Month: December 2020

Of all the Christmas episodes in The West Wing, this is my favorite. I watch it every year during the Christmas season. This is also one of the most popular and replayed episodes in the entire series. It won multiple awards for the writers and an Emmy award for Best Supporting Actor in a Drama Series for Richard Schiff, who played the role of White House Communications Director Toby Ziegler. And as one might expect for a Christmas special with a Latin title from a scriptural citation, it is packed with theological punch.

It is a Thursday morning, December 23 in the first year of President Bartlet’s first term.  We know from the opening scene that the calendar year is changing from 1999 to 2000 because Sam and Toby are disputing whether the new millennium officially starts in 2000 or 2001 when Toby receives a message from a Washington, DC, police detective.

Toby is called out to meet the detective on the Washington Mall. When Toby arrives, the detective pulls back the cover over the body of a dead man lying on the park bench near the Korean War memorial. He asks Toby if he recognizes this man. Toby doesn’t. The detective presses, “the last name’s Huffnagle if that rings a bell?” It doesn’t. The detective tells Toby the man had his business card. Toby is perplexed, and he and the detective go back and forth for a bit. “You’re Toby Ziegler?” “Yeah.” “From the White House?” “Yeah.” Then Toby recognizes the man’s overcoat as one he had donated to Goodwill and realizes he must have left a business card in it. The detective seems satisfied that the mystery is solved and thanks Toby for his time.

But before leaving, Toby identifies a tattoo on the dead man’s forearm that indicates he was a veteran of the Korean war, a Marine, in the 2^nd company of the 7^th battalion. He suggests the detective contact the VA, the Veterans Administration. The detective responds non-committally and thanks him again. They exchange “Merry Christmas” and, after glancing back a couple of times at the dead man on the park bench, Toby heads back to work.

But Toby can’t take his mind off this guy. After we see Josh wish his assistant Donna a “Merry Christmas to you and your whole Protestant family,” we see Toby back in his office. He’s making a few phone calls. He’s trying to track down the man’s military service record and to check on burial arrangements, to see if any have been made at all. This is all while he’s also fielding questions from White House staff member Mandy about whether the visiting boys’ choir’s Dickensian costumes will clash with the Santa hats.  Already in the episode you have the sense that the trivial is clashing with what is truly important to Toby. “How do you know him?” Mandy asks Toby. “I don’t,” he responds. “Then why does it matter?” But it does matter to Toby.

Toby leaves the office again and heads back down to the mall. He meets a man who operates a booth near the war memorial where people can sign a visitor’s log and purchase some souvenirs. He asks Toby if he’s looking for anything in particular. After some hemming and hawing, Toby tells the man at the booth that he’s not a visitor or the police, but that a homeless man died that morning near the monument, and he wondered if perhaps he had slept there a lot. “Maybe you know him?” he asks the attendant. “Yeah, he was one of them. Was he a friend of yours?” “No.” To which the attendant replies, “I didn’t think so.” Toby says he’d like to contact someone who might be interested in knowing that he had died. The man directs him to the intersection at Capitol and P. That’s where the homeless gather. Maybe someone there would know him.

As the camera pans down from the Capitol building, brightly lit against the night sky, to the huddled figures standing in line for food under the bridge, we see Toby asking around if anyone knew Walter.  One of the men recognizes Walter’s name and tells Toby that his brother, George, is there.  He points him out to Toby, warns Toby that he’s all right but just a little slow, and Toby goes over to meet him. George is keeping warm by a fire. In an endearingly awkward conversation, Toby gently informs George that his brother had died out on the mall the previous night. They commiserate about the northeasterner that came through and that the shelters had probably run out of beds. 

The other homeless man comes over to check to see if everything is all right. Toby gets ready to leave, but then he turns around and stammers out to George that even though it is “absolutely none of my business,” his brother Walter is entitled as a veteran and a recipient of a Purple Heart to a proper burial, with military honors. He goes on to almost apologetically explain that, as a very influential and powerful person, he would like to arrange it. He asks if he can pick up George there in the morning. The other homeless man promises he’ll have him there. Then Toby tries to give them the money he has in his wallet, but the man gives it back to him. “You’re not from around here,” he tells Toby a couple of times – a fact that is painfully obvious throughout the entire scene. Then the scene shifts from this dark streetcorner where the powerless homeless gather back to probably the most famous address in the world, the brilliantly illumined White House.

The next morning, Toby comes into the West Wing and says good morning to the president’s assistant, Mrs. Landingham. She informs him that the president would like to see him. She asks, “Did you arrange a military funeral for a homeless veteran?” When he indicates that he did, she says, “you shouldn’t have done that, Toby. You absolutely should not have done that.” Toby nods. She tells him the president is in the mural room. Along with other White House staff, he’s listening to the Dickensian choir singing the popular Christmas carol, “The Little Drummer Boy.” When President Bartlet sees Toby waiting in the wings, he excuses himself and escorts Toby into the Oval Office.

