Original Meaning
The Family’s Escape to Egypt (2:13–15)
ONCE THE MAGI escaped safely, the angel of the Lord again appears in a dream to warn Joseph about Herod’s scheme to murder the child (cf. 2:16). This is his third dream (cf. 1:20; 2:12) and the second communication from the angel of the Lord to Joseph. Joseph again becomes the intermediary who provides for the safety and security of the child and mother. Although he is not the biological father, Joseph is a central figure in Matthew’s narration (Luke focuses on Mary, the mother). Matthew may be continuing the legal aspect of Joseph’s fatherhood from the genealogy, but he is also chronicling the leadership role that the father played in the typical Jewish family.
The angel makes explicit what has been implicit in the narrative to this point—Herod’s paranoiac grasp of the throne drives him to attempt to kill the infant king of the Jews.1 The angel instructs Joseph how he is to care for the child and mother, and Joseph is again immediately obedient, escaping to Egypt by night with the child and his mother.
The Egyptian border lay approximately eighty miles from Bethlehem. At the border began the most arduous journey, perhaps leading to the main Jewish community in Alexandria, Egypt, a city that lay on the Mediterranean Sea at the western edge of the Nile Delta. In this large metropolis lived about one million Jews. Almost anywhere in Egypt the family would have been immediately safe from Herod, since it was a Roman province outside of his jurisdiction. Joseph, Mary, and Jesus stayed there until after Herod’s death (March/April 4 B.C.), when the angel tells them to return to Israel (2:20).
As in the narrative of the conception and birth of Jesus, Matthew points to the flight and later return from Egypt as a “fulfillment of Scripture.” It is difficult to see how Hosea’s reference back to the Exodus can imply for Matthew that Jesus’ life fulfills what the prophet had said. This allows us to see that Matthew has a multifaceted perspective on the way that Jesus “fulfills” the Old Testament Scriptures. (1) In some cases, “fulfill” indicates the way in which the events of Jesus’ earthly life and ministry bring to actualization predictive prophecy. Such fulfillment may be a specific prediction, as in 1:22–23 (the virgin birth), or it may be a collective predictive theme, as in 3:15, where Jesus’ life ministry brings to actualization the collective Old Testament prophecy of salvation-historical righteousness.
(2) In other cases, “fulfill” can indicate the way in which Jesus brings to its intended full meaning the entire Old Testament Scripture, such as his dramatic declaration in the Sermon on the Mount, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them” (see comments on 5:17–20).
(3) In still other cases, Matthew’s use of “fulfill” can indicate the way in which Jesus’ earthly life and ministry corresponded analogically or typologically (some say recapitulated or repeated) to certain aspects of the national history of Israel. This is apparently what Matthew has in view when he cites the prophet Hosea to say, “Out of Egypt I called my son” (2:15; see also 2:17–18).2 In the context of his prophecy, Hosea recounts how God had faithfully brought Israel out of Egypt in the Exodus.3 Matthew’s point of comparison is the corporate solidarity between the nation Israel as God’s son being rescued and delivered by God, and Jesus as the One who will be revealed to be God’s “Son” par excellence.4 Jesus Messiah is not only “son of David, son of Abraham” (1:1), but he is God’s Son, which points ahead to the unique manner in which the voice from heaven will specify Jesus as the beloved Son (3:17; 17:5), and the way in which Jesus will address God as his Father (26:39–42).
Further, Old Testament authors consistently reminded the nation of Israel to look back to their redemption by God when he brought them out of Egypt.5 The annual Passover was a reminder, as well as a promise, that God had provided a sacrificial lamb for his people Israel. As Matthew harks back to Hosea’s recounting of God’s faithfully bringing Israel out of Egypt under divine protection, he points out how Jesus’ infancy corresponds analogically to Israel’s history. The life of Jesus is the historical completion of the process of redemption. No threat from any public official can thwart the process. Jesus here recapitulates the promise to Israel that redemption is at hand. As Craig Blomberg emphasizes,
Matthew sees striking parallels in the patterns of God’s activities in history in ways he cannot attribute to coincidence. Just as God brought the nation of Israel out of Egypt to inaugurate his original covenant with them, so again God is bringing the Messiah, who fulfills the hopes of Israel, out of Egypt as he is about to inaugurate his new covenant.6
Matthew is not trying to emphasize that Jesus is a new Moses but that he actualizes the promise to the nation Israel of redemption that was initiated with the Exodus and Passover.
Bridging Contexts
MATTHEW’S PORTRAIT OF JESUS. Matthew introduced a theme in chapter 1 that becomes one of the leading characteristics of chapter 2, namely, the “fulfillment formula” (e.g., 2:14). As he records the historical details of the earthly life of Jesus, he looks beyond to the Old Testament Scriptures and declares to his readers that Jesus’ life fulfills ancient prophetic pronouncements. This theme is a significant clue to understanding Matthew’s purpose for writing his Gospel. He varies the theme from direct predictive prophecy to analogical (or typological) correspondence to demonstrate the way that Jesus fulfills Old Testament prophecies. Both ways give a more complete picture of Jesus as the anticipated Messiah of Israel.
(1) The first occurrence of the fulfillment formula points to Jesus’ conception and birth, which fulfills the predictive prophecy that the messianic deliverer will be born of a virgin. The child will be known as Immanuel, which prepares Matthew’s readers for the incarnational truth guaranteed in the birth of the child Jesus, that “God is with us” (1:22–23; cf. Isa. 7:14).
(2) Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem of Judea fulfills the predictive prophecy of the coming Messiah who will be born in David’s own ancient birthplace and who will rule and shepherd the people of Israel (2:6; cf. 2 Sam. 5:2; Mic. 5:2).
(3) Jesus fulfills analogically/typologically the correspondence between Israel as God’s son being rescued and delivered from Egypt by God and Jesus as God’s Son being protected from harm as he goes down and comes back from Egypt under divine protection (2:15; Hos. 11:1). The covenant with Israel that was initiated with the Passover and Exodus is now fulfilled in the arrival of Jesus to initiate the new covenant.
(4) Jesus’ life events fulfill analogically/typologically the correspondence between Israel’s mothers sorrowing over their exiled children at the time of the Babylonian captivity and Bethlehem’s grieving mothers at the slaughter of the innocent boys. Herod’s attempts to eliminate the newborn king of the Jews correspond analogically to an earlier attempt by a foreign power to wipe out God’s chosen people, but Jesus’ advent also marks the arrival of the comfort to Israel promised to the Jews who had been sent into exile in Babylon (2:17–18; Jer. 31:15).
(5) Finally, Jesus’ hometown roots in Nazareth point toward his identity as the One who fulfills both the direct prophecy of the messianic Branch, a king from David’s line who will judge with righteousness and strike the earth with the rod (2:23; cf. Isa. 11:1–5; also Jer. 23:5), and the direct prophecy of the despised, messianic suffering Servant (Matt. 2:23; cf. Isa. 52–53).
Matthew paints a bold picture of Jesus by drawing together strands of prophecy from the Old Testament that challenge sectarian expectations within Israel. Jesus is as much as any of them could have hoped for, but he is far more. He is the incarnate God who has come to be their King.
History prophesied or prophesy historicized? Some critics today charge Matthew with composing an account of Jesus’ life that is a fanciful manipulation of facts to try and fit what the prophets have said. They claim that Matthew either fabricated details or else manipulated the facts of Jesus’ life to try to make it appear that he fulfilled Old Testament prophecies about the coming of the Messiah. For example, some suggest that Matthew, writing to a Jewish audience, intentionally made up a life story about Jesus that fulfilled such prophecies as being born of a virgin in Bethlehem, or going to Egypt, or being raised in Nazareth.34 What about this? Did Matthew write an accurate account of what happened in history that fulfilled ancient prophecies, or did Matthew create stories about Jesus to make it appear that he fulfilled those prophecies?
