Traveling a Rocky Road (Luke 10:25-37)

Where did the story of the Good Samaritan take place? On the road to Jericho (Luke 10:30)

“The Parable of the Good Samaritan” is one of Jesus’ most famous illustrations (Luke 10:25-37). The famed story, found only in Luke’s gospel, is told in response to an inquiry as to the definition of “neighbor” (Luke 10:29). The parable describes a highway robbery in which a traveler is brutally ambushed by brigands (Luke 10:30). After two respected members of the religious establishment pass the victim without helping a Samaritan goes out of his way to assist the fallen traveler (Luke 10:31-33). The fact that Jesus paints a Samaritan, a reviled race by Jews of his day, as the hero would have shocked the original audience. After unleashing this thinly veiled diatribe against prejudice and religious leadership, Jesus concludes the discourse by letting the audience determine who in the story is the neighbor (Luke 10:36).

A unique facet of this parable is that Jesus gives it a clearly defined real world setting: the traveler is attacked between Jerusalem to Jericho (Luke 10:30).

Jesus replied and said, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among robbers, and they stripped him and beat him, and went away leaving him half dead. (Luke 10:30 NASB)

While the story is fictional, its landscape is not. This twist adds a heavy dose of realism to the parable.

This may be another incidence of Jesus finding a teachable moment based on his own physical location. Peter Rhea Jones (b. 1937) speculates:

It is possible that Jesus was standing on or near the Jericho road when he spoke the parable since Bethany is on the same road and the next pericopé centers there. Certainly the parables usually associated with Galilee are not peopled with priestly sorts, whereas this parable may well have been uttered in Judea, a region more related to the Temple. (Jones, Studying the Parables of Jesus, 295)

Specifically the traveler is “going down” from Jerusalem to Jericho, situated east of Jerusalem in the Jordan valley (Luke 10:30). Encountering priests on this journey is not surprising.

Klyne Snodgrass (b. 1944) informs:

Jericho was such a popular residence for priests that estimates suggest that half of the twenty-four orders of priests (cf. I Chronicles 24:1-19) lived there, although this may be an exaggeration. Each order would serve in the Temple for one week. (cf. Luke 1:8). (Snodgrass, Stories With Intent: A Comprehensive Guide to the Parables of Jesus, 345)

From Christianity’s earliest days, the parable’s setting was interpreted allegorically. Marcion of Sinope (85-160) posed that the backdrop was appropriate because Jesus was the true Good Samaritan and he appeared for the first time in history between Jerusalem and Jericho.

Arland J. Hultgren (b. 1939) relays:

Why Jericho? Augustine [354-430] allegorized the parable, saying that the descent signified the loss of immortality as the man went from the heavenly city (Jerusalem) to one that signified mortality (Jericho). It is more likely, however, that Jesus chose Jericho as the destination because the road to it was known to be a treacherous and dangerous route. (Hultgren, The Parables of Jesus: A Commentary, 95)

Though “road” is not explicitly in the text, the path taken can be definitively located as there were few alternate routes. In Scripture, one always goes “up” to Jerusalem and down from the Holy City and in this case the terminology was quite literal.

Joseph A. Fitzmyer (b. 1920) describes:

According to Josephus [37-100], Bellum Judaicum 4.8,3 § 474, this was a distance of 150 stadioi (about eighteen miles) through “desert and rocky” country. Reference would be to the Roman road through passes and the Wadi Qelt; one would descend over 2500 feet above sea level (Jerusalem) to 770 feet below it (Jericho)...Josephus also mentions it as the way taken by the Legio X Fretensis [41-40 BC] en route from Jericho for the siege of Jerusalem (Bellum Judaicum 5.2, 3 § 69-70). (Fitzmyer, The Gospel According to Luke X-XXIV: Introduction, Translation, and Notes (The Anchor Bible), 886)

Darrel L. Bock (b. 1953) adds:

Traveling the road from Jerusalem to Jericho (another journey going the other direction is found in II Chronicles 28:15), he would have gone through the Pass of Adummim (Joshua 18:17), a name that is related to the Hebrew word for blood. This journey had a reputation for being dangerous long before Jesus’ time...It was a rocky thoroughfare winding through the desert and surrounded by caves, which made good hideouts for robbers who laid in wait. Even centuries after Christ’s time, robbers continued to exploit travelers on this road. (Bock, Luke 9:51-24:53 (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 1029)

The road’s topography leant itself to treachery. It possessed a sharp, steep descent. Situated in wild, desolate country, its curved path limited a traveler’s line of sight.

I. Howard Marshall (b. 1934) summarizes:

The man was travelling (κατέβαινεν – imperfect) from Jerusalem to Jericho along a road which...runs through desert and rocky country, well suited for brigands (Josephus Bellum Judaicum 4:474; Strabo 16:2:41 describes how Pompey destroyed brigands here, and Jerome [347-420] (in Jeremiah 3:2) spoke of Arab robbers in his time). It is not surprising that on his journey the man encountered robbers. (Marshall, The Gospel of Luke (New International Greek Testament Commentary, 447)

The road’s destination of Jericho also supplied ideal prey. Trent C. Butler (b. 1941) reports:

Herod [73-4 BC] had built New Testament Jericho as his winter palace on the same spot Hasmonean rulers had earlier built their palace. Herod included three palaces, a swimming pool, and a sunken garden. Thus, government officials frequently made the trip from Jerusalem to Jericho as did Jewish religious and political leaders. Criminals took advantage of the upper class’s need to travel this winding, crooked road through dangerous passes. They hid behind large rocks above narrow passes and preyed on travelers. (Butler, Luke (Holman Bible Commentary), 172)

The road has long had a nefarious reputation. Josephus (37-100) characterized the road as dangerous (Bellum Judaicum 4.451-475) and notes how some commuters took weapons to protect themselves as they traveled this road and others like it (Bellum Judaicum 2.8.4 §125).

The road’s reputation persisted for centuries. William Barclay (1907-1978) researches:

There is an extant letter dated A.D. 171 in which a complaint is made to the government by two dealers in pigs. They too had fallen into the hands of brigands “who assaulted us with very many stripes, wounding Pasion, robbed us of a pig and carried off Pasion’s coat.” In the fifth century Jerome [347-420] tells us that it was still called “The Red or Bloody Way.” Even as late as the middle of the nineteenth century travellers had to pay safety money to the local Sheiks if they wished to be safe from the attacks of the Bedouin...The grim history of the road extends even to our own time. H.V. Morton [1892-1979] in his book In the Steps of the Master writes, “When I told a friend that I intended to run down to the Dead Sea for a day he said, “Well, be careful to get back before dark.’ ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘You might meet Abu Jildah...’ ‘Who is Abu Jildah?’ ‘He is a brigand who has shot several policemen. There is a price of £250 on his head, and he has a habit of building a wall of stones across the Jericho road, stopping cars, robbing you, and if you resist, shooting you. So take my tip and get back before dusk...’” Even in the early 1930's this very road was still a danger to spot for the unwary traveller. (Barclay, The Parables of Jesus, 79-80)

Richard Gribble (b. 1952) adds:

In 1118, during the period of the Crusades, the Knight Order of Templars was formed to defend pilgrims on this path. As late as the nineteenth century, pilgrims received protection from Turkish soldiers along the way. (Gribble, The Parables of Jesus: Applications for Contemporary Life, Cycle C, 104)

Even if the reader is unfamiliar with the road’s well-deserved reputation, it quickly reveals itself in the events that transpire.

Remnants of the road still exist today. Henry Wansbrough (b. 1934) relays:

The old path from Jerusalem to Jericho runs down the Wadi Qilt, a deep, twisting canyon with rocky sides and blistering heat, some four hours’ smart walk. Today you can round a corner and find yourself in the middle of a flock of goats, herded by a bedouin boy and his noisy dogs. Just as easily it could be the bandits of Jesus tale. (Wansbrough, Luke: A Guide for Reflection and Prayer (Daily Bible Commentary), 95)

The old road, however, was even more menacing than the present one. It was considered especially dangerous even at a time when travel was customarily hazardous. Given this setting, the listener anticipates the story and is prepared for the violence that transpires. It is almost expected. There are modern equivalents.

N.T. Wright (b. 1948) relates:

Few Israelis today will travel from Galilee to Jerusalem by the direct route, because it will take them through the West Bank and risk violence. In exactly the same way, most first-century pilgrims making the same journey would prefer, as Jesus himself did, to travel down the Jordan valley to Jericho and then turn west up the hill to Jerusalem. It was much safer...But still not completely safe. The desert road from Jericho to Jerusalem had many turns and twists, and brigands could lurk out of sight in the nearby hills and valleys, ready to strike. A lonely traveller was an easy target. (Wright, Luke for Everyone, 127)

Darrel L. Bock (b. 1953) compares:

The cultural equivalent today might be a trip through parts of the inner city in the middle of the night. This road was hazardous, as the man who falls among robbers finds out. Thieves took advantage of the caves that lined the road as it wound through the desert, jumping travelers as they passed through. (Bock, Luke (The NIV Application Commentary), 300)

Given this reputation, some interpreters have viewed the traveler as irresponsible. William Barclay (1907-1978) indites:

The traveller...was obviously a reckless and foolhardy character. People seldom attempted the Jerusalem to Jericho road alone if they were carrying goods or valuables. Seeking safety in numbers, they travelled in convoys or caravans. This man had no one but himself to blame for the plight in which he found himself. (Barclay, The Gospel of Luke (Daily Study Bible Series), 165)

It is worth mentioning that the story’s hero, the Samaritan, is not critiqued for being companionless. Neither is the priest nor the Levite.

Frank Stern (b. 1936) reminds:

One of the surprising aspects of the parable was that all the travelers journeyed alone. Usually, people traveled the highway in groups. When the Essenes passed through, they carried weapons to protect themselves from robbers. (Stern, A Rabbi Looks At Jesus’ Parables, 220)

In fact, the traveler is completely nondescript. He may or may not have been reckless. Given his location, many have deduced that he is Jewish. This, however, is not stated. The only thing that can be stated conclusively about him is that he is in need of help. And for “good Samaritans” that is all that need be known.

Why does Jesus place his parable on a road synonymous with violence? How would the story change if set on an anonymous road? Does Jesus himself ever walk this path? Is the traveler in any way to blame for his predicament? If so, would he be less deserving of help? What is the modern-day equivalent of the road from Jerusalem to Jericho? Where do you feel uncomfortable walking alone? When have you been saddened but not shocked about events based upon where they occurred?

