Lectionary With A View
Commentary
Not many things are quite as common — and, for that matter, quite as predictable — as the sunrise and the sunset. Yet that does not make them less spectacular, does it? We still find ourselves struck by their beauty. So much so, in fact, that at times we try to take pictures in order to capture what we are seeing and experiencing. Or, if others are nearby, we call some family member over to the window in order to share the beauty of the view with someone we love.
The Advent season and the Christmas holiday are, for church folks, every bit as familiar as the sunrise and the sunset. They are not quite as frequent, but they are regular and predictable. Our task as preachers is to stay in touch with the beauty, the majesty, and the wonder so that we might be able to call the church family over to the window, as it were, so that we might share it with them.
When people think of the Christmas story and message, of course, they naturally think of a few particular passages of scripture, typically the episodes recorded in Matthew and Luke. Luke tells about the annunciations and births of both John the Baptist and Jesus, the Christmas angel’s message to the shepherds, followed by those shepherds' discovery of the Christ child, and then the presentation in the temple, complete with Simeon and Anna. Matthew, meanwhile, recites Jesus’ genealogy, the surprising pregnancy of Mary, several angelic instructions to Joseph, the star-prompted visit of the wise men, the flight to Egypt, and the massacre in Bethlehem.
Our assigned texts for this Fourth Sunday of Advent do include a passage from Luke, which will be naturally familiar. Somewhat less familiar to many folks will be the selection from Micah, though the Bethlehem reference will ring a bell. And then there is the assigned text from Hebrews: this is not where the minds of most people go when they’re thinking about Christmas. But all of these texts contribute to the view.
Finally, while we have analogized the familiarity of the sunrise and sunset to the familiarity of Christmas, we should note a crucial distinction. We may celebrate the coming of Christ regularly for more than a month every year, but Christmas does not actually happen every year. In other words, the sunrise and sunset are familiar because they occur regularly every day. But the coming of Christ happened just once, and that makes it uniquely spectacular and beautiful. So this Sunday, let’s call the church family over to see what Luke, Micah, and the author of Hebrews show us about the coming of Christ.
Micah 5:2-5a
Chances are that many of the people in our pews are more familiar with Bethlehem than with Micah. But since our Old Testament passage about Bethlehem comes from a prophecy, we would do well to give them a sense of the prophet. For the prophecy may have even more meaning for people within its context.
We read these verses from Micah 5 at Christmas time, for this is the passage to which the scribes pointed when the wise men appeared in Jerusalem and when Herod inquired where the Messiah was to be born. The passage figures prominently in the Christmas story. But its context wasn’t Christmas; its context was an eighth-century BC judgment.
Micah was among that first generation of canonical judgment prophets, along with Isaiah in the south and Amos and Hosea in the north. The region was living under the growing threat of the Assyrian Empire, and the people of God in both the northern and southern kingdoms were being warned about the divine role in that threat. For while Israel’s history featured so many international conflicts in which the Lord God was on Israel’s side and gave them victory, the eighth-century BC brought an alarming new layer to the national theology: namely, that God would use other nations to exact divine judgment on his own people. In the conflict between Assyria and God’s own people, the unthinkable message was that God was on the side of Assyria, or at least that Assyria was an instrument of God’s purpose.
In the eighth-century Judah of Micah’s day, the glory of David was a distant memory. Bethlehem may have given birth to the author of Israel’s golden age, but that was more than two centuries earlier. Furthermore, in David’s day, Israel was a united monarchy of twelve tribes with expanding and secure borders. Now, in Micah’s day, Judah was the smaller kingdom of the divided monarchy, and its borders were vulnerable. Indeed, Assyria would soon decimate most of the country.
Within that context, then, a prophecy that makes bold and hopeful claims about a someday ruler must have seemed out-of-touch with reality. When your team is getting routed by an opponent is not the logical time to talk of the prospect of hoisting the championship trophy. Yet Micah, in the midst of a message of judgment, and in a context of weakness and peril, paints a strong and lovely picture of what God has in store for his people. Or, better still, who God has in store for his people.
The initial verse about Bethlehem is the one cited by the chief priests and scribes in response to Herod’s inquiry in Matthew. It signifies the role of Bethlehem in the story of the promised Messiah. But the remainder of the passage lends additional insight into both the heart of God and our own Christology.