After exchanging pleasantries, President Bartlet says, “Apparently I’ve arranged for an honor guard for somebody. Is there anything else I’ve arranged for? We’re still in NATO, right?” “Yes, sir.” And then the president asks Toby, “what’s going on?” Toby recaps the situation for the president – a homeless man, a Korean war veteran, wearing one of Toby’s old overcoats, died the night before. The president cuts him off: “Toby, you’re not responsible.” But Toby complains about the inattention the man received. It was an hour and twenty-minute wait for the ambulance. Toby says he got better treatment than that in Panmunjom. The president responds, “Toby, if we start pulling strings like this, don’t you think that every homeless vet is going to come out of the woodwork…” and then Toby cuts him off. “I can only hope, sir.” And then they lock eyes. The president can see his earnestness and asks “when is this thing?” Toby responds, “I’m going to pick up his brother and go there now.” And then, with no further words, with only a soft pat on Toby’s shoulder and a gentle smile, the president returns to the concert, from which his absence, Mandy remarks from the door, had become conspicuous.

While Toby is making his way out of the office, Mrs. Landingham tells him she is going with him. We learn earlier in the episode in her conversation with Charlie that she had twin sons Andrew and Simon (here again, as we see throughout this series, there is the significance of these names, the same names of the brothers who were among the first of Jesus’ disciples) who were Army medics who were killed in Vietnam on Christmas Eve in 1970. That is why, as she explains to Charlie, she has a hard time getting into the spirit of the Christmas season. This biographical background adds a poignancy and depth to the closing scene as we see her, in her black coat and pillbox hat, sitting alongside Toby and Walter’s brother George, who looks a bit stupefied by the whole situation as the chaplain and guards perform their sacred and solemn duties.

I still get chills simply thinking about, much less watching the closing minutes of this episode.  The directors masterfully interweave scenes, on the one hand, of the boys’ choir in their rich robes and fresh faces singing the haunting words of the “The Little Drummer Boy” in the mural room of the White House, and on the other hand, with Toby, Mrs. Landingham and George Huffnagle sitting in white chairs amidst the cool white tombstones at the Arlington National Cemetery.  “I am a poor boy, too, pah-rum-pum-pum-pum.”  Crack!  I still flinch, right along with Toby, at the sharp crack of the gun salute.  “I have no gifts to bring, pah-rum-pum-pum-pum.” Crack! Mrs. Landingham flinches, too. The Marine guard tries to hand the folded flag to Toby, but he directs him to George.  

I have learned that arranging for a military burial at Arlington National Cemetery is not an easy or quick matter. It took six months for Jerry Smith to arrange for such a burial for one of our Keith Church members, Arnett Kilpatrick, who had served in the Army Air Corps in World War II. How Toby was able to make such arrangements overnight surely involved a lot of artistic license on the part of the show’s writers. But the sense of reverence and respect that I witnessed in the video recording of Mr. Kilpatrick’s burial seems to be dutifully reflected in this scene. I dare say that anyone who has ever witnessed a military funeral for anyone in any cemetery cannot help but be inexpressibly moved by this masterful scene which, to my mind, is one of the high-water marks of the series’ first season.

There is so much about this episode that is worthy of comment and reflection.  The title itself, “In Excelsis Deo,” which is Latin for “God in the highest,” comes from the angels’ song to the shepherds in Bethlehem announcing Jesus’ birth, cues us for its theological impact (Luke 2:14).  The Christmas season setting adds rich context as it recalls the story of the highest God who came down, who descended from heaven to earth in the form of a human being born to a mother and father who were themselves rendered temporarily homeless and had to endure the holy night of his birth in a backyard barn, quite possibly even a cave, as there was no room for them in the inn.  

I am reminded of the poem “The Christmas House” by G.K. Chesterton, which reads in part:

There fared a mother driven forth

Out of an inn to roam;

In the place where [God] was homeless

All men are at home.

The idea that, in the birth of the Christ child, God in God’s own self, “In Excelsis Deo,” God in the highest became not only human but homeless for us, that he endured the suffering and shame of homelessness for us and for all humanity, so that we might find a home in him, be at home with him.  That is the Christmas message, is it not?  That is what we sing about.  “I am a poor boy, too, pah-rum-pum-pum-pum.”

And not just the Christmas story, but the whole Christian story itself, the whole story of the life of Christ. This holy family would soon have to leave their family home to flee to Egypt to escape the murderous paranoia of King Herod, whose power and authority was threatened by the birth of this new and true king in Judea.  And even after they returned home to Galilee, Jesus would grow up to live the homeless life of a wandering, itinerant prophet, preacher, healer and teacher.  “Foxes have holes,” he would warn those who wanted follow him and go with him wherever he went, “and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head” (Luke 9:58). He would go on to die a poor homeless man’s death, death of exposure, exposure on the cross, and be buried in a borrowed tomb, without trumpet or fanfare, with soldiers not saluting him but mocking him, making fun of him and gambling for his clothes. 

To borrow the refrain from Chesterton’s poem, this whole entire earth was the place where God in Christ was homeless so that all people might find our home in him.

On December 21, 2020, I was standing outside the city limits of my hometown, Calhoun.  I was at the remains of the old Saul Paw Mill at the edge of the Hiwassee River.  I stood there listening to the water rushing over the remains of the old mill, while gazing toward the southwestern sky with camera in hand.  Like so many, I was waiting for the conjunction of the planets of Jupiter and Saturn to form a Christmas star.

What can be said of the original Christmas star as recorded in Matthew 2?  I remember years ago, watching a television program featuring a certain scholar in his thick Irish accent explaining away the Christmas star.  His theory was pretty simple.  The author of Matthew was writing a gospel for the Jewish people.  He was presenting Jesus as the new Moses.  Moses climbed Mount Sinai and gave us the Ten Commandments.  Jesus climbs a mountain and gives us the Beatitudes.  Moses organized the twelve tribes of Israel.  Jesus had twelve tribes.  So far, so good.  Then he dropped the other shoe: the author of Matthew made up the Christmas story in Chapter 2, to make Jesus look even more like Moses.  It really didn’t happened.

