A Tale of Two Nativities
Why we need both Matthew's and Luke's accounts of Jesus's birth for a fuller picture of Who He is and Why He came.
Two of the synoptic gospels tell us about Jesus’s birth: Matthew and Luke. And these accounts are a bit different. You are probably already aware that some of the differences stem from the fact that each writer had their own motivations driving their endeavors.
Matthew wrote earlier and primarily to a Jewish audience, proving that Jesus was the long-awaited Messiah and King of the Jews. He opens his gospel with a clear statement of this intent: “This is the record of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.” (Matt 1:1, NET) As such, Matthew is careful as a biographer to point readers back to various prophecies in the Tanakh (the Old Testament), especially those relating to Jesus’s royalty in the line of David. This focus on royalty demonstrates why Jesus is worthy of worship as the King of Kings.
Luke, a Gentile (or possibly Gentile convert to Judaism who later became a follower of Jesus), wrote his Gospel later than Matthew and likely used Mary as a primary source among others. He highlighted the humanity of Jesus, particularly homing in on Jesus’s care and concern for the oppressed and overlooked. While he includes prophetic fulfillment of scriptures like Matthew does, Luke clearly states at the beginning of both Luke and Acts that he is providing the background story of the Messiah to an audience who had already put their faith in Jesus.
Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things that have been accomplished among us, just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word have delivered them to us, it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught. (Luke 1:1-4)
In this way, Luke is shoring up existing faith—perhaps of those who never met Jesus during his ministry—rather than attempting to persuade someone to faith in the first place.
In addition to these distinct purposes that make Matthew and Luke unique, there is a tension between these accounts that isn’t immediately apparent to modern readers but would have been striking to the original audiences who might have encountered both Gospels. The tension comes down to the (seemingly) conflicting ways that each Gospel either plays up or diminishes Jesus’s honor. However, this conflict can actually strengthen the depth and awesomeness of Jesus’s work in the Incarnation, if we’re willing to accept the tension.1
Honor and Shame
You may have already bumped into the ancient concepts of honor and shame. Maybe you even grew up in a modern culture that operates on these two ideas. Many African and Asian cultures today do even if they apply them differently than the ancients did. Regardless, once you become aware of the honor/shame dynamic present in the Bible, it’ll start jumping out at you and can add a new layer of understanding of why people in Scripture do what they do.2
First century social currency was based on the sister values of Honor and Shame. These values provided a framework for evaluating decisions—does a proposed action bring honor or shame to a person’s family, town, or faith? While communal considerations are often alien to modern individualism, this paradigm goes further—the community determined an individual’s honor. In other words, each member of a community had a reputation “score” set by the group, which could fluctuate according the community’s opinion of one’s behavior. What was acceptable in one community might be taboo in another—what mattered was living in step with the societal expectations for one’s role, whether emperor, scribe, or merchant’s wife. Honor was essentially the “respect that one has in the eyes of others.”3
Like currency, honor was also a limited commodity. Everyone participated in the race for honor, but not everyone benefited. Slaves, for example, who had no honor to gain or lose, could impact the honor of their master through their behavior. For those to whom honor applied, one’s honor was always at risk of being lost since the amount of honor was considered finite. In order for one person or family to gain honor, another person or family lost honor.4
Community was the court of honor, deciding the fate of one’s honor rating. Community could be at the most local level, such as one’s household; it could refer to the town or village one lived in; or community could be larger, like one’s region or country. If an individual lived geographically outside his ethnic group or religion, then his behavior could cause a rise or fall in honor for his overall ethnic group or religion in the estimation of his hosts.
Alternatively, it could also simply reinforce stereotypes: “So-and-so behaved boorishly. But he is a Scythian, and we all know Scythians are barbarians.”
At the smallest circle of community, members of a household, whether by blood relations, marriage, or slavery, accrued honor for the sake of their presiding male figure. If a daughter behaved chastely, then she reflected honor on her father. Any dishonorable behavior would also cause her father, and his entire household by extension, shame commensurate to the behavior. But while an individual had an honor ranking, it was the honor of the patriarch of the household that really mattered, as his honor (or lack thereof) caused the rise (or fall) of the household.
