In 9 BCE, an altar was dedicated in Rome to the goddess Pax, or Peace. It was built in honor of Augustus’s return from 3 years fighting in Gaul and Hispania. It is sometimes known as the beginning of the Pax Romana, or the Roman Peace. The Pax Romana spanned around 200 years and marked a period of Roman supremacy in the Mediterranean and Europe.
The Roman concept of peace wasn’t the same as ours, where there is no war or violence between parties. Instead, it meant a time when Roman power was so supreme that no one could rival it. And it was a peace that primarily benefited the wealthy and powerful. It was a time when trade could flourish, as trade routes were safe and secure. While it certainly was better for the poor than periods of war, it was not a period that benefitted all equally. And more than that, it was a peace that by definition depended on the power and strength of the Roman Empire. It was a peace which was secure only because one empire ruled over many different nations and religions.
A key part of the unity of this empire was the imperial cult, where Roman emperors were seen as divine and to be worshiped. Augustus was chief among them. Stories even circulated that Augustus’s mother had been intimate with the god Apollo, suggesting that Augustus had been the product of a divine birth.
When Rome conquered a people, they were allowed to worship their own gods as long as they also worshipped the Roman imperial divinities. Jews had been given an exception to this, but that exception had been withdrawn by the time the Gospel of Luke was written. So to be part of the Pax Romana was not an easy peace. It meant a loss of independence, freedom, and even identity. Rome was the aribert and guarantor of peace, and to threaten Rome was to threaten that power and that peace. And that peace primarily benefited the rich and the powerful, both those in Rome and those around the empire who supported Rome.
The Roman Empire credited Augustus with the dawn of this period of peace, hence the construction of the Ari Pacis. It would be fair to call him a prince of peace. He was seen as divine, and even thought to be the product of a divine union.
And it is in this context that the evangelist we know as Luke wrote this Gospel. It’s important to remember that by the time this was written, long after the life of Jesus, the temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed. The central symbol of Jewish identity had been wiped off the face of the earth, by the supposed divine power of Rome. And while the wealthy of the empire were benefitting from Roman power, the poor and those who refused to acknowledge that power were suffering.
So in the context of this world, the person of Jesus comes into the world as a poor child in ancient Palestine.
We could get caught up in trying to tell the story of Jesus’s birth in Luke’s gospel as history, but it isn’t and the writer didn’t intend it to be.
We actually don’t know anything for certain about Jesus birth. And it certainly didn’t happen as either Matthew or Luke wrote. But the facts of the story aren’t important, What is important, however, are the truths that the writer and evangelists were attempting to share
At the heart of that truth is God’s love for the poor, the oppressed and there persecuted. He was born into a poor family from a hilltop town. How big Nazareth was at Jesus’ time is up for debate. But it wasn’t a major city. And we know that Joseph was a manual laborer. So we know that he came from a poorer family.
Luke’s story emphasizes this. This child was of a poor family. How vastly difference this is from the Roman imperial source of peace… Caesar Augustus and his heirs. Luke emphasizes that this child was born of divine origin. The church has understood this as being God becoming incarnate in this child… God becoming one of us in the form of a poor, helpless child, from a small out of the way hill top village.
For us, God did not come in glory, but rather in humility. God did not come in power, but rather in poverty. God not come in strength, but rather in weakness.
What a statement to say that God has joined humanity in the midst of our weakness. We use the word “incarnation” to describe God becoming human in Jesus. Incarnation literally means “in the meat” or “in the flesh”. In Jesus, God joins in the messiness of our lives. He isn’t born in a palace, but rather the messiness of life. He is not born as one greater than us, but rather is born as one of us.
And for Luke, the promise of salvation is primarily for the poor. The first people who hear of this miraculous birth are the shepherds in the field. In the ancient world shepherds were most often women or young boys from extremely poor families. They lived on the edge of society. They made their living protecting the sheep from predator animals. They were uneducated, weak, and often forgotten. But here the writer has the angels come and announce the birth of this child to them. This child, this savior, this Messiah… he comes in the form of a poor child and will bring salvation primarily to the poor and the outcast.
Christmas for us brings a lot of nostalgia. We are surrounded by our Victorian era inspired decoration, and Christmas traditions which bring us joy and happiness. That is good and fine. There is nothing wrong with our traditions, as long as they bring us that joy. Filling our homes with greens and lights, sharing gifts with those we love, singing lovely carols… that’s all wonderful.
Yet at the same time we must also remember the fundamental truth that our Gospels share with us. This child, this God-incarnate, this helpless infant… this baby became human among and for the poor, the oppressed, and the outcast. The promise of his birth is the antithesis of the powerful and the elite. His glory is found in a humble stall. The hope he brings comes not with might but with love.
As we celebrate this beautiful night, in all the glory of our traditions, let us remember the origin…. God incarnate in a helpless poor child…. God incarnate whose message is for the weak…. God incarnate whose salvation is first for the forgotten and oppressed.
To end, I wish to offer you the following, offered by the new Bishop of Connecticut and written by Quinn Caldwell, Pastor of Plymouth Congregational Church in Syracuse, New York:
What Are You Here For?
By Quinn G. Caldwell
If you came to this place expecting a tame story, you came to the wrong place.
If you came for a story that does not threaten you, you came for a different story than the one we tell.
If you came to hear of the coming of a God who only showed up so that you could have a nice day with your loved ones, then you came for a God whom we do not worship here.
For even a regular baby is not a tame thing. And goodness that cannot threaten complacency and evil is not much good at all, and a God who would choose to give up power and invincibility to become an infant for you, certainly didn't do it just you could have dinner.
But.
If you came because you think that unwed teenage mothers are some of the strongest people in the world.
If you came because you think that the kind of people who work third shift doing stuff you'd rather not do might attract an angel's attention before you, snoring comfortably in your bed, would.
If you came because you think there are wise men and women to be found among undocumented travelers from far lands and that they might be able to show you God.
If you came to hear a story of tyrants trembling while heaven comes to peasants.
If you came because you believe that God loves the animals as much as the people and so made them the first witnesses to the saving of the world.
If you came for a story of reversals that might end up reversing you.
If you came for a tale of adventure and bravery, where strong and gentle people win, and the powerful and violent go down to dust, where the rich lose their money but find their lives and the poor are raised up like kings.
If you came to be reminded that God loves you too much to leave you unchanged.
If you came to follow the light even if it blinds you.
If you came for salvation and not safety, then: ah, my friends, you are in the right place.
Source: "All I Really Want: Readings for a Modern Christmas" by Quinn Caldwell