First of all, what does Matthew Chapter 2 have to do with Moses?  The idea behind this theory lies in the fact that the Jewish people had a story about the birth of Moses that is not found in the book of Exodus.  According to this story, a star appeared in Egypt, signaling the birth of a deliverer.  The Pharaoh being warned about this “evil star”, responds by ordering the killing the male Hebrew slaves, but Moses miraculously escapes.  Classic movie fans may recall that the famous 1956 Charlton Heston movie “The Ten Commandments” opens with that very scene – a scene of the then Pharaoh being warned of this “evil star.”   So according to our Irish friend, the author of Matthew simply made up this story about a star and King Herod the Great trying to kill the baby Jesus.

I remember being very skeptical of his theory.  I like my wisemen.  I later learned that this scholar was a former Catholic priest, who now spends his time writing all sorts of unorthodox ideas about Jesus and gets more than his fair share of television interviews due to his wild theories.  Personally, I’ll take the wisemen any day over wild theories.

But it does beg the question.  Is there any historicity behind the story of Matthew 2 about a star, wisemen, and Herod?  Or do we have to accept it by blind faith?  Do we have to turn our backs on history and science?  Or can history and science help us to better understand the past?  On one end of the spectrum, we have the atheist crowd with more than a few apostates who’ve made “shipwreck of their faith,” and deny any Biblical truth.  On the other end of the spectrum, we have very religious types, who “don’t need no history or science” and reject science, and sometimes even medical breakthroughs.  These two extremes have a lot in common.  I don’t think that atheist crowd and fundamentalist crowd realize just how similar they really are in their unwillingness to follow the evidence.

First, what do we know from history?  Several things actually.  First, the Jewish historian Josephus tells us that Herod the Great was indeed a ruthless ruler.  In his final days as king, he had prominent men of Judea rounded up with orders that they were to be executed after his death, to ensure that there would be mourning in the land.  Think about that.  The man is about to meet his Creator, and he orders a mass killing from his deathbed!  I think I would be calling a priest for last rites.  So I don’t think that the idea of a dying Herod the Great ordering the slaughter of innocent toddlers is farfetched.  It’s actually very consistent with the historical record.

Second, we have the comment from the Roman historian Suetonius that “there had spread all over the East an old and established belief that it was fated for men coming from Judea at that time to rule the world.”  In other words, lots of people and not just Jews were expecting a powerful king to come from Judea.  No wonder the wisemen were watching the stars for any royal signs.

Third, we have the Dead Sea Scrolls.  In the Dead Sea Scrolls, researchers learned that there were Jewish people, at the time of Jesus, who were also interested in astrology.  They followed the movements of the stars with interest.  This helps us better to understand the Jewish culture of Jesus’s day.  They too had at least some people who were interested in astrology.

Fourth, we have an ancient coin.  Dr. Michael Molnar, an astronomer, discovered a fascinating coin that featured a Ram looking at a star.  As he thought of it, he realized that modern historians and astronomers had been studying the night skies through modern eyes, not the eyes of an ancient astrologers.  In the time of Jesus, the constellation sign of Aries the Ram, was a symbol of the kingdom of King Herod the Great.  This coined inspired Dr. Molnar to do a detailed study on ancient astrology and study the night skies of 2,000 years ago.

He discovered in April 17 in 6 B.C., Jupiter the king planet, was in Aries.  Saturn then came into Aries followed by the Sun.  The moon eclipsed the sun, revealing Jupiter.  In our greeting cards, we always associate the star of Christmas at night.  But on April 17^th, Jupiter appeared as a morning star, symbolizing the birth of a king.  That would make sense of the wisemen’s statement that that they had seen “the rising of his star in the east.”  We’ve been so focused on how “it came upon a midnight clear” in our culture that we have ignored the importance of the sunrise in the ancient culture.

According to Dr. Molnar, Jupiter the king planet, would have risen in the east as a morning star on April 17^th 6 B.C.   In August, Jupiter would have become stationary in the constellation, before moving again, and then stopping again on December 19^th.  Following the evidence, perhaps Jesus was born in April during lambing season, while miles away Persian or Babylonian astrologers were watching the stars.  Knowing that a great Jewish king had been born, they naturally traveled to Jerusalem.  But instead of finding the true king of the Jews, they found King Herod the Great, the puppet king of the Roman Empire.  King Herod the Great, always paranoid that someone would take his throne, diligently questioned the wisemen about when this star first appeared.  So later, to hedge his bets, King Herod the Great had every male child two years and younger in Bethlehem executed.

Is that how it happened?  Perhaps.  It certainly is plausible.  If so, the wisemen arrived on December 19^th, not on December 25^th, and the shepherds came much earlier on April 17^th.  That would be a little difficult to fit into our modern liturgical calendar, and I don’t think our pastors could handle two Christmas seasons, especially if one fell near Holy Week.

I do think that we can learn something from this exercise.  First, we need to remember that some of the people who get interviewed for TV programs are more hysterical than they are historical.  They get interviewed, because of their wild claims.  Second, we don’t need to fear history and science.  History and science bring the Biblical world alive.  I don’t think that history and science destroy the scriptures, but it may demolish our particular interpretation of a scripture and give us clarification.  Sometimes, we can be guilty of reading more into a passage than what it is really being said.  For example, we’ve all read star and thought star.  But that little Greek word can cover a lot of astronomical ground.  And many of us now have a new appreciation of the many wonders and variety of the night sky.