As to the heart of God, we see in these verses the goodness of God’s ultimate plan for his people. Even while his prophet is calling out the people’s sinfulness and warning of divine punishment, still we are reminded that judgment is never the last word with God. He always and always has a good and perfect plan on the other side of the purging. And so, we see promises of restoration, security, and peace for God’s people. The promises of God reveal his plans, you see, and his plans are a reflection of his heart.
Meanwhile, the Christology of this passage is so substantial that we will give it its own separate treatment below.
Hebrews 10:5-10
When our people hear this excerpt from Hebrews read, they may wonder to themselves, “When did Jesus say that?” The author attributes several sentences to Jesus that would not be familiar to folks from their reading of the gospels. In fact, however, the author of this book quotes a passage from the book of Psalms, specifically the Septuagint’s translation of Psalm 40:6-7.
In terms of the larger, original context, Psalm 40 reads like a grateful testimony. The psalmist recalls being in great distress, and the Lord delivered him from his troubles. That, in turn, gives rise to the psalmist’s jubilant praise.
What begins as the individual’s testimony about the Lord transitions then into a prayer spoken to the Lord. First, in verse 5, there is an affirmation of the Lord’s goodness toward his people. And then, in verse 6, the psalmist makes what may seem like an unorthodox statement about sacrifices and offerings. While those were the backbone of the levitical system, the psalmist declares that God does not delight in or require such.
Now we come across similar kinds of statements elsewhere. Several prophets, for example, condemn meaningless rituals when the people’s lives are out of sync with their pretended piety. And we recall, too, David’s famous prayer of confession in which he says to the Lord, “You will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it; you will not be pleased with a burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise” (Psalm 51:16-17 ESV).
In the spirit of that passage from Psalm 51, then, we would expect the author of Psalm 40 to follow the repudiation of sacrifices and offerings with some alternative. If not those, then what is it that the Lord delights in and requires? And that, then, is where these key statements come in: “Then I said, 'Behold, I have come to do your will, O God, as it is written of me in the scroll of the book.'” All this, combined with the Septuagint’s rendering of verse 6 to include a reference to “a body you have prepared for me,” and the writer of Hebrews sees in Psalm 40 a messianic message.
A Sunday morning worship service is likely not the time to get down in the weeds about the Masoretic text, the Septuagint, and the exact meaning of verse 6. Suffice it to say that the writer of Hebrews hears Christ speaking in these verses — just as Christ is elsewhere heard to be speaking other Old Testament passages, like Isaiah 61:1, Psalm 22:1, Psalm 31:5, Psalm 55:13, and more.
The writer of Hebrews, then, takes two verses from Psalm 40, and he hears Christ speaking those words. The message that Christ speaks — the message prophetically anticipated a thousand year BC — is that the offering of Christ’s body on the cross concludes the transition from the old covenant to the new. The former method of sacrifices and offerings were never the perfect expression of God’s will. And now those are set aside by the one who came to do God’s will.
Luke 1:39-45 (46-55)
Not all people have equally good hearing. Not everyone enjoys keen eyesight. Some folks have a much more sensitive nose than others when it comes to fragrances and odors. And, likewise, it seems that spiritual sensitivity is not a uniform phenomenon among human beings.
We think, for example, of an episode from the crucifixion of Jesus. On the one hand was a criminal who joined the antagonists in mocking Jesus, while on the other side was a criminal who demonstrated remarkable perception. Who, after all, would presume to think that a man being executed would ever be in a position to reign in some kingdom? So there, in the other two men on crosses that day, we see a great gap in spiritual sensitivity.
Let us count Elizabeth among the small and special crowd of people who exhibit tremendous spiritual sensitivity in the gospels, for see how she recognizes Jesus. The scribes and Pharisees had right before their eyes one who was greater than Jonah or Solomon, yet they did not recognize him (Matthew 12:38-42). Philip had been with him so long, and yet “you still do not know me” (John 14:9 ESV). Sitting in prison, John the Baptist evidently was uncertain about who Jesus was (Luke 7:19-20). The crowds were filled with speculations about Jesus being John the Baptist, Elijah, or other prophets (Mark 8:27-28), but they did not fully understand. The mockers and persecutors around the cross “know not what they do” (Luke 23:34 ESV) because they did not recognize him. And, indeed, the gospel writer John reports that “He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him” (John 1:10 ESV).