Our claim is the former: Matthew recorded accurately what happened in the historical life and ministry of Jesus, and those events were the miraculous fulfillment of ancient prophecies regarding the coming Messiah. Evangelical scholars have satisfactorily answered charges of critics along four basic lines.35 (1) The creation of falsified historical accounts to substantiate a claim to prophetic fulfillment is not a staple of Jewish interpretive history. As a Jewish author, Matthew had no precedent for such a blatant disregard for Jewish interpretation of Old Testament prophecies. Moreover, he would have been subject to intense criticism from the Jewish interpretive community for falsifying predictive prophecy.
(2) The apostles, including Matthew, were so gripped by the reality of Jesus as the Messiah that they willingly suffered persecution at the hands of the Jews, and most of them later experienced martyrdom. They would not likely have been willing to suffer because of a lie about a person who really was not the Messiah.
(3) When the Gospels were written and circulated, there were still many people living who had see the events of Jesus’ life. They would have confronted Matthew with his fabrication. But no such record of this kind of accusation against Matthew surfaces from any ancient record.
(4) The Jewish people themselves would have used any so-called fabrications as a way of discrediting the claims that Jesus was the Messiah. If Jesus had not been born in Bethlehem, or if his claim to being Messiah were not in line with Old Testament prophecies, Jews familiar with the details would have readily denied their reality. However, we don’t hear of any such accusations, not even from the Talmud, which at points speaks derogatorily about Jesus and his followers but never accuses them of falsification of Jesus’ life to fit messianic prophecies.
The death of Herod the Great. Matthew’s manner of recording the death of Herod is another poignant clue to the way he has designed to record the life and ministry of Jesus Messiah. Whereas Josephus gives a rather graphic picture of Herod’s death,36 mainly to emphasize how God was inflicting punishment on Herod for his lawless deeds and impiety, Matthew merely states that Herod died, prompting the angel of the Lord to recall Joseph, Mary, and the infant Jesus from Egypt. His record of Herod’s death, therefore, is another explanatory incident in the divine guidance of the infant Messiah’s life.
Matthew may have had thoughts similar to those of Josephus about divine retribution on Herod because of the repugnancy of his murderous deeds, but he doesn’t vent them. Instead, he concentrates exclusively on the events of the infant Jesus’ life and how those events fulfilled Old Testament messianic prophecies. His passing reference to Herod’s death serves only to mark the sovereign work of God in protecting the infant Jesus Messiah so that he can return to his homeland to be raised in preparation for his future work of proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom of God (cf. 4:23).
Modern calendars and the date of Jesus’ birth. When Christians first learn that Jesus was most likely born anywhere from 6–4 B.C., they are confused. Doesn’t the dating of Western calendars assume the birth of Jesus in A.D. 1? Could this mean that our New Testament records are in error? A little investigation helps us to see that the discrepancy does not arise from the biblical record but from the attempts in later centuries to establish a birth date for Jesus.
Modern calendars begin the present era, often called the “Christian era,” with Jesus’ birth. Dates after his birth are designated A.D. (Lat., anno domini, “in the year of our Lord”) and dates before his birth are designated B.C. (“Before Christ”).37
The first person to develop this system was the Christian monk Dionysius Exiguus in A.D. 525. Prior to him the Romans had developed the dating system used throughout the Western world, using the designation “AUC” (ab urbe condita—“from the foundation of the city [of Rome]”—or anno urbis conditae—“in the year of the foundation of the city”). Dionysius believed that it would be more reverent for calendrical dating to begin with Jesus’ birth rather than the foundation of Rome. So with the historical records available to him, Dionysius reckoned the birth of Jesus to have occurred on December 25, 753 AUC (i.e., approximately 754 years after the founding of Rome). That placed the commencement of the Christian era at January 1, 754 AUC (allowing for lunar adjustment), or under the new reckoning, January 1, A.D. 1.
However, Dionysius did not have all of the historical data now available to scholars to make a more precise dating. We now know that King Herod died in March/April 750 AUC. Since Matthew states that Jesus was born while Herod was still alive, Jesus was actually born according to the Roman calendar between 748–750 AUC, four to six years earlier than Dionysius’s calculations. Thus, a more accurate dating of the birth of Jesus places it in 4–6 B.C. This has nothing to do with the accuracy of the biblical records, only the historical accuracy of the well-intentioned but misguided Dionysius Exiguus.
Contemporary Significance
JESUS MESSIAH CAME into the world to save it, but from the beginning he received threats. Yet in the middle of the threatening forces of the world, God’s protective, guiding forces came to play in the life of the infant Jesus and family. Two points call for our attention here.
He will be called a Nazarene. The one named Jesus, who will save his people from their sins, Immanuel, “God with us,” who is hailed as “king of the Jews,” is also the one called a “Nazarene.” Such is the way that Matthew concludes his astonishing narrative of Jesus’ infancy. Matthew’s identification of Jesus with this epithet is a double entendre that focuses on him as the fulfillment of the contrasting Branch and Servant prophecies. Jesus is both the powerful Branch of righteous redemption for Israel, but he is also the despised suffering Servant, who will take away our infirmities and will be pierced for our transgressions. The name “Nazarene” was for Jesus a title of honor as he became for Israel the long-awaited redemptive messianic Branch. But it also was a title of scorn as he became for Israel the despised suffering Servant.
We are called “Christians.” The earliest Christians were called “the sect of the Nazarenes” by the Jews (Acts 24:5), bringing over the contempt with which they held Jesus’ disciples. Soon, pagans began to call Jesus’ disciples “Christians,” which also had a double significance. The book of Acts indicates that in the large metropolis of Antioch, with its many competing cults and mystery religions, those who spoke so much about being disciples of the Christos were soon called Christianoi, “Christ’s people.” But wearing the name “Christian” was considered a badge of contempt (Acts 26:28).38 Peter tries to shore up the resolve of the persecuted church by saying that when pagans regard them with hostility, the name “Christian” is a badge of honor (1 Peter 4:16). Early in the second century, those accused of believing in Jesus Christ were asked by Roman officials whether or not they were “Christians.” If they admitted to the name, they were killed (or, if Roman citizens, were sent to Rome for trial).39 In the days of persecution of the early church, the use of the term was dangerous, because it clearly marked out to the Romans those who believed in a God who was not the emperor.40
As the name “Nazarene” was for Jesus, so the name “Christian” is a badge of honor, but it is also a badge of scorn and a designation for persecution. For many in the world today, wearing the name “Christian” is similar to what it was like for the early church. In places like Indonesia, buildings are burned just because they are known to be “Christian” houses of worship. In communist China, people are placed in jail simply because they possess and distribute “Christian” literature. And in the face of worldwide radical Islamic terrorism, persecution for being a Christian has come even closer to home.
When Mark and Lara, two of our former students, graduated from college, they married and joined an international mission organization. They trained for several years to become Bible translators and finally fulfilled their dreams by participating in translation work in a primarily Muslim country. My wife and I recently woke up on a Sunday morning to hear the television news that an international church in the city where they live had been terrorized by two men who walked in during the services and tossed several hand grenades at the parishioners. The news was sketchy at first, but it was known that five people had been killed, two of them Americans. At least forty others had been wounded, perhaps as many as ten of them Americans. Later we cringed as we heard Mark’s name read over the news as having been wounded.
