the genealogy and you’ll notice that the list is filled with surprising people: Abraham sometimes doubted. Jacob was a trickster who cheated his brother out of his inheritance. David was a great king, but also a great sinner. Ruth was a foreigner. Rahab wasn’t even part of Israel at first. What does this tell us? It says God is willing to work with our flaws because God’s plan is bigger than our weaknesses. God can work through saints and sinners, kings and shepherds, parents and children. God isn’t put off by the messiness of human life. That’s good news for everyone. It is good news for the families and folks that feel they are too complicated, a little imperfect, unsure and struggling.  We all would fit right into the genealogy and the family of Jesus.

If the genealogy’s characters weren’t surprising enough, the biggest surprise is that God kept His promise by becoming one of us: “Behold, the virgin shall be with child and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel, which means ‘God is with us.’” (Matthew 1:23) There was no flash of lightning or earthquakes. There was only a baby — small, vulnerable, needing to be held and fed. The promise was fulfilled gently, quietly, and in ways we never could have imagined.

The genealogy is a great gospel for Christmas because it is an invitation for us to trust, believe and remember that God is with us. No matter the year we’ve had, the worries we carry, the troubles we’ve seen, and the fears that grip us. No matter what. In the proclamation of the genealogy gospel, God whispers: “I am with you.”

He has been with his people for thousands of years and has kept the Promise, working through Jesus’ long and imperfect family line, and God is ready to work in all of our lives too. In the kindness we show, the forgiveness we offer, the prayers we whisper, and in the generosity with which we give.  In these things, we take our place in Jesus’ family. 

The Gospel reading of the genealogy of Jesus reminds us that as we gather around the manger, we gather not as strangers, but as members of the family God that has been forming since Abraham. The genealogy begins with Abraham and ends with a newborn child… but the story continues with each one of us.

It really is a great gospel. 


Image credit: Photograph | South dome of inner narthex at Chora Church, Istanbul, depicting the ancestors of Christ from Adam forward | Wiki Commons from José Luiz Bernardes Ribeiro | CC BY-SA 3.0