On December 21, 2020, many people stopped to watch the conjunction of two planets.  It was a powerful reminder of those ancient wisemen, who have may also have been watching Jupiter, in hopes that a great king would be born.  I don’t think that’s a coincidence.  I like to think that our good Creator, a loving Heavenly Father, placed hints in this vast universe to reveal Himself to us, such as having two planets cross paths.  And my friend, you don’t have to wait for a special astronomical occasion to realize that.  Just follow the example of Abraham when God invited him to count the stars.  Follow the advice of the prophet Isaiah who said, “Look up into the heavens. Who created all the stars? He brings them out like an army, one after another, calling each by its name. Because of his great power and incomparable strength, not a single one is missing.”  Follow the evidence.  It just may lead you to Bethlehem.

So can a person who lived and died before the invention of the camera have a major impact on Hollywood History?  Yes, with lots of practice and a little help from their friends.

My story begins with that other Wesley fellow – Charles.  Charles Wesley has always been in the shadow of his more famous older brother, John Wesley.  Even today, you can do a bust of a young Methodist preacher at his home and catch him with a bust of John Wesley.  Charles doesn’t get that much attention from the pulpit.  But his claim to fame comes from the hymnal.  According to author John R. Tyson, Charles wrote a mixture of 9,000 poems and hymns.  Can you imagine Easter without a “Christ the Lord is Risen Today”?  Or a Methodist meeting without “Oh For a Thousand Tongues to Sing.”  When I was in college or shortly afterwards, there was a popular worship with the lyrics, “Amazing Love.  How can this be?  That you my king would die for me?”  Well, Charles gets some credit for that one as well.  He wrote “And Can It Be That I Should Gain” – a very awkward title with the lyrics of “Amazing Love.  How can it be?  That thou, my God, shouldst die for me.”

So on one occasion in 1739, our friend Charles publishes a song with the opening lyrics, “Hark how all the welkins ring, Glory to the King of Kings.”  That’s an okay start to a song.  I have a hard time imagining Bing Crosby singing it.  And hymnals usually don’t come with a glossary in the back to tell you that the word welkin is a poetic word that refers to the space between heaven and earth.  Personally, I would have told him to change welkins to heavens and be done with it.

But then enter his friend George Whitfield.  When he published the song in 1753, he made a slight edit to it.  Personally, I’m a little leery of when editors change song lyrics.  Sometimes, they make sense as in “Joy to the World,” they change the lyric from “let men their songs employ” to “let all their songs employ.”  I’m down with that.  I want to ladies to sing as well.  But then that get into the stupid column like in “Because He Lives” when I see the lyric “How sweet it is to hold a newborn baby, and feel the pride and joy he gives” and it has an asterisk.  And at the bottom of the hymnal, we are given permission to sing “feel the pride and joy it gives.”  It?  Bill and Gloria Gaither were writing about the firstborn son, not about the cousin from the Addam’s family.

So Whitfield changes the lyric to, “Hark the Herald Angels Sing!  Glory to the Newborn King!”  Oh my!  We went from a song about the victorious king of kings to the helpless newborn king.  With a slight edit, Whitfield took an everyday hymn with some archaic language and turned it into a beloved Christmas carol.  Later song writers also tweaked the song to make it more user friendly, by using the Herald Angels lyrics as a chorus.

But here’s the catch.  This Christmas carol is rich in theology.  How many carols do you know that explain the theology of the Incarnation like this: “Christ, by highest Heaven adored, Christ, the Everlasting Lord, Late in Time behold him come, Offspring of a Virgin’s Womb.  Veiled in Flesh, the Godhead see, Hail the Incarnate Deity! Pleased as Man with Men to appear, Jesus, our Immanuel here!”

So Charles Wesley wrote the hymn, George Whitfield helped him out, but how does Hollywood come into this?  That revelation slowly came upon me as I was decorating in phases.

A few weeks ago, I was setting out my houses of Bedford Falls.  Bedford Falls is the setting in director Frank Capra’s 1946 classic movie “It’s a Wonderful Life” starring Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed.  So I placed the movie in my laptop to listen to it, while I was unpacking boxes and setting it out.  Jimmy Stewart’s performance is a tour-de-force as we see him transform from a young dreamer character (like his earlier “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” character) to a very troubled character (like his latter characters in the Alfred Hitchcock movies).  In one particular scene, he comes home on Christmas Eve, deeply distressed.  His daughter, Janie is practicing on the piano.  I’m not a parent, but in my principal days, I got invited and attended several piano recitals.  Basically, you enjoy 4 minutes of your kid playing the piano, and the rest of it is a musical purgatory.  But hey, you got to start somewhere.  So as Janie is hammering at the piano, Jimmy Stewart’s character snaps at her and says, “Janie, haven’t you learned that silly tune yet? You play it over and over again. Now stop it! Stop!”  And then he physical takes out his frustration on a table, causing his daughter to cry.  That “silly tune” is “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.”  Blessedly, at the end of the movie, Janie gets to “play it again” with a rousing rendition featuring everyone from the sheriff to the bank examiner.