The country Mark and Lara live in is only about 2 percent Christian. They say that the people by and large are extremely kind and helpful to them. But there were these extremists who attacked the church only because it was a “Christian” house of worship.
The newspapers interviewed Mark a day or so after the incident. Lara and their two children were safe. When asked if they were going to leave, he said that they have contingency plans to leave if necessary, but they’d like to stay. In a gripping part of the interview, he acknowledged that he had been attacked because he was a Christian, but then he said that he would like to stay, because he is a Christian: “I’m a Christian. I believe my safety lies in God’s hands, not in man’s.”41
That is the example of Jesus the Nazarene at work in his life. Today many of us wear the name “Christian” with relative ease. But in our own way, the name indicates for us both honor and scorn or suffering. Discipleship to Jesus will come to mean in Matthew’s Gospel that we become like him (10:24–25). This is also the consistent theme of the other New Testament authors (e.g., 2 Cor. 3:18; 1 Peter 2:21). And if we become like him, we also will bear his name, with both positive and negative associations.
Torture and persecution for being a Christian seem far from a possibility in most of our everyday worlds. Yet persecution may become much more familiar to each of us than we expect. The increasing secularization of Western culture does not bode well for us. Christians are discouraged from denouncing practices condemned in Scripture, whether it is obscenity, pornography, or homosexuality. In the name of “freedom of religion” many of the normal practices of faith once enjoyed—such as public prayers or even displays of a manger scene at Christmas—have been stripped away. The agenda of much public policy seems more like freedom from religion.
It is not by accident that Jesus grew up in Nazareth and was identified with it. It was a town whose name was given in recognition of the hope of the coming messianic “Branch” in Isaiah 11:1. But his relationship to Nazareth means additionally that Jesus came to be identified not with the center of the religious and political establishment in Jerusalem. Jesus was not part of the political, religious, or militaristic establishment. Rather, he fulfilled the prophecy of a messianic figure who came from the common people, who was a man of sorrows, who was often despised, but who was ultimately the messianic Servant to justify the many and carry their iniquities (e.g., Isa. 52:13–53:12). Although his messianic sacrifice is unique, we are nonetheless provided in Jesus’ incarnation an example of humility and servanthood that will challenge our own self-serving desires for comfort, fame, fortune, and glory.
Therefore, our walk with Jesus in this world will involve some kind of suffering for his name. Jesus suffered when doing the right and good thing. Persecution marked the fate of the church from its earliest days, yet it did not dim their passion for following Jesus, no matter what the cost. Paul tells young pastor Timothy, “all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Tim. 3:12).
Joseph, the adoptive father. A unique thrust of Matthew’s Gospel is the way that Jesus’ earthly father, Joseph, stands out significantly. In only his Gospel does Joseph have any prominence. So along with our Christological focus on the portrait of Jesus that emerges from the infancy narrative, we also rightly look to see in Joseph’s role in the account the contemporary significance of the lessons that Matthew intended to pass on to his readers.
Having started out in Nazareth when the angel appeared to him with the announcement of the miraculous conception of the baby who would become king, Joseph appears for the last time in Matthew’s Gospel as he leads the family back to Nazareth. The amazing events that transpired in less than three years must have made this young father’s head spin. He was a silent but strong figure as he steadfastly guided and protected his little family. What tremendous love for his wife and son must have sustained him!
In chapter 1 we see his love for his wife displayed as he first desires to protect her from disgrace and then as he obeys the direction of the angel and takes his betrothed to be his own wife, in spite of the overwhelming human evidence of unfaithfulness. And in chapter 2 we see his love for his wife and son displayed as he goes against all the forces of the political and religious establishment to obey God and protect his family. As a father, I am humbled to the point of obedience to God myself as I see his example.
Yet, we must remember that this is not Joseph’s biological son. We might comprehend more readily the sacrifice that Joseph made if this child were of his own blood, but it causes us to honor his obedience even more when we recognize that this is his adopted son. The bond between them did not derive from the deep emotional and spiritual tie of father and genetic son. It derived from the deep bond of obedience to the true Father of this Son.
In this way, Joseph continues to be a powerful example to all of us as parents, because our children also are truly not our own. They are a gift to us from God, their true Father. That, I believe, is one of the most powerful lessons to be learned from infant dedication services, or whatever your church tradition may call them. Young parents must start out their parental privilege by giving their own little baby back to the Father.
We learned that dramatically with our first child, Michelle. The pastor of the church we were attending while I was going through seminary stressed in the dedication service that we were not only dedicating our little baby girl to God, but we were dedicating ourselves to raise her for God, because she is his child on loan to us. Just a month later she developed a severe influenza that steadily weakened and dehydrated her. One rainy, dark evening her vomiting and diarrhea had become so severe that on doctor’s orders, we rushed her to the hospital. The examining doctor said that if we had waited until the morning, she would have died of dehydration. So we left our little four-month-old baby girl—“Squeaky,” the nurses nicknamed her because she hadn’t the strength to give a real moan—in their care and drove home. Lynne and I cried on the way home through the wetness of that eerie night, recognizing how close we had come to losing her. But in our tears we reaffirmed to God that Michelle was his. We had given her back to him and had dedicated ourselves to raise her for him. So, in our tears we loosened our grip on Michelle and said that we would follow his will for her life, for he is her true Father.
This is what Joseph teaches us as an obedient father of an adoptive son. For all of us, whether biological or adoptive, parenting means to obey our child’s true Father. Walter and Thanne Wangerin have raised children born to them as well as children adopted. They understand deeply the differences, especially the heart-wrenching that occurs when an adoptive child seeks to find her biological parents. But they learned deeply from Joseph the holy mystery of parenting another’s child. And in that lesson, they also share with all parents the fact that loving our children aright means to raise them for their heavenly Father, in whose image they were created. Wangerin writes expressively:
In all our children’s faces is the image of their Creator. When any parents, by loving God, love their children right; and when, by following God, they lead their children out of the house, into adulthood and the purpose for which they were born, then in that fullness they, too, will find the face of God the Father, who had lent them the children in the first place.42
This was the lesson that he learned from Joseph, who had raised his adoptive Son for his heavenly Father—a fitting lesson for us all.
Original Meaning
The Massacre of Bethlehem’s Boys (2:16–18)
MATTHEW RETURNS TO narrating the historical incidents surrounding the hideous murder of the infants at Bethlehem by Herod. When Herod realized that the Magi somehow had gotten wind of his true intentions and fled, he decided to take the situation into his own hands by putting to death any potential challenger to his throne. His earlier query of the Magi about the time of the appearing of the star gave him a fairly good estimate of the birth of the child (2:7). So he ordered all the boys in the Bethlehem vicinity who were born within the two-year time period to be killed. This would reckon to approximately ten to thirty boys of that age, given the size of the town.7 Although this is not as large a number as is often graphically portrayed in reenactments in modern movies, it is still a heart-rending loss for the village.
No other historical records exist of this incident, which is not surprising, since Bethlehem was a somewhat small, rural town at this time. The number of infant boys massacred was a huge loss for Bethlehem, but it was not an incident to stand out significantly when seen in the light of other horrific events in Herod’s infamous career.
