moral authority - supplement

I read a blog today from a current Fuller student about the Bible, and here is one thing this person wrote:

"We must recognize that it is the Scriptures- not our conscience, not culture, not religion, etc.- that tell us about God and are the foundation upon which Christian thinking is built."

(I won't post his name or blog to keep it anonymous)

My thoughts: Why? Why is scripture the only thing that informs our faith? Is that really how it works? What about the billions of Christians who did not or never will have access to scripture? How is their faith informed?

Think about it: The Bible as we know it wasn't really compiled until around 300 CE, and even then, there were few people who had access to it. There have been a lot of advancements in making the Bible more accessible since then, but the concept of having 10 different versions of the Bible within arms-length is an extremely new concept in the scope of Christian history.

So can we really say that the Bible is the only thing that informs Christian faith? Can we even go further (as the above quote) to say that conscience, culture, and religion have no bearing on how we live our faith? Is that really how God intended it? Did God want us to turn to the Bible for every little thing, or do we truly believe that God gave the Holy Spirit to guide us?

Rob Bell nails it pretty well in Velvet Elvis with his discussion on "Binding and Loosing." If you haven't read that, read it... but to summarize, "binding and loosing" is the act of determining a concrete response to God's revelation. In other words, those who bind and loose determine how the Christian community will live out the commands of God based on God's revelation. For Bell, it is the community of believers who do this difficult task of binding an loosing with the blessing of God (in light of Matt 18).

That's kind of a terrible summary of a complicated argument, but the point he makes is that it is the Christian community, based on its interpretation of God's revelation that plays a large part in how we experience this life of faith.

The Bible is not the sole contributor in this equation. Our conscience, culture, and religion play a big part.

inspiration

I've been thinking about the idea of inspiration as it relates to the Bible.

Simple idea. Someone slaps down the NIV and says, "The Bible is the inspired word of God."

OK, but what does that mean? You may say, "The authors were inspired by God to write." Fine. But that's not the end of the story. Much of what is written in the Bible are compilations of oral tradition. So how does inspiration fit with that? Were the people who passed on the oral tradition inspired to do so?

Maybe. But what about the compilation of the 66 books of the Protestant Bible? When the men who compiled the canon of scripture at the various councils in the 3rd to 5th century inspired to do so?

Probably. But what about textual variants? Were the scribes who decided to clarify bits and pieces of scripture throughout the centuries inspired to make those clarifications?

Probably not... So what about the people who decided to translate the various books into English? Were they inspired when they chose which of the many textual variants to use as the most accurate to what was originally written? In other words, were the scholars who saw three different copies of a certain passage, and who ultimately chose one, inspired to do so?

I guess. What I'm trying to get at here is that the idea of "inspiration" is a tricky one. When we hold our English version, it's been in so many hands and so much scrutiny has already been placed on it that it's tricky to say it is inspired.

Sure, Paul said that scripture is "God-breathed," but what scripture did he mean? Revelation? James? Luke? Acts? His own writings? How did he know what would eventually be considered the canon of scripture some 300 years later?

I won't even address the question of what the Bible is inspired to do. That's a different post altogether.

It's a tricky thought, really. And it deserves a little attention. Ultimately, I think the Bible as we know it stands the test of time. It's an incredible book, and I'm more and more amazed when I think about how God is revealed in its pages.

child like faith?

The following is an interpretive assignment I did for a class at Fuller called "Exegetical Method and Practice" with Marianne Meye Thompson. I'm posting it mainly to link it to another discussion I am having with friends on facebook. I had to transliterate the Greek, and I'm not so good at that, so forgive me. Also, interpretive assignments ask a lot of questions and don't draw very many conclusions, so you'll notice that it doesn't have a thesis or conclusion. It's more of an exploration.

Mark 10:13-16 - Interpretive Assignment (23 January 2007)

In chapter 10 of his narrative, Mark provides a pericope detailing the circumstances surrounding an event in which people brought children to be blessed by Jesus. On the surface, the passage seems to promote ministry to children and encourage a blind, “child-like” reception of “Christianity” into the believer’s heart. However, a closer reading may provide a slightly different conclusion.