In short, the forerunner, disciples, religious leaders, and the multitudes had Jesus right before their eyes — they heard him, saw him, and knew him — yet they did not recognize him. Elizabeth, by contrast, had none of that. She had not heard Jesus preach or teach, and she had not seen him feed multitudes, cast out demons, cleanse lepers, or heal the sick. All she had was the sound of Mary’s voice and the movement of her child in utero. Yet for Elizabeth, that was enough. With only that much to go on, Elizabeth recognized the one who was in Mary’s womb.
This is no small marvel. It would be sufficient for one pregnant woman to remark to another pregnant woman the seeming reaction of her own baby to the other’s voice. Babies move and lurch and turn in the womb for all sorts of reasons. But Elizabeth sensed that this was something out of the ordinary. And she made the astonishing leap from “my baby moved in response to your voice” to “the mother of my Lord.” That is an almost scandalous statement for a first-century Jewish woman to make, but she was filled with the Holy Spirit, and she knew.
It is a worthy prayer that the Lord should help us all to be like Elizabeth. While most of the world passes by — sometimes blase, sometimes ignorant, sometimes outright antagonistic — let us never fail to recognize and understand just who it is that has come to visit us.
Application
I’m a big football fan. I know that some folks are fans of sports that are faster-paced — especially soccer, but also basketball and hockey — and they sometimes feel impatient with the amount of time between plays during a football game. Personally, I’m glad for those down moments, for I enjoy watching the replays of the play just completed. And with television broadcasts being what they are, a lot of cameras are involved, and so the viewer can get a lot of different perspectives on the same play. I read that for a recent Super Bowl, for example, the network carrying the game had over 160 different cameras in use!
Perhaps we would do well to embrace a variety of scripture passages as being like different camera angles on the same person or event or truth. Specifically, for our purposes this week, we enjoy three views of Christmas. Micah is holding one camera for us, Luke another, and the author of Hebrews a third.
When Micah looks at Christmas, he sees Bethlehem and a shepherd. Interestingly, though, it is not one of the shepherds we traditionally associate with Bethlehem and Christmas — it is, rather, the one born in Bethlehem. For he will be the best sort of ruler for God’s people: a ruler who functions in the caring, provident, and protective role of a shepherd. He will be marked by majesty, and his rule will be marked by peace and security. Micah’s view of Christmas offers a very hopeful promise for the future.
Luke’s angle on Christmas — at least in our selected passage — is compliments of Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s Spirit-filled exclamations are focused especially on Mary, who had come to visit her. Elizabeth intuits from the in-utero reaction of her own child that Mary -- or more to the point, the baby Mary is carrying -- is something special. And the striking theological affirmation that Elizabeth makes in that moment is the reference to Mary as “the mother of my Lord.” Now we mustn’t be irresponsible in assuming that a fully developed Christology lay beneath that exclamation. Nonetheless, it’s clear that Elizabeth understands Mary’s child to be a distinctively special individual sent by God. And her reaction sets the pace for all that follows namely, a joyful outburst of praise and thanksgiving at the intimation that the Lord was doing something special in the midst of his people. So it was later for the shepherds, then for the curious crowds streaming down to hear Elizabeth’s son preach, then for the multitudes who sought out the preaching and healing ministry of Jesus, and then for the Palm Sunday throngs who also rejoiced at his coming. You could say that Elizabeth begins to sing a song that is picked up and carried by a growing chorus throughout the gospels.
Finally, there is the camera held by the author of Hebrews. He has a special view on everything about the person and work of Christ, for he sees it all through the lens of the Old Testament. He is particularly conscious of the priestly and atoning work of Christ, and so he brings a unique perspective to the Christmas story. While the classic nativity scene sees a sweet and helpless baby in swaddling clothes, the writer of Hebrews reminds us that what we’re seeing is the obedient Son of God who comes to offer himself as the perfect sacrifice for us.
The joyful arrival of the Lord who comes to work in our midst. The shepherd who will rule in majesty and strength, caring for his people. And the obedient son who offers himself for our salvation. Merry Christmas!
Alternative Application(s)
Micah 5:2-5a — “The Gospel According to Micah”
The brief selection from Micah is a staple in our Advent reading, and it is usually cited because of its prophetic identification of Jesus’ birthplace. But, as we noted above, it says a great deal more about the promised Messiah than just the town from which he would come. The passage is rich with Christology that deserves to be preached.
