Matthew 1:1-17 – Nuts in the Family Tree
Christmas messages are usually based on the second chapter of Luke: the well-known narrative of how Joseph and a pregnant Mary traveled from Nazareth to Bethlehem because of the Roman census, they couldn’t find a room at the inn, the baby was laid in a manger, and angels announced the news to terrified shepherds out in the fields. When the preacher wants to break out of the mold, she might turn to Matthew for a different version of the story that describes the dreams that guided Joseph and the star that guided the magi. Or, she may really go out on a limb and preach on the great hymn on John 1, which describes Jesus’ birth in cosmic terms as the creative word which came into the world and the light that shone in the darkness.
But how often do we look at the opening to the book of Matthew? It’s a tough read because it’s filled with hard to pronounce names. And it’s pretty boring, to boot. But if we want to understand the significance of Jesus’ birth, it’s an excellent passage to explore.
The first seventeen verses of Matthew outline Jesus’ genealogy, through his earthly father Joseph, all the way back to Abraham, the patriarch of Israel. It’s forty-two generations of fathers and their children. Some of the names are pretty familiar: we find Abraham and Isaac, David and Solomon in the mix. Those of us who have a better grasp of Scripture will recognize names like Ruth and Boaz, Hezekiah and Josiah. But even the greatest student of the Bible will run across names that are totally unfamiliar, and are found elsewhere, if at all, only as minor players in the Biblical story.
Christmas is a time for family. We may not always like everyone in our families, although we’d only admit that to our closest confidants. There are plenty of holiday movies that are based on the crazy things that happen when people who spend all year avoiding each other or engaging in surface pleasantries now have to gather together and pretend that we like each other. Perhaps the family circle includes the black sheep: that person whom the rest of the family is ashamed of because of what they’ve done, or what they’re not doing. They’re welcome at the family gathering, but they’re tolerated at best. It could be that some family members have had a big fight which has turned into a bitter resentment. For the sake of the holidays and the rest of the family, they put up a good appearance and pretend to be able to endure each other until they can go on avoiding each other for another eleven months. Maybe the family includes the braggart that sees the family gathering as an opportunity to tell everyone else about the wonderful things she’s done. Or, it could be that the relative is there who offends everyone else every time he opens his mouth. Parents revert to treating their grown-up children like little kids, while young children fuss because of their fancy but uncomfortable holiday outfits, too much candy, and not enough sleep.
Things are different for Jesus, right? After all, he is perfect. Therefore, he ought to have the perfect family. That’s what we may be tempted to think, but it’s not true. These opening lines of the entire New Testament remind us of that. We all have a few nuts in our family trees, and Jesus was no exception. The Roman Catholics believe in the Immaculate Conception: that Jesus was born to a perfect mother (that’s right; the immaculate conception refers to how Mary was born, not Jesus). While we Protestants certainly honor Mary as an exceptional example of faith and devotion because of her willingness to accept an important but difficult role in God’s plan for salvation, we recognize that she was a fallible human being just like the rest of us. Jesus’ birth bridged the gap between perfect holy divinity and broken, sinful humanity. Jesus’ genealogy demonstrates that he was born into the heart of human messiness.
As Matthew outlines Jesus’ genealogy, he goes off script a few times. When he does, it’s to make a point. The Holy One of Israel was born into a family with a lot of baggage. Genealogies are generally supposed to be pretty straightforward. In a male-dominated society like ancient Israel, you’d outline someone’s heritage by following the male bloodline: father begets son, son begets grandson, and so on. But Matthew breaks the traditional way to describe a genealogy four times. Each time he does, he lets out a family secret.