The setting prepares the reader for the story by eliciting an expectation for both violence and the presence of priests. These expectations also pave the road for the surprise: the startling answer to the question of “Who is my neighbor?” (Luke 10:29) The plot moves from the common occurrence of robbery to the uncommon help of the Samaritan. The story ends with the jarring charge to be the neighbor the Good Samaritan is: to help those in peril (Luke 10:37).

But even at the story’s conclusion, the road remains. Warren W. Wiersbe (b. 1929) critiques:

The road from Jerusalem down to Jericho was indeed a dangerous one. Since the temple workers used it so much, you would have thought the Jews or Romans would have taken steps to make it safe. It is much easier to maintain a religious system than it is to improve the neighborhood. (Wiersbe, Be Compassionate: Let the World Know That Jesus Cares (Luke 1-13), 115)

Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929-1968) challenges:

On the one hand, we are called to play the Good Samaritan on life’s roadside, but that will be only an initial act. One day we must come to see that the whole Jericho Road must be changed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life’s highway. True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar. A true revolution of values will soon look uneasily on the glaring contrast of poverty and wealth with righteous indignation. (King, “Why I Am Opposed to the War in Vietnam,” speech delivered April 30, 1967; The Riverside Church, New York).

Why was the road from Jerusalem to Jericho allowed to remain so vulnerable? What “road repair” needs to be done in your area? How can you help?

“Any revolution has to start with the transformation of the individual, otherwise individuals are corrupted by the power they get if their revolution succeeds.” - Wes “Scoop” Nisker (b. 1942)

Voice Recognition: (I Samuel 3:1-14)

Whose voice did young Samuel think he heard when God called him three times? Eli’s (I Samuel 3:4-8)

The third chapter of First Samuel describes a time of limited prophetic activity (not unlike our own) when “word from the Lord was rare” and “visions were infrequent” (I Samuel 3:1 NASB). The priest Eli and his young protégé Samuel are lying down at the Shiloh temple (I Samuel 3:2), the former resting by the ark of the covenant (I Samuel 3:3). After three verses establishing a highly ordinary setting, the pace picks up when God initiates action.

The Lord called Samuel; and he said, “Here I am.” Then he ran to Eli and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call, lie down again.” So he went and lay down. (I Samuel 3:4-5 NASB)

When called, Samuel excitedly runs to answer the priest (I Samuel 3:5). His youthful enthusiasm is misdirected as he mistakenly interprets the voice’s origin. Fortunately, God’s call is deliberate and persistent. Undeterred, the Lord awakens Samuel four times (I Samuel 3:4, 6, 8, 10). In a comedic scene, three times the confused young man awakens Eli. After the third attempt, the seasoned priest recognizes that God is calling Samuel and instructs his pupil to respond in kind (I Samuel 3:8-9). The fourth time is the charm as Samuel receives the revelatory word (I Samuel 3:10-14). As such, Samuel first hears the voice of God while literally lying down on the job (I Samuel 3:4).

The setting is significant, symbolic of the nation’s theological predicament. Richard D. Phillips (b. 1960) observes:

The setting for Samuel’s calling is provocatively stated: “The lamp of God had not yet gone out” (I Samuel 3:3). This indicates that it was in the early hours before dawn that God called to Samuel, since the lamps were kept lit until morning. But this was also symbolically true: the lamp of God’s presence in Israel was dim but not completely out. In such a setting, the voice of the Lord was once more heard within his house. (Phillips, 1 Samuel (Reformed Expository Commentary), 65)

The light is scarce but it is not yet extinguished. The voice in the darkness mirrors the hope for renewal embodied in Samuel.

Kevin J. Mellish (b. 1968) adds:

The location where Eli and Samuel slept at the time of the theophany is also symbolic. Eli was in his own room and separated from the ark. Samuel was lying down in the temple...where the ark of God was (I Samuel 3:3). Based on this description, Samuel must have slept in the inner sanctuary where the ark resided. It is noteworthy that Samuel, the prophet/priest designate, remained near the presence of God, which was symbolized by the ark of the covenant. Eli, the soon to be deposed priest, slept at a distance from it. The imagery is fitting considering that Yahweh’s presence no longer abided with Eli as it was with Samuel, This is also the first, albeit brief, reference to the ark in Samuel. (Mellish, 1 & 2 Samuel: A Commentary in the Wesleyan Tradition (New Beacon Bible Commentary), 61)

Some have posed that Samuel’s position indicates that he is seeking just such a divine encounter. V. Philips Long (b. 1951) explains:

That Samuel is described as “lying down in the temple of the LORD, where the ark of God was” (I Samuel 3:3), has led some to speculate that he may have been engaging in a well-attested ancient Near Eastern practice called “incubation.” Incubation involves spending a night in the temple precinct in the hope of receiving a divine or oracular dream. The practice is attested among the Egyptians, with manuals of dream interpretation being used as early as the New Kingdom period, among the Hittites of Anatolia, and in Canaan during the biblical period...Extrabiblical examples of such theophanies, or auditory message dreams as they are sometimes called, come from Egypt (Thutmose IV, fifteenth century), Ugarit (in both the Kirta Epic and ‘Aqhatu Legend), Hatti (Hattušiliš, thirteenth century), and Babylonia (Nabonidus, sixth century). (John H. Walton [b. 1952], Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1 & 2 Samuel (Zondervan Illustrated Bible Backgrounds Commentary), 282-83)

Ralph W. Klein (b. 1936) counters:

We are not told why Samuel slept by the ark. The view that he was participating in some kind of incubation ritual seems contradicted by his repeated suspicion that Eli—and not God—was calling him. (Klein, 1 Samuel (Word Biblical Commentary), 32)

Instead, Samuel is likely taking his turn in fulfilling priestly duties. Robert D. Bergen (b. 1954) assumes:

While Samuel was fulfilling the Torah obligations to tend the lamp of God (cf. Leviticus 24:3; Numbers 18:23), the Lord called the youth and delivered a message of judgment to him. In a form paralleling Abraham, Jacob, and Moses’ obedient responses to divine calls (Genesis 22:1, 11, 31:11; Exodus 3:4), Samuel responded, “Here I am” (I Samuel 3:4). Because he did not initially know the Lord, however, Samuel at first went to Eli for further instructions (I Samuel 3:5-6, 8)...It is...probable that the writer included this note to demonstrate Samuel’s diligence in fulfilling Torah mandates. As a son of Aaron, Eli was required “to keep the lamps burning before the LORD from evening till morning” (Exodus 27:21; cf. Leviticus 24:3; also Numbers 18:23). However, since Eli apparently was too old for active service before Yahweh as a priest (cf. Numbers 8:23-26), the Levite Samuel was permitted to act as his surrogate in this matter (cf. Numbers 18:23). (Bergen, 1, 2 Samuel (New American Commentary), 86)

God calls Samuel while he is already on duty. Though Samuel does not know who is calling, he responds promptly and politely. Josephus (37-100) records that Samuel is only twelve years old at the time (Antiquities of the Jews 5.10.4).

It is clear that Samuel perceives the voice audibly, originating outside of himself. T.M. Luhrmann (b. 1959) determines:

The striking phenomenonological detail is that Samuel looked for the source of the voice. When someone gives you that detail—they heard a voice and then looked to see who was speaking—it is good evidence that they heard the voice with their ears. (Luhrmann, When God Talks Back: Understanding the American Evangelical Relationship with God, 344)

Samuel’s call marks a rare instance of a human hearing the audible call of God. Steven J. Andrews (b. 1954) and Robert D. Bergen (b. 1954) characterize Samuel’s experience:

Being so physically close to the Lord’s throne, Samuel was bound to meet him. All of chapters 1 and 2 has led up to this point. God was going to do something wonderful with this young man who was dedicated by his parents to minister before the Lord...Here was the moment of contact. Here was God’s call. It was personal and face-to-face. It was private when no one else was around. It came in God’s house in the early morning. Samuel answered...but he didn’t know who called him. He heard, but he wasn’t listening...God is certainly persistent. The verb call occurs eleven times in I Samuel 3:4-10. Anyone who has ever experienced a call from God can tell you that sometimes it is relentless. God does not give up. (Andrews and Bergen, I & II Samuel (Holman Old Testament Commentary), 32-33)

Samuel incorrectly assumes that the voice he hears is Eli’s. To explain this error, the text offers a narrative aside to remind the reader that Samuel has yet to hear the voice of God; Samuel is not yet the legendary prophet (I Samuel 3:7). One can hardly blame Samuel for his failure to recognize the voice. God has not spoken to him previously and Eli’s is the most likely voice. In this secluded setting, who else would be calling him?

Mary J. Evans (b. 1949) muses:

The story continues with the young Samuel asleep in the area where the ark of God was kept, a fact that shows how fully he had been integrated into priestly service. He hears a voice and immediately goes to Eli—maybe it was a regular occurrence for the almost blind Eli to need help. Samuel’s willingness to get up three times in the night, apparently without complaint, to attend to the ailing old man speaks well for the character of the young priest and draws attention to his worthiness to receive the prophetic word. (Evans, 1 and 2 Samuel (New International Biblical Commentary), 28)

Samuel’s mistake is also natural as the voice of God is often filtered through human beings. Kenneth Chafin (1926-2001) acknowledges:

How easy it still is not to be able to discern God’s voice from other voices. It would be so much easier if all of God’s messages to us came with a clearly printed label: “From God.” But, as my colleague, Frank Tupper [b. 1941], says, “God speaks to us through familiar voices.” While there is a tendency to think of the more dramatic revelations of God as normative, most people experience God’s guidance in quite ordinary ways: through experiences good and bad, while reading the Scripture, through the counsel of another, or out of a growing interest. (Chafin, 1, 2 Samuel (Mastering the Old Testament), 46)

Eugene H. Peterson (b. 1932) adds:

Learning to discern the difference between human words and God’s word is basic to his prophetic and priestly life: Samuel listens. Listening is an act of personal attentiveness that develops into answering. The emphatic “Let anyone with ears listen!” with which Jesus concluded his parables (Matthew 13:9, 43) is repeated in the Spirit’s urgent messages to the churches in the Revelation (Revelation 2:7, 11, 17, 29, 3:6, 13, 22)...Samuel answers, which is to say, he prays...Samuel’s very existence is a result of prayer, the prayer of his praying mother, Hannah. The story of his call in the temple, introducing his prophetic vocation, shows him learning how to pray for himself, that is, listen to God’s personal word to him and then respond. (Peterson, First and Second Samuel (Westminster Bible Companion), 38-39)

Ironically, Eli the priest is seldom depicted speaking for God. Yet here it is Eli, not Samuel, who correctly discerns the voice of God. Eli is finally doing his job: presenting a worldview with God at its center.