Matthew speaks of Bethlehem’s grief as a tragic reminder of the heartache experienced earlier in Israel’s history, fulfilling what was said “through the prophet Jeremiah”:8
A voice is heard in Ramah,
weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted,
because they are no more. (Matt. 2:18; cf. Jer. 31:15)
Centuries earlier, Nebuchadnezzar’s army had gathered the captives from Judah in the town of Ramah before they were taken into exile to Babylon (Jer. 40:1–2). Jeremiah depicts Rachel, who is the personification of the mothers of Israel, mourning for her children as they are being carried away. She has no comfort as they are removed from the land, because they are “no more”—that is, no longer a nation and considered as dead. But even as Jeremiah pictures this dreadful mourning for exiled Israel, he offers from God a word of comfort: There is hope for their future because God will restore Rachel’s children to their own land (31:16–17), and messianic joy will come in the future establishment of the new covenant with Israel (31:31–34).
Matthew’s use of the Jeremiah narrative is similar to the way that he earlier cited the prophet Micah (cf. 2:15). This is not fulfillment in the sense of prediction-accomplishment (see comments on 1:23; 2:6, 13–15); rather, it is a case of analogical correspondence. As Herod attempts to eliminate the newborn king of the Jews, the events of Jesus’ earthly life correspond analogically to an earlier attempt by a foreign power to wipe out God’s chosen people. But the advent of Jesus’ life also marks the arrival of the comfort promised to the Jews sent into exile.
In Bethlehem, once again the nation of Israel experiences suffering and anguish, but the earlier promise will now be actualized. Rachel had died and was buried in Zelzah near Ramah, while traveling to Bethlehem.9 Matthew links the site of the deportation and the site of the massacre, where in both cases foreign forces attempt to wipe out God’s plan of salvation through the chosen people of Israel and through the Messiah. But “God’s power is greater than the power of sorrow-bringing forces,”10 so with God’s sovereign protection of the infant Messiah, he brings to completion the experience of the weeping at both the Exile and Bethlehem. The promised messianic deliverer has arrived to inaugurate the new covenant promised by Jeremiah (Jer. 31:31–35).11
Bridging Contexts
MATTHEW’S PORTRAIT OF JESUS. Matthew introduced a theme in chapter 1 that becomes one of the leading characteristics of chapter 2, namely, the “fulfillment formula” (e.g., 2:14). As he records the historical details of the earthly life of Jesus, he looks beyond to the Old Testament Scriptures and declares to his readers that Jesus’ life fulfills ancient prophetic pronouncements. This theme is a significant clue to understanding Matthew’s purpose for writing his Gospel. He varies the theme from direct predictive prophecy to analogical (or typological) correspondence to demonstrate the way that Jesus fulfills Old Testament prophecies. Both ways give a more complete picture of Jesus as the anticipated Messiah of Israel.
(1) The first occurrence of the fulfillment formula points to Jesus’ conception and birth, which fulfills the predictive prophecy that the messianic deliverer will be born of a virgin. The child will be known as Immanuel, which prepares Matthew’s readers for the incarnational truth guaranteed in the birth of the child Jesus, that “God is with us” (1:22–23; cf. Isa. 7:14).
(2) Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem of Judea fulfills the predictive prophecy of the coming Messiah who will be born in David’s own ancient birthplace and who will rule and shepherd the people of Israel (2:6; cf. 2 Sam. 5:2; Mic. 5:2).
(3) Jesus fulfills analogically/typologically the correspondence between Israel as God’s son being rescued and delivered from Egypt by God and Jesus as God’s Son being protected from harm as he goes down and comes back from Egypt under divine protection (2:15; Hos. 11:1). The covenant with Israel that was initiated with the Passover and Exodus is now fulfilled in the arrival of Jesus to initiate the new covenant.
(4) Jesus’ life events fulfill analogically/typologically the correspondence between Israel’s mothers sorrowing over their exiled children at the time of the Babylonian captivity and Bethlehem’s grieving mothers at the slaughter of the innocent boys. Herod’s attempts to eliminate the newborn king of the Jews correspond analogically to an earlier attempt by a foreign power to wipe out God’s chosen people, but Jesus’ advent also marks the arrival of the comfort to Israel promised to the Jews who had been sent into exile in Babylon (2:17–18; Jer. 31:15).
(5) Finally, Jesus’ hometown roots in Nazareth point toward his identity as the One who fulfills both the direct prophecy of the messianic Branch, a king from David’s line who will judge with righteousness and strike the earth with the rod (2:23; cf. Isa. 11:1–5; also Jer. 23:5), and the direct prophecy of the despised, messianic suffering Servant (Matt. 2:23; cf. Isa. 52–53).
Matthew paints a bold picture of Jesus by drawing together strands of prophecy from the Old Testament that challenge sectarian expectations within Israel. Jesus is as much as any of them could have hoped for, but he is far more. He is the incarnate God who has come to be their King.
History prophesied or prophesy historicized? Some critics today charge Matthew with composing an account of Jesus’ life that is a fanciful manipulation of facts to try and fit what the prophets have said. They claim that Matthew either fabricated details or else manipulated the facts of Jesus’ life to try to make it appear that he fulfilled Old Testament prophecies about the coming of the Messiah. For example, some suggest that Matthew, writing to a Jewish audience, intentionally made up a life story about Jesus that fulfilled such prophecies as being born of a virgin in Bethlehem, or going to Egypt, or being raised in Nazareth.34 What about this? Did Matthew write an accurate account of what happened in history that fulfilled ancient prophecies, or did Matthew create stories about Jesus to make it appear that he fulfilled those prophecies?
Our claim is the former: Matthew recorded accurately what happened in the historical life and ministry of Jesus, and those events were the miraculous fulfillment of ancient prophecies regarding the coming Messiah. Evangelical scholars have satisfactorily answered charges of critics along four basic lines.35 (1) The creation of falsified historical accounts to substantiate a claim to prophetic fulfillment is not a staple of Jewish interpretive history. As a Jewish author, Matthew had no precedent for such a blatant disregard for Jewish interpretation of Old Testament prophecies. Moreover, he would have been subject to intense criticism from the Jewish interpretive community for falsifying predictive prophecy.
(2) The apostles, including Matthew, were so gripped by the reality of Jesus as the Messiah that they willingly suffered persecution at the hands of the Jews, and most of them later experienced martyrdom. They would not likely have been willing to suffer because of a lie about a person who really was not the Messiah.
(3) When the Gospels were written and circulated, there were still many people living who had see the events of Jesus’ life. They would have confronted Matthew with his fabrication. But no such record of this kind of accusation against Matthew surfaces from any ancient record.
(4) The Jewish people themselves would have used any so-called fabrications as a way of discrediting the claims that Jesus was the Messiah. If Jesus had not been born in Bethlehem, or if his claim to being Messiah were not in line with Old Testament prophecies, Jews familiar with the details would have readily denied their reality. However, we don’t hear of any such accusations, not even from the Talmud, which at points speaks derogatorily about Jesus and his followers but never accuses them of falsification of Jesus’ life to fit messianic prophecies.
The death of Herod the Great. Matthew’s manner of recording the death of Herod is another poignant clue to the way he has designed to record the life and ministry of Jesus Messiah. Whereas Josephus gives a rather graphic picture of Herod’s death,36 mainly to emphasize how God was inflicting punishment on Herod for his lawless deeds and impiety, Matthew merely states that Herod died, prompting the angel of the Lord to recall Joseph, Mary, and the infant Jesus from Egypt. His record of Herod’s death, therefore, is another explanatory incident in the divine guidance of the infant Messiah’s life.
