of God’s providence. His order to count the people of Israel merely served to move Joseph and Mary from Nazareth to Bethlehem in order to fulfill Micah’s prophecy:
But as for you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, Too little to be among the clans of Judah,
From you One will go forth for Me to be ruler in Israel.
His goings forth are from long ago, From the days of eternity. (Mic. 5:2)
Some scholars have debated Luke’s historical accuracy, arguing that Quirinius did not conduct a census as governor of Syria until AD 6 and that Herod the Great died no later than 4 BC. But historical evidence suggests that Quirinius had been in Syria on a military mission for Augustus from 10–7 BC and that, with Herod’s increasing madness, the emperor was poised to bring the region under direct Roman control. Augustus is known to have issued orders for a census in at least three other regions (Syria, Gaul, and Spain), as well as to have maintained the Roman custom of conducting a census every fourteen years. Furthermore, Luke refers to this as the “first”
census, most likely indicating it was a separate census conducted prior to the more well-known census of AD 6.
Photo by Jastrow © Borghese Collection/Louvre, Wikimedia Commons
Stone bust of Caesar Augustus
Over the next twenty years, Octavius transformed himself into the greatest leader the Roman Empire had ever known. He gradually added to his titles the designation of Princeps (“leading citizen”), Pontifex Maximus (“high priest),” and eventually, Augustus (“supreme ruler”). While he actively sought these titles and openly placed himself at the center of Rome’s global power, he deftly played the part of a humble, reluctant leader.
Then, in the autumn months of 12 BC, as a bright comet painted a blazing stripe across the night sky, Caesar Augustus boldly proclaimed that it was the spirit of Julius entering heaven. The superstitious Romans then affirmed Augustus’s claim to deity and supported his suggestion that he,
too, should be worshiped. He was, after all, the son of a god.
— 2:3-6 —
The census, while Roman in origin, was most likely conducted by
conscripted Jews according to Jewish customs, which would have included assembly by tribes and clans.[22] This required the betrothed couple of Nazareth to journey 90 miles south to Bethlehem, the city of David, the pair’s ancestral capital. Luke’s description “up from Galilee” refers to the rise in elevation, unlike our modern, “north-up” map perspective.
Bethlehem, which likely means “house of bread,” sat 2,350 feet (716 meters) above sea level, surrounded by fertile farmland and grass-covered hillsides. Locals cultivated fig trees, olive groves, and vineyards, while vast
flocks of sheep and goats grazed the surrounding valleys. Five to seven miles of rugged terrain separated Bethlehem from Jerusalem, providing the kind of rural isolation typical of farming communities. The census,
however, brought throngs of David’s descendants from all over Herod’s territory.
Joseph and Mary lived in Nazareth, but because of a census they traveled to Joseph’s ancestral home, Bethlehem (Luke 2:1-4).
Luke provides few details about why Mary accompanied Joseph, or why the two would risk being that far from home with Mary so near full term in her pregnancy. Instead, he kept the story simple. Augustus ordered a census, which put the couple in Bethlehem at the time of Jesus’ birth, just like the prophecy (Mic. 5:2) had predicted (cf. Luke 2:11).
I speculate that the couple probably intended to stay with family but found their ancestral city overrun with many more distant relatives than they had expected. Furthermore, the registration process probably took much longer than anyone anticipated, so Mary’s pregnancy came to term before they could return home to Nazareth.
— 2:7 —
Next Christmas, in churches all across America, children will don
bathrobes, sandals, and makeshift headdresses to reenact the Nativity. And much of the plot in these pageants is based on English translations of
Luke’s almost casual explanation “. . . because there was no room for them in the inn.” Consequently, we imagine the hapless couple wandering the streets of Bethlehem, searching in vain for a “vacancy” sign but finding none.
The local inhabitants, following ancient Near Eastern rules of
hospitality, would have opened their homes to the visitors, but the poor people of Bethlehem could not have accommodated every traveler. So Mary and Joseph would have sought out an “inn.” Thanks to these charming
children’s pageants, we imagine an “inn” to be an ancient version of a Motel 6. The Greek term katalyma [2646], however, derives from a verb that means, literally, “to unyoke” or “to put down.” The Septuagint (an ancient Greek translation of the Old Testament) frequently uses the term to mean “resting place.” Therefore, katalyma generally refers to “lodging,”
usually rented or borrowed (cf. 9:12; 22:11; Mark 14:14).
It is quite possible that a temporary khan or caravansary was established in Bethlehem to supply lodging for the crowds. These large, walled, open- air courtyards were often seedy establishments run by shady characters,
offering slightly better protection from robbery and the elements than
sleeping on the street or in the open fields. More truck stop than motel, they were not the kind of place to give birth.