This specific narrative in Mark is well documented by all of the synoptic writers. Both Matthew and Luke place the narrative in their gospels, and both stay true to Mark’s order of events in terms of context. Mark and Matthew place Jesus in Judea at the time of the narrative (Mark 10:1, Matt. 19:1), but it is not clear this information affects the interpretation of the passage. It seems the pericope stands as an independent unit and does not hinge on the previous or following passages. Since it is not found in a series of parables or a discourse of Jesus, it can stand alone. Mark seems to be using a story to promote an aspect of the kingdom of God. However, there is somewhat of a thematic context preceding and following Mark 10:13-16. In chapter 9, the disciples (specifically Peter, James, and John) witnessed the transfiguration. Following the description of this beautiful and powerful event, Mark provides several stories of failure and rebuke on the part of the disciples. Was Mark trying to show contrast of heavenly glory versus earthly mediocrity and failure? It would seem so considering the evidence of the pericopes dealing with human failure (i.e. failure to heal the demon possessed boy in 9:14ff, failure to understand the hierarchy of the kingdom of God in 9:33ff, Jesus’ rebukes of the disciples and others in 9:39, 9:42, 10:14, 10:38, 10:49, etc.).

An interesting question arises with the use of apsatai (third singular present middle subjunctive from apto) which carries several meanings depending on the usage. In BDAG apto can mean “to kindle” or “light”, “to make close contact, to touch, cling to, have sexual contact, etc.” In Mark 10:13, the term most likely refers to “touching as a means of conveying a blessing.” Were the people bringing the children to Jesus so that he might provide some kind of rabbinical blessing, or did they recognize him as the Messiah and perhaps wanted some kind of messianic blessing for their children? If the term does not carry the connotation of blessing, were they just bringing their children to Jesus for healing, or simply to have their children held by a “celebrity?” Whatever definition fits best, the question remains as to why the disciples did not want this to happen. Was it beneath their transfigured Lord to do such a thing? Was there a limited amount of time? Were the children interrupting Jesus during an important theological teaching?

The textual variant in this passage seems to be an attempt by scribes to soften the disciples’ actions. The highly supported reading of the text leaves the direct object of the disciples rebuke unclear. They could be rebuking those bringing the children or the children themselves. Some manuscripts added epetimon tois prosferousin or some form of that phrase to clarify that the disciples were rebuking the ones bringing the children. Still, why did the disciples feel the need to stop what was happening? Were children considered less than human or outcasts of society?

Jesus becomes angry with the disciples actions and rebukes them, insisting that the children be brought to him. Three times in this passage Mark uses paidion to refer to the children instead of the more common teknon. BDAG defines paidion as “a child, normally below the age of puberty” while teknon usually refers to a descendent or offspring. Mark wants his readers to know that these children are young. Were they babies? Was this a custom of the Jews to bring a baby to a teacher at a certain age to be blessed?

After the rebuke, Mark provides the theological truth intended by the narrative. Jesus states “the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it at all” (10:14b-15 NASB). Using the strongest negation possible (ou ma) Jesus, in a sense, says it is completely impossible to enter the Kingdom of God in any other way. This use of ou ma should cause the reader to pause and consider what was just read. But what does Jesus mean by the phrase, “receive the kingdom of God like a child?” Does this mean to receive it with blind faith? Does this mean to receive it happily and care free? Does he have something else in mind? Is this concept similar to the one found in Matthew 10:16 when Jesus said “so be shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves” (NASB)? Does he mean something along the lines of what Paul wrote in Romans 16:19b: “I want you to be wise in what is good and innocent in what is evil” (NASB)? Is it the innocence of the child that is to be mirrored? Is Jesus teaching the concept of “rebirth” which he describes to Nicodemus in John, 3:3?

Could there also be a nuance in the wording of the passage? Could Jesus mean, “whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God like I am receiving these children will not enter it,” as opposed to the more common reading of, “whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God like these children receive the Kingdom of God will not enter it?” If this is the case, the focus should be on the actions of Jesus and not the actions of the little children. Perhaps the reader should be considering the way Jesus reaches out to the poor, the widows, women in general, and children. Perhaps the reader should be reminded of the parable of the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25:31ff where the most important thing is the actions of believers to the poor, sick, jailed, hungry, etc. To enter the Kingdom of God, one must accept those to whom the Kingdom belongs, which in Mark 10:14b is the little children. This reading seems entirely possible, except when compared to Matthew 18:3-4 when Jesus is quoted as saying, "Truly I say to you, unless you are converted and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever then humbles himself as this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (NASB). With this reading in mind, one could interpret Jesus words in Mark in a similar manner, making the Mark passage promote a child-like faith. However, in Matthew 18:5, Jesus also says, "and whoever receives one such child in my name receives me,” (NASB) providing evidence for a social justice reading of Mark 10:13-16. It would seem the passage could go either way.