First, Matthew tells us that Jesus’ ancestors include Judah and Tamar, the parents of Perez and Zerah. We find the messy story of this household in Genesis 38. It seems that Judah and his wife had two children, and Tamar was the wife of his oldest son Er, until Er died. According to the custom of the time, called levirate marriage, when a man dies before having a child, his brother is to marry his widow, and her children would be considered to be the offspring of the dead man. This may seem creepy and weird to us, but for a society that placed high value on bloodlines and inheritance rights, it makes a lot of sense. Unfortunately for poor Tamar, Er’s brother also died. At this point, Judah considered his daughter-in-law to be something of a curse, so he sent her away. In a society where a woman with no husband and no son had no legal rights, this was pretty harsh. But the story gets even more interesting. It seems that Judah had the habit of visiting the prostitutes in the next town. So Tamar dressed up like a prostitute, including a veil that hid her face, and Judah slept with her without knowing it was her. Several months later, when he learned that Tamar was pregnant, Judah ordered that she be killed for her offense. But when Tamar produced evidence that Judah was the father of her unborn child, he had plenty of crow to eat, and he acknowledged that he had mistreated her. Eventually Tamar gave birth to twins: Perez and Zerah. Perez is one of Jesus’ ancestors.
Second, Matthew tells us that Boaz’s mother was Rahab. We can find her story in Joshua 2 and 6. Rahab was actually a hero: she hid the Israelite spies when they came into Jericho as part of the preparations for conquering the city. And when the city officials got wind of the spies and went looking for them, she helped them escape. As a reward, her life was spared when Jericho was taken over. If that was everything there was to Rahab’s story, you’d think she’d be someone to be proud to have your family. But there’s just one minor detail about Rahab that may make you think twice: she was a prostitute. And that’s a big enough “detail” to make us want to put her behind Cousin Ernie, who shops at the Big and Tall Store, for the family photo.
Next we move on to Obed’s parents: Boaz and Ruth. Now, Ruth is a pretty well-known character in the Bible. In fact, she has a book named after her (one of only two women to receive this honor). She was a Moabite woman: she came from one of those heathen nations that surrounded Israel and caused it all kinds of grief. In fact, back when the Israelites were wandering through the wilderness, the Moabites attacked them, tried to get someone to curse them, and tried to wipe them out. Let’s just say with a history like that, the two nations got along about as well as Iran and Israel do today. She had married a Jewish refugee who came to her land; when he died, she joined her widowed mother-in-law when she went back home. The Jewish law was pretty clear: their men weren’t supposed to marry outsiders like the Moabites. So when Boaz and Ruth got married, their son Obed was, well, a half-breed. It hasn’t been that long since mixed race marriages were illegal in some states here in the US. So we can imagine the outrage and shame that Boaz and Ruth caused the family. And it was probably pretty hard on Obed growing up.
Probably the best known person in Jesus’ family tree is David: the greatest king that Israel ever had. So, when Matthew reaches him, you’d expect that he’d either stay on script, or talk about what a wonderful king David was: a man after God’s own heart, who unified the nation of Israel and did so much to increase the devotion of the Lord in the land. But that’s not what we find. Instead, Matthew reminds us of David’s greatest crime: he seduced a woman named Bathsheba and had her husband killed so that could marry her.
So here we have the family tree of Jesus: a hypocritical womanizer who mistreats his daughter-in-law, a prostitute, an enemy of the Jewish nation, and an adulterer and murderer. No matter who’s in your family, I’d say that Jesus has you beat. This certainly isn’t a pedigree to be proud of.
And that’s the whole point. The Son of God came into the world in order to touch us at our deepest, most broken places. We all have things we’re ashamed of. And I’m not just talking about embarrassing or frustrating relatives. I’m talking about the damaged places in our own lives. We’ve been the outcasts like Ruth, the mean-spirited people like Judah. We’ve done things that we’re ashamed of, like Rahab. We’ve abused our positions and hurt other people in the process, like David. When we recognize this in ourselves, we either do our best to hide and ignore it, or we collapse in a puddle of guilt and shame that paralyzes us from doing anything else. We’re unworthy of anything.
And then we learn about Jesus: the perfect Son of God. Not only was he born under, shall we say, suspicious circumstances…. Not only did his mother have to give birth to him in a cattle barn…. But he came from one of “those” families. The kind that you know no one good ever comes from. So, if you ever think that you’re not “good enough,” that God would never accept someone like you, remember how Jesus came into the world. Not as one of those goody-two-shoes that never makes a mistake and handles everything wither perfect grace. No. When God decided to enter our human world, he met us at the most disgraceful, broken places where humanity goes. And he did it to remind us that there is nothing we can ever do, no checkered past we could ever have, that disqualifies us from his love.