Fast forward a little bit and I was wrapping presents on the dining room table.  So to make time fly faster, I put in the 1951 movie “Christmas Carol” (sometimes called “Scrooge” in the United States) in the DVD player.  There’s been a lot of Christmas Carol movies, but the British nailed it in this particular version.  The writers added a few extra scenes to the story to help explain why Scrooge became bitter and how he and Marley ended up owning the business.  But most importantly, Alistair Sims is Scrooge.  His transformation is a joy to watch.   And I think that’s hinted at in the opening credits, when we hear…”Hark the Herald Angels Sing” and particularly that lyric, “God and sinner reconciled.”  Later in the film, the Ghost of Christmas Past shows Scrooge eagerly signing Marley’s death certificate and refers to him as a “squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner.”  But there is still hope and grace for old Scrooge! The Ghost of Christmas Present reminds him, “Mortal! We Spirits of Christmas do not live only one day of our year. We live the whole three-hundred and sixty-five. So is it true of the Child born in Bethlehem. He does not live in men’s hearts one day of the year, but in all days of the year. You have chosen not to seek Him in your heart. Therefore, you will come with me and seek Him in the hearts of men of good will.”  Yes, God was working overtime during Christmas to be reconciled with the sinner Scrooge.

Then fast forward slightly later, and I am setting out all my various Snoopy figures and putting my Christmas Brown Christmas Tree together.  So I pop in the 1965 “A Charlie Brown Christmas” into my laptop.  And once again, I hear Charlie Brown ask what is the meaning of Christmas.  And once again, Linus puts his trusty blue blanket down and recites from St. Luke about the Angels visiting the Shepherds.  And guess what song that the Peanuts sing at the very end of the program?  “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.”

Later that same day, I’m decorating the Christmas tree.  I needed some angelic help, so I put the 1947 movie “This Bishop’s Wife” in the DVD player.  It’s a romantic comedy with David Niven as the troubled Bishop, Loretta Young as his beautiful wife, and Cary Grant as the dashing angel Dudley.  One of my favorite scenes is how Dudley decorates the Christmas tree in a matter of seconds.  I could have used him.  But at the very beginning of the movie, we open with an aerial shot looking down at the city at night while listening to Christmas carolers.  And we get down to earth, there’s Dudley on the busy sidewalk, listening to Christmas carolers sing…wait for it….”Hark the Herald Angels Sing.”

And that’s when it occurred to me.  That’s three classic movies and a beloved TV program that referenced “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.”  Pretty impressive when you think of the carol competition.  Charles Wesley and George Whitfield made Hollywood history in classic Christmas cinema.

And so I was kicking around the idea of whether or not that was blog worthy.  But then that same night, I drove up the street to the Calhoun United Methodist Church drive-through live nativity.  And that was special.  I attended several vacation Bible schools there as a kid growing up in Calhoun.  I saw my friend, Kerri, who helped recruit the livestock and the actors for the stable, and spoke to her for a little bit.  I drove around the corner, got a treat bag, and my first boss, Ms. Roxanna from my Calhoun Public Library days recognized me and hollered me.  And then I drove a little further to the prayer garden, where the pastor gave me communion and read the holy scriptures.  It was a special moment.

Later that evening, back at home, I was unpacking the treat bag, and to my surprise, it had an ornament.  It was a beautiful harp.  And engraved on it was, “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.”  Yes, indeed. And glory to the newborn king!

Every year in December, we rightfully reread the story of Mary of Nazareth.  We read about how she was visited by the angel Gabriel and told that she would give birth to God’s son.  And then we skip ahead and read the familiar story about Mary and her husband Joseph traveling to Bethlehem where Jesus is born.  Then the shepherds come, and then we skip ahead again to the coming of the Wise Men.  With all this skipping around, are you aware that there’s a prequel to the Christmas story?  Are you aware that Dr. Luke actually tells us about two miraculous births.

When Dr. Luke begins his books, he starts his narrative not with Mary and Joseph in Nazareth, but with Elizabeth and Zechariah in the Jerusalem area.  They are not a recently engaged young couple like Mary and Joseph.  They are an elderly couple, who have been married for years.  Zechariah is a priest in the temple.  But they carry a secret sorrow.  Elizabeth has struggled and lost to infertility.

In the ancient world and in the not-so ancient world, infertility was a huge problem.  Back before Social Security, you depended on your children to care for you in old age.  Also, children were considered to be a blessing from God.  So if you didn’t have children, you might be looked upon as not being worthy of that blessing.

Interestingly, the Jewish scriptures are full of stories of women who wrestled with infertility.  And the results were not pretty.  And the husbands usually didn’t help matters.  While the letters of Peter and Paul give good marriage advice about how husbands and wives should love and submit to each other, the Jewish scriptures serve as a cautionary tale about what not to do.

First, there’s Abraham and Sarah.  Sarah is old.  She can’t have children.  So she suggests that Abraham solve this problem by using her Egyptian slave Hagar as a surrogate mother.  Husbands, take note.  A bad idea is a bad idea, even when it’s your wife idea.  Listen to the train wreck that happens next:

“But when Hagar knew she was pregnant, she began to treat her mistress, Sarai, with contempt. Then Sarai said to Abram, ‘This is all your fault! I put my servant into your arms, but now that she’s pregnant she treats me with contempt. The Lord will show who’s wrong—you or me!’ Abram replied, ‘Look, she is your servant, so deal with her as you see fit.’ Then Sarai treated Hagar so harshly that she finally ran away. (Genesis 16:4-6 NLT). 