Finally, Jesus takes the children in his arms and blesses them. This action is common for Jesus. He often touches the socially outcast, the poor, the sick, etc. In Mark 1:41 he touches the man with leprosy. In Mark 5:41 Jesus touches the dead girl and brings her back to life. Jesus often touched those whom society considered outcast or unclean. Perhaps Jesus is showing his disciples in this passage that the ministry of the Kingdom of God is a ministry of social justice.

Further evidence can be found in the fact that Jesus demonstrates his teaching at the end of the passage. He instructs his disciples to receive the kingdom of God as children, and then he receives the children.

Cited: Danker, F. W. A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. 3d ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000)

moral authority?

I’ve been having a few email conversations with friends about the topic of moral authority as it relates to the Bible. I have so many incomplete thoughts about this right now - but a few that have taken shape as a result of these conversations and some things I’ve been reading.

The basis of all of this is the approach that many Christians have with the Bible. I think this approach is summed in this common question from Christians: “What does the Bible have to say about _______?” The question carries the idea that the Bible is some kind of manual for life; that everything has a solution or answer in the Bible, and that solution or answer is relevant at face value to a contemporary Christian community.

Another way to state the standard approach of Christian’s today is that the Bible is a type of trump card in nearly every area - science, history, morality, ethics, etc. Science says one thing - the Bible says another. Culture says one thing - the Bible says another. In every case, the idea is that the Bible wins.

I have a problem with this. The problem seems to be that many of us Christians read the Bible - an ancient document translated from many manuscripts that are written in languages that are no longer used - at face value with no regard to our own preconceptions.

Please hear me on this: I am not saying the Bible is not relevant in any way. I’m saying that it is a living breathing document that is interpreted by the community of believers and applied to that community in the way the community feels is best, and all of this is through the guidance of God’s Spirit. One must approach the book as aware of preconceptions as possible and know that it is God who speaks, and not the Bible itself.

To make the Bible a type of owners manual for all humanity, in my opinion, severely cheapens it. The Bible is meant to be so much more. It is the beautiful story of how God has redeemed and is redeeming all of God’s creation back to God.

Back to the idea of the Bible being the moral authority - that also is something that ignores what the Bible is intended to communicate. And is seems so often, even in the Bible, that it is culture that determines morality, and the Bible expresses the cultural morality not as authoritative, but more as an expression of how the community of God understood God.

Take marriage as an example. The definition of marriage has changed throughout history - even through the Bible. The are points in the biblical narrative that polygamy is acceptable, when at other points, marriage is defined as being one man and his wife (the wording of “his wife” is very intentional). Both are presented in the biblical drama as somewhat normative. It seems to be more what the culture deemed as acceptable than some kind of moral authority the Bible is expressing. Now, marriage is between one man and one woman - as equal partners (admittedly, this is not true everywhere, but seems more and more true with relationships in the US). Again, this is a redefinition. One might say a marriage based on the standard patriarchal attitude in the Bible is now morally wrong - and I believe that’s right and good! Sure, the morality expressed in the Bible would be in contradiction to this, but cultural morality would say otherwise. And why not? Why is it so bad that the community would determine what is moral for that community at that time instead of forcing the morality of a dead culture on people today?

These are just some incomplete thoughts, and I hope to come back to them later... maybe with a few of your own comments in mind.

what the Greek really means

It's one of the most dreaded phrases we as teachers/pastors/ministers can utter. "What the Greek word _____ really means is..." I'm sure those of us who are regular church goers have heard some variation on this phrase many times. Here are a few reasons why it's a bad idea to utter those words:

(side note: I will mostly write about the NT and Greek for a couple reasons. One is that I have mostly studied Greek, so I'm closer to that topic. The second is that I don't find the problems I will explain below to happen as much with Hebrew and the OT. I'm not sure why this is the case.)