Alister E. McGrath (b. 1959) writes:

On the first three occasions, Samuel assumes that the natural sound he has heard has a natural referent, and behaves accordingly...The turning point of the narrative takes place when Eli offers an alternative interpretive framework. Confronted with the evident failure of the most obvious schema, Samuel is invited to consider an alternative explanation of his experience (I Samuel 3:9). Eli can here be seen as a representative of the tradition of Israel, which offers an alternative way of interpreting nature – in this case, as a gateway to the transcendent. God is made known through the natural order. (McGrath, The Open Secret: A New Vision for Natural Theology, 176)

It might have even been presumptuous for Samuel to assume that God is calling him. Jack M. Sasson (b. 1941) elucidates:

It is not a lack of intelligence that prevents Samuel from understanding what Eli does comprehend but rather a profound psychological block. Is it possible that God is calling him rather than Eli the priest? Conversely, Eli apprehends what Samuel fails to see, not because of superior intelligence or experience, but because he lacks the inhibitions generated by self-interest. Nothing deters him from assuming that God might turn to the young servant and pass over the old priest! In this way, Eli’s humility compensates for Samuel’s. (John Kaltner[b. 1954] and Louis Stulman [b. 1953], Inspired Speech: Prophecy in the Ancient Near East Essays in Honor of Herbert B. Huffmon [b. 1933], 179)

God speaks to Samuel in such a way that causes Eli to fulfill his primary duty as priest: directing his congregant to God. In some small way, Eli redeems himself. In a sad irony, God’s message to Samuel is confirmation of the fall of Eli’s household (I Samuel 3:11-14). Tragically, Eli’s most effective act as priest occurs while mediating his displacement.

Dallas Willard (b. 1935) praises:

How wonderful that Eli recognized what was happening to young Samuel and could tell him what to do to begin his lifelong conversational walk with God! Otherwise, it might have been years before Samuel would have found his way by himself. We must not mistakenly assume that if God speaks to someone, he or she automatically knows what is happening and who is taking. If Samuel did not know, surely many others also would not. (Willard, Hearing God, Updated and Expanded: Developing a Conversational Relationship with God, 143-44)

In this case, as in many, effectively hearing God is an act of collaboration. For God’s voice to be heard, the lad needs to be open to it, but he also needs guidance from an elder.

Though the passage illuminates the struggle that clergy experience in discerning their calling, discerning the voice of God and distinguishing it from one’s own is a universal challenge that plagues clergy and laymen alike. Hearing God’s voice is often difficult. But it does not mean that God is not speaking.

Eugene H. Peterson (b. 1932) asserts:

God speaks to Samuel. That God speaks is the basic reality of biblical faith. The fundamental conviction of our faith is not so much that God is, as that God speaks. The biblical revelation begins with God creating by word, speaking the cosmos into being (Genesis 1:1-31). It concludes with Jesus, the Word of God, speaking in invitation, “Come...” (Revelation 22:17). All the pages in between are packed with sentences that God speaks—in creation and invitation, in judgment and salvation, in healing and guidance, in oracle and admonition, in rebuke and comfort. The conspicuous feature in all this speaking is that God speaks in personal address. God does not speak grand general truths, huge billboard declarations of truth and morals; the Lord’s speaking is to persons, named persons: Abraham, Moses, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Paul. And Samuel. Personal address, not philosophical discourse or moral commentary or theological reflection, is God’s primary form of speech. Whenever we let the language of religious abstraction or moral principles (and we do it often) crowd the personal address, we betray the word of God. (Peterson, First and Second Samuel (Westminster Bible Companion), 38)

Though God speaks, hearing is not often easy. Even Samuel, who literally lives in the temple, struggles to do so. Samuel’s experience demonstrates that a person can even be in the precarious position of encountering God without knowing it.

Norman J. Cohen (b. 1943) cautions:

Samuel reminds all of us how difficult it is to truly hear, see, and meet the other in our lives. When we finally do experience a moment of recognition and engagement, we sometimes are so overwhelmed that we cannot find the right words to express what we are thinking and feeling. As we are overcome with emotion, both elation and fear at the same time, words may seem impossible. (Cohen, “The Difficulty of Discerning the Call”, Hineini in Our Lives: Learning to Respond to Others Though 14 Biblical Texts & Personal Stories, 81)

Like all prophets, Samuel’s first prophetic act is to listen. His experience demonstrates that disambiguating the voice of God is a learned skill. This provides both a challenge and hope for us all as we echo Samuel’s words: “Speak, for your servant is listening (I Samuel 3:10 NASB).”

Why does God not make his identity more obvious when dealing with Samuel? When have you been called by an unfamiliar voice? If God called you, how would you know? Have you ever audibly heard God? In your mind, whose voice is most like God’s? What would have happened to Samuel had Eli failed to direct him? When has God spoken to you through a “familiar voice”? In what ways has God spoken to you? How have you been changed by the voice of God?

God speaking to Samuel forever changes his and his nation’s history. James E. Smith (b. 1939) notes:

One night (literally, “it came to pass on that day”) suggests that the day was special, a milestone in Samuel’s rise to leadership, and consequently in redemptive history. (Smith, 1 & 2 Samuel (The College Press NIV Commentary), 74)

The third chapter of First Samuel relays a coming of age story as Samuel is moving from “lad” to prophet. Samuel does not become a renowned prophet over night.

Richard L. Schultz (b. 1952) clarifies:

Hearing God’s call did not suddenly move Samuel from childhood to adulthood; following this encounter he still had to “grow up” (I Samuel 3:19). This text emphasizes God’s judgment on blatant sin in the family of Eli, Israel’s religious leader. It also portrays God’s careful preparation of Samuel for significant spiritual and political leadership as one who was open to hearing God’s voice and obeying. (Schultz, Out of Context: How to Avoid Misinterpreting the Bible, 86)

Samuel’s experience invites a discussion of calling. John Goldingay (b. 1942) projects:

Speaking with students often suggests to me that we think of ministry as something that enables us to find fulfillment, as it makes it possible for us to give expression to the gifts God has given us. Discernment thus begins as our seeking to perceive what our gifts are and how we may express them. There’s none of this way of thinking in the Old Testament or the New Testament. Samuel is not called because this will be the way he finds fulfillment...Given that the connotations of the word “call” have changed, we might do better to use the word “summons” rather than “call” to describe what happens to Samuel or Paul. Samuel gets the idea when he recognizes in the middle of the night that his boss has summoned him to do something, so he reports for duty; he just doesn’t realize which boss it is...There is nothing wrong with people using their gifts to serve God...It just has nothing to do with calling. (Goldingay, 1 & 2 Samuel for Everyone, 31)

As the message Samuel receives concerns Eli, many note that I Samuel 3:1-21 is not technically a call narrative. Anthony F. Campbell (b. 1934) advances:

The initiative is...given to Eli, and the focus of interest moves to his reaction. The story comes to rest with his acceptance...It is important to recognize that this is not a prophetic call narrative; there is no call. It may serve in place of a call narrative, since after this first experience of God’s word Samuel continues as a trustworthy prophet of the Lord. For all that, it is not a call narrative. (Campbell, 1 Samuel (The Forms of the Old Testament Literature), 57)

In contrast, Ronald F. Youngblood (b. 1931) offers:

The literary genre of I Samuel 3 has usually been considered a prophetic-call narrative in the grand tradition of Exodus 3 (Moses), Isaiah 6, Jeremiah 1, and the like. Recently, however, on the basis of ancient Near Eastern parallels, Robert Gnuse [b. 1947], in The Dream Theophany of Samuel: Its Structure in Relation to Ancient Near Eastern Dreams and Its Theological Significance has theorized that I Samuel 3 is best analyzed as an auditory message dream theophany. Although he sometimes tilts the evidence in his direction...his arguments are impressive...Of course, the genre could turn out to be a blend of both types (a not uncommon feature of Old Testament literature)—prophetic-call narrative plus auditory message dream theophany. But the advantage of Gnuse’s analysis is that it deals adequately with the fact that the Lord speaks to Samuel at night—a matter not handled convincingly by the theory that I Samuel 3 is a prophetic-call narrative and nothing more. (Tremper Longman III [b. 1952] and David E. Garland [b. 1947], 1 Samuel-2 Kings (The Expositor’s Bible Commentary), 65)

Some argue that as Samuel is awake as the story unfolds, the story cannot accurately be labeled a dream theophany. What cannot be argued is that this story marks a new era for Samuel and Israel. Samuel becomes an agent of change in both the nation’s religion (as a prophet) and politics (as the anointer the kings). His authorization to do so is significant.

Robert Alter (b. 1935) remarks:

The idea of revelation...is paramount to the story of Samuel, whose authority will derive neither from cultic function, like the priests before him, nor from military power, like the judges before him and the kings after him, but from prophetic experience, from an immediate, morally directive call from God. (Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative, 109)

Walter Brueggemann (b. 1933) expounds:

The narrative takes great care to show that Samuel’s credibility does not rest on any conventional political confirmation. Rather, Samuel is presented as having an authorization rooted in nothing other than the freedom and promise of God. Samuel’s freshly authorized voice in Israel’s public life stands over against all conventional modes of power and brusquely displaces them. Surely the old Israelites—and the storytellers—are political realists. They understand how political-priestly power works, how it is secured, maintained, and exercised. They want to assert, at the same time, a holy governance that matters in concrete life, a holy governance that is not bounded by accustomed power, by ordained authority, by conventional leadership. There is a chance for newness. (Brueggemann, First and Second Samuel (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching), 27)

Samuel is authorized to lead, but more importantly Samuel becomes Samuel through the process. His purpose is completely changed as he finds his identity in connection to God.