Like its counterpart, shame was also communally derived and could be received by one’s station at birth and accrued by later actions the individual, the household membership, and their male figurehead committed. Public figures or one’s community as a whole could ascribe shame to someone, stripping them of their previously assessed honor.5 Shame (and honor) had tangible consequences.6 Business transactions, marriage arrangements, loss of status or wealth, political appointments, or even death were at risk if a person or his household engaged in shameful behavior. Humility, as we define it, would have been associated with shame. To be humbled would result in a loss of honor.
That said, caution should be exercised in applying the honor and shame model since reality is always more complex and history is riddled with “Teflon” figures on whom shame left little residue.
Ascribed Honor
Society had two types of honor they assigned to people: ascribed and achieved. When calculating someone’s overall honor, both types of honor would be considered. Ascribed honor was a person’s starting score, derived from one’s family. “The family was the dominant social institution in the lives of the ancients, providing the basic source of identity, nurture, economic support, religion, and education for most people.”7
In the first century, a person began life with a certain level of honor (or possibly none at all) determined by a number of factors beyond their control such as family of origin, socioeconomic status, gender, ethnic identity, citizenship (if any), and place of birth.8 While not as malleable as achieved honor, ascribed honor was not static. It could be further defined positively or negatively through the course of one’s life by events such as one’s occupation and religion, offices held, marriage, becoming (or not) a parent, becoming a free person (or a slave), and enduring a war or catastrophic personal/ economic loss.
Achieved Honor
While free persons were born with a certain level of honor, a man or woman could gain honor for themselves and their families through achieved honor, or “honor conferred on the basis of virtuous deeds.”9 Modern western societies are more comfortable with the concept of achieved honor as it is somewhat related to the idea of merit. While a person had relatively little effect on their ascribed honor, a man or woman could accrue personal and household honor through their actions. Most people in the first century had little opportunity to exercise any choice over their circumstances, but everyone had daily personal decisions over how they would respond to those they served or lived under.
An unruly son or slave brought shame on the head of the household for his inability to keep the members of his household in check. An obedient daughter from a modest household could gain more honor for her family of origin through a successful marriage that produced sons. Other, more public means of achieving honor such as effectively engaging in challenge-riposte, patronage, and maintain proper purity according to one’s station, were also very important.
Jesus’s Honorable Birth
So what does all this honor/shame talk have to do with the Nativity? For one, it provides a lens to better understand the societal elements at play in the narratives as well as the rhetorical devices employed by Matthew and Luke.
Both Matthew’s and Luke’s gospels fit the ancient Greek literary genre of encomia as they give Jesus honor and praise through rhetoric, a “native model of honor and shame.”10 “The Last Days of John Brown,” by Henry David Thoreau would be a more modern example of this genre. Encomia focused on four areas: birth and origins, education and nurture, deeds and accomplishments, and noble death. As this discussion is limited to Jesus’s origins, I’m going to focus on Jesus’s ascribed honor, the first area of focus: birth and origins.