1. Most likely, we're wrong:

And if we're not completely wrong, we're at the very least slightly off. Koine Greek (or NT Greek) was not a magical, beautiful, robust language. It was the language of the people. Koine means "common." It was common Greek. When we say how rich and deep each and every word actually is, we're misunderstanding the fact that this language is not necessarily a deep and rich language.

Think about this: We all know about the word "agape." We've heard that it means "unconditional love," or something like that. But when you start to read the NT, you realize that the NT writers used agape all the time. It was the normal word for love. It didn't have any deep and magical meaning. It just meant "love." Now the NT writers used agape in a lot of different ways; sometimes to indicate the love God has for people, and other times to indicate the kind of love the Pharisees had for themselves.

If you think about it, agape functions just like the English word "love." People love their spouses, their jobs, their cars, their American Idols, their parents, and so on. It doesn't mean much without the context.

2. When we say "What the Greek really means..." most often what we really are saying is, "What the dictionary says..."

A great example of this that I've heard is that the Greek word for "believe" in the NT really means, "to trust in, rely on, and cling to." As if the author knew when he or she wrote "pisteuo" that the word was pregnant with such deep and rich meaning. But if we just bust open an English dictionary, we can learn that the definition for believe can be any of those things. So we're really not expressing what the Greek means as much as we are expressing what the English definition of a given word actually is. No Greek needed there.

I think the problem comes when we don't have enough knowledge of Greek to do a proper word study. We simply open a basic lexicon and list of the various definitions of a Greek word. That's not exactly how it works. In other words, we can't just open up a Greek lexicon, look up "pneuma," read off the definitions of "spirit, wind, breath, etc." and claim we've done a word study. Furthermore, we can't then take those definitions and say the Greek word pneuma really means "spirit, wind, breath, etc." The author may not (and most likely did not) have all of the definitions in mind when he or she used the word.

Think about how frustrating it would be to have someone pick apart one of your emails like this. To a friend, you might write something like, "I'm scared I might lose my job this week." Should your friend bust open the dictionary and read all of the definitions for "scared" in order to properly understand your feelings? Wouldn't that most likely lead him or her down the wrong road when considering the intended meaning behind what you wrote? Think about it...

3. We remove the text from the people:

When we utter the words, "What the Greek really means" in a sermon or teaching, one of the things we are communicating is, "The English doesn't cut it. You have to be able to read the Greek to really understand what's going on here." Think about the kind of frustration that would cause someone. It could have devastating effects to regularly hear that you can't truly understand what's going in the Bible on unless you read Greek. Suddenly the text doesn't seem as accessible as it did before. In order to really "get it," you have to know what the Greek really means.

4. It makes the English versions seem unreliable:

If we keep harping on the idea that the English translation of the Bible is incomplete, we start to develop in people a mistrust of the various versions of the Bible. If we're always saying certain words really mean something other than what a person's English translation uses, we may be cultivating something in the people who hear us that is not healthy.

English translations, by and large, do a good job at translating what is a pretty complicated language and subject matter. I say Greek is complicated more because it is a dead language that no one speaks anymore. This makes it a bit challenging because we can't consult a native speaker to help us with what we've translated. So in the end, most translations do a good job communicating the ideas behind the text. Sure, they could have chosen different definitions for some words, but the spirit of what was written survives.

5. We put ourselves in an undeserved position of authority:

We are the ones who can really know what the Bible means. We know Greek, and since you can only understand what the Bible is really saying by reading the Greek, you must come to us in order to get to the bottom of scripture.

Sure, I might be overstating it a little, but I'm not that far off. If I'm a pastor who is regularly saying, "What the Greek really means...", I'm presenting myself as a type of authority in this area. In other words, I'm saying, "I know Greek. That's why I can know what the Bible really means." And to take it a little further, "You don't know Greek. Come to me, and I'll tell you what the Bible really means."

Add to this the fact that most people can't really check what we're saying to see if it's true. If I say the Greek word means something, who's going to challenge me on that? Most will take it as gospel. That's a bad thing. I'm placing myself and my words in a position of authority that is above criticism. Bad news for any person in a power position over others.

The boring stuff of Greek:

Here's an interesting thought: The title of my little blog is "grapso skubalon." The first word means, essentially "to write." The second word is a crass way of saying "dung." Nothing too enlightening there. But I purposely put the first word in the future tense. My original thought was to title the blog, "I will write crap."