Matthew may have had thoughts similar to those of Josephus about divine retribution on Herod because of the repugnancy of his murderous deeds, but he doesn’t vent them. Instead, he concentrates exclusively on the events of the infant Jesus’ life and how those events fulfilled Old Testament messianic prophecies. His passing reference to Herod’s death serves only to mark the sovereign work of God in protecting the infant Jesus Messiah so that he can return to his homeland to be raised in preparation for his future work of proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom of God (cf. 4:23).
Modern calendars and the date of Jesus’ birth. When Christians first learn that Jesus was most likely born anywhere from 6–4 B.C., they are confused. Doesn’t the dating of Western calendars assume the birth of Jesus in A.D. 1? Could this mean that our New Testament records are in error? A little investigation helps us to see that the discrepancy does not arise from the biblical record but from the attempts in later centuries to establish a birth date for Jesus.
Modern calendars begin the present era, often called the “Christian era,” with Jesus’ birth. Dates after his birth are designated A.D. (Lat., anno domini, “in the year of our Lord”) and dates before his birth are designated B.C. (“Before Christ”).37
The first person to develop this system was the Christian monk Dionysius Exiguus in A.D. 525. Prior to him the Romans had developed the dating system used throughout the Western world, using the designation “AUC” (ab urbe condita—“from the foundation of the city [of Rome]”—or anno urbis conditae—“in the year of the foundation of the city”). Dionysius believed that it would be more reverent for calendrical dating to begin with Jesus’ birth rather than the foundation of Rome. So with the historical records available to him, Dionysius reckoned the birth of Jesus to have occurred on December 25, 753 AUC (i.e., approximately 754 years after the founding of Rome). That placed the commencement of the Christian era at January 1, 754 AUC (allowing for lunar adjustment), or under the new reckoning, January 1, A.D. 1.
However, Dionysius did not have all of the historical data now available to scholars to make a more precise dating. We now know that King Herod died in March/April 750 AUC. Since Matthew states that Jesus was born while Herod was still alive, Jesus was actually born according to the Roman calendar between 748–750 AUC, four to six years earlier than Dionysius’s calculations. Thus, a more accurate dating of the birth of Jesus places it in 4–6 B.C. This has nothing to do with the accuracy of the biblical records, only the historical accuracy of the well-intentioned but misguided Dionysius Exiguus.
Contemporary Significance
JESUS MESSIAH CAME into the world to save it, but from the beginning he received threats. Yet in the middle of the threatening forces of the world, God’s protective, guiding forces came to play in the life of the infant Jesus and family. Two points call for our attention here.
He will be called a Nazarene. The one named Jesus, who will save his people from their sins, Immanuel, “God with us,” who is hailed as “king of the Jews,” is also the one called a “Nazarene.” Such is the way that Matthew concludes his astonishing narrative of Jesus’ infancy. Matthew’s identification of Jesus with this epithet is a double entendre that focuses on him as the fulfillment of the contrasting Branch and Servant prophecies. Jesus is both the powerful Branch of righteous redemption for Israel, but he is also the despised suffering Servant, who will take away our infirmities and will be pierced for our transgressions. The name “Nazarene” was for Jesus a title of honor as he became for Israel the long-awaited redemptive messianic Branch. But it also was a title of scorn as he became for Israel the despised suffering Servant.
We are called “Christians.” The earliest Christians were called “the sect of the Nazarenes” by the Jews (Acts 24:5), bringing over the contempt with which they held Jesus’ disciples. Soon, pagans began to call Jesus’ disciples “Christians,” which also had a double significance. The book of Acts indicates that in the large metropolis of Antioch, with its many competing cults and mystery religions, those who spoke so much about being disciples of the Christos were soon called Christianoi, “Christ’s people.” But wearing the name “Christian” was considered a badge of contempt (Acts 26:28).38 Peter tries to shore up the resolve of the persecuted church by saying that when pagans regard them with hostility, the name “Christian” is a badge of honor (1 Peter 4:16). Early in the second century, those accused of believing in Jesus Christ were asked by Roman officials whether or not they were “Christians.” If they admitted to the name, they were killed (or, if Roman citizens, were sent to Rome for trial).39 In the days of persecution of the early church, the use of the term was dangerous, because it clearly marked out to the Romans those who believed in a God who was not the emperor.40
As the name “Nazarene” was for Jesus, so the name “Christian” is a badge of honor, but it is also a badge of scorn and a designation for persecution. For many in the world today, wearing the name “Christian” is similar to what it was like for the early church. In places like Indonesia, buildings are burned just because they are known to be “Christian” houses of worship. In communist China, people are placed in jail simply because they possess and distribute “Christian” literature. And in the face of worldwide radical Islamic terrorism, persecution for being a Christian has come even closer to home.
When Mark and Lara, two of our former students, graduated from college, they married and joined an international mission organization. They trained for several years to become Bible translators and finally fulfilled their dreams by participating in translation work in a primarily Muslim country. My wife and I recently woke up on a Sunday morning to hear the television news that an international church in the city where they live had been terrorized by two men who walked in during the services and tossed several hand grenades at the parishioners. The news was sketchy at first, but it was known that five people had been killed, two of them Americans. At least forty others had been wounded, perhaps as many as ten of them Americans. Later we cringed as we heard Mark’s name read over the news as having been wounded.
The country Mark and Lara live in is only about 2 percent Christian. They say that the people by and large are extremely kind and helpful to them. But there were these extremists who attacked the church only because it was a “Christian” house of worship.
The newspapers interviewed Mark a day or so after the incident. Lara and their two children were safe. When asked if they were going to leave, he said that they have contingency plans to leave if necessary, but they’d like to stay. In a gripping part of the interview, he acknowledged that he had been attacked because he was a Christian, but then he said that he would like to stay, because he is a Christian: “I’m a Christian. I believe my safety lies in God’s hands, not in man’s.”41
That is the example of Jesus the Nazarene at work in his life. Today many of us wear the name “Christian” with relative ease. But in our own way, the name indicates for us both honor and scorn or suffering. Discipleship to Jesus will come to mean in Matthew’s Gospel that we become like him (10:24–25). This is also the consistent theme of the other New Testament authors (e.g., 2 Cor. 3:18; 1 Peter 2:21). And if we become like him, we also will bear his name, with both positive and negative associations.
Torture and persecution for being a Christian seem far from a possibility in most of our everyday worlds. Yet persecution may become much more familiar to each of us than we expect. The increasing secularization of Western culture does not bode well for us. Christians are discouraged from denouncing practices condemned in Scripture, whether it is obscenity, pornography, or homosexuality. In the name of “freedom of religion” many of the normal practices of faith once enjoyed—such as public prayers or even displays of a manger scene at Christmas—have been stripped away. The agenda of much public policy seems more like freedom from religion.
It is not by accident that Jesus grew up in Nazareth and was identified with it. It was a town whose name was given in recognition of the hope of the coming messianic “Branch” in Isaiah 11:1. But his relationship to Nazareth means additionally that Jesus came to be identified not with the center of the religious and political establishment in Jerusalem. Jesus was not part of the political, religious, or militaristic establishment. Rather, he fulfilled the prophecy of a messianic figure who came from the common people, who was a man of sorrows, who was often despised, but who was ultimately the messianic Servant to justify the many and carry their iniquities (e.g., Isa. 52:13–53:12). Although his messianic sacrifice is unique, we are nonetheless provided in Jesus’ incarnation an example of humility and servanthood that will challenge our own self-serving desires for comfort, fame, fortune, and glory.
Therefore, our walk with Jesus in this world will involve some kind of suffering for his name. Jesus suffered when doing the right and good thing. Persecution marked the fate of the church from its earliest days, yet it did not dim their passion for following Jesus, no matter what the cost. Paul tells young pastor Timothy, “all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Tim. 3:12).