Oh my goodness.  Hagar looks down on Sarah; Sarah lashes out at Abraham; Abraham shrugs off his leadership; Sarah mistreats Hagar; Hagar runs away.  No wonder the Middle East is such a mess.

Fast forward to Genesis 25, Abraham’s son Isaac and his wife Rebekah are wrestling with infertility.  But Isaac does a much better job than dear old dad.  He prays for this wife.  And during a difficult pregnancy, Rebekah cries out to God, who explains to her that she will have twins, Esau and Jacob.

Fast forward to Genesis 29, Jacob is getting married and discovers that while the veil was pulled over the bride’s eyes, the wool was pulled over his.  He had been duped into marrying the wrong sister.  Jacob loved Rachel, but did not love her sister Leah.  Leah got the bad end of the deal.  Genesis tells us that “When the Lord saw that Leah was unloved, he enabled her to have children, but Rachel could not conceive. So Leah became pregnant and gave birth to a son. She named him Reuben, for she said, ‘The Lord has noticed my misery, and now my husband will love me.’ (Genesis 29:31-32 NLT).  She goes on to have two more sons. 

Now Rachel feels like that she is getting the short end of stick.  She is envious of her sister and pleads with Jacob, “Give me children, or I’ll die!”  Now Jacob feels like he’s getting unfairly blamed.  “Then Jacob became furious with Rachel. ‘Am I God?’ he asked. ‘He’s the one who has kept you from having children!’”  Instead of comforting his wife, he lashes out at her.  Eventually they borrow a page from grandfather Abraham and grandmother Sarah and use a servant, because they worked out oh so well for Abraham.  Leah, when she is unable to have children, follows suit with her servants.  But surprise!  Leah goes on to have two more sons and a daughter.  And Rachel finally has two sons, Joseph and Benjamin.  Jacob looks up and he has twelve sons and one daughter.  Talk about Social Security!

Fast forward hundreds of years past the time of Joseph, and the Exodus with Moses, and the Conquest with Joshua, to the time of the Judges.  In Judges 13, we have a husband named Manoah whose wife is wrestling with infertility.  They both received divine visits and the nameless wife gives birth to Samson.

Fast forward toward the end of the times of Judges in 1 Samuel 1 and you have a husband named Elkanah with two wives – Peninnah and Hannah.  And just like with the whole Jacob/Rachel/Leah marriage triangle, Elkanah loved Hannah more than Peninnah, but Peninnah was one with the sons.  Peninnah, in turn, would irritate Hannah about not having any children.  Listen to the heartbreak: “Year after year it was the same—Peninnah would taunt Hannah as they went to the Tabernacle. Each time, Hannah would be reduced to tears and would not even eat.” (1 Samuel 1:7 NLT).

And her well-meaning husband tried to comfort her by asking, “Why are you crying, Hannah? Why aren’t you eating? Why be downhearted just because you have no children? You have me—isn’t that better than having ten sons?” (1 Samuel 1:8 NLT).  Again, don’t try this at home.  He should just have hugged her and told her that he loved her.  Later, we read that “Hannah was in deep anguish, crying bitterly as she prayed to the Lord.”  She is a hurt individual.  But this time, her prayer was answered, and Samuel the first of the prophets is born.

Reading Hannah’s story, I’m reminded of my sister.  For several years, she was in the adoption process, and it was a tediously slow process.  It made for some difficult Mother Days at church to have that deep desire to be a mother, but no baby to hold.  On one occasion, my sister was invited by the birth mother to join her for the ultrasound.  My sister then sent me some ultrasound pictures of my future niece/nephew.  But after the birth mother delivered, she changed her mind.  I remember it well, because it all went down on Good Friday.  Apparently, these false starts are common in the adoption process, situations to where the birth mother has chosen an adoption family, but then later decided that she could not place her child for adoption.  What a terrible situation for a young unwed mother to be in.  And what a frustrating position for the would be mother to be in.  My sister found comfort in a quote from one of my favorite authors C.S. Lewis, “I do not know why there is this difference, but I am sure that God keeps no one waiting unless He sees that it is good for him to wait.”

Now some 1,000 years after the time of Samuel, Zechariah is at the Temple burning incense.  The people are outside praying and wondering what is taking the old man so long.  Well, Zechariah had a visitor.  He received a divine visit and was told that Elizabeth would have a son.  And Zechariah asks the angel, “How can I be sure this will happen? I’m an old man now, and my wife is also well along in years.”  And yes, that was a dumb question for a priest to ask.  He should have known his Jewish history. And apparently it irritates the angel, who must not be a Precious Moments angel, because he replies, ““I am Gabriel! I stand in the very presence of God. It was he who sent me to bring you this good news! But now, since you didn’t believe what I said, you will be silent and unable to speak until the child is born. For my words will certainly be fulfilled at the proper time.”

Zechariah had become cynical.  I remember the week of Father’s Day in June.  I told Dad that I would take him to the Cracker Barrel on Tuesday, but not on Father’s Day when it was jammed pack.  So this would be on Tuesday evening, June 23.  Before we left to eat, Dad told me that my sister had received a phone call about an adoption.  I kind of shrugged my shoulders and said, “Well, let’s keep that under our hat and wait to see what happens.”  After the Good Friday fiasco, I wasn’t getting exciting.  I was like old Zechariah.