Encomia broke one’s honor at birth into four categories: ethnic affiliation, home locale, ancestors, and forefathers/parents.11 Ethnicity told one’s community whether that individual was an insider or a stranger (of an ethnic background other than the majority ethnicity). Where a person was born informed the world about “a person's worth and value.”12 Also, the honor of one’s ancestors and father passed down to the newly born child. David deSilva notes the importance that genealogy plays as a device to locate an individual within a family in order to ascertain their level of ascribed honor. “A father in disgrace is a hard legacy to overcome,” says deSilva.13
Omens and wonders were often included in encomiums to underscore the future honor of the person being born. Jerome Neyrey details the example of Caesar Augustus and the various signs that foretold that the future emperor was “destined for greatness.”14
Neyrey argues that Matthew follows this pattern, first identifying Jesus’s birth locations, homing in on Jerusalem and Bethlehem which “have much to say about his [Jesus’s] praiseworthiness.”15 Nazareth and Galilee are deemphasized due to their “low or negative honor rating.”16 Even while Neyrey admits this, he suggests that Jesus raises the “handicap of residence in a dishonorable place” and grants honor to these locations because of who Jesus is, rather than the places besmirching Jesus’s honor.17
Second, Neyrey considers Jesus’s genealogy in Matthew. Jesus is shown to have high ascribed honor due to his descent from the founders of Israel, through the tribe of Judah and then David. Neyrey plays up Jesus’s royal connections and discounts the ignoble characters as simply being part of the rules of the encomium.18 Once again, Jesus is seen by Neyrey as “ennobling” his less than desirable ancestors, particularly the four females mentioned.19 Also, His earthly father, Joseph, comes not just from royal bloodlines, but is a “righteous man.” Jesus’s mother is exempt from question because she is “beloved of God to be given a son in a miraculous way.”20
Lastly, Neyrey discusses the prophecies in Matthew. He colors them as a typical encomia feature, ascribing honor to Jesus. In a controversial move, Neyrey states that the prophecies are “as heavenly oracles that publicly acclaim the greatness of the person born,” rather than being specifically fulfillment of Old Testament prophecies concerning the Jewish Messiah.21
. . . And Jesus’s Dishonorable Birth
If Neyrey’s analysis of Matthew is correct, then I believe Luke takes the opposite tact. Luke rhetorically underscores the humility (shame) in the Messiah’s entrance into our world. Though the inclusion of various details, supplying background that feel almost excessive compared to the other Gospels, Luke fleshes out how the King of the Universe abases Himself to become one of us. I can’t help but see echoes of this in Paul’s famous Philippians 2 passage—unsurprising given that Luke and Paul were traveling companions. Luke could even be read as a narrative complement to Paul’s Christology in Philippians 2.
Parentage
Scripture is unclear on Mary’s tribal affiliation. She may have had a parent of the tribe of Judah (possibly explaining the disparity between Luke’s and Matthew’s genealogies). It’s also likely that one of her parents was a Levite since she is related to Elizabeth, the mother of John the Baptist and wife of Zechariah, a priest. (Luke states that Elizabeth was a descendent of Aaron in Luke 1:5.) Neyrey and Malina argue that Mary’s likely link to the priestly tribe endows her with high ascribed honor, which she then shares with Jesus at his birth.22 Joel Green challenges this perspective, suggesting that Neyrey and Malina are “much concerned with the construction of a model and its application to Luke-Acts and not enough concerned with how such a model might itself be transformed or overturned within Luke's narrative, or even shown to be irrelevant to Luke's enterprise.”23
Indeed Luke’s purposes are not the same as Matthew’s. In fact, Luke emphasizes the dishonorable (or questionable at the very least) aspects of Jesus’s ascribed honor in his narrative. Green supports this perspective, claiming that Luke shows Mary without honor, a “servant in God’s household.”24 The angel’s pronouncement that she is “greatly favored” by God in Luke 1:28, may be more than just the fact that God has chosen her to bear the Messiah. Luke might be drawing a contrast between her low social status and the honor that God is bestowing upon her.
Mary’s Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55, NET) exhibits these themes as well. She sings that God has seen her in her “humble estate,” but then interestingly subverts the typical societal expectation of honor. In her praise, God dishonors the strong and rich, instead honoring the poor and hungry, exalting those like her—ones of “humble estate.”
Joseph, a member of the tribe of Judah, is named as Jesus’s earthly father. Matthew describes Joseph as “honorable” because he seeks to quietly divorce Mary after learning of her pregnancy as opposed to public humiliation. (Matt 1:19) This can be understood as a move to preserve the honor not just of Mary’s family, but also his own. An adulterous wife could wreak havoc on what little honor Joseph may have had given his life situation. That said, none of the Gospels mention any scandal associated with Mary’s pregnancy, so modern readers are left to assume that anyone who didn’t know the truth probably thought Jesus was Joseph’s child.
Additionally, the shameful impact of pre-marital sexual relations on a first century, rural, low-class betrothed couple is also unknown.25 Given Scripture’s silence on this, the impact (if any) may have been so understood by the original readers it didn’t merit mentioning. But if this did factor into Joseph’s (and Mary’s) honor rank, Joseph’s initial action of pursuing a divorce shows that it wouldn’t have been a positive result.