First, we should note for our people that it is clear that the scribes of Herod’s day understood this to be a messianic passage. When Herod asked them where the Messiah was to be born, they went immediately to Micah 5. We are on solid ground, therefore, when we explore what these verses teach and reveal about Jesus.
We discover here about the Messiah not only that he will hail from Bethlehem, but also that he will be “from of old.” That is a strange thing to say about someone yet to come. Does it signal his Davidic family tree, and in that sense his deep roots in Israel’s history? Or does it point back even further, hinting at the preexistence and eternality of the Messiah? That is certainly a truth about Jesus that is highlighted in the New Testament, and Jesus is not shy about attributing a hint of that truth in the Old Testament (see Matthew 22:41-45). In either case, the “from of old” line points to an important Christological truth.
Meanwhile, as beneficiaries of the New Testament, we are especially well-positioned to embrace the language in Micah about “his brothers.” Precisely what Micah meant is hard to say with confidence. We know from the gospels, however, that Jesus identified his followers as his brothers. Furthermore, both John and Paul write about human beings becoming children of God, which indeed makes us Christ’s brethren.
An additional element in the Christology of the Micah 5 passage is the image of a “shepherd.” The image of shepherds and sheep was a highly familiar one to the people of Old Testament Israel, and so it was imagery employed at several points in the Old Testament to symbolize both human leadership and the nature of God and his relationship with his people. Jesus picks up on that familiar motif in his parable of the Good Shepherd and then, ultimately, in his next-level identification of himself as The Good Shepherd. It is against this long and meaningful backdrop, then, that we recognize and understand the promise that this one from Bethlehem will shepherd his flock.
Finally, a truly crucial element of Christology is revealed in Micah’s reference to “the ends of the earth.” We are so acquainted with this sort of affirmation about Jesus that we may miss what an astonishing statement Micah was making. What was Judah in that era of great, regional empires? And how puny and irrelevant was Bethlehem over against the great cities and centers of power in the ancient Near East? For beleaguered and vulnerable Judah to claim that a Bethlehemite would “be great to the ends of the earth” strained credulity. Yet we have seen precisely that reality unfold in Jesus. And Paul lets us know that that acknowledged greatness will become truly universal when every knee bows and every tongue confesses!
The Advent season and the Christmas holiday are, for church folks, every bit as familiar as the sunrise and the sunset. They are not quite as frequent, but they are regular and predictable. Our task as preachers is to stay in touch with the beauty, the majesty, and the wonder so that we might be able to call the church family over to the window, as it were, so that we might share it with them.
When people think of the Christmas story and message, of course, they naturally think of a few particular passages of scripture, typically the episodes recorded in Matthew and Luke. Luke tells about the annunciations and births of both John the Baptist and Jesus, the Christmas angel’s message to the shepherds, followed by those shepherds' discovery of the Christ child, and then the presentation in the temple, complete with Simeon and Anna. Matthew, meanwhile, recites Jesus’ genealogy, the surprising pregnancy of Mary, several angelic instructions to Joseph, the star-prompted visit of the wise men, the flight to Egypt, and the massacre in Bethlehem.
Our assigned texts for this Fourth Sunday of Advent do include a passage from Luke, which will be naturally familiar. Somewhat less familiar to many folks will be the selection from Micah, though the Bethlehem reference will ring a bell. And then there is the assigned text from Hebrews: this is not where the minds of most people go when they’re thinking about Christmas. But all of these texts contribute to the view.
Finally, while we have analogized the familiarity of the sunrise and sunset to the familiarity of Christmas, we should note a crucial distinction. We may celebrate the coming of Christ regularly for more than a month every year, but Christmas does not actually happen every year. In other words, the sunrise and sunset are familiar because they occur regularly every day. But the coming of Christ happened just once, and that makes it uniquely spectacular and beautiful. So this Sunday, let’s call the church family over to see what Luke, Micah, and the author of Hebrews show us about the coming of Christ.
Micah 5:2-5a
Chances are that many of the people in our pews are more familiar with Bethlehem than with Micah. But since our Old Testament passage about Bethlehem comes from a prophecy, we would do well to give them a sense of the prophet. For the prophecy may have even more meaning for people within its context.