But how often do we look at the opening to the book of Matthew? It’s a tough read because it’s filled with hard to pronounce names. And it’s pretty boring, to boot. But if we want to understand the significance of Jesus’ birth, it’s an excellent passage to explore.
The first seventeen verses of Matthew outline Jesus’ genealogy, through his earthly father Joseph, all the way back to Abraham, the patriarch of Israel. It’s forty-two generations of fathers and their children. Some of the names are pretty familiar: we find Abraham and Isaac, David and Solomon in the mix. Those of us who have a better grasp of Scripture will recognize names like Ruth and Boaz, Hezekiah and Josiah. But even the greatest student of the Bible will run across names that are totally unfamiliar, and are found elsewhere, if at all, only as minor players in the Biblical story.
Christmas is a time for family. We may not always like everyone in our families, although we’d only admit that to our closest confidants. There are plenty of holiday movies that are based on the crazy things that happen when people who spend all year avoiding each other or engaging in surface pleasantries now have to gather together and pretend that we like each other. Perhaps the family circle includes the black sheep: that person whom the rest of the family is ashamed of because of what they’ve done, or what they’re not doing. They’re welcome at the family gathering, but they’re tolerated at best. It could be that some family members have had a big fight which has turned into a bitter resentment. For the sake of the holidays and the rest of the family, they put up a good appearance and pretend to be able to endure each other until they can go on avoiding each other for another eleven months. Maybe the family includes the braggart that sees the family gathering as an opportunity to tell everyone else about the wonderful things she’s done. Or, it could be that the relative is there who offends everyone else every time he opens his mouth. Parents revert to treating their grown-up children like little kids, while young children fuss because of their fancy but uncomfortable holiday outfits, too much candy, and not enough sleep.
Things are different for Jesus, right? After all, he is perfect. Therefore, he ought to have the perfect family. That’s what we may be tempted to think, but it’s not true. These opening lines of the entire New Testament remind us of that. We all have a few nuts in our family trees, and Jesus was no exception. The Roman Catholics believe in the Immaculate Conception: that Jesus was born to a perfect mother (that’s right; the immaculate conception refers to how Mary was born, not Jesus). While we Protestants certainly honor Mary as an exceptional example of faith and devotion because of her willingness to accept an important but difficult role in God’s plan for salvation, we recognize that she was a fallible human being just like the rest of us. Jesus’ birth bridged the gap between perfect holy divinity and broken, sinful humanity. Jesus’ genealogy demonstrates that he was born into the heart of human messiness.
As Matthew outlines Jesus’ genealogy, he goes off script a few times. When he does, it’s to make a point. The Holy One of Israel was born into a family with a lot of baggage. Genealogies are generally supposed to be pretty straightforward. In a male-dominated society like ancient Israel, you’d outline someone’s heritage by following the male bloodline: father begets son, son begets grandson, and so on. But Matthew breaks the traditional way to describe a genealogy four times. Each time he does, he lets out a family secret.
First, Matthew tells us that Jesus’ ancestors include Judah and Tamar, the parents of Perez and Zerah. We find the messy story of this household in Genesis 38. It seems that Judah and his wife had two children, and Tamar was the wife of his oldest son Er, until Er died. According to the custom of the time, called levirate marriage, when a man dies before having a child, his brother is to marry his widow, and her children would be considered to be the offspring of the dead man. This may seem creepy and weird to us, but for a society that placed high value on bloodlines and inheritance rights, it makes a lot of sense. Unfortunately for poor Tamar, Er’s brother also died. At this point, Judah considered his daughter-in-law to be something of a curse, so he sent her away. In a society where a woman with no husband and no son had no legal rights, this was pretty harsh. But the story gets even more interesting. It seems that Judah had the habit of visiting the prostitutes in the next town. So Tamar dressed up like a prostitute, including a veil that hid her face, and Judah slept with her without knowing it was her. Several months later, when he learned that Tamar was pregnant, Judah ordered that she be killed for her offense. But when Tamar produced evidence that Judah was the father of her unborn child, he had plenty of crow to eat, and he acknowledged that he had mistreated her. Eventually Tamar gave birth to twins: Perez and Zerah. Perez is one of Jesus’ ancestors.
