Advent begins this coming Sunday, Dec 1. The name ‘Advent’ comes from the Latin adventus, which can be translated as “arrival” or “coming”. Advent is a time of preparation and anticipation leading up to Christmas, when we intentionally ready ourselves to celebrate not only the birth of Christ, but also to anticipate his second coming. We celebrate the incarnation, an event which has already happened in history, continues to shape history, and will ultimately transcend history as we know it. This is a season of celebrating hope, joy, peace and love – one for each of the four Sundays of Advent.

We find the Christmas story in Matthew and Luke – these are the only two Gospels that contain the “infancy narratives”, telling us about Jesus’ birth. All of the familiar elements are there – Jesus is born to Mary, a virgin who becomes pregnant through the power of the Spirit. He is born in Bethlehem, a scriptural shout-out to his ancestor King David as a sign of Jesus’ kingship. His birth is proclaimed by angelic messengers, divine beings who explain that the events of Jesus’ birth are of significance for all human history. However, if you look closely at the two accounts in Matthew (1:18-23) and Luke (1:5-2:40), you’ll also notice that there are important details specific to each narrative which give us insights into the purposes of each Gospel and specific ways to respond. 

Luke’s account is told from Mary’s perspective. Luke writes for a wider gentile audience and emphasises that the marginalised and the outsiders are those for whom Jesus has come. Luke focuses on Jesus as the Saviour of the world – rather than of Israel only. It’s also significant that in Luke, angels appear to the shepherds (who were usually poor and lower class) rather than to the religious elite or to the wealthy, and they find Jesus resting in a manger in a stable. 

Consider: What does it mean to you that the good news of Jesus was proclaimed to those sometimes considered “outsiders” or “lower class”, rather than the religious leaders, the rich, or the powerful?

Matthew’s account is told from Joseph’s perspective. In distinction from Luke, Matthew does not mention sheep, shepherds or the stable. Instead, writing for a Jewish audience, Matthew emphasises Jesus’ royal Jewish lineage right from his first genealogy, linking Jesus to Abraham and King David. Matthew takes particular pains to use a “fulfillment formula” to show how the events of Jesus’ conception and birth parallel key Old Testament events and prophecies, including his virgin birth in Bethlehem (Isa 7:14, Micah 5:2), his family’s flight to Egypt to escape Herod (Hosea 11:1), the slaughter of the innocents (Jer 31:15), and their return to Nazareth (possibly Isaiah 11:1, with a possible wordplay on the idea of a Nazirite – one consecrated to God from the womb). Jesus is presented as the Davidic king of the Jews, the one through whom God will fulfil their calling to be a light to the nations. 

Consider: How are you encouraged by the way that God keeps his promises and works out all his plans?

This is all lovely and nice – and probably familiar territory if you’ve been around the church for a while. Nativity plays recast the familiar in a range of ways, usually incorporating Mary, Joseph and Jesus, as well as the supporting cast – angels, wise men, shepherds and their sheep.

However, have you ever thought about what it was like for Mary and Joseph to travel to Bethlehem? Picture the scene. Mary is almost nine months pregnant – the third trimester isn’t a walk in the park (IYKYK) – sciatica, heartburn, shortness of breath and exhaustion are just some of the symptoms that can accompany the joy of new life. Although Scripture doesn’t mention a donkey (the earliest mention of a donkey is found in the mid-second century!), it’s a reasonable assumption that Mary would have ridden most of the way. The 145km journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem would have been arduous enough – that’s approximately the distance from Westport to Hokitika. By the time I went on maternity leave, I was finding it hard enough to walk along the beach slowly, let alone start a week-long trek. This journey reminds us that the first Christmas was anything but serene, challenging our tendency to envision only the beatific images that we find on our Christmas cards – a peaceful family scene, a clean manger with soft hay arranged just so, and none of the fatigue of a long journey, or the aftermath of birth. 

As we approach the beginning of Advent this coming Sunday, I invite you to take seriously the reality that in Jesus, God has entered into human history as a human. If we sanitise the Christmas story, we miss the extent of the reality of the incarnation. God became human in Jesus. He was born in a barn among the cows and the hay and the animal waste, becoming one of us and one with us.

If you want to know what God is like, we can’t look only at the resurrected and exalted Christ – we must also look at the manger, and the great love and humility of God which is shown there.

Before he was revealed as the resurrected king, Jesus was born a fragile, vulnerable infant, unable to walk on the ground that he had created or to speak the words of the languages that he formed – and yet in doing so, he begins to work out our salvation, day by day. More on that next week!

Consider: What does it mean to you that God chose to enter the world as a baby, born into humble circumstances?

Are there ways that the Spirit may be prompting you to go into spaces that feel messy or difficult, and to bring the light of the gospel to shine in those areas?