We read these verses from Micah 5 at Christmas time, for this is the passage to which the scribes pointed when the wise men appeared in Jerusalem and when Herod inquired where the Messiah was to be born. The passage figures prominently in the Christmas story. But its context wasn’t Christmas; its context was an eighth-century BC judgment.
Micah was among that first generation of canonical judgment prophets, along with Isaiah in the south and Amos and Hosea in the north. The region was living under the growing threat of the Assyrian Empire, and the people of God in both the northern and southern kingdoms were being warned about the divine role in that threat. For while Israel’s history featured so many international conflicts in which the Lord God was on Israel’s side and gave them victory, the eighth-century BC brought an alarming new layer to the national theology: namely, that God would use other nations to exact divine judgment on his own people. In the conflict between Assyria and God’s own people, the unthinkable message was that God was on the side of Assyria, or at least that Assyria was an instrument of God’s purpose.
In the eighth-century Judah of Micah’s day, the glory of David was a distant memory. Bethlehem may have given birth to the author of Israel’s golden age, but that was more than two centuries earlier. Furthermore, in David’s day, Israel was a united monarchy of twelve tribes with expanding and secure borders. Now, in Micah’s day, Judah was the smaller kingdom of the divided monarchy, and its borders were vulnerable. Indeed, Assyria would soon decimate most of the country.
Within that context, then, a prophecy that makes bold and hopeful claims about a someday ruler must have seemed out-of-touch with reality. When your team is getting routed by an opponent is not the logical time to talk of the prospect of hoisting the championship trophy. Yet Micah, in the midst of a message of judgment, and in a context of weakness and peril, paints a strong and lovely picture of what God has in store for his people. Or, better still, who God has in store for his people.
The initial verse about Bethlehem is the one cited by the chief priests and scribes in response to Herod’s inquiry in Matthew. It signifies the role of Bethlehem in the story of the promised Messiah. But the remainder of the passage lends additional insight into both the heart of God and our own Christology.
As to the heart of God, we see in these verses the goodness of God’s ultimate plan for his people. Even while his prophet is calling out the people’s sinfulness and warning of divine punishment, still we are reminded that judgment is never the last word with God. He always and always has a good and perfect plan on the other side of the purging. And so, we see promises of restoration, security, and peace for God’s people. The promises of God reveal his plans, you see, and his plans are a reflection of his heart.
Meanwhile, the Christology of this passage is so substantial that we will give it its own separate treatment below.
Hebrews 10:5-10
When our people hear this excerpt from Hebrews read, they may wonder to themselves, “When did Jesus say that?” The author attributes several sentences to Jesus that would not be familiar to folks from their reading of the gospels. In fact, however, the author of this book quotes a passage from the book of Psalms, specifically the Septuagint’s translation of Psalm 40:6-7.
In terms of the larger, original context, Psalm 40 reads like a grateful testimony. The psalmist recalls being in great distress, and the Lord delivered him from his troubles. That, in turn, gives rise to the psalmist’s jubilant praise.
What begins as the individual’s testimony about the Lord transitions then into a prayer spoken to the Lord. First, in verse 5, there is an affirmation of the Lord’s goodness toward his people. And then, in verse 6, the psalmist makes what may seem like an unorthodox statement about sacrifices and offerings. While those were the backbone of the levitical system, the psalmist declares that God does not delight in or require such.
Now we come across similar kinds of statements elsewhere. Several prophets, for example, condemn meaningless rituals when the people’s lives are out of sync with their pretended piety. And we recall, too, David’s famous prayer of confession in which he says to the Lord, “You will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it; you will not be pleased with a burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise” (Psalm 51:16-17 ESV).
In the spirit of that passage from Psalm 51, then, we would expect the author of Psalm 40 to follow the repudiation of sacrifices and offerings with some alternative. If not those, then what is it that the Lord delights in and requires? And that, then, is where these key statements come in: “Then I said, 'Behold, I have come to do your will, O God, as it is written of me in the scroll of the book.'” All this, combined with the Septuagint’s rendering of verse 6 to include a reference to “a body you have prepared for me,” and the writer of Hebrews sees in Psalm 40 a messianic message.