Second, Matthew tells us that Boaz’s mother was Rahab. We can find her story in Joshua 2 and 6. Rahab was actually a hero: she hid the Israelite spies when they came into Jericho as part of the preparations for conquering the city. And when the city officials got wind of the spies and went looking for them, she helped them escape. As a reward, her life was spared when Jericho was taken over. If that was everything there was to Rahab’s story, you’d think she’d be someone to be proud to have your family. But there’s just one minor detail about Rahab that may make you think twice: she was a prostitute. And that’s a big enough “detail” to make us want to put her behind Cousin Ernie, who shops at the Big and Tall Store, for the family photo.
Next we move on to Obed’s parents: Boaz and Ruth. Now, Ruth is a pretty well-known character in the Bible. In fact, she has a book named after her (one of only two women to receive this honor). She was a Moabite woman: she came from one of those heathen nations that surrounded Israel and caused it all kinds of grief. In fact, back when the Israelites were wandering through the wilderness, the Moabites attacked them, tried to get someone to curse them, and tried to wipe them out. Let’s just say with a history like that, the two nations got along about as well as Iran and Israel do today. She had married a Jewish refugee who came to her land; when he died, she joined her widowed mother-in-law when she went back home. The Jewish law was pretty clear: their men weren’t supposed to marry outsiders like the Moabites. So when Boaz and Ruth got married, their son Obed was, well, a half-breed. It hasn’t been that long since mixed race marriages were illegal in some states here in the US. So we can imagine the outrage and shame that Boaz and Ruth caused the family. And it was probably pretty hard on Obed growing up.
Probably the best known person in Jesus’ family tree is David: the greatest king that Israel ever had. So, when Matthew reaches him, you’d expect that he’d either stay on script, or talk about what a wonderful king David was: a man after God’s own heart, who unified the nation of Israel and did so much to increase the devotion of the Lord in the land. But that’s not what we find. Instead, Matthew reminds us of David’s greatest crime: he seduced a woman named Bathsheba and had her husband killed so that could marry her.
So here we have the family tree of Jesus: a hypocritical womanizer who mistreats his daughter-in-law, a prostitute, an enemy of the Jewish nation, and an adulterer and murderer. No matter who’s in your family, I’d say that Jesus has you beat. This certainly isn’t a pedigree to be proud of.
And that’s the whole point. The Son of God came into the world in order to touch us at our deepest, most broken places. We all have things we’re ashamed of. And I’m not just talking about embarrassing or frustrating relatives. I’m talking about the damaged places in our own lives. We’ve been the outcasts like Ruth, the mean-spirited people like Judah. We’ve done things that we’re ashamed of, like Rahab. We’ve abused our positions and hurt other people in the process, like David. When we recognize this in ourselves, we either do our best to hide and ignore it, or we collapse in a puddle of guilt and shame that paralyzes us from doing anything else. We’re unworthy of anything.
And then we learn about Jesus: the perfect Son of God. Not only was he born under, shall we say, suspicious circumstances…. Not only did his mother have to give birth to him in a cattle barn…. But he came from one of “those” families. The kind that you know no one good ever comes from. So, if you ever think that you’re not “good enough,” that God would never accept someone like you, remember how Jesus came into the world. Not as one of those goody-two-shoes that never makes a mistake and handles everything wither perfect grace. No. When God decided to enter our human world, he met us at the most disgraceful, broken places where humanity goes. And he did it to remind us that there is nothing we can ever do, no checkered past we could ever have, that disqualifies us from his love.
posted by Rev. Peter de Vries, Old Union Presbyterian Church @ 4:06 PM
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