Joseph, the adoptive father. A unique thrust of Matthew’s Gospel is the way that Jesus’ earthly father, Joseph, stands out significantly. In only his Gospel does Joseph have any prominence. So along with our Christological focus on the portrait of Jesus that emerges from the infancy narrative, we also rightly look to see in Joseph’s role in the account the contemporary significance of the lessons that Matthew intended to pass on to his readers.
Having started out in Nazareth when the angel appeared to him with the announcement of the miraculous conception of the baby who would become king, Joseph appears for the last time in Matthew’s Gospel as he leads the family back to Nazareth. The amazing events that transpired in less than three years must have made this young father’s head spin. He was a silent but strong figure as he steadfastly guided and protected his little family. What tremendous love for his wife and son must have sustained him!
In chapter 1 we see his love for his wife displayed as he first desires to protect her from disgrace and then as he obeys the direction of the angel and takes his betrothed to be his own wife, in spite of the overwhelming human evidence of unfaithfulness. And in chapter 2 we see his love for his wife and son displayed as he goes against all the forces of the political and religious establishment to obey God and protect his family. As a father, I am humbled to the point of obedience to God myself as I see his example.
Yet, we must remember that this is not Joseph’s biological son. We might comprehend more readily the sacrifice that Joseph made if this child were of his own blood, but it causes us to honor his obedience even more when we recognize that this is his adopted son. The bond between them did not derive from the deep emotional and spiritual tie of father and genetic son. It derived from the deep bond of obedience to the true Father of this Son.
In this way, Joseph continues to be a powerful example to all of us as parents, because our children also are truly not our own. They are a gift to us from God, their true Father. That, I believe, is one of the most powerful lessons to be learned from infant dedication services, or whatever your church tradition may call them. Young parents must start out their parental privilege by giving their own little baby back to the Father.
We learned that dramatically with our first child, Michelle. The pastor of the church we were attending while I was going through seminary stressed in the dedication service that we were not only dedicating our little baby girl to God, but we were dedicating ourselves to raise her for God, because she is his child on loan to us. Just a month later she developed a severe influenza that steadily weakened and dehydrated her. One rainy, dark evening her vomiting and diarrhea had become so severe that on doctor’s orders, we rushed her to the hospital. The examining doctor said that if we had waited until the morning, she would have died of dehydration. So we left our little four-month-old baby girl—“Squeaky,” the nurses nicknamed her because she hadn’t the strength to give a real moan—in their care and drove home. Lynne and I cried on the way home through the wetness of that eerie night, recognizing how close we had come to losing her. But in our tears we reaffirmed to God that Michelle was his. We had given her back to him and had dedicated ourselves to raise her for him. So, in our tears we loosened our grip on Michelle and said that we would follow his will for her life, for he is her true Father.
This is what Joseph teaches us as an obedient father of an adoptive son. For all of us, whether biological or adoptive, parenting means to obey our child’s true Father. Walter and Thanne Wangerin have raised children born to them as well as children adopted. They understand deeply the differences, especially the heart-wrenching that occurs when an adoptive child seeks to find her biological parents. But they learned deeply from Joseph the holy mystery of parenting another’s child. And in that lesson, they also share with all parents the fact that loving our children aright means to raise them for their heavenly Father, in whose image they were created. Wangerin writes expressively:
In all our children’s faces is the image of their Creator. When any parents, by loving God, love their children right; and when, by following God, they lead their children out of the house, into adulthood and the purpose for which they were born, then in that fullness they, too, will find the face of God the Father, who had lent them the children in the first place.42
This was the lesson that he learned from Joseph, who had raised his adoptive Son for his heavenly Father—a fitting lesson for us all.
Original Meaning
Herod’s Death (2:19)
NOT LONG AFTER ordering the grisly murder of the infant boys at Bethlehem, Herod became deathly ill with a painful terminal disease (see Bridging Contexts section). He died at the age of sixty-nine at his palace in Jericho in March, 4 B.C.12 He had commanded that many influential Jews should be executed when he died so that people would mourn at the time of his death instead of rejoicing, but the order was countermanded by his sister Salome.13 An extensive burial procession of national dignitaries and military units marched with Herod’s body on a golden bier studded with precious stones to where he was buried (near the Herodium).
After remaking his will at least seven times, Herod had finally settled on dividing the kingdom between three of his remaining sons, Archelaus, Herod Antipas, and Herod Philip.14 Archelaus, a nineteen-year-old son by Malthace, succeeded to his throne over Judea, Samaria, and Idumea (cf. 2:22). He reigned from 4 B.C. to A.D. 6 and quickly displayed the same kind of cruelty that had marked his father’s reign. He overreacted to an uprising in the temple at Passover after his father’s death by sending in troops and cavalry, who killed about three thousand pilgrims.15 Because of his cruelty, Augustus Caesar feared a revolution from the people, so he deposed Archelaus and banished him to Gaul in A.D. 6. The rule over Judea was thereafter passed to Roman rulers called prefects, one of whom was Pontius Pilate (A.D. 26–36; Luke 3:1; 23:1).
Herod Antipas, the seventeen-year-old younger brother of Archelaus by Malthace, became tetrarch of Galilee and Perea; he reigned from 4 B.C. to A.D. 39 (cf. Matt. 14:1–12; Luke 23:6–12). He is the most prominent of Herod’s sons in the New Testament because he ruled the region of Jesus’ primary ministry. His chief infamy comes from his execution of John the Baptist for criticizing his scandalous marriage to his half-brother’s wife (see comments on Matt. 14:1–12) and from his interview of Jesus prior to his crucifixion (cf. Luke 23:6–12).
Bridging Contexts
MATTHEW’S PORTRAIT OF JESUS. Matthew introduced a theme in chapter 1 that becomes one of the leading characteristics of chapter 2, namely, the “fulfillment formula” (e.g., 2:14). As he records the historical details of the earthly life of Jesus, he looks beyond to the Old Testament Scriptures and declares to his readers that Jesus’ life fulfills ancient prophetic pronouncements. This theme is a significant clue to understanding Matthew’s purpose for writing his Gospel. He varies the theme from direct predictive prophecy to analogical (or typological) correspondence to demonstrate the way that Jesus fulfills Old Testament prophecies. Both ways give a more complete picture of Jesus as the anticipated Messiah of Israel.
(1) The first occurrence of the fulfillment formula points to Jesus’ conception and birth, which fulfills the predictive prophecy that the messianic deliverer will be born of a virgin. The child will be known as Immanuel, which prepares Matthew’s readers for the incarnational truth guaranteed in the birth of the child Jesus, that “God is with us” (1:22–23; cf. Isa. 7:14).
(2) Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem of Judea fulfills the predictive prophecy of the coming Messiah who will be born in David’s own ancient birthplace and who will rule and shepherd the people of Israel (2:6; cf. 2 Sam. 5:2; Mic. 5:2).
(3) Jesus fulfills analogically/typologically the correspondence between Israel as God’s son being rescued and delivered from Egypt by God and Jesus as God’s Son being protected from harm as he goes down and comes back from Egypt under divine protection (2:15; Hos. 11:1). The covenant with Israel that was initiated with the Passover and Exodus is now fulfilled in the arrival of Jesus to initiate the new covenant.