Francesca Aran Murphy (b. 1960) analyzes:

In order to become a moral individual, a person, Samuel must be called out of the familial collective and enter a direct relationship to God. God does not, here, just call an individual to effect a change in Israel’s culture: he creates an individual so to do...Only when the Lord calls with a single voice and reveals his unity, and only when the recipients of this revelation absorb communication of “Who he is,” can they become unified individuals, persons who act on history and cocreate it. (Murphy, 1 Samuel (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible), 29)

Merold Westphal (b. 1940) informs:

It takes little imagination to hear the resonances of Emmanuel Levinas [1906-1995]’s me voici, whose origins in any case are biblical, in Samuel’s “Here am I.” While this speech act is an expression of Samuel’s freedom, there is more heteronomy than autonomy in it. He does not originate the conversation but is called, called forth, even called into being by a voice not his own. The meaning of the situation in which he finds himself is not determined by his horizons of expectation, which are simultaneously surprised and shattered. Nor is it just his situation that is changed; his very identity is changed, as he becomes no longer merely Hannah’s son or Eli’s helper, but the one who stands coram deo, in God’s presence, by a call that is at once invitation and command. Everything begins with “you called me.” Prayer is the beginning of responsibility because it begins as response...He identifies himself as the servant before his Lord...Actually, when he responds in accord with Eli’s instruction, he does not name the speaker, but simply says, “Speak, for your servant is listening.”...The heavy lifting is done by Samuel’s self-identification as the servant of the speaker, whose divinity he now recognizes. He calls himself ebbe, a bond-servant. (Bruce Ellis Benson [b. 1960] and Norman Wirzba [b. 1964], “Prayer as the Posture of the Decentered Self”, The Phenomenology of Prayer (Perspectives in Continental Philosophy), 17)

Samuel’s awakening is intended to awaken us to our calling as well. Though we may not be called to be prophets or national leaders, our true identity is to be found as servants of God.

Who are today’s change agents? What have you been authorized to do? What has God called you to do? Have you found your identity in God?

“Not only do we not know God except through Jesus Christ, but also we do not know ourselves except through Jesus Christ.” - Blaise Pascal (1623-1662), Pensées, p. 7

Away in a Manger (Luke 2:7)

The word “manger” appears in only one chapter in the Bible. Which one? Luke 2.

The nativity story is responsible from some of Christianity’s most indelible images. The setting of Jesus’ birth has become especially ingrained. Baby Jesus is tucked in a manger as there is no room for him in the inn (Luke 2:7). Most representations tend to sanitize the story into a picturesque pastoral scene: After being rejected by a heartless innkeeper, Jesus is neatly placed into a makeshift crib in a tidy stable where he is adored by animals. Unfortunately, in the biblical account there is no inn (in the modern sense of the term) much less an innkeeper, no stable and no animals.

Though only mentioned in Luke’s gospel, there is, however, a manger (Luke 2:7, 12, 16).

And she [Mary] gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. (Luke 2:7 NASB)

Though traditionally translations speak of an “inn” in Luke 2:7 (ASV, CEV, ESV, KJV, NASB, NKJV, NRSV, RSV), a modern day hotel is likely not intended. This reality is reflected in some translations: “guest room” (NIV), “hostel” (MSG), “lodging” (HCSB, NLT).

Joel B. Green (b. 1956) explains:

Peculiar is Luke’s reference to the cause for laying the newborn child in a manger: “because there was no place for them in the guest room.” The narrator apparently pictures Joseph and Mary arriving in Bethlehem and staying for some time before the delivery of Mary’s baby (cf. Luke 2:6: “while they were there”), not their inability to locate lodging on the night of their arrival resulting in the birth of the child in the stable. The term Luke employs here for “guest room” is often translated in English as “inn.” However, the same term appears in Luke 22:11 with the meaning “guest room,” and the verbal form occurs in Luke 9:12 and Luke 19:7 with the sense of “find lodging” or “be a guest.” Moreover, in Luke 10:34, where a commercial inn is clearly demanded by the text, Luke draws on different vocabulary. It is doubtful whether a commercial inn actually existed in Bethlehem, which stood on no major roads. It may be that Luke has in mind a “khan or caravansary where large groups of travelers found shelter under one roof,” but this does not help our understanding of Mary’s placing the child in a manger. That “guest room” is the more plausible meaning here is urged by the realization that in peasant homes in the ancient Near East family and animals slept in one enclosed space, with the animals located on a lower level. Mary and Joseph, then, would have been the guests of family or friends, but their home would have been so overcrowded that the baby was placed in a feeding trough. (Green, (The New International Commentary on the New Testament), 128-29)

The combination of the guest room and manger likely depicts a typical room in first century Bethlehem. Sharon H. Ringe (b. 1946) describes:

Homes in small towns like Bethlehem, as well as in the city proper, would have consisted of one room to accommodate the family who lived there. Separating the living quarters from any animals’ stalls would have been a manger area, where food and farm implements were stored, and where births often took place a bit apart from the ongoing life of the family. Over the manger area would have been the “upper room,” where visiting relatives or acquaintances, or persons linked to the family by political or economic ties, could be given hospitality. Joseph, having returned with his pregnant wife to his ancestral village, would have anticipated such accommodation. The fact that none was available meant that others from a higher rung on the social ladder and in the hierarchy of obligations and honor that characterized Palestinian society had already claimed the space. Not even Mary’s obvious need could dislodge such a firmly implanted order of rights and privileges. Instead of having a guest room, then, Mary, Joseph, and the baby are left to spend their nights in Bethlehem in the manger area where the birth has taken place. (Ringe, Luke (Westminster Bible Companion), 42)

In regards to the building in which Jesus was born, there is room for interpretation (pun intended). Leon Morris (1914-2006) analyzes:

That he was laid in a manger has traditionally been taken to mean that Jesus was born in a stable. He may have been. But it is also possible that the birth took place in a very poor home where the animals shared the same roof as the family. A tradition going back to Justin [Martyr, 100-165] says it occurred in a cave (Dialogue with Trypho 78) and this could be right. Some have thought that the birth took place in the open air (possibly the courtyard of the inn), that being where the manger would likely be. We do not know. We know only that everything points to poverty, obscurity and even rejection. (Morris, Luke (Tyndale New Testament Commentaries), 92-93)

As Morris alludes, there is a longstanding tradition that Jesus was born in a cave (Protoevangelium of James 18:1). Rainer Riesner (b. 1950) documents:

A somewhat independent reference to Jesus’ origin in the city of David is the early Christian geographical tradition, not derivable from the Gospels, placing Jesus’ birth in a cave in Bethlehem...The present Church of the Nativity, lying at the west edge of the hill that marked the old city, was erected over a large rock cave, some 12 × 3 meters in size. This cavern is one of several that were located near houses and served as stalls or for the storage of supplies (cf. Luke 11:33) in the first century. Already at the beginning of the second century, the local tradition was so well established that Hadrian [76-138] (in c. AD 135) made the cave into a sanctuary to Adonis in order to eliminate veneration of it by Jewish Christians...According to Jerome [347-420] the “manger” (phatné) of Luke 2:7 was still visible in his time and consisted of a rock groove with plain city walls...in a side cave some 3 × 3 meters in size...Due to the marble paneling and rebuilding, today it is very difficult to envision the original appearance of this grotto. (Joel B. Green [b. 1956], Scot McKnight [b. 1953] and I. Howard Marshall [b. 1934], Dictionary of Jesus and the Gospels: A Compendium of Contemporary Biblical Scholarship, 34)

Whatever his accommodations, the newborn Jesus is placed in a manger (Greek: phatne). This word is found only in Luke in the New Testament (Luke 2:7, 12, 16, 13:15) and three of the four occurrences relate to the nativity. The word is typically rendered “manger” (ASV, ESV, MSG, KJV, NASB, NIV, NKJV, NLT, NRSV, RSV) with few exceptions (“bed of hay” [CEV], “feeding trough” [HCSB, NCV]).

The latter is likely most accurate. Robert C. Tannehill (b. 1934) determines:

The manger was a feeding trough for animals. Moving to the manger might take only a few steps, if we assume a one-room farmhouse where the family quarters might be separated from the animal quarters only by being on a raised platform...Since the manger is mentioned three times (Luke 2:7, 12, 16), it must be important to the story. A baby in a manger in sufficiently unusual to serve as a “sign” to the shepherds...Finding the one who is Messiah and Lord in such impoverished circumstances is additional cause for amazement (Luke 2:18). (Tannehill, Luke (Abingdon New Testament Commentaries), 65)

Darrell L. Bock (b. 1953) concurs:

In all likelihood, the manger is an animal’s feeding trough, which means the family is in a stable or in a cave where animals are housed...The contrast between the birth’s commonness and the child’s greatness could not be greater. The promised one of God enters creation among the creation. The profane decree of a census has put the child in the promised city of messianic origin. God is quietly at work, and a stable is Messiah’s first throne room. (Bock, Luke (IVP New Testament Commentary), 55)

Though no animals are explicitly referenced, due to the presence of the trough it is highly likely that the Christ was born in an animal shelter. The most commonly pictured animals in nativities, the ox and donkey, allude to Isaiah 1:3 and are reflected in apocryphal infancy accounts.

The manger serves as a makeshift crib. Coincidentally, the English word “crib” can refer both to a “a child’s bed with enclosed sides” and “a stall or pen for cattle”.

The word manger is no longer in common use and might be forgotten outside of its connection to the nativity. This may be why we use it. David E. Garland (b. 1947) translates:

I translate the familiar “manger” (φάτνη) as “feeding trough.” The word could refer to a stall (Luke 13:15), but it makes more sense that Mary wrapped her baby and “laid” him in something that can function as a crib. The trough would be in a stall. The point is, “the child lies outside the human dwelling in an unusual place where there are only animals.” The “manger” has been sanctified and glorified over the many years of Christmas celebrations, and this stark translation deliberately diminishes that aura of dignity. No one sings “Away in a feeding trough,” which is just the point. The Savior who dies in a shameful cross was placed in a lowly trough for barn animals when he was born: “his head rests where cattle have fed.” (Garland, Luke (Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 120)

Though Jesus emerged from humble beginnings, Walter L. Liefeld (b. 1927) reminds:

Luke could have painted a sordid picture, had he so desired. Instead he uses the general word for a lodging place and states the simple fact that when Mary’s time came, the only available place for the little family was one usually occupied by animals...Even today in many places around the world farm animals and their fodder are often kept in the same building as the family quarters. The eating trough, or “manger,” was ideal for use as a crib. Luke does not seem to be portraying a dismal situation with an unfeeling innkeeper as villain. Rather, he is establishing a contrast between the proper rights of the Messiah in his own “town of David” (Luke 2:4) and the very ordinary and humble circumstances of his birth. Whatever the reason, even in his birth Jesus was excluded from the normal shelter others enjoyed (cf. Luke 9:58). This is consistent with Luke’s realistic presentation of Jesus’ humanity and servanthood. (Liefeld, Luke (The Expositor’s Bible Commentary), 50)

It is still worth inquiring as to why the holy family is relegated to such meager lodgings. Fred B. Craddock (b. 1928) speculates:

The guest room was apparently occupied and hence could offer no privacy, so Mary and Joseph had withdrawn to a stable at the back of or underneath the house, perhaps in a cave. A feeding trough served as a crib. How simple and bare it all seems. At John’s birth there was a miracle (speech restored to Zechariah [Luke 1:64]) and an inspired prophetic song. Not so here; Luke has kept the story clean of any decoration that would remove it from the lowly, the poor, and the marginal of the earth. In the history of the church there have been many so poor and abandoned as to be able to identify with this scene. (Craddock, Luke (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching), 35)

The manger reminds the reader that Joseph and Mary are humble transients. Henry Wansbrough (b. 1934) denotes:

Luke goes out of his way to emphasize that Jesus was born in poor circumstances, with none of the advantages of position, despite being of the line of David. His parents were migrants, friendless in the town, and could find no place for the mother to give birth...We need to imagine a large open dwelling-room, in two levels. The humans are on one level, the animals at a slightly lower level. As the level for the humans is too crowded even for a precious new-born baby, Mary leans over to place her baby in the hay-filled feeding-trough of the cattle. (Wansbrough, Luke: A Guide for Reflection and Prayer (Daily Bible Commentary), 30-31)

R. Kent Hughes (b. 1942) theologizes:

No child born into the world that day seemed to have lower prospects. The Son of God was born into the world not as a prince but as a pauper. We must never forget that this is where Christianity began, and where it always begins — with a sense of need, a graced sense of one’s insufficiency. Christ, himself setting the example, comes to the needy. He is born only in those who are “poor in spirit.” (Hughes, Luke (Volume One): That You May Know the Truth (Preaching the Word), 84)

David L. Tiede (b. 1940) adds:

This is more than historical reporting and more than the story of the humble origins of a person of future greatness. The Greco-Roman reader might have recalled Virgil [70-19 BCE]’s poetic stories about the ideal ruler as shepherd of the people, born among simple shepherds (see Aeneid 6.791ff. and his fourth Eclogue). But certainly the Jewish reader who knew the heritage of the psalms would recall the words concerning David: “He chose David his servant, and took him from the sheepfolds; from tending the ewes that had young he brought him to be the shepherd of Jacob his people, of Israel his inheritance” (Psalm 78:70-71). Even as he lay swaddled in cloths in a feed bin in a town away from home, this child Jesus was destined to be the fulfillment of God’s promises to David and all of Israel, indeed to all the world. (Tiede, Luke (Augsburg Commentary on the New Testament), 68)

The story likely occurred darker and dirtier than we typically imagine. But the scene is meant to be visualized. Luke is painting a theological picture. David Lyle Jeffrey (b. 1941) details:

From Origen [184-253], who may have been among the first to connect Isaiah 1:3 to the scene in the Bethlehem stable, through Cyril of Alexandria [376-444], Bede [672-735], Bonaventure [1221-1274], and others, commentary on such passages is lyrical and poetically textured precisely for the reason that the conceptual magnitude of the incarnation, the mystery of the birth of the Redeemer of the world, far exceeds the capacity of mere literal exposition alone to register it. Medieval painters love to show the manger scene with the ox and ass looking over the manger with the Christ child; their audience remembered, as perhaps we do not, that this was a gesture of visual theology, intended to help us see the nativity as long prepared for and beautifully heralded in many passages in Isaiah. This itself is a mystery. (Jeffrey, Luke (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible), 37)

How do you picture the nativity scene? Is this a sanitary place to give birth? What is the strangest place you have heard of a baby being born? What unconventional items can you name that have been substituted for a crib? How do you think that Joseph and Mary looked back upon the place where they spent the first Christmas? Why did God not place Jesus into a more affluent home?

The manger serves a larger narrative purpose. Wrapping a newborn in swaddling clothes was the standard operating procedure of the day. Being born in a manger was not.

N.T. Wright (b. 1948) instructs:

What do people know about Jesus’ birth? The manger – the Christmas crib. The most famous animal feeding-trough in all history. You see it on Christmas cards. Churches make elaborate ‘cribs’, and sometimes encourage people to say their prayers in front of them...To concentrate on the manger and to forget why it was mentioned in the first place is like the dog looking at the finger rather than the object. Why has Luke mentioned it three times in this story?...The answer is: because it was the feeding-trough, appropriately enough, which was the sign to the shepherds. It told them which baby they were looking for. And it showed them that the angel knew what he was talking about. To be sure, it’s another wonderful human touch in the story, to think of the young mother finding an animal’s feeding-trough ready to hand as a cot for her newborn son. No doubt there are many sermons waiting to be preached here about God coming down into the mess and muddle of real life. But the reason Luke has mentioned it is because it’s important in giving the shepherds their news and their instructions...Why is this significant? Because it was the shepherds who were told who this child was. This child is the saviour, the Messiah, the Lord. The manger isn’t important in itself. It’s a signpost, a pointing finger, to the identity and task of the baby boy who’s lying in it. (Wright, Luke For Everyone, 21-22)

The savior of the world resting in a manger might have been viewed as a theological impossibility. Robert Redman (b. 1958) critiques:

Philosophers expressed it this way: the finite is not capable of the infinite (finitus non capax infiniti)...On this view, one “marginal Jew” living in the first century CE in a backwater province of the Roman Empire could not possibly be the full and complete revelation of God...The manger of Bethlehem is God’s counterargument. (David L. Bartlett [b. 1941] and Barbara Brown Taylor [b. 1951], Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year C, Volume 1, 118)

The manger is a counterintuitive sign that Jesus is the long awaited Messiah. John T. Carroll (b. 1954) relays:

The manger of Jesus would...suggest God’s identification with this child but also pose an unsettling question. Will God’s people come to know and regard the Lord who begins life in a manger?...The connection between “Messiah and manger” brings disorientation and forces Luke’s audience to rethink what it means to be Messiah, what sitting on David’s throne entails...This is not so surprising, though, if God is the God of status reversal praised earlier by the child’s mother (Luke 1:46-55). Samuel found David among the sheep and anointed him king (I Samuel 16:1-23); this child who is to sit on David’s throne also beings life in a place for animals and will find honor first among shepherds (Carroll, Luke: A Commentary (New Testament Library), 67)

What sign would you have expected to accompany the birth of the Messiah? How big of an obstacle to belief would being born in a manger have been to the original audience? Was it easier for shepherds to believe in this miracle than kings? Do you believe that the Savior of the world was born in a manger?

“Great God, has thou sent the Messiah to us? For who else than the Messiah himself can be born in a grave?” - an old Jewish grave digger who hid a young pregnant Jewish woman in Wilna, Poland, during World War II, who later gave birth in the grave. Quoted by Paul Tillich (1886-1965), “Born in the Grave”, The Shaking of the Foundations, p.165

To Us a Child Is Born (Isaiah 9:6)

Who prophesied “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given”? Isaiah (Isaiah 9:6)

The prophet Isaiah spoke to Israel during the tumultuous reign of King Ahaz (Isaiah 1:1, 7:1). While the king was becoming the embodiment of failed leadership (Isaiah 6:1-8:22), the prophet provided hope to the people (Isaiah 9:1-7). He famously prophesied:

For a child will be born to us, a son will be given to us;
And the government will rest on His shoulders;
And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Eternal Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6 NASB)

Walter Brueggemann (b. 1933) comments:

This familiar and beloved oracle offers to Judah, driven as it is to distress, darkness, gloom, and anguish, yet another chance in the world. The prophetic oracle beginning in Isaiah 9:2 is introduced by what seems to be a prose transition in Isaiah 9:1. In the Hebrew text..Isaiah 9:1 is the final verse of chapter 8, so that it looks back to the ominous judgment of Isaiah 8:22 as well as forward to the promised well-being of the oracle. (Brueggemann, Isaiah 1-39 (Westminster Bible Companion), 81)

Daniel L. Akin (b. 1957) concurs:

Isaiah 9:6-7...is an extension of the “virgin conception/Immanuel prophecy of Isaiah 7:14. Israel would be attacked and crushed in humiliating defeat in 722 BC by the Assyrians. And yet, in the midst of their despair and hopelessness, a word of hope arrives. The gloom, distress, humiliation, darkness, and death of Isaiah 9:1-2 would be turned into the rejoicing, joy, light, liberation, and peace of Isaiah 9:2-5. How? By the coming of the Messiah-King. (Akin, A Theology for the Church, 487)

Prior to this hopeful proclamation, Isaiah acknowledges that Judah will be afflicted by the powerful Assyrian army (Isaiah 8:1-22). John N. Oswalt (b. 1940) details:

The Assyrian conquests began in the tribal territory of “Zebulun” and “Naphtali,” which extended from the Jezreel Valley northward to the foot of Mount Hermon. A major part of that area is what is known today as the Huleh Valley. The Jordan River flows through this valley before emptying into the Sea of Galilee. Not only was this a lush agricultural area, it was also the place through which the main trade route from Mesopotamia to Egypt ran (“the way of the sea”). Thus, it is easy to see why it was high on the priority list for conquest. But God is greater than Asyria, and he promises that just as these people have experienced the grief and despair of conquest, they will also experience the joy of and triumph of victory (Isaiah 9:3-5). As Gideon defeated Midian in the Valley of Jezreel (Judges 7:1-25), so God will defeat Israel’s enemies in that same place...But how will God accomplish this great feat? Through the birth of a child (Isaiah 9:6)! For the third time in as many chapters, the birth of a child is filled with great portent. (Oswalt, Isaiah (NIV Application Commentary), 160)

Judah’s hope will come in the form of a child. Given the well known list of epithets that conclude the oracle about the child, most conclude that Isaiah is referencing Ahaz’s son and successful successor, Hezekiah (Isaiah 9:6-7).