When Elizabeth realizes that she is pregnant, she thanks God and says, ““How kind the Lord is!  He has taken away my disgrace of having no children.”  Notice the word disgrace.  That’s how she felt watching her friends have children, and then grandchildren.  Not having a son going through the Bar Mitzvah or getting married.  Missing out on all those wonderful life events.

Elizabeth thinks her pregnancy is a secret.  But she gets surprised when Cousin Mary shows up at her doorstep.  Elizabeth’s unborn child leaps with joy when he hears Mary’s voice.  Cousin Mary was told by an angel that Elizabeth was pregnant as reassurance that she would give birth to God’s son.  Elizabeth tells Mary, “God has blessed you above all women, and your child is blessed. Why am I so honored, that the mother of my Lord should visit me? When I heard your greeting, the baby in my womb jumped for joy. You are blessed because you believed that the Lord would do what he said.”

Mary stays with Elizabeth throughout the pregnancy. And after the baby is born, Elizabeth causes a commotion by telling the neighbors that the baby will be named John.  Why John?  So the neighbors ask Zechariah for a second opinion.  I find it amusing that the neighbors disagreed with Mom about what to name the baby, so they asked Dad.  Dad does a game of charades to request something to write with, and he writes the name John.  As soon as he does, he has his voice back.  He begins rejoicing and praising.

“Praise the Lord, the God of Israel, because he has visited and redeemed his people.  He has sent us a mighty Savior from the royal line of his servant David, just as he promised through his holy prophets long ago. Now we will be saved from our enemies and from all who hate us.  He has been merciful to our ancestors by remembering his sacred covenant— the covenant he swore with an oath to our ancestor Abraham.”

Notice the words promise and remembering.  Those are not accidental.  Zechariah in Hebrew means “The Lord has remembered.”  Elizabeth in Hebrew means “My God is an oath.”  Put their names together and you have God has remembered God’s oath.

The word spreads quickly.  The neighbors marveled and asked, “What will this child turn out to be?”  The answer is found in the story of Samuel.  Samuel was the answer to his mother’s prayer.  His biggest claim to fame was the day that he went to the little town of Bethlehem and anointed a shepherd by the name David as King of Israel.  Similarly, John’s biggest claim to fame was the day when he baptized Jesus, born in Bethlehem, descendant of King David, our Good Shepherd who would give his life for his sheep, and proclaimed him as Israel’s Messiah, the King of Kings.  Samuel was the prequel for King David. John the Baptist was the prequel for Jesus of Nazareth.

So this is the season to celebrate the miraculous.  We need to remember the miraculous birth of John the Baptist, proof that God does remember his promises.  We need to remember the virgin birth of Jesus of Nazareth, the greatest gift God has ever given.  And as I am celebrating the birth of Jesus with family this Christmas, I will have someone new joining me.  My six-month-old nephew, Josiah, who was born on June 24^th will be joining me Christmas Eve.  He likes to eat, to be outdoors, and play in his jumperoo zoo that Uncle Tim bought him.  He’s another reminder to me of God’s goodness.

Reflection Questions

Throughout the Jewish scriptures, we see several couples wrestling with infertility.  Does it seem strange to think that we are not all that different from the people in the ancient world?

Looking back on the couples who wrestled with infertility, what were some of the wrong responses?  What were some of the right responses?

Zechariah is criticized for having doubts after an angel appeared to him.  We’re probably not going to have an angel appear to us to deliver news.  So how do we find a balance between being realistic and being hopeful?

Elizabeth comments that the Lord had removed the disgrace from her.  Do you feel in our society today, that there is a disgrace, a stigma attached to childless families?

The neighbors rejoice with Elizabeth after John is born.  In our society, do we consider the birth of a child to be a blessing from God, or more of a burden?  How would considering every child to be a blessing, change the way that treat them?

Both Samuel and John the Baptist were answers to their mother’s prayers.  They went on to prepare the way for David and Jesus.  Were you the answer to someone’s prayers?  Is someone special in your life the answer to your prayers?

For decades, he was the most powerful man on the planet.  And yet, this most powerful man was destined to become a mere pawn in the game plan for an even greater ruler. 

Born in 63 BC, Octavian was the nephew of the famous Roman General, Julius Caesar, giving him a huge head start in making his way in the world of the Roman Republic.  When he was just a teenager, his uncle Julius was assassinated in 44 BC, after several Roman Senators, like Brutus, deemed Julius a little too power hungry.  Using his uncle’s name recognition, he joined forces with two other men – Lepidus and Mark Antony – to consolidate power by executing any opponents.  Lepidus would eventually fall from power, be exiled, and be forgotten.  Mark Antony, however, became infamous with his romantic and political alliance with Cleopatra – queen of Egypt and the mother of Caesarion, the son of Julius Caesar, who apparently conquered Egypt both in the battlefield and the bedroom.  War broke out between Rome and Egypt.  Octavian’s forces won.  Mark Anthony committed suicide by the sword.  Cleopatra famously committed suicide by the snake, the deadly adder.  And the teenage Caesarion was executed by orders of Octavian.  There would only be one Caesar is this new world.

In gratitude for crushing the Egyptian threat, the Roman Senate gave Octavian the title of Augustus.  And so, Augustus continued the process of transforming the Roman Republic into the Roman Empire, with the Emperor increasingly having more power than the Senate.  And as Emperor, Augustus was very much concerned about the day-to-day stability of the Roman Empire.  He wisely made a peace deal with the Parthians (modern day Iran) on the eastern border.  He began a massive renovation project in Rome to where he could later brag that “I found Rome in brick and left it marble.”  Concerned by the recent lack of religious devotion of the Romans, he became High Priest in the Roman pagan system and restored eighty-two temples in the City of Rome.  And he was also concerned about family values – he passed laws against sexual misbehaviors and adultery.