A Sunday morning worship service is likely not the time to get down in the weeds about the Masoretic text, the Septuagint, and the exact meaning of verse 6. Suffice it to say that the writer of Hebrews hears Christ speaking in these verses — just as Christ is elsewhere heard to be speaking other Old Testament passages, like Isaiah 61:1, Psalm 22:1, Psalm 31:5, Psalm 55:13, and more.
The writer of Hebrews, then, takes two verses from Psalm 40, and he hears Christ speaking those words. The message that Christ speaks — the message prophetically anticipated a thousand year BC — is that the offering of Christ’s body on the cross concludes the transition from the old covenant to the new. The former method of sacrifices and offerings were never the perfect expression of God’s will. And now those are set aside by the one who came to do God’s will.
Luke 1:39-45 (46-55)
Not all people have equally good hearing. Not everyone enjoys keen eyesight. Some folks have a much more sensitive nose than others when it comes to fragrances and odors. And, likewise, it seems that spiritual sensitivity is not a uniform phenomenon among human beings.
We think, for example, of an episode from the crucifixion of Jesus. On the one hand was a criminal who joined the antagonists in mocking Jesus, while on the other side was a criminal who demonstrated remarkable perception. Who, after all, would presume to think that a man being executed would ever be in a position to reign in some kingdom? So there, in the other two men on crosses that day, we see a great gap in spiritual sensitivity.
Let us count Elizabeth among the small and special crowd of people who exhibit tremendous spiritual sensitivity in the gospels, for see how she recognizes Jesus. The scribes and Pharisees had right before their eyes one who was greater than Jonah or Solomon, yet they did not recognize him (Matthew 12:38-42). Philip had been with him so long, and yet “you still do not know me” (John 14:9 ESV). Sitting in prison, John the Baptist evidently was uncertain about who Jesus was (Luke 7:19-20). The crowds were filled with speculations about Jesus being John the Baptist, Elijah, or other prophets (Mark 8:27-28), but they did not fully understand. The mockers and persecutors around the cross “know not what they do” (Luke 23:34 ESV) because they did not recognize him. And, indeed, the gospel writer John reports that “He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him” (John 1:10 ESV).
In short, the forerunner, disciples, religious leaders, and the multitudes had Jesus right before their eyes — they heard him, saw him, and knew him — yet they did not recognize him. Elizabeth, by contrast, had none of that. She had not heard Jesus preach or teach, and she had not seen him feed multitudes, cast out demons, cleanse lepers, or heal the sick. All she had was the sound of Mary’s voice and the movement of her child in utero. Yet for Elizabeth, that was enough. With only that much to go on, Elizabeth recognized the one who was in Mary’s womb.
This is no small marvel. It would be sufficient for one pregnant woman to remark to another pregnant woman the seeming reaction of her own baby to the other’s voice. Babies move and lurch and turn in the womb for all sorts of reasons. But Elizabeth sensed that this was something out of the ordinary. And she made the astonishing leap from “my baby moved in response to your voice” to “the mother of my Lord.” That is an almost scandalous statement for a first-century Jewish woman to make, but she was filled with the Holy Spirit, and she knew.
It is a worthy prayer that the Lord should help us all to be like Elizabeth. While most of the world passes by — sometimes blase, sometimes ignorant, sometimes outright antagonistic — let us never fail to recognize and understand just who it is that has come to visit us.
Application
I’m a big football fan. I know that some folks are fans of sports that are faster-paced — especially soccer, but also basketball and hockey — and they sometimes feel impatient with the amount of time between plays during a football game. Personally, I’m glad for those down moments, for I enjoy watching the replays of the play just completed. And with television broadcasts being what they are, a lot of cameras are involved, and so the viewer can get a lot of different perspectives on the same play. I read that for a recent Super Bowl, for example, the network carrying the game had over 160 different cameras in use!
Perhaps we would do well to embrace a variety of scripture passages as being like different camera angles on the same person or event or truth. Specifically, for our purposes this week, we enjoy three views of Christmas. Micah is holding one camera for us, Luke another, and the author of Hebrews a third.
When Micah looks at Christmas, he sees Bethlehem and a shepherd. Interestingly, though, it is not one of the shepherds we traditionally associate with Bethlehem and Christmas — it is, rather, the one born in Bethlehem. For he will be the best sort of ruler for God’s people: a ruler who functions in the caring, provident, and protective role of a shepherd. He will be marked by majesty, and his rule will be marked by peace and security. Micah’s view of Christmas offers a very hopeful promise for the future.