(4) Jesus’ life events fulfill analogically/typologically the correspondence between Israel’s mothers sorrowing over their exiled children at the time of the Babylonian captivity and Bethlehem’s grieving mothers at the slaughter of the innocent boys. Herod’s attempts to eliminate the newborn king of the Jews correspond analogically to an earlier attempt by a foreign power to wipe out God’s chosen people, but Jesus’ advent also marks the arrival of the comfort to Israel promised to the Jews who had been sent into exile in Babylon (2:17–18; Jer. 31:15).
(5) Finally, Jesus’ hometown roots in Nazareth point toward his identity as the One who fulfills both the direct prophecy of the messianic Branch, a king from David’s line who will judge with righteousness and strike the earth with the rod (2:23; cf. Isa. 11:1–5; also Jer. 23:5), and the direct prophecy of the despised, messianic suffering Servant (Matt. 2:23; cf. Isa. 52–53).
Matthew paints a bold picture of Jesus by drawing together strands of prophecy from the Old Testament that challenge sectarian expectations within Israel. Jesus is as much as any of them could have hoped for, but he is far more. He is the incarnate God who has come to be their King.
History prophesied or prophesy historicized? Some critics today charge Matthew with composing an account of Jesus’ life that is a fanciful manipulation of facts to try and fit what the prophets have said. They claim that Matthew either fabricated details or else manipulated the facts of Jesus’ life to try to make it appear that he fulfilled Old Testament prophecies about the coming of the Messiah. For example, some suggest that Matthew, writing to a Jewish audience, intentionally made up a life story about Jesus that fulfilled such prophecies as being born of a virgin in Bethlehem, or going to Egypt, or being raised in Nazareth.34 What about this? Did Matthew write an accurate account of what happened in history that fulfilled ancient prophecies, or did Matthew create stories about Jesus to make it appear that he fulfilled those prophecies?
Our claim is the former: Matthew recorded accurately what happened in the historical life and ministry of Jesus, and those events were the miraculous fulfillment of ancient prophecies regarding the coming Messiah. Evangelical scholars have satisfactorily answered charges of critics along four basic lines.35 (1) The creation of falsified historical accounts to substantiate a claim to prophetic fulfillment is not a staple of Jewish interpretive history. As a Jewish author, Matthew had no precedent for such a blatant disregard for Jewish interpretation of Old Testament prophecies. Moreover, he would have been subject to intense criticism from the Jewish interpretive community for falsifying predictive prophecy.
(2) The apostles, including Matthew, were so gripped by the reality of Jesus as the Messiah that they willingly suffered persecution at the hands of the Jews, and most of them later experienced martyrdom. They would not likely have been willing to suffer because of a lie about a person who really was not the Messiah.
(3) When the Gospels were written and circulated, there were still many people living who had see the events of Jesus’ life. They would have confronted Matthew with his fabrication. But no such record of this kind of accusation against Matthew surfaces from any ancient record.
(4) The Jewish people themselves would have used any so-called fabrications as a way of discrediting the claims that Jesus was the Messiah. If Jesus had not been born in Bethlehem, or if his claim to being Messiah were not in line with Old Testament prophecies, Jews familiar with the details would have readily denied their reality. However, we don’t hear of any such accusations, not even from the Talmud, which at points speaks derogatorily about Jesus and his followers but never accuses them of falsification of Jesus’ life to fit messianic prophecies.
The death of Herod the Great. Matthew’s manner of recording the death of Herod is another poignant clue to the way he has designed to record the life and ministry of Jesus Messiah. Whereas Josephus gives a rather graphic picture of Herod’s death,36 mainly to emphasize how God was inflicting punishment on Herod for his lawless deeds and impiety, Matthew merely states that Herod died, prompting the angel of the Lord to recall Joseph, Mary, and the infant Jesus from Egypt. His record of Herod’s death, therefore, is another explanatory incident in the divine guidance of the infant Messiah’s life.
Matthew may have had thoughts similar to those of Josephus about divine retribution on Herod because of the repugnancy of his murderous deeds, but he doesn’t vent them. Instead, he concentrates exclusively on the events of the infant Jesus’ life and how those events fulfilled Old Testament messianic prophecies. His passing reference to Herod’s death serves only to mark the sovereign work of God in protecting the infant Jesus Messiah so that he can return to his homeland to be raised in preparation for his future work of proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom of God (cf. 4:23).
Modern calendars and the date of Jesus’ birth. When Christians first learn that Jesus was most likely born anywhere from 6–4 B.C., they are confused. Doesn’t the dating of Western calendars assume the birth of Jesus in A.D. 1? Could this mean that our New Testament records are in error? A little investigation helps us to see that the discrepancy does not arise from the biblical record but from the attempts in later centuries to establish a birth date for Jesus.
Modern calendars begin the present era, often called the “Christian era,” with Jesus’ birth. Dates after his birth are designated A.D. (Lat., anno domini, “in the year of our Lord”) and dates before his birth are designated B.C. (“Before Christ”).37
The first person to develop this system was the Christian monk Dionysius Exiguus in A.D. 525. Prior to him the Romans had developed the dating system used throughout the Western world, using the designation “AUC” (ab urbe condita—“from the foundation of the city [of Rome]”—or anno urbis conditae—“in the year of the foundation of the city”). Dionysius believed that it would be more reverent for calendrical dating to begin with Jesus’ birth rather than the foundation of Rome. So with the historical records available to him, Dionysius reckoned the birth of Jesus to have occurred on December 25, 753 AUC (i.e., approximately 754 years after the founding of Rome). That placed the commencement of the Christian era at January 1, 754 AUC (allowing for lunar adjustment), or under the new reckoning, January 1, A.D. 1.
However, Dionysius did not have all of the historical data now available to scholars to make a more precise dating. We now know that King Herod died in March/April 750 AUC. Since Matthew states that Jesus was born while Herod was still alive, Jesus was actually born according to the Roman calendar between 748–750 AUC, four to six years earlier than Dionysius’s calculations. Thus, a more accurate dating of the birth of Jesus places it in 4–6 B.C. This has nothing to do with the accuracy of the biblical records, only the historical accuracy of the well-intentioned but misguided Dionysius Exiguus.
Contemporary Significance
JESUS MESSIAH CAME into the world to save it, but from the beginning he received threats. Yet in the middle of the threatening forces of the world, God’s protective, guiding forces came to play in the life of the infant Jesus and family. Two points call for our attention here.
He will be called a Nazarene. The one named Jesus, who will save his people from their sins, Immanuel, “God with us,” who is hailed as “king of the Jews,” is also the one called a “Nazarene.” Such is the way that Matthew concludes his astonishing narrative of Jesus’ infancy. Matthew’s identification of Jesus with this epithet is a double entendre that focuses on him as the fulfillment of the contrasting Branch and Servant prophecies. Jesus is both the powerful Branch of righteous redemption for Israel, but he is also the despised suffering Servant, who will take away our infirmities and will be pierced for our transgressions. The name “Nazarene” was for Jesus a title of honor as he became for Israel the long-awaited redemptive messianic Branch. But it also was a title of scorn as he became for Israel the despised suffering Servant.