Socioeconomic Factors
Luke’s inclusion of Joseph is about as limited as Matthew’s narrative on Mary. From Matthew 13:55 we glean that Joseph worked as a carpenter, and although we typically associate woodwork with that occupation, Joseph may have actually been a stonemason, craftsman, or general builder.26 In modern terminology, he was a blue-collar construction worker or even a day laborer.
Joseph’s lack of means is highlighted by Luke in two ways. First, Joseph’s station and small purse couldn’t afford them a room in Bethlehem during the census in Luke 2:7, forcing Jesus to sleep in a manger. No doubt the town was overflowing with extra persons (all David’s descendants), but Joseph’s inability to find a decent place shows how far down he ranked (even if he had close kin nearby).
Second, Mary’s choice of animal for her purification offering after Jesus is born is revealing. Luke 2:24 records that she offered two pigeons, which according to the Law, was the offering that a new mother could make if she couldn’t afford the expected lamb. (Lev 12:8) This underscores their poverty as much as their piety.
Finally, where Matthew had wealthy, king-making Magi visit Jesus and his family, Luke omits this incident in favor of mentioning the poor shepherds who were witnesses of Jesus’s birth. (Luke 2:15-20) For an idea of how society thought of shepherds, consider that their legal testimony ranked about as good (or possibly lower) than the average woman’s did at this time. This disparity is yet another way Luke diverges from Matthew’s aim to present Jesus with high ascribed honor.
Birth Geography
Although Jesus was born in Bethlehem and even spends time in Egypt as a young child, He is referred to as “Jesus of Nazareth” throughout his adulthood. His hometown in the eyes of Israel, was Nazareth, a village in the Galilee region.
Neyrey writes, “A ‘distinguished’ locale will breed distinguished citizens.”27 The opposite was also true. Within the Greco-Roman world, Judea was not respected. And within Judea, Galilee was not respected by Jews with any status. Nijay Gupta comments that the Pharisee’s reply to Nicodemus in John 7:52 is a slam against Galilee, “Look into it and you will find that a prophet does not come out of Galilee.”28 From any perspective, Jesus’s hometown drags down His honor rating.
Given the accumulated picture of Jesus’s family origin, socioeconomic status, and geographic heritage in Luke, it’s clear that Luke is demonstrating that he sees the Messiah starting his experience on earth with very little ascribed honor.29
Suffering Servant
If the idea of Jesus being God and yet also a person of low honor bothers you, then consider one of the best known, most vivid portrayals of Messiah: The Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53. This Messiah is despised, rejected, and familiar with pain. Gupta translates Isaiah 53:3 from the Septuagint as, “he was dishonored and held of no account.”30 The weight of shame Isaiah layers upon the Messiah in this passage is tremendous, going so far as to say that those around him even considered him, “punished by God.” (Isa 53:4)
Often, Christians chalk up these descriptions to the crucifixion or rejection by the Jewish leadership. But this would be an incomplete picture. Almost no one can relate to the shame of a crucifixion, or the public rejection by the religious elite. Consider instead that Jesus suffered shame his entire life due to his lack of status, his low ascribed honor. To ancient Christians, most of whom likewise had no status and no resources, Jesus’s experience with shame made God relatable. As Gupta points out,
This revelation [of Jesus’s low ascribed honor] had the possibility of revolutionizing the current social system. Value was not dependent on birthright, inheritance, wealth, occupation, beauty or education. Just as it was the case with Jesus, even the simple and meek could be honored - not by the world, but by God himself through Christ. His sacrifice was not just his suffering physical abuse, being slandered, and enduring the crucifixion, but also included the constant accusation of disgrace he received and the general disregard for his honor and value as the Son of God.31
Which Speaks to You?
I’m glad for both of these birth narratives, as I think they both accurately reflect an aspect of the Incarnation. Jesus is, as Matthew asserts, of a kingly descent, worthy of the honor the Magi bestow upon him. His glory, magnificence and wonderous prophetic fulfillment are readily on display in Matthew.