Luke’s angle on Christmas — at least in our selected passage — is compliments of Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s Spirit-filled exclamations are focused especially on Mary, who had come to visit her. Elizabeth intuits from the in-utero reaction of her own child that Mary -- or more to the point, the baby Mary is carrying -- is something special. And the striking theological affirmation that Elizabeth makes in that moment is the reference to Mary as “the mother of my Lord.” Now we mustn’t be irresponsible in assuming that a fully developed Christology lay beneath that exclamation. Nonetheless, it’s clear that Elizabeth understands Mary’s child to be a distinctively special individual sent by God. And her reaction sets the pace for all that follows namely, a joyful outburst of praise and thanksgiving at the intimation that the Lord was doing something special in the midst of his people. So it was later for the shepherds, then for the curious crowds streaming down to hear Elizabeth’s son preach, then for the multitudes who sought out the preaching and healing ministry of Jesus, and then for the Palm Sunday throngs who also rejoiced at his coming. You could say that Elizabeth begins to sing a song that is picked up and carried by a growing chorus throughout the gospels.
Finally, there is the camera held by the author of Hebrews. He has a special view on everything about the person and work of Christ, for he sees it all through the lens of the Old Testament. He is particularly conscious of the priestly and atoning work of Christ, and so he brings a unique perspective to the Christmas story. While the classic nativity scene sees a sweet and helpless baby in swaddling clothes, the writer of Hebrews reminds us that what we’re seeing is the obedient Son of God who comes to offer himself as the perfect sacrifice for us.
The joyful arrival of the Lord who comes to work in our midst. The shepherd who will rule in majesty and strength, caring for his people. And the obedient son who offers himself for our salvation. Merry Christmas!
Alternative Application(s)
Micah 5:2-5a — “The Gospel According to Micah”
The brief selection from Micah is a staple in our Advent reading, and it is usually cited because of its prophetic identification of Jesus’ birthplace. But, as we noted above, it says a great deal more about the promised Messiah than just the town from which he would come. The passage is rich with Christology that deserves to be preached.
First, we should note for our people that it is clear that the scribes of Herod’s day understood this to be a messianic passage. When Herod asked them where the Messiah was to be born, they went immediately to Micah 5. We are on solid ground, therefore, when we explore what these verses teach and reveal about Jesus.
We discover here about the Messiah not only that he will hail from Bethlehem, but also that he will be “from of old.” That is a strange thing to say about someone yet to come. Does it signal his Davidic family tree, and in that sense his deep roots in Israel’s history? Or does it point back even further, hinting at the preexistence and eternality of the Messiah? That is certainly a truth about Jesus that is highlighted in the New Testament, and Jesus is not shy about attributing a hint of that truth in the Old Testament (see Matthew 22:41-45). In either case, the “from of old” line points to an important Christological truth.
Meanwhile, as beneficiaries of the New Testament, we are especially well-positioned to embrace the language in Micah about “his brothers.” Precisely what Micah meant is hard to say with confidence. We know from the gospels, however, that Jesus identified his followers as his brothers. Furthermore, both John and Paul write about human beings becoming children of God, which indeed makes us Christ’s brethren.
An additional element in the Christology of the Micah 5 passage is the image of a “shepherd.” The image of shepherds and sheep was a highly familiar one to the people of Old Testament Israel, and so it was imagery employed at several points in the Old Testament to symbolize both human leadership and the nature of God and his relationship with his people. Jesus picks up on that familiar motif in his parable of the Good Shepherd and then, ultimately, in his next-level identification of himself as The Good Shepherd. It is against this long and meaningful backdrop, then, that we recognize and understand the promise that this one from Bethlehem will shepherd his flock.
Finally, a truly crucial element of Christology is revealed in Micah’s reference to “the ends of the earth.” We are so acquainted with this sort of affirmation about Jesus that we may miss what an astonishing statement Micah was making. What was Judah in that era of great, regional empires? And how puny and irrelevant was Bethlehem over against the great cities and centers of power in the ancient Near East? For beleaguered and vulnerable Judah to claim that a Bethlehemite would “be great to the ends of the earth” strained credulity. Yet we have seen precisely that reality unfold in Jesus. And Paul lets us know that that acknowledged greatness will become truly universal when every knee bows and every tongue confesses!