Brevard S. Childs (1923-2007) explains:

The royal titles of kingship are conferred upon him: “Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Each name brings out some extraordinary quality for the divinely selected ruler: a counsellor of unique wisdom and abundant power, endowed with enduring life, and the bringer of eternal peace. The description of his reign makes it absolutely clear that his role is messianic. There is no end to his rule upon the throne of David, and he will reign with justice and righteousness forever. Moreover, it is the ardor of the Lord of hosts who will bring this eschatological purpose to fulfillment. The language is not just of a wishful thinking for a better time, but the confession of Israel’s belief in a divine ruler who will replace once and for all the unfaithful reign of kings like Ahaz. (Childs, Isaiah: A Commentary (Old Testament Library), 81)

The birth of this child will be a cause for great hope. Christopher R. Seitz (b. 1954) clarifies:

Most regard the references to birth and the language “child” and “son” at Isaiah 9:6 as referring to the king’s accession rather than to his actual birth, in line with the imagery of Psalm 2:7...and common Near Eastern practices. Whether or not this is so in the strict historical sense, the reference to birth is surely meant to pick up the language of Isaiah 7:14: “a young woman shall conceive and bear a son” (RSV). On chronological grounds, a royal accession oracle is out of place at this juncture in the presentation. Hezekiah’s mature reign still lies ahead, as is made clear by the material following (Isaiah 9:8-10:34), where the Assyrian foe is still gainfully occupied in the role of “rod of my [Yahweh’s] anger” (Isaiah 10:5). Therefore one is already dealing with a decision to place the royal oracle at this juncture secondarily, whatever its original historical circumstances. If a link has been established intentionally between the “birth” of Isaiah 9:6 and the promise of Immanuel at Isaiah 7:14-16, then the effect is to focus the royal oracle on the birth rather than on the accession of Immanuel. The birth then portends great things and in that sense is analogous to children of the prophet, who are “signs and portents in Israel from the LORD of hosts” (Isaiah 8:18). (Seitz, Isaiah 1-39 (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching), 86)

This child will be nothing less than a gift of God. Gary V. Smith (b. 1943) analyzes:

The initial announcement that a child “will be born” (yullad prophetic perfect verb) is further explained in the parallel phrase, God “will give a son to us,” that is, to the people of Judah. The second line emphasizes that this is a work of God’s gracious giving, not just a coincidence. No date of birth in the future is hinted at, and the only comparable son promised by God in earlier oracles was Immanuel in Isaiah 7:14-15. An identification marker that links these two sons is that they both will be righteous Davidic rulers. But the two sons do not have identical names. Concerning the Davidic ruler, “he [presumably God] will call his name” (not passive, “he will be called” as in NIV) titles that represent his character and roles. The eight words that follow could be eight names, but since Immanu-el, Shear-Jashub, and many other Hebrew names comprise two words (Isaiah means “God saves), it seems natural to divide these eight words into four titles. (Smith, Isaiah 1-39 (The New American Commentary), 240)

Who or what do you associate with the names Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace? When you look to the next generation of leaders in your region, does it elicit hope? When has God given you or your country a gift? How does Isaiah’s prophecy relate to the birth of Jesus?

Christians have long connected Isaiah’s 700+ year old messianic prophecy to the birth of Jesus. Though Isaiah 9:6 is not quoted directly in the New Testament, Matthew does, however, quote the related passage in Isaiah 7:14 (Matthew 1:23).

Geoffrey W. Grogan (1925-2011) traces:

The word “child” is in a position of emphasis. The first person plural “us” suggests a link with Isaiah 7:14...and the reader is probably meant to see the connection, for as far as the reader is concerned, Isaiah is acting as a teacher. Just as his theme of the Branch of the Lord...becomes more and more explicitly messianic, so it is with the motif of the child. If the child of Isaiah 7:14-16...typifies the ultimate divine Christ, the child of these verses is that Christ. (Tremper Longman III [b. 1952] & David E. Garland [b. 1947], Proverbs-Isaiah (The Expositor’s Bible Commentary), 528)

John Goldingay (b. 1942) delineates:

It is usually assumed that the name in Isaiah 9:6b comprises a series of asyndetic phrases...and describes the person named. The son then is the Wonderful Counselor. Christian claims that Jesus fulfills the vision of Isaiah 9:6b can do justice to the designation Mighty God, but the difficulty comes with Everlasting Father, which hardly applies to Jesus. Conversely, a reading in the light of eighth-century B.C. Middle Eastern thinking can perhaps do justice to Everlasting Father as an extravagant Old Testament description of a king’s relationship with his people, but Mighty God is unparalleled in the Old Testament in such designations. Hans Wildberger [1910-1986]...suggests it is based on Egyptian ways of speaking of the king, but even these hardly parallel such an extravagant description. It is difficult to know what the original hearers would have made of the words if this is how Isaiah meant them. It is significant that the Jewish exegetical tradition assumed that at least the first three phrases referred to God, though it took them as describing God as namer rather than as part of the name. (Goldingay, Isaiah (New International Biblical Commentary), 72)

Remarkably, God needs only a child to respond to grievous oppression. Raymond C. Ortlund, Jr. (b. 1949) acknowledges:

God’s answer to everything that has ever terrorized us is a child. The power of God is so far superior to the Assyrians and all the big shots of this world that he can defeat them by coming as a mere child. His answer to the bullies swaggering through history is not to become an even bigger bully. His answer is Jesus. (Ortlund, Isaiah: God Saves Sinners (Preaching the Word), 99)

God’s radical solution to the world’s sin was a baby. This is what the world celebrates at Christmas.

If Isaiah 9:6 foretells both Hezekiah and Jesus could it relate to another baby in the future? What dimensions does the fact that Jesus’ birth was prophesied add to the nativity story? When have you placed your hopes in a child? When has a child brought light into a gloomy world?

“Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man.” - Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941)

Shepherds Kept Their Watching (Luke 2)

Which gospel tells of the visit of the shepherds to the manger? Luke (2)

The Christmas story is one of the most familiar in all of the world. Though one of the standard features of the nativity is the visit of the shepherds, these important witnesses appear only in Luke’s gospel (Luke 2:8-20).

Immediately, after Jesus’ birth in a manger (Luke 2:1-7), Luke shifts the scene to a nearby field (Luke 2:8).

In the same region there were some shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night. (Luke 2:8 NASB)

Though the shepherds seemingly come out fo nowhere, this is not the case. Joel B. Green (b. 1956) explains:

Though their introduction may seem abrupt, they have been anticipated in implicit ways by the continued mention of David (shepherd-cum-king — I Kings 16:11-13; cf. Luke 1:27, 32, 69, 2:4 [2x]) and of the lowly (Luke 1:52). This account is also tied to the preceding material by geographical (“in that region” — Luke 2:8) and temporal (“this day” — Luke 2:11) markers. (Green, The Gospel of Luke (The New International Commentary on the New Testament), 130)

While the shepherds are going about their business, the sacred enters the profane with the emergence of an angelic visitor (Luke 2:9). The scene is set at night which heightens the drama and accentuates the contrast between the darkness of the night sky and the startling appearance of the unexpected visitor. The angel, eventually accompanied by an angelic host, is the bearer of good news: the Savior of the world has been born in Bethlehem (Luke 2:9-15).

After hearing this proclamation, the shepherds rush to confirm the angelic account (Luke 2:15-20). Outside of his own family, the first witnesses to Jesus are lowly, anonymous night shift shepherds.

Justo L. González (b. 1937) interjects:

The story about the inn, the manger, and the shepherds has been told so often that it is difficult for us to see its full poignancy. This is not a mellow, bucolic story about some shepherds tending their sheep with little or no care beyond the possibility of a wandering wolf. This is not the setting in which Luke presents the story...The setting of the shepherds keeping their flocks at night is much less tranquil and romantic. They live out in the fields, suffer all kinds of deprivations and even dangers, in order to protect their flocks...It is in that scene, perhaps silent, but not as peaceful as we tend to depict it, that an angel suddenly appears before the shepherds. (González, Luke (Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible), 33-34)

Since the time of Constantine (272-337), Christmas has been celebrated in December, initially to coincide with a pagan feast called Saturnalia. Many attempts to pinpoint the precise date of Jesus’ birth have been made based upon the account of the shepherds’ visit.

Walter L. Liefeld (b. 1927) comments:

That the shepherds were out in the fields at night does not preclude a December date, as the winter in Judea was mild. But, of course, the text says nothing about the time of year. The traditional date for the nativity was set, long after the event, to coincide with a pagan festival, thus demonstrating that the “Sol Invictus,” the “Unconquerable Sun,” had indeed been conquered. December 25 was widely celebrated as the date of Jesus’ birth by the end of the fourth century. (Liefeld, Luke (The Expositor’s Bible Commentary), 51)

Despite much speculation, none of the theories offering a more precise birthdate are definitive.

Though not reflected in most translations (ASV, CEV, ESV, HCSB, KJV, NASB, NIV, NKJV, NLT, NRSV, RSV), the Greek text informs that the shepherds are literally “keeping watches” (MSG, YLT), meaning that they were taking shifts (Luke 2:8).

The text also suggests that the shepherds lived outside. Joseph A. Fitzmyer (b. 1920) explicates, “The participle agraulountes means that the shepherds made the open fields (agroi) their house (aulē). (Fitzmyer, The Gospel According to Luke I-IX: Introduction, Translation, and Notes (The Anchor Bible), 409).”

William Barclay (1907-1978) speculates:

These were in all likelihood very special shepherds...In the Temple, morning and evening, an unblemished lamb was offered as a sacrifice to God. To see that the supply of perfect offerings was always available the Temple authorities had their own private sheep flocks; and we know that these flocks were pastured near Bethlehem. It is most likely that these shepherds were in charge of the flocks from which the Temple offerings were chosen. It is a lovely thought that the shepherds who looked after the Temple lambs were the first to see the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. (Barclay, The Gospel of Luke (Daily Study Bible Series), 27-28)

Leon Morris (1914-2006) adds:

It is not unlikely that the shepherds were pasturing flocks destined for the temple sacrifices. Flocks were supposed to be kept only in the wilderness (Mishnah, Baba Kamma 7:7; Talmud, Baba Kamma 79b-80a), and a rabbinic rule provides that any animal found between Jerusalem and a spot near Bethlehem must be presumed to be a sacrificial victim (Mishnah, Shekalim 7:4). The same rule speaks of finding Passover offerings within thirty days of that feast, i.e. in February...As a class shepherds had a bad reputation. The nature of their calling kept them from observing the ceremonial law which meant so much to religious people. More regrettable was their unfortunate habit of confusing ‘mine’ with ‘thine’ as they moved about the country. They were considered unreliable and were not allowed to give testimony in the lawcourts (Talmud, Sanhedrin 25b). There is no reason for thinking that Luke’s shepherds were other than devout men, else why would God have given them such a privilege? But they did come from a despised class. (Morris, Luke (Tyndale New Testament Commentaries), 93)

As Morris discusses, shepherds were not looked kindly upon, especially in a later era. Their occupation required them to perform activities that would designate them as “unclean” and also kept them away from the temple to remedy the predicament.