Bernard Gagnon/Wikimedia Commons
Joseph and Mary might have lodged in Bethlehem in a caravansary like this one in Qalaat al-Madiq, Syria.
Because none of the expected human lodging was available, Mary laid the child in a phatnē [5336] (“feeding trough” or “animal stall”; cf. Luke 13:15), traditionally rendered as “manger,” an archaic English term for a feeding trough. Caves often served as such locations, and one tradition suggests that the place of Jesus’ birth was a cave, carved out of the
limestone by shepherds for use as a stall.[23] Luke stressed this detail to highlight an irony: the King of kings was not born in a palace, like
Augustus or Herod, or even in a comfortable home like other Jewish children. He came to earth to save humanity by becoming human, and He brought hope to the lowly by becoming lowly.
After a brief description of the setting and an even briefer sketch of the Lord’s birth, Luke turned the lens of his narrative away from geography and politics to focus on a matter of great concern to him: the response to the arrival of the Savior—first by the angels sent to announce His birth (2:8- 14), then by the lowly shepherds graced by the good news (2:15-18), and finally by the mother of the Christ child herself (2:19-20).
— 2:8-12 —
As soon as the Savior had entered the world, an angel was dispatched to announce His arrival, though not to kings or dignitaries, as with the birth of an earthly prince. Instead, the angel found shepherds, who customarily camped in the open fields in order to protect their flocks from predators and thieves. According to rabbinic literature from the fifth century AD,
shepherds were a despised class, not unlike vagrants and homeless people today. This later tradition stands in stark contrast to the positive image of shepherds in the Old Testament, so it’s unclear how Jews in Jesus’ day would have regarded them. Given the hypocrisy of the religious authorities described in the Gospels, the ceremonially clean keepers of the temple would not have wanted to rub shoulders with people living among animals in the wilderness.
Whether or not Jewish culture despised shepherds, the point is clear.
God sent word of His Son’s birth first to people most likely to welcome news of the Messiah, people who wanted a Savior. Augustus held a firm grip on much of the known world, so his immense power blinded him to his own need. Herod the Great strutted around the marble floors of his Roman- style palace, at once complacent in his achievements yet paranoid of
potential enemies around him. According to Matthew, Herod considered the Messiah a political rival and tried to have Him assassinated (Matt. 2:13); so, obviously he would not have received the news with joy. The religious
authorities who ruled the temple under the puppet master Annas wanted a messiah to affirm their hypocrisy and advance their political agenda; so, they would not have received the news of His humble birth as authentic.
“An angel of the Lord” (not the angel of the Lord, as in the Old
Testament) appearing to the shepherds may have been Gabriel (Luke 1:19, 26), but it could have been another. Regardless, the angel stood before the humble men of the field, not as a natural human, but as an obviously supernatural vision accompanied by the glory of God’s presence. As with Zacharias and Mary, the angel’s appearance gripped the shepherds with fear, prompting the reassurance, “Do not fear” (cf. 1:13, 30).
The messenger’s announcement begins with a term familiar in the
ancient world. The verb euangelizō [2097] means “to proclaim news” or “to announce information.” This verb described the actions of a messenger bearing official proclamations of the king or announcing news of military victory or the birth of a royal heir. In fact, “the announcement is in rhythmic prose, and finds an interesting parallel in a statement about the birth of
Augustus.”[24] Strictly speaking, the proclamation could contain bad news, but the term was more often associated with glad tidings. Therefore, the messenger qualified the message with the phrase “great joy.” Moreover, this information is “for all the people,” implying that the men bore a certain responsibility to do something with the good news they were hearing.
The message contained detailed information about the arrival of the Messiah and specific information leading to His location:
“today”: The waiting is over; the birth has already occurred.
“in the city of David”: Bethlehem was not formally called this. In fact, most people would have considered Jerusalem the city of David. But the shepherds would have recognized the angel’s reference in
connection with their hometown hero. Furthermore, the announcement deliberately connects the birth of Christ with the bloodline of David in fulfillment of Micah’s prophecy (Mic. 5:2) and God’s promise (2 Sam.
7:12-13). The Lord’s covenant promise to David was immediately fulfilled in the reign of Solomon, but ultimately in the Messiah.
“born for you”: The “you” in Greek is plural because Jesus came to the world to redeem all of humanity. Whereas Matthew presents Jesus as the Jewish Messiah, establishing a worldwide monarchy in which individuals may take refuge, Luke emphasizes His role as the Savior of the world.
“a Savior, who is Christ the Lord”: Luke sandwiched the title “Christ”
(Christos [5547]) between that of “Savior” and “the Lord.”