Here's where it gets interesting - The tense of the word "grapso" can be future (as I originally intended it), or the tense can be subjunctive (exactly the same form), which would change the translation to "I might write crap." Small difference, but kind of a big one. And the kicker is that the only way to tell what form I was using is by context. Since there is no context, it could go either way.

And that's the boring stuff of Greek. Did I intend the sentence to be future or subjunctive? Do I think I will always write crap, or do I think I might write crap at some point, but I might not? Big difference...

Note this: it's a long way from saying, "What the Greek really means..." Not to mention, it's a lot more boring too. People get excited about the perceived "magic" of the Greek language. In reality, Greek word studies can be boring and uninformative.

So when you feel yourself about to say those dreaded words, "What the Greek really means...," bite your tongue and express your thought without appealing to the Greek.

*These guys say it much more gracious than I am saying it.

y'all's body is a temple

A New Testament professor at Fuller, Joel B. Green, shed new light on a well-known scripture the other day. Most of us who have grown up in the Christian world know 1 Corinthians 6:19 - "Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God, and that you are not your own?"

It's a standard passage that many a youth pastor has used to encourage kiddos not to have sex or smoke or drink or anything else like that - and they are partially justified considering the context of 1 Cor 6:19. Since we are united with God, why would we want to also unite with a prostitute? We'll ignore the fact this passage doesn't address "smoking" or "drinking" but "fornication," and every faith tradition seems to have a different understanding of what "fornication" means.

But what I wanted to look at for a minutes are the two little words "your" and "body." Since this blog does have a Koine Greek title, I guess I'm permitted to delve into a little Greek. In this passage, "your" (ὑμῶν) is plural and "body" (σῶμα) is singular. So it's "your (plural) body (singular) is the temple of the Holy Spirit." English is a little limited here because we don't have a plural version of "you." "You" can mean you personally or you as a group of people.

In certain areas of the country, people do use a plural version of "you." In the south, it's "y'all." In the Philly area, it's "yous" (as in "yous guys"). In the western part of PA, it's "You'ns."

So a better translation would maybe be "y'all's body is a temple."

What's the point? I think Paul, when using "body" is probably referring to the body of Christ, i.e., the community of believers. His point is that the Jerusalem Temple is no longer where God's Spirit resides on earth. God's Spirit resides in the community, or the body, of those who follow Christ.

Now, as members of that community, we shouldn't be uniting our physical bodies to prostitutes. And beyond that, we should be responsible with the way we treat our bodies so as not to do harm to the body of Christ.

Reading the context of the passage, the interpretation above might be a stretch. Paul seems to be writing a lot in this section about physical human bodies, and given his theology (and that of the early church) of the infilling of the Spirit, it is not a stretch to say he is referring to our individual bodies as temples.

So why the use of a plural "you" and a singular "body?" Maybe his Jewish understanding of there being one Temple is important here. Maybe he wouldn't want to say that we are all mini temples, but that our entire community is the one temple of God's Spirit.

I am not proposing any enlightening conclusions here. I don't have any. I just thought this was worth a second look. Maybe you will want to keep the conversation going? Post some comments.

two or three

Those who know me know I'm a stickler for context when it comes to reading the Bible. To me it's incredibly important to know the cultural/historical context of a passage in order to understand the intended meaning. I've seen many verses, when taken out of context, used to say all sorts of craziness. But sometimes the discussion of context need not go any further than the immediate textual context of a passage (read: the verses around a particular passage).

For a long time I've been very frustrated by a specific example of this. If you've gone to church on any kind of regular basis, you've probably heard Matthew 18:20 quoted: "For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them." I've heard it used during prayers, in worship, and even in sermons. The idea intended is that when a group of Christians get together, Jesus is there.

But when we look at the preceding verses, a different reading stands out. Jesus is talking to his disciples about the very specific topic of church discipline, and he is essentially telling them that whatever decision they make in terms of church discipline will be supported by him. So when two or three gather together to make a decision about what to do with someone in the Christian community who has done something wrong, it is as if Jesus is there supporting the decision.

There's a lot of weird stuff in the passage, including Jesus talking about things bound on earth being bound in heaven, and things loosed on earth being loosed in heaven. I'd have to study a little more to really understand what he's trying to say.

But the fact remains the passage so commonly quoted is often removed from its context to express some kind of point.