William R. Herzog II (b. 1944) expounds:

Much has been made of the shepherds as members of a despised profession because they were considered unclean in the eyes of Pharisees and other Temple authorities and dishonest in the eyes of tribute collectors. The reason is that shepherds had movable assets, so when news spread that the tribute collector would be arriving in a village, the shepherds could drive some of their flock into the Judean wilderness where they might escape detection. Trees, vineyards, and crops cannot be moved and so will be taxed fully, but sheep and other livestock are a different story. This practice may explain the expression, “as dishonest as a Judean shepherd.” Of course, this would reflect the tribute collectors’ evaluation of shepherds, who would more likely be viewed as heroes in their villages. Shepherds were, no doubt, considered unclean by Temple authorities or political factions like the Pharisees, who emphasized a purity agenda, but this was true of all peasants alike, not just shepherds. (Herzog, Ann M. Svennungsen [b. 1955], Timothy Shapiro & Marilyn J. Salmon [b. 1948], New Proclamation Year C, 2006-2007: Advent Through Holy Week, 45)

If Luke views the shepherds as thieves, the gospel is incorporating poetic symmetry as Jesus would have spent both his birth and his death in the company of criminals (Luke 23:32-43).

Others respond that though shepherds might have had a bad reputation outside of the Bible, this is simply not the case within its pages. Shepherds often symbolize all who care for God’s people including God (Psalm 23:1; Isaiah 40:11; Jeremiah 23:1-4; Ezekiel 34:23; Hebrews 13:20; I Peter 2:25, 5:2). In many psalms attributed to David, the king relates God’s connection to humanity as that of a shepherd to sheep (Psalm 23:1, 28:9, 100:3). There are also many prominent examples of godly Old Testament shepherds, e.g. Abel (Genesis 4:2-4), Jacob (Genesis 31:3-13); Joseph (Genesis 37:2-9), Moses (Exodus 3:1-6), David (I Samuel 16:11-13), Amos (Amos 1:1, 7:14).

Whatever their reputation, of all of the people in the world, God chooses shepherds to be the first witnesses to Jesus’ birth. Luke actually stresses this facet.

Keith F. Nickle (b. 1933) clarifies:

Luke’s narrative emphasis falls not on the birth itself but rather on the angelic announcement of that birth to the shepherds and their response to it...In sharp contrast to the simplicity of the account Luke had given the birth itself, the shepherds experience an angel vision, an extraordinary message, the chorusing of the angelic legion! (Nickle, Preaching the Gospel of Luke: Proclaiming God's Royal Rule, 24)

Shepherds fulfilling the role of witness is in many ways apropos. Eduard Schweizer (1913-2006) critiques:

Shepherds play a role in Hellenistic birth narratives, but David was also a shepherd in the vicinity of Bethlehem (I Samuel 17:15, 16:4, 11; cf. Psalm 78:70-72). Later rabbis looked for the birth of the Messiah, the Shepherd of Israel, at the “tower of the flock” (Micah 4:8) near Bethlehem (Micah 5:1-2)...This notion may be in the background here rather than the later rabbinic attitude that looked down on shepherds. (Schweizer, The Good News According to Luke, 49)

Fred B. Craddock (b. 1928) adds:

They belong in the story not only because they serve to tie Jesus to the shepherd king, David (II Samuel 7:8), but also because they belong on Luke’s guest list for the kingdom of God: the poor, the maimed, the blind, the lame (Luke 14:13, 21). And so the shepherds go to the city of David. The shepherds and the scene are described with some of Luke’s favorite words, words he has used before: wondering, pondering in the heart, making known the revelation, praising and glorifying God. The stable is bare, but the glory of God floods the story. (Craddock, Luke (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching), 36)

Robert C. Tannehill (b. 1934) concurs:

The shepherds fit the setting of Jesus’ birth. They are ordinary folk who work with animals. Although some interpreters appeal to later rabbinic writings to argue that shepherds were viewed as sinners, it is doubtful that this view is assumed in this scene...Probably there is a connection between the shepherds and the repeated reference to Bethlehem as the “city of David” (Luke 2:4, 11). David was a shepherd before being anointed king (I Samuel 16:11), and later is told, “It is you who shall be shepherd of my people Israel” (II Samuel 5:2). Ezekiel speaks of a future David who will be shepherd over Israel (Ezekiel 34:23), and Micah, in speaking of the ruler who will come from Bethlehem, says that he will “feed his flock in the strength of the LORD” (Micah 5:4). The figure of the shepherd has the same ambiguous quality as a royal baby in a manger. A shepherd is an ordinary fellow who would not feel out of place in a stable. A shepherd is also a symbol of kingship. (Tannehill, Luke (Abingdon New Testament Commentaries), 65)

The fact that shepherds, ordinary people doing an ordinary job on a presumably ordinary day, are the first witnesses to Jesus’ birth is significant. Luke’s story stands in stark contrast to the visitors in Matthew’s account, the only other canonical telling of Jesus’ birth, which features the more prestigious magi or wisemen (Matthew 2:1-12).

Sharon H. Ringe (b. 1946) notices:

No scholars or court officials visit the baby in Luke’s version of the story. Instead of the magi bearing lavish gifts that Matthew describes (Matthew 2:1-11), in Luke only some shepherds come (Luke 2:8-20). Shepherds...were among the poor, and by the standards of the most religiously meticulous people, they were outcasts. They lived a hard life out in the fields, far removed from the comforts and leisure that would allow them to follow the rules for food preparation, purification, and other aspects of religious practice. They lived a life wrapped in danger as they tried to protect the animals from both human marauders and various wild beasts (see John 10:1-18 for sketch of the shepherd’s life). (Ringe, Luke (Westminster Bible Companion), 42)

The shepherds and the types of people they represent are important to Luke. Darrell L. Bock (b. 1953) interprets:

The testimony to Jesus’ birth from the angelic host to shepherds is significant in scope. Creation has no more mysterious and exalted beings than angels, who represent the testimony of the heavens to what is occurring. Moreover, there are no more “normal Joes” in ancient culture than shepherds. They represent the lowly and humble who respond to God’s message, for their vocation is seen positively in Scripture (Matthew 18:12; Mark 6:34; Luke 15:4; John 10:1-18; Ephesians 4:11; Hebrews 13:2; I Peter 2:25). Thus, heaven meets and greets the average person through the angelic announcement to these pastoral figures. Jesus’ birth is more than a family affair. The announcement of “good news of great joy that will be for all the people” (Luke 2:10) indicates that God desires to speak to every person about the coming of Jesus, since all humanity is impacted by his coming. (Bock, Luke (The NIV Application Commentary), 84)

The shepherds serving as witnesses corresponds to Luke’s central theme. Charles H. Talbert (b.1934) connects:

This good news...is for “all people” (Luke 2:10), outcast as well as in-group. In Luke’s time shepherds were often considered outside the law. Their testimony was considered invalid because of their reputation for dishonesty (b. Sanhedrin 25b). Yet it was to such as these the angel announced the good news of the Savior’s birth (Luke 2:8-11). This can only be regarded as a foreshadowing of the subsequent theme of God’s grace shown to sinners that runs throughout Luke. The messianic Lord is the friend of sinners (e.g., Luke 5:29-32, 7:36-50, 10:30-37, 15:1-2, 17:11-19, 19:1-10). It is to sinners Jesus promises good news (e.g., Luke 18:9-14, 15:11-32). The news that Jesus’ birth signals the benefit of peace is intended for all the people. This is cause for great joy. (Talbert, Reading Luke: A Literary and Theological Commentary on the Third Gospel, 35)

The shepherds are just the first of many marginalized people depicted in Luke-Acts where the gospel spreads from the bottom up. Ronald J. Allen (b. 1949) traces:

Luke uses the announcement to the shepherds to make an important point: the realm will renew the entire social world. By the end of the book of Acts, the good news that comes first to shepherds (at the bottom of the social pyramid) has made its way to high officials in the Roman Empire and even to Rome itself (Acts 21:17-28:31). All who repent..are welcome in the realm. (Allen, The Life of Jesus for Today, 32)

Bruce Larson (1925-2008) theorizes:

There is an old saying that “war is too important to be left to the generals.” I suggest peace is too important to be left to the diplomats. The professionals have messed it up again and again. In giving this message to the shepherds God bypassed the professional peacemakers. He gave the message and its interpretation to amateurs. We need amateur peacemakers. The great diplomats and ambassadors of two thousand years ago, the councils that met and the peace treaties that were signed are mostly forgotten. But the world still reverberates with the peacemaking message of a group of amateur preachers and peacemakers like the apostle Paul and Luke himself. (Larson, Luke (Mastering the New Testament), 51)

Often lost in the familiarity of the nativity is that the first witnesses to Jesus’ birth are humble shepherds. The shepherds’ presence accents the fact that the Savior of the world was born in a manger. The shocking thing about the shepherds’ presence, given this setting, is that it is not shocking at all.

Why are shepherds the first witnesses to the birth of the long awaited Savior, as opposed to priests and scribes who would presumably have had a higher appreciation for the event? When has God broken into the ordinary affairs of your life? Have you ever met God on the job? When have you been the first to hear good news? What newborn baby have you rushed to see? Do you know who was present the day that you were born?

The shepherds were placed in a situation that they could not possibly have been prepared for. David Lyle Jeffrey (b. 1941) construes:

That the doxa (“glory, beauty”) of the Lord should shine around humble shepherds on a Judean hillside is an event of enormous portent and hugely counterintuitive to normative religious thinking. The shepherds are understandably unprepared, as would anyone be in their place, for they can only relate what they see to the bright Shekinah glory of God’s holy presence in the tabernacle (Exodus 16:10; Psalm 63:2; Isaiah 40:5; Ezekiel 1:1-28). How should such a presence be borne by unhallowed men? (Jeffrey, Luke (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible), 40)

The response of the shepherds, however, demonstrates that they were the right people for the job. They immediately run to Jesus, a suitable reaction to most any situation.

Max Lucado (b. 1955) observes:

It wasn’t enough to see the angels. You’d think it would have been...But it wasn’t enough to see the angels. The shepherds wanted to see the one who sent the angels. Since they wouldn’t be satisfied until they saw him, you can trace the long line of Jesus-seekers to a person of the pasture who said, “Let’s go...Let’s see”. (Lucado, Just Like Jesus: Learning to Have a Heart Like His, 154-55)

Darrell L. Bock (b. 1953) lauds:

The shepherds have the type of response any of us should have as we contemplate these events. Their curiosity leads them to go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened. As they see God’s word honored in the presence of the sign, they come to testify to God’s work and tell the story of the child...The audience to the shepherds’ report were amazed. Their response exemplifies the awe that should fill anyone who hears Jesus’ story...In addition, there is the shepherds’ glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen. The birth is no mere arrival of new life, as poignant as each such event is. The story is not told so that hearers can identify with the new mother and father or enjoy a story of hope, of a touching birth in humble surroundings. The birth has value because of whose birth it is. The shepherds have found that the angel’s words were true, that events have transpired just as they had been told. God’s word is coming to pass; his plan is again strategically at work. They break out in praise to God because he has sent Jesus, the Savior, Lord and Christ. (Bock, Luke (IVP New Testament Commentary), 56-57)

How do you respond to Jesus’ birth? What does Christmas mean to you?