Throughout the Septuagint, the Greek term for “savior” is closely associated with God, who is called both theos (God) and kyrios (Lord) (cf. Deut. 32:15; Pss. 24:5; 25:5; 62:2, 6-7; 79:9; 95:1). “Christ the Lord” essentially means the same as “Messiah God.”[25]
“wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger”: The angelic messenger gave them information that would distinguish the Christ child from other newborn infants they might find. The description highlighted both the ordinary and extraordinary. Like all newborns in that day, Jesus was bundled in strips of cloth. Yet, unlike all other children, this infant lay in a “feeding trough” or “animal stall” (cf. Luke 2:7). If a cave was being used for this purpose, it is possible that it had been in use by these very shepherds.
— 2:13-14 —
“Suddenly” or “unexpectedly” a large group of angels joined the first, which Luke calls a “multitude of the heavenly host”—an image seen in the Old Testament as well (e.g., 1 Kgs. 22:19). The assembled angels
represented the awesome power of heaven gathered, on this particular
occasion, for peaceful purposes. By leading the celebration of Christ’s birth, they showed submission to the infant King of the world and asserted His authority against the powers of darkness. They gave vertical praise to God and affirmed the horizontal effect of His grace.
When the Lord’s redemptive plan is complete, He will have restored peace between God and humanity (Rom. 5:1), as well as peace between all individuals. The phrase “with whom He is pleased” comes from a single
Greek word, eudokia [2107], which is notoriously difficult to translate. It is loosely based on a classical Greek verb meaning “to take pleasure or delight in” but is otherwise not found anywhere outside biblical literature. Eudokia appears to have been coined by the translators of the Septuagint to render some instances of the Hebrew term rātson [H7522], which often implies divine grace (Pss. 5:12; 51:18; 106:4).
The NASB rendering vaguely suggests that something in humanity pleased God, prompting Him to reward us with His favor. The NIV translation, “on whom his favor rests,” captures the expression a little better. Based on no particular merit of our own, God delighted to grace humanity with a Savior.
— 2:15-18 —
Just as suddenly as the angelic host had filled the skies, these celestial celebrants retreated to the invisible realm of heaven, leaving the shepherds in the dark of night—but glowing inwardly. Their harsh, solitary life among the flocks—subject to the elements, overlooked by polite society, on guard against jackals of both the animal and human variety—did not give these men much opportunity to celebrate. But they had just received the greatest news humanity could have heard. They responded immediately to the announcement of a Savior and set off to find their Messiah.
— 2:19-20 —
In the solitude of a 2 a.m. feeding, every new mother ponders the miracle she holds and tries to imagine what kind of person her tiny baby will
become. Mary, however, had much more to consider. The shepherds’ report of the thunderous praise of countless angels, who had referred to her son as
“the Messiah” and who had even affirmed the divine providence involved in the family’s pitiful lodging situation, only further added to the surprising nature of what she had already heard from Gabriel. After the wonderstruck shepherds set off, continuing to spread the wonderful news, she was left in reflection, still staring at her newborn child.
The Greek term translated “treasured” means “to preserve,” “to guard,”
or “to keep watch.” The accompanying verb, rendered “pondering,” literally means “to bring together,” much like someone arranging the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. For Mary, the last nine months had included an angelic visit, a difficult announcement, the near collapse of her betrothal, and less-than- ideal circumstances for childbirth. She must have recalled Joseph’s anguish and his unflinching obedience to the will of God. She probably marveled at the timing of the census, the birth of God’s Son in a stable, and the worship of shepherds. Her memories formed a complex and curious puzzle that dared to be solved. For years to come, Mary would arrange and then rearrange everything she had experienced in order to make sense of it all.
Who can blame her? Two thousand years later, we are still coming to terms with the miraculous, inexplicable mystery of a man who is God because God became a man.
Luke’s account of the Lord’s birth leaves out many details we might like to know. Why did Mary go to Bethlehem so close to the time of delivery?
Or did something happen to delay the couple’s return to Nazareth? Did she have a midwife, or did Joseph perform an emergency delivery? Did the angels sing in antiphonal voice, or did they shout? I have a dozen more questions, and I suspect you do as well. But the Lord didn’t direct Luke’s pen to satisfy our curiosity. God prompted Luke to write something simple that would help us recognize His surprise gift. We know from the story that Jesus is a descendant of David and the rightful heir to Israel’s throne. We know He was born in Bethlehem in fulfillment of prophecy (Mic. 5:2) yet could also be called a Nazarene as predicted (Matt. 2:23; see also
“Nazareth,” page 43). We know the angels affirmed His divine nature as Savior-Messiah-Lord. And we know from Mary’s response that the unfolding story will reveal much more about this remarkable baby.
God’s surprise gift to the world had many more surprises in store.