Jesus

Once again: Jesus was not born in a stable!

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Every year, in the northern hemisphere, and especially in Northern Europe, we are apparently caught by surprise as the evenings draw in, and the morning light comes later. It always seems surprising, even though it is the same every year.

And every year, I brace myself for the repetition of the ill-founded claim that Jesus was born in a stable, alone and isolated, with his family ostracised by the community—despite the complete lack of evidence for this reconstruction. It will be repeated in pulpits, real and virtual, up and down the land, so I do not apologise for reposting once more this annual feature.

There have been signs that the message is getting through, after my posting on this since 2013, and people are reframing these tired tropes to focus on what the New Testament actually says; if you have any evidence one way or another, then let me know in the comments. I think it is still worth repeating—and it makes a difference. If you want an example of how to preach about Christmas without mentioning the manger, have a look here.

Picture Jesus’ nativity. Bethlehem town sits still beneath the moonlight, totally unaware that the son of God has been born in one of its poor and lowly outbuildings. In an anonymous backstreet, tucked away out of sight, we find a draughty stable. Inside, warm with the heat of the animals, a family sits quietly. Lit by a warm glow, a donkey, cow and an ox lie serene at the side of the scene. The cow breathes out a gentle moo and the baby in the straw filled manger stirs. Kneeling close by Mary, Joseph and a small lamb sit in silent adoration of the child. All is calm, all is not quite right.

Can we find the gospel in our culture?

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How can we make connections between what we see in our world around us, and the good news of what God has done for us in Jesus? How can we build bridges of understanding from the things that engage the time and attention of those around us, within but especially outside the church, and into the good news which an increasing number in Britain today have no understanding, no folk memory from school days?

I was recently passed this example, written for a local magazine, which takes the popularity of The Traitors television series, and draws out a key idea that connects with the gospel.

Faithful in a World of Traitors

If you’ve watched The Traitors, you’ll know the tension that runs through every episode. Contestants live together, talk together, share meals and laughter—yet all the while, a few of them are secretly plotting the others’ downfall. The rest are left to guess who’s genuine and who’s faking it.

It’s clever television because it taps into something deeply human: our fascination—and our fear—of betrayal. We want to trust people, but we also know that trust can be broken. And when it is, the damage can cut deep.

The Game and the Heart

In The Traitors, suspicion becomes a survival skill. Every conversation is loaded, every smile analysed. Even acts of kindness can be doubted. It’s a world built on paranoia, where self-preservation trumps relationship.

It makes for great drama—but it’s a miserable way to live.

What do we learn from the ‘Little Apocalypse’ in Luke 21?

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The Sunday gospel lectionary reading for the Second Sunday before Advent in Year C) is Luke 21.5–19, this gospel’s version of what is often called the ‘Little Apocalypse’. As usual, we need to read on to put this text in its context to understand both the text itself and how it compares with its parallels in Mark and Matthew.

(Note that there is no video discussion this week of the epistle; normal service will be resumed very soon. At the end of this article is a link to the video discussion of Luke 21.)

The opening of the discourse, which stimulates the whole narrative, is the observation of the wonders of the temple, and Jesus’ response that ‘every stone will be thrown down’. In Mark and Matthew, the question comes from the disciples, and the following discourse takes place between Jesus and the disciples on the Mount of Olives (so that this passage is often called the ‘Olivet Discourse’). But, as we have seen happen in Jesus’ travelling ‘on the road’ from Luke 9.51, Luke does not identify precisely Jesus’ audience, and does not distinguish between the crowds and the disciples. So it is ‘some’ who speak of the temple (verse 5), and the follow-up question is address to Jesus as ‘Teacher’ (verse 7), the characteristic form of address by those who are not disciples (the disciples call him ‘Lord’). Luke omits any reference to Jesus and the disciples sitting on the Mount of Olives, and the comment in Mark 13.3 and Matthew 24.3 that they discuss this ‘privately’.

Zacchaeus meets Jesus in Luke 19

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The lectionary reading for the Fourth Sunday before Advent in Year C is the story of Zacchaeus’ encounter with Jesus in Luke 19.1–10, a story found only in this gospel. Video discussion of the passage can be found here, and is posted at the end. The epistle for this week is the challenging passage of … Continue Reading

Why don’t we know what Jesus looked like?

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John Nelson combines teaching in a secondary school with serious academic research on the New Testament. At the British New Testament Conference earlier this month, he gave a fascinating paper about his research on why the gospels don’t describe the appearance of Jesus, and I asked him about it. IP: Most people—both Christians and interested … Continue Reading