We are called “Christians.” The earliest Christians were called “the sect of the Nazarenes” by the Jews (Acts 24:5), bringing over the contempt with which they held Jesus’ disciples. Soon, pagans began to call Jesus’ disciples “Christians,” which also had a double significance. The book of Acts indicates that in the large metropolis of Antioch, with its many competing cults and mystery religions, those who spoke so much about being disciples of the Christos were soon called Christianoi, “Christ’s people.” But wearing the name “Christian” was considered a badge of contempt (Acts 26:28).38 Peter tries to shore up the resolve of the persecuted church by saying that when pagans regard them with hostility, the name “Christian” is a badge of honor (1 Peter 4:16). Early in the second century, those accused of believing in Jesus Christ were asked by Roman officials whether or not they were “Christians.” If they admitted to the name, they were killed (or, if Roman citizens, were sent to Rome for trial).39 In the days of persecution of the early church, the use of the term was dangerous, because it clearly marked out to the Romans those who believed in a God who was not the emperor.40
As the name “Nazarene” was for Jesus, so the name “Christian” is a badge of honor, but it is also a badge of scorn and a designation for persecution. For many in the world today, wearing the name “Christian” is similar to what it was like for the early church. In places like Indonesia, buildings are burned just because they are known to be “Christian” houses of worship. In communist China, people are placed in jail simply because they possess and distribute “Christian” literature. And in the face of worldwide radical Islamic terrorism, persecution for being a Christian has come even closer to home.
When Mark and Lara, two of our former students, graduated from college, they married and joined an international mission organization. They trained for several years to become Bible translators and finally fulfilled their dreams by participating in translation work in a primarily Muslim country. My wife and I recently woke up on a Sunday morning to hear the television news that an international church in the city where they live had been terrorized by two men who walked in during the services and tossed several hand grenades at the parishioners. The news was sketchy at first, but it was known that five people had been killed, two of them Americans. At least forty others had been wounded, perhaps as many as ten of them Americans. Later we cringed as we heard Mark’s name read over the news as having been wounded.
The country Mark and Lara live in is only about 2 percent Christian. They say that the people by and large are extremely kind and helpful to them. But there were these extremists who attacked the church only because it was a “Christian” house of worship.
The newspapers interviewed Mark a day or so after the incident. Lara and their two children were safe. When asked if they were going to leave, he said that they have contingency plans to leave if necessary, but they’d like to stay. In a gripping part of the interview, he acknowledged that he had been attacked because he was a Christian, but then he said that he would like to stay, because he is a Christian: “I’m a Christian. I believe my safety lies in God’s hands, not in man’s.”41
That is the example of Jesus the Nazarene at work in his life. Today many of us wear the name “Christian” with relative ease. But in our own way, the name indicates for us both honor and scorn or suffering. Discipleship to Jesus will come to mean in Matthew’s Gospel that we become like him (10:24–25). This is also the consistent theme of the other New Testament authors (e.g., 2 Cor. 3:18; 1 Peter 2:21). And if we become like him, we also will bear his name, with both positive and negative associations.
Torture and persecution for being a Christian seem far from a possibility in most of our everyday worlds. Yet persecution may become much more familiar to each of us than we expect. The increasing secularization of Western culture does not bode well for us. Christians are discouraged from denouncing practices condemned in Scripture, whether it is obscenity, pornography, or homosexuality. In the name of “freedom of religion” many of the normal practices of faith once enjoyed—such as public prayers or even displays of a manger scene at Christmas—have been stripped away. The agenda of much public policy seems more like freedom from religion.
It is not by accident that Jesus grew up in Nazareth and was identified with it. It was a town whose name was given in recognition of the hope of the coming messianic “Branch” in Isaiah 11:1. But his relationship to Nazareth means additionally that Jesus came to be identified not with the center of the religious and political establishment in Jerusalem. Jesus was not part of the political, religious, or militaristic establishment. Rather, he fulfilled the prophecy of a messianic figure who came from the common people, who was a man of sorrows, who was often despised, but who was ultimately the messianic Servant to justify the many and carry their iniquities (e.g., Isa. 52:13–53:12). Although his messianic sacrifice is unique, we are nonetheless provided in Jesus’ incarnation an example of humility and servanthood that will challenge our own self-serving desires for comfort, fame, fortune, and glory.
Therefore, our walk with Jesus in this world will involve some kind of suffering for his name. Jesus suffered when doing the right and good thing. Persecution marked the fate of the church from its earliest days, yet it did not dim their passion for following Jesus, no matter what the cost. Paul tells young pastor Timothy, “all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Tim. 3:12).
Joseph, the adoptive father. A unique thrust of Matthew’s Gospel is the way that Jesus’ earthly father, Joseph, stands out significantly. In only his Gospel does Joseph have any prominence. So along with our Christological focus on the portrait of Jesus that emerges from the infancy narrative, we also rightly look to see in Joseph’s role in the account the contemporary significance of the lessons that Matthew intended to pass on to his readers.
Having started out in Nazareth when the angel appeared to him with the announcement of the miraculous conception of the baby who would become king, Joseph appears for the last time in Matthew’s Gospel as he leads the family back to Nazareth. The amazing events that transpired in less than three years must have made this young father’s head spin. He was a silent but strong figure as he steadfastly guided and protected his little family. What tremendous love for his wife and son must have sustained him!
In chapter 1 we see his love for his wife displayed as he first desires to protect her from disgrace and then as he obeys the direction of the angel and takes his betrothed to be his own wife, in spite of the overwhelming human evidence of unfaithfulness. And in chapter 2 we see his love for his wife and son displayed as he goes against all the forces of the political and religious establishment to obey God and protect his family. As a father, I am humbled to the point of obedience to God myself as I see his example.
Yet, we must remember that this is not Joseph’s biological son. We might comprehend more readily the sacrifice that Joseph made if this child were of his own blood, but it causes us to honor his obedience even more when we recognize that this is his adopted son. The bond between them did not derive from the deep emotional and spiritual tie of father and genetic son. It derived from the deep bond of obedience to the true Father of this Son.
In this way, Joseph continues to be a powerful example to all of us as parents, because our children also are truly not our own. They are a gift to us from God, their true Father. That, I believe, is one of the most powerful lessons to be learned from infant dedication services, or whatever your church tradition may call them. Young parents must start out their parental privilege by giving their own little baby back to the Father.
We learned that dramatically with our first child, Michelle. The pastor of the church we were attending while I was going through seminary stressed in the dedication service that we were not only dedicating our little baby girl to God, but we were dedicating ourselves to raise her for God, because she is his child on loan to us. Just a month later she developed a severe influenza that steadily weakened and dehydrated her. One rainy, dark evening her vomiting and diarrhea had become so severe that on doctor’s orders, we rushed her to the hospital. The examining doctor said that if we had waited until the morning, she would have died of dehydration. So we left our little four-month-old baby girl—“Squeaky,” the nurses nicknamed her because she hadn’t the strength to give a real moan—in their care and drove home. Lynne and I cried on the way home through the wetness of that eerie night, recognizing how close we had come to losing her. But in our tears we reaffirmed to God that Michelle was his. We had given her back to him and had dedicated ourselves to raise her for him. So, in our tears we loosened our grip on Michelle and said that we would follow his will for her life, for he is her true Father.
This is what Joseph teaches us as an obedient father of an adoptive son. For all of us, whether biological or adoptive, parenting means to obey our child’s true Father. Walter and Thanne Wangerin have raised children born to them as well as children adopted. They understand deeply the differences, especially the heart-wrenching that occurs when an adoptive child seeks to find her biological parents. But they learned deeply from Joseph the holy mystery of parenting another’s child. And in that lesson, they also share with all parents the fact that loving our children aright means to raise them for their heavenly Father, in whose image they were created. Wangerin writes expressively:
In all our children’s faces is the image of their Creator. When any parents, by loving God, love their children right; and when, by following God, they lead their children out of the house, into adulthood and the purpose for which they were born, then in that fullness they, too, will find the face of God the Father, who had lent them the children in the first place.42
This was the lesson that he learned from Joseph, who had raised his adoptive Son for his heavenly Father—a fitting lesson for us all.