Augustus is a complex character.  On one hand, he’s like the evil Senator Palpatine from the Star Wars movies – the scheming political beast who uses military crises to obtain political power, destroying the Republic.  On the other hand, as emperor, he comes across as a blend of popular two-term American presidents Dwight Eisenhower and Ronald Reagan.  President “Ike” Eisenhower is best known for his massive infrastructure project – the interstate, and President Reagan is remembered for his peace deals with the eastern Soviets and for promoting conservative family values.

Augustus’s obsession with family values issue is interesting story.  One day, he simply walks into the Forum and takes a very simple survey:  he orders all bachelors to one side of the room and all the married men to the other side.  Much to his chagrin, there were only a handful of husbands.  Augustus becomes angry and gives the bachelors a tongue lashing.   According to Dio Cassius, he said, “What shall I call you? Men?  But you aren’t fulfilling the duties of men.  Citizens?  But for all your efforts, the city is perishing.  Romans?  But you are in the process of blotting out this name together!  What humanity would be left if all the rest of mankind should do what you are doing?…You are committing murder in not fathering in the first place those wo ought to be your descendants.”  

And you thought that your parents were impatient for grandchildren.  This incident lead to a flurry of legislation to encourage men to get married and have children.  But was his plan actually working?  There was only one way to find out.

If one visits Augustus’s mausoleum, there are two bronze plagues, listing what he considered his top ten, well rather, top thirty-five achievements.  At number 8, he boasts that three times, he took a census of the Roman empire, and that in a fourteen year time span, the number of Roman citizens increased from slightly over 4 million to slightly under 5 million.  Just as the U.S. Constitution mandates that a nationwide census takes place every ten years, Augustus took several censuses to track his population progress.

Undoubtedly, these censuses of Roman citizens, encouraged the many rulers throughout the empire to take a census of non-Roman citizens.  In fact, Dr. Luke probably refers to two such censuses in his books The Good News and its sequel the Acts of the Apostles.  In Acts 5:37, Dr. Luke makes a fleeting reference to the infamous census of AD 6-7 and the bloody uprising that followed: “After him, at the time of the census, there was Judas of Galilee. He got people to follow him, but he was killed, too, and all his followers were scattered.”  In Luke 2:1-2, Luke is referring to an earlier, quieter census that had faded from public memory: “At that time the Roman emperor, Augustus, decreed that a census should be taken throughout the Roman Empire. (This was the first census taken when Quirinius was governor of Syria.)”  Who would have guessed that an impromptu marriage survey would lead to an empire wide census that would lead to one of the most beloved world holidays?

Just imagine the look on Julius Caesar’s face, if we could summon his ghost, and give him a report on the legacy of his nephew and son.  “Tell me about my son by Cleopatra, Caesarion!” he would order.

“Well,” we would reluctantly reply, “Your nephew had him executed as he consolidated power.  But he’s not forgotten.  In fact, he’s a household name.”

Julius Caesar would then smile.  “Ah yes, pray tell me more.”

“Well, you see Caesar” we would awkwardly answer, wanting to change the conversation, “the name Caesarion in our language means ‘Little Caesar,’ so we associate your illegitimate son with the phrases ‘Pizza! Pizza!’ and ‘Hot and Ready’.”

“What!  Then what about my nephew Octavian!”

“Well, Caesar,” we would reply, “he went onto become the first emperor of the Roman Empire and a highly successful one.  We might think of him during the months of August and October.  In our day and time, however, we mostly think of him and his census and his cameo appearance in the narrative of the birth of a Jewish king, named Jesus, whom you Romans tried to execute.  This Jesus conquered the hearts of millions, not by the sword, but by his gospel of peace – peace between people, peace with themselves, and peace with God.  He is the True Emperor.”

Perhaps Julius Caesar’s face would turn red, “Great Jupiter!  The world has taken little note of the Caesars and worship this Jewish peasant rebel!  How can this be?”

“You see Julius Caesar, we haven’t totally forgotten your nephew or even your son.  But when it came to truly changing the world, that honor doesn’t belong to the men who were the nephew and son of Julius Caesar.  It belongs to the child who was the stepson and son of Joseph and Mary.  When your nephew sent out a decree from Rome that the Roman Empire should take part in a census, it had a ripple effect.  Part of that ripple effect is that a young couple left their village of Nazareth to return to their ancestral town of Bethlehem.  And today, in our troubled world, we know that the way to peace is not found in a palace in Rome.  He’s found in a manger in Bethlehem.  Our world doesn’t need another Caesar; our world needs Christ.”

Reflection Questions:

It was a huge inconvenience for Mary and Joseph to have to leave home and travel to Bethlehem.  And for the Jewish people, it was more than just a little irritating to think that they had to do this because Augustus in far away in Rome thought it was a great idea and one of his underlings followed suit. 

Can we possibly relate to any of that in 2020?  Can we relate to having to change our daily routines?  Can we relate to having to change plans?  Can we relate to the feeling that other people have more say in our daily lives than we do?

And if we can, can we be like Mary and Joseph and realize that God is working behind the scenes?  Can we have faith that something good can come out of this?

As this crazy year wraps up, what might God be up to in your personal life during a worldwide crisis?