And his father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied, saying,

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
    for he has visited and redeemed his people
and has raised up a horn of salvation for us
    in the house of his servant David,
as he spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets from of old,
that we should be saved from our enemies
    and from the hand of all who hate us;
to show the mercy promised to our fathers
    and to remember his holy covenant,
the oath that he swore to our father Abraham, to grant us
    that we, being delivered from the hand of our enemies,
might serve him without fear,
    in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.
And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
    for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
to give knowledge of salvation to his people
    in the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
    whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
    to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

And the child grew and became strong in spirit, and he was in the wilderness until the day of his public appearance to Israel.

Luke 1:67-80

My mom makes better banana pudding than anyone else in the world. Period.

Before you take me to task, I already know exactly what you’re thinking. And the reason I know what you’re thinking is because I’ve heard it countless times before.

“Oh, but you haven’t had my banana pudding.”

“Everyone loves my banana pudding. It’s made from scratch!”

“But does your mom put (fill in the blank) in hers? I bet she doesn’t. You have to try it with (fill in the blank again).”

I’ve tried them all, ok? The secret family recipes, from scratch, from a box, from a cup, with Nilla wafers, without Nilla wafers, with graham crackers, with meringue, with whipped topping, with cream cheese, warm, cold, in a pan, in a jar, or in a bowl. You name it, and I’ve tried it, because frankly, I love banana pudding and I will gladly try it in any form. But my mom makes the best. It’s better than Magnolia Bakery’s “famous” banana pudding. It’s better than Paula Dean’s banana pudding. It’s better than Rachel Ray’s, Bobby Flay’s, Trisha Yearwood’s, and Sandra Lee’s. 

I’m telling you: it’s the best.

I could tell you it’s the best because it’s a custard made from exactly 1.5 cups of sugar, 2 large eggs, 1/3 cup of White Lily self-rising flour, 3 cups of 2% milk, a stick of salted butter, 2 perfectly ripe bananas sliced into discs, 2 handfuls of Nilla wafers (name brand only), a teaspoon of pure vanilla extract, and a dash of nutmeg before it’s cooled and topped with whipped cream and more Nilla wafers. But to tell you the truth, that’s still not why it’s the best. 

My mom makes the best banana pudding in the world because it’s made by her. To me, hers will always be the best. The connection is what makes it great, not the components.

The way Luke describes the birth of Jesus takes on a lot more significance when you pause long enough to pick up on the connection he’s making. First of all, Luke tells us in chapter 2 that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus. Caesar Augustus was the adopted son of Julius Caesar (heard of him?). In 44 BCE, Augustus held funeral games in honor of his late father when a comet appeared in the sky, which the people of Rome took as a sign from the gods that Julius Caesar himself was a god. Two years later the Roman senate deified him posthumously and gave Julius Caesar the official status of “god.” Bear in mind that Luke is writing his account between 60-80 BCE, meaning Julius’ new senate-ordained god status to Luke wasn’t all that long ago. He absolutely has this in mind when he sets up the political landscape in the story of Jesus’ birth. Not only was Julius Caesar considered a god, but his new title also afforded his adopted son Augustus with one: the “son of god.”

Have any lightbulbs gone off yet?

If not, flip over to chapter 3 where Luke lays out the genealogy of Jesus. The Messiah is supposed to be from the line of David. Care to guess which of Jesus’ parents is of the line of David? If you guessed Joseph, you’re correct! (Although you didn’t have to guess. You could’ve just looked it up. It’s right there.)

The political landscape where we have Caesar Augustus, the “son of god” by virtue of his adopted father, Julius Caesar is juxtaposed right next to the birth of the Messiah, the Son of God, from the line of David by virtue of his adopted father, Joseph.

Now if you’ve really done your homework (if you didn’t, don’t worry - I did) and taken the time to compare how Luke writes his version of Jesus’ birth with how Matthew writes his, then you’d notice some pretty big differences. For starters, in Matthew an angel appears to Joseph with the birth announcement and in Luke an angel appears to Mary. In Matthew, Jesus is conceived in Bethlehem, but then they go to Egypt for a while and then after having been warned in a dream about what a bad dude Herod’s son is, they move to Galilee. From there we pick up the birth story in a house (Matthew 2:11) where the Magi meet up with Jesus’ parents after having followed a star. (And here’s a note for free: the Bible doesn’t say how many Magi there were, they probably weren’t kings, and they definitely weren’t from the Orient, so let’s toss “We Three Kings” out with “Little Drummer Boy,” shall we? Ok, rant over.) Luke never mentions a house, but he does write about a stable. In Luke, Jesus is born in Nazareth instead of Bethlehem. They only travel to Bethlehem because of the census and once that’s done, back to Nazareth. In Luke there’s no star, but we do have angels! And who do they appear to? Wealthy astrologers summoned by nobility to bring good fortune and impart wisdom? Nope. Shepherds. In Luke, the angels appear to lowly shepherds.

In summary, Matthew = Joseph (family patriarch), Herod and the Magi (the nobility), and Bethlehem (a city in Judah, one of the 12 tribes of Israel)

Luke = Mary and the shepherds (the lowly) and Nazareth (John 1:46 “‘Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?’ Nathanael asked. ‘Come and see,’ said Philip.”)

Let’s revisit Zechariah’s prophecy now that we’ve established the connections. I’ll highlight a few places to pay attention to.

And his father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied, saying,

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
     for he has visited and redeemed his people
and has raised up a horn of salvation for us
     in the house of his servant David,
as he spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets from of old,
that we should be saved from our enemies
     and from the hand of all who hate us;
to show the mercy promised to our fathers
     and to remember his holy covenant,
the oath that he swore to our father Abraham, to grant us
     that we, being delivered from the hand of our enemies,
might serve him without fear,
     in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.
And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
     for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
to give knowledge of salvation to his people
     in the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
    whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
    to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

To Zechariah, the Messiah meant one thing: a conqueror arising from David’s line to overthrow the oppressor: ROME! To Zechariah, it’s pretty clear that this soon-to-be-born Jesus would become a mighty savior in the line of David who will redeem/save Israel from those that wish her harm, which in the historical context (thanks to all of the connections Luke strategically and purposefully places into the story) were the Romans! Luke starts his gospel with the prevailing viewpoint of the time, presenting Jesus as the king who would reinvigorate the Davidic dynasty. After all, 2 Samuel 7:16 declared David’s reign to be established “forever,” namely through his successors. Unfortunately, the promise to David took a 600-year hiatus starting with the Babylonian exile and David’s “eternal” reign came to an abrupt halt (see 2 Kings through the end of the Old Testament).

The way Luke takes the story from here to the end of his gospel is the real eye opener. He sets things up this way to essentially say, “YES! You have all the right components. You’ve been looking for redemption, salvation, relief, faithfulness, belonging, security, purpose, fulfillment, light, and peace, but… it’s not going to come the way you thought.”

Jesus, as it turns out, wasn’t all that concerned with Rome. Jesus wasn’t even all that concerned with reinvigorating the Davidic monarchy. Luke wants you to see that Jesus embodied the same components while sharing a connection with the heart of the Father. Jesus came to establish a new way of life. He shattered the expectations of people who wanted Him to rule with force and retributive action. He flipped the “us first” mentality on its head and said, “The last will be first.” He brought us beyond performance-based religion and invited us into constant access with the Father through a relationship based on compassion and mercy. 

To me, the analogy Zechariah uses at the end of his prophesy is perfect. God’s mercy comes like a sunrise creeping through the trees after a long, lampless, bitter night, gently warming our cheeks as light gracefully paints the path home.

Zach Orr