And here is where I'm really confused. What point is being made? That Jesus is only around when two or three are gathered? Are we saying Jesus is not with us when we're alone? If so, then why pray? Exactly what are we trying to say here?

My confusion grew when I read Henri Nouwen's, In the Name of Jesus a few weeks ago. In his book, he quotes this very passage to illuminate the importance of ministry being done in groups and not by individuals. But is that what Jesus is saying? Maybe more so than what others claim this passage means. But I still can't shake the sense that we are missing the point of this passage, and I'm frustrated to read that someone like Henri Nouwen uses Matthew 18:20 in a way I feel is inappropriate.

I don't want to rule out the fact that I am wrong with my understanding of the text. I may be. I'm often wrong more than I'm right. But this is something that has bothered me for quite some time, and it is an example to me how often we misuse scripture because we fail to consider context - whatever context that may be.

no room upstairs

Christmas is 10 days away, and I've been thinking about the birth narratives of Jesus. We wonderful Christians have such an easy time romanticizing the things we read in the Bible, and the birth narratives are no exception. Honestly, I'm not sure why we do this... maybe we're insecure about the stories and we feel the need to spice them up. Maybe we don't get the point so we make up our own. Maybe we just love the dramatic so much that we need to over dramatize things so they appeal to us.

So what about the birth narratives of Jesus? We all know the story: Mary and Joseph are traveling on a cold night, trying to get to Bethlehem. Mary is obviously pregnant, and they need a place to stay and fast! They go door to door to the different inns finding none that are vacant. Finally a kind innkeeper allows them to stay in his barn with the animals. This is where Jesus is born, and Mary and Joseph nudge the animals away from the feed to lay Jesus in the feed-trough. Soon Mary, Joseph, Jesus, and the animals are joined by shepherds and kings and apparently some kid with a drum.



Sounds about right, doesn't it? The crazy thing is that most of this info is not in the birth narratives. Most of what we know of the birth of Jesus is from Luke 2, with Matthew helping a little (Matthew adds the wise men, but some time after the birth).

Luke's story goes a little more like this: Emperor Augustus decrees a census (and a tax) be taken, and as a result, everyone has to go to their home towns (well, the men do at least). Since Joseph is from Bethlehem, that's where he goes. At some point after they are in Bethlehem, Mary goes in to labor and gives birth. After birth, she wraps Jesus in some infant clothes and places him in a manger/crib, and she does this, as the text indicates, because there is "no place for them in the inn" (Luke 2:7). Later, some shepherds, after hearing from angels that the Messiah is born, go to see Jesus.

And that's it. No innkeeper. No going door to door. No sense of urgency because she's about to have the baby. Not many of the details we're used to.

In fact, the word Luke uses for "inn" does not necessarily refer to a "hotel" of sorts. Luke uses this same word one other time in his gospel, but this time to refer to the upper room where Jesus had his last meal with his disciples (22:7-12). Even more interesting is that Luke uses a completely different word later in his gospel (10:34) to refer to an actual inn or guest lodging.

So it's very likely Luke is referring to the upper room of a private house when he uses the word "inn," changing the details we know so well just a little. Mary and Joseph find that there is no room in the upper room of Josephs ancestral house (where they most likely would have stayed during the census period), so they move to the lower level where the animals are kept, kind of like the garage. The most obvious place to lay a newborn in this kind of garage is one of the feed-troughs. Incidentally, the word for "manger" can also be translated "crib," but "manger" is probably a better translation here.

So what's the point? Why does it even matter? I'm not completely sure, and maybe you can weigh in on this, but I think it's generally a bad practice to romanticize biblical texts. Maybe I'm being cynical when I write this, but I would rather focus on the intended meaning of the texts rather than spice them up with fancy details, especially when those details are misleading.

What can we say about the birth narratives of Jesus? Well, especially in Luke, the announcement of the in-breaking reign of God and the redemption of humanity is made to a bunch of shepherds, not to kings and rulers. And this king has a birth that is not special in any way. He's not born in a palace and wrapped in purple cloth. He's born like everyone else and in normal circumstances. He represents what the humility of humanity means. Even in his birth, he identifies with us; with normal people and not with the most powerful and influential.

If anything, this is the beauty of the Christmas story: That God has come and is setting up a new way of life; one that is not based on power structures and amassing wealth but on humility, joy, and peace.

To me, that is a powerful message on its own.