This is a Messiah we want to worship.
But Jesus is also a man of no reputation, as the old Rich Mullins song goes. His low estate and humble beginnings described by Luke (and later echoed by Paul in Philippians 2) provide us with a Son of Man, a Suffering Servant, a person both early Christians and we can relate to.
This is a Messiah we want to touch.
Both are embodied in the person of Jesus.
God promised long ago to tabernacle with His people and does so most acutely in the person of Jesus. Here we have the boundless One who is without end putting on fragile flesh and enduring both a beginning and an end in order to identify with us. In order to be the perfect sacrifice for us so that one day we can be together forever.
Honor enduring shame in order to elevate the honor of others.
I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.
This conflict really is just a lot like other theological conflicts (i.e., predestination vs free will, the nature of the Trinity). If we’re willing to hold what Scripture affirms in tension with each other (difficult, I know), we get a fuller picture of the truth.
This is a complicated topic that I really can’t do justice to here but if it catches your interest, there are a number of fantastic, readable resources on it. I recommend starting with David deSilva’s seminal work, Honor, Patronage, Kinship, and Purity: Unlocking New Testament Culture.
Jerome H. Neyrey, “Despising the Shame of the Cross: Honor and Shame in the Johannine Passion Narrative,” Semeia 68 (1994): 118, accessed December 14, 2018, ATLA Religion Database.
Ibid., 117.
Ibid., 118.
The honor/shame system was the currency for the ancient social structure of patronage. A positive example of the effects of honor and shame is the Centurion in Luke 7who had been a patron to his local community of Jews, building up honor among them as he’d funded a synagogue for them. When his servant becomes ill, the Jews (his clients) went to Jesus (who the Centurion did not have access to) and acted as a broker, asking Jesus to heal the servant. Jesus honors both the Centurion and his clients by healing the servant.
Jerome H. Neyrey, Honor and Shame in the Gospel of Matthew (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998) 91.
Neyrey, Despising the Shame, 116.
Halvor Moxnes, "Honor and Shame," The Social Sciences and New Testament Interpretation, ed. Richard L. Rohrbaugh (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 1996), 20.
Neyrey, Honor and Shame, 90.
Ibid., 91.
Ibid., 93.
David A. deSilva, Honor, Patronage, Kinship & Purity: Unlocking New Testament Culture (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2000), 163.
Neyrey, Honor and Shame, 94.
Ibid., 95.
Ibid., 96.
Ibid., 97.
Ibid., 98.
Ibid., 99.
Ibid.
Ibid., 101.
Joel B.Green, “The Social Status of Mary in Luke 1:5-2:52: A Plea for Methodological Integration,” Biblica 73, no. 4 (1992): 458. ATLA Religion Database.
Ibid., 459.
Ibid., 461.
Betrothal in Jewish marriages at this time was much stronger than our engagements today. Boiled down, it was basically a type of marriage, lacking the public ceremony and consummation, which is why it required a legal “divorce” to break them up.
“Carpenter,” in The Lexham Bible Dictionary, ed. John D. Barry, David Bomar, Derek R. Brown, Rachel Klippenstein, Douglas Mangum, Carrie Sinclair Wolcott, Lazarus Wentz, Elliot Ritzema, and Wendy Widder, (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2016), np.
Neyrey, Honor and Shame, 92.
Nijay K.Gupta, “A Man of No Reputation: Jesus and Ascribed Honor in the Gospel of John,” Ashland Theological Journal 40 (2008): 54. ATLA Religion Database.
Jesus did have some measure of ascribed honor simply by being male and the firstborn, but these were unavoidable attributes for the Messiah. The messianic labels “Son of Man,” “Son of God,” and “Son of David” all arguably presuppose a male Messiah. Also, to be born of a virgin, Jesus had to be her firstborn child. But these classifications of gender and birth order only hold higher honor in relation to the other members of the household and do not necessarily affect greater honor on society at large when combined with other factors.
Gupta, 56.
Ibid.
Informative and well written.