“Maybe Christmas”, he thought, “doesn’t come from a store.”
“Maybe Christmas... perhaps... means a little bit more!”
— Dr. Seuss (1904-1991), How the Grinch Stole Christmas (1957)

The Locust Army (Joel 1:1-2:17)

In what book are locusts likened to an invading army? Joel

Joel is classified as a minor prophet, the second of twelve such books canonized in the Bible. Locusts overrun Joel’s text as they do the landscape he describes, figuring prominently in two of the book’s three chapters (Joel 1:1-2:17). The prophet addresses Judah, a land ravaged by a locust invasion that has destroyed everything in its wake (Joel 1:4).

What the gnawing locust has left, the swarming locust has eaten;
And what the swarming locust has left, the creeping locust has eaten;
And what the creeping locust has left, the stripping locust has eaten. (Joel 1:4 NASB)

Joel likens the locusts to an invading army (Joel 2:4-11).

Locusts were no laughing matter and Joel’s allusion to the insects represents powerful language. James E. Smith (b. 1939) describes:

Newly hatched locusts resemble ants or tiny roaches. Fully developed, these “hoppers” as they are called form marching bands up to ten miles wide and ten miles long. These bands move forward at a slow pace of about 250 feet per hour. Within their path they consume virtually every blade of grass or legume. No obstacle can stop this irresistible insect army. (Smith, The Minor Prophets, 67)

John D.W. Watts (b. 1921) adds:

Joel skilfully blends the imagery of prophecy with the realistic experience of the locust plague. Travellers who have seen such confirm the accuracy of the account. Locust swarms darken the sky like an eclipse of the sun; at dusk the low rays of the sun catch their wings, reflecting an eerie light. (Watts, The Books of Joel, Obadiah, Jonah, Nahum, Habakkuk and Zephaniah (Cambridge Bible Commentary on the New English Bible)), 25)

Joel depicts an especially harsh invasion. David Allan Hubbard (1928-1996) examines:

The devastation does not stop with the laying waste...of grapes and leaves, but includes also the splintering...of the fig tree; the bark itself is peeled off and thrown down so that the denuded branches appear white. A California agricultural official reported that ‘what they...don’t eat they cut off for entertainment.; He also noted that in the wake of the insects, fields are left ‘bare as the floor’, apple trees are stripped of every leaf and rose bushes are consumed through the green bark. During the same attack, a farmer lamented that 100 acres of his bean field had been ‘completely cleared by the hoppers. Joel’s account is not hyperbolic but factual. (Hubbard, Joel and Amos (Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries), 45)

James Montgomery Boice (1938-2000) cites another historical example:

When the locust invasion of 1915 struck Palestine and Syria the desolation was as great as anyone could have possibly imagined. The first swarms appeared in March. The final stages did not depart until early summer. During that four-or-five-month period the land was stripped of every green thing: vines, fig trees, grain. Still, bad as the destruction was, the locusts did move on and in time the land recovered. (Boice, The Minor Prophets: An Exegetical Commentary, 106)

Though Joel was not the first to take literary license with the destructive creatures, he adds his own unique spin. John Barton (b. 1948) chronicles:

The imagery occurs elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible. In Judges 6:5 the Midianites and Amalekites used to come up against Israel “as thick as locusts” (cf. also Judges 7:12), while Jeremiah 51:14 threatens Babylon that YHWH will “fill you with troops like a swarm locusts. And James L. Crenshaw [b. 1934] cites a Sumerian text..Perhaps we should...see some originality in Joel’s reversal of the image, making locusts seem like an invading army. As so often in the prophets, a familiar trope is given new life, in this case by being reversed. I do not know of any other case inside or outside the Bible in which literal locusts become a metaphorical army. (Barton, Joel and Obadiah: A Commentary (Old Testament Library), 43-44)

There is great debate as to whether Joel is speaking literally or figuratively. Thomas J. Finley (b. 1945) explains:

Many commentators agree that Joel describes a literal locust plague in the first chapter, though there is much more dispute about the second chapter. The suggestion has also been made (Douglas Stuart [b. 1943]) that even in the first chapter the locusts stand for an invading army, either the Assyrians or the Babylonians. While there may be elements of hyperbole in Joel’s description of the locust plague, as when he asks rhetorically whether anything like this has happened before, the poetic language reflects a manner of expression common among the Hebrews (cf. II Kings 18:5, 23:25). Locust plagues were greatly feared, and this particular one could have been unusually severe. (Finley, Joel, Amos, Obadiah: An Exegetical Commentary, 26)

Most modern commentators agree that Judah has experienced the devastating effects of locusts. Leslie C. Allen (b. 1935) explicates:

Most scholars interpret the locusts in both chapters in strictly contemporary terms, and this is the most natural way of construing the material. Joel 1:2-4 speaks of the locusts as a present threat to Joel’s generation and the occasion of his summons to lamentation. Joel 1:16 confirms this impression of direct involvement with the ravages of real locusts. The past verbs of Joel 2:18, 19 categorize Yahweh’s response to the locust crisis and the people’s penitential cries as having already occurred. It is significant that the locusts behave in a literal manner: they ravage fields, trees, and fruit, but do not kill or plunder, or take prisoners of war. They are indeed described metaphorically as an attacking army and are compared with soldiers, but to conceive of figurative locusts who are like the soldiers they are supposed to represent is a tortuous and improbable interpretation. Moreover, the restoration promised by Yahweh in Joel 2:18-27 concerns the material damage associated with locust attacks. In Amos 7:1-3, a locust plague is certainly a symbol of coming destruction, and Revelation 9:3, 7-9 actually applies Joel’s language to an apocalyptic event, but these passages provide no warrant for detaching the theme of Joel from its historical and literary contexts. (Allen, The Books of Joel, Obadiah, Jonah, and Micah (New International Commentary on the Old Testament), 29-30)

David Prior (b. 1940) rationalizes:

Such a detailed description is more likely the result of actually seeing locusts at work in such profusion. All the descriptions we have of this phenomenon substantiate the accuracy of Joel’s language. The prophet does not exaggerate the situation one bit. Probably only those who have not experienced locusts on the march cannot conceive such an appalling scenario. (Prior, The Message of Joel, Micah & Habakkuk (Bible Speaks Today), 23-24)

Whether describing a swarm of locusts or an invading army, Joel’s point is clear: The catastrophe is only a sign of things to come. The people are dealing with an earthly phenomenon but soon they will contend with the day of the Lord.

David W. Baker (b. 1950) envisions:

Joel likens God’s judgment to an army of locusts that descends on us all. Like a winged AIDS infestation they destroy everything in their path. It is clear that for Joel, the locust invasion is a metaphor for what will happen on the Day of the Lord, when all righteousness accounts will be settled. To describe this judgment we are driven to metaphors of nature, the economy, or foreign armies, but Joel’s point is that the scope of God’s judgment exceeds them all. (Baker, Joel, Obadiah, Malachi (The NIV Application Commentary), 13)

Lloyd J. Ogilvie (b. 1930) substantiates:

The coming day of the Lord described in chapter 2 results in a cosmic upheaval described in Joel 2:10. This is more than the effect of locusts or even a powerful human army. The language here is reminiscent especially of various theophany texts (Judges 5:4-5; Psalms 18:7-15, 68:8, 97:2-5) and also of other day of the Lord passages (Isaiah 13:10, 13). (Ogilvie, Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah (Mastering the Old Testament), 224)

In making this leap, Joel draws from tradition. Robert B. Chisholm, Jr. (b. 1951) delineates:

That the prophet would draw the connection between the locust plague and a greater judgment to follow should come as no surprise. When the Lord judged the Egyptians prior to the Exodus, a locust plague preceded the final plagues of darkness and death (Exodus 10:1-11:10, 12:29-30). The curse list in Deuteronomy 28 associates locust plagues with death and exile (cf. Deuteronomy 28:38, 42). (Chisholm, Interpreting the Minor Prophets, 56)

The desired response to all of this destruction and the looming Day of the Lord is repentance (Joel 2:12).

Do you think that Joel intended to depict a literal swarm of locusts or an invading army or both? How does making this choice influence your reading of the prophet? Why does Joel incorporate military imagery? What do you need to repent of?

As horrific as Joel’s imagery is, the locusts do not get the last word (Joel 2:25). Trent C. Butler (b. 1941) relays:

Joel ends his book on an unexpected note. No more locust plagues. No more army invasions. No more natural disasters. No more punishment. The Day of the Lord will bring salvation to God’s people—a salvation marked by his eternal presence with them. One thing made that possible. God pardoned, forgave, and annulled all the punishment they deserved. (Butler, Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah (Holman Old Testament Commentary), 155-56)

Judah’s survival from the locusts provides hope for future endurance. Bruce C. Birch (b. 1941) connects:

This experience of salvation in a present crisis leads to the prophet’s vision of God’s future salvation, when the day of the Lord does come (Joel 2:31, 3:14). The prophet dares hope that this will not be a date of judgment for Judah. With relationship restored between God and God’s people that future day will be a day of salvation in all its fulness. Such a day of salvation includes, in Joel’s vision, a pouring out of God’s spirit on all people in a way that overcomes differences of gender and age and social status; men and women, young and old, slave and free alike shall be linked to God by the mutual empowerment of God’s spirit (Joel 2:25-29). This is the text and the vision that formed the basis of Peter’s sermon following the Pentecost experience [Acts 2:16-21]. (Birch, Hosea, Joel, and Amos (Westminster Bible Companion), 129)

Even the worst calamity Joel can imagine is nothing in comparison to the redemptive power of God.

When has your past endurance given you hope in the present? Is there any situation so dark that God cannot brighten it?

“We must not offer people a system of redemption, a set of insights and principles. We offer people a Redeemer.” - Paul David Tripp (b. 1950), Instruments in the Redeemer’s Hands: People in Need of Change Helping People in Need of Change, p. 8