The Christmas story in Luke tells the events of two miraculous births. The pregnancy of Elizabeth, John the Baptist’s mother, receives quite a bit of attention. Certain details surrounding Elizabeth caught my attention several years ago, and every Christmas season brings them back to my memory. Luke 1:6 declares that both Elizabeth and Zechariah were blameless in God’s sight. On only a few occasions does the Bible state so clearly the righteousness of someone. Then, a few sentences later, verse 25 gives the insight that Elizabeth had felt shame because she had given birth to no children. God saw her as blameless, but she felt shame. Apparently, somebody, or several somebodies, had repeatedly impressed upon her the idea that she was shameful because she had no children – because she didn’t match a predetermined standard. Being barren wasn’t her fault, or course. But physical ailments were often seen in that culture as judgement for sin. However, she knew her own heart. Incidentally, God knew heart also, and affirmed her as righteous. Nevertheless, this social negativity probably dragged on for years and caused Elizabeth to feel shame.
This reminds me of Abraham. God tells Abraham: “I am your shield, your very great reward” (Genesis 15:1, NIV 2011). Abraham’s response is brazen: “What can you give me since I remain childless?” The God of the universe is, essentially, Abraham’s personal friend. Yet, something about fitting into the earthly cookie cutter of success causes him to devalue his relationship with God. The desire for children and a biological heir had become an idol for Abraham.
I once bought someone a present. My memory is fuzzy, but it may have been for Christmas. Anyway, I saw this item on the shelf and thought for sure that they would love it. I wrapped it, and smiled broadly, and handed it over. And… failure. My friend felt bold enough to declare that he didn’t like it. So, perhaps I understand what God felt; I don’t know.
In the biblical account, God is patient and ignores Abraham’s complaint. In this case and in Elizabeth’s, God’s plan happened to include what they both wanted. And what they wanted certainly wasn’t bad, but their desire seems to have overshadowed God. What if God’s plan hadn’t included children? How many countless god-fearing women have remained childless? Would God’s opinion of Elizabeth have changed if she had remained barren? Well, we know what God thought about Elizabeth because he determined that it should be written down. The shame was external, being breathed out by other humans, but Elizabeth had internalized it.
Today, Jesus is God’s gift to us. He offers this gift freely and with good cheer. I use singular personal pronouns in this paragraph, but feel free to insert yourself. I wonder how often I drink down the shame that others place before me and then echo Abraham’s grumbling: “What can you give me since I (fill in the blank)?” Such an attitude is a slap in the face to divine Jesus who came as a helpless human and died for helpless humans. Jesus was born in a manger, died on the cross, and rose again; and that should be enough for me. I further wonder if I am ever the server of cups of shame. I pray that I would see others as God saw Elizabeth. Those who recognized the baby Jesus for who he was were required to gaze past much worldly clutter: a pregnant young woman, political destitution, civil unrest, poverty, etc. I like to think that Elizabeth interacted with Mary and instinctively knew that both John and Jesus would bring something into the world that would be significantly more important than her own social acceptance. God’s plans are not man’s. Jesus takes away our shame, both the shame we may have earned and the shame we don’t deserve.
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