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Prologue (1:1–4)

Prologues appear in a wide range of ancient Greco-Roman writings, from histories and biographies to rhetorical and scientific treatises. Generally they identify the author and the person to whom the work is dedicated, vouch for the importance of the subject matter, evaluate prior work of a similar nature that might warrant comparison or critique, and comment on the methodology that support the research and composition.16

The first four verses of Luke’s Gospel contain the classic components of a prologue. These verses comprise a single, elegant Greek sentence, its vocabulary and structure indicating a highly educated author. Luke is quick to admit that his project is not an original idea (1:1a). Yet even as he aligns himself with his predecessors he also distinguishes his work from theirs. It is not as though he found terrible fault with others’ narratives about Jesus. Rather, he gleans from available written sources, adds other traditions to which he has access, and creates an integrated piece to deepen his audience’s understanding of Jesus’ story.

Without mentioning Jesus by name just yet, Luke highlights the significance of his subject matter as pertaining to “events that have been fulfilled (peplērophorēmenōn) among us” (1:1b). The passive voice and perfect tense of the participle peplērophorēmenōn indicate that these events constitute a culmination of a plan or a promise that has its beginning far back in time. The passive here signifies a divine passive; God is bringing to fruition the plan that he has promised and put in motion. The perfect tense denotes a past event with ongoing present effects. The historical events that Luke is about to narrate belong to a larger framework, as their effects continue beyond the narrative time to the present.

Luke is not an eyewitness, but having obtained his materials from eyewitnesses, he meets the standard of credibility expected of an ancient historian.17 His sources were there from the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, and, after Jesus’ departure have since become “servants of the word” (1:2). “The word” refers to the message of salvation embodied in the life and mission of Jesus (Acts 4:4; 8:4). At the time of writing, some eyewitnesses might still be alive to recall and verify the sayings and deeds of Jesus. But even if some traditions came to him as second- or third-hand transmission, they could still be traced back to original eyewitnesses and thus deemed trustworthy.

Since the Jesus traditions were highly valued and used in teaching in the early church, maintaining accuracy in transmission was a high priority. A conscientious historian, Luke verifies his sources by “investigating everything carefully from the very first” (1:3a). Although the adverb anōthen can mean “for a long time” or “from the very first,” the latter translation is preferred. “From the very first” echoes verse 2 where it describes the eyewitnesses as “from the beginning.”

All this preparatory work culminates in an “orderly (kathexēs) account” for Theophilus to “know the certainty18 concerning the things about which [he has] been instructed” (1:4). Normally, kathexēs (“orderly”) implies a sequential arrangement, putting one thing after the other, as linearity is necessitated by a narrative genre. Having received some traditions in snippets and others in a more organized form, Luke would not have all the temporal information to lay out in exact chronological order when Jesus said and did all these things. His notion of an orderly account must be interpreted realistically as an order that makes the best sense in view of his ultimate goal. Luke’s aim is to assure his readers that what they have been taught is eminently trustworthy. Surely Luke’s checking for the veracity of these historical events is an essential part of the work of a careful historian, but as a writer he also has the prerogative to tell stories in a way that serves his theological agenda. Luke wants his readers to subscribe to his interpretation of Jesus’ significance in light of God’s overarching plan of salvation. The orderliness of the narrative serves his persuasive intention.

Theophilus, which means “friend of God,” was a common name among both Jews and Greeks, attested in writings as far back as the third century BCE. While Theophilus may function as a stand-in for any God-loving reader, symbolic dedication was uncommon in ancient prologues. Theophilus was likely a person of standing, worthy to be addressed as “your Excellency” (1:3b), an honorific title befitting of a Roman official (Acts 24:3; 26:25). The assumption that he funded the writing of the Gospel is speculative. A literary patron could facilitate the dissemination of the book through influence and access to educated friends without supporting the author financially.19 With Luke’s level of education, the author might have been a man of means himself. The identity of Theophilus remains a mystery beyond the fact that he was a first century Christian of recognizable stature in the community. We can safely assume that he was not the sole reader, but others in his circle of believers would also have benefited from the public reading of this Gospel.

Annunciation of John’s Birth (1:5–25)

Without warning, the style, tone, and vocabulary of the polished, literary, and secular-sounding prologue give way to an account that sounds as though it were taken straight out of the OT with its Semitic and pietistic flavor. Bringing the readers to the world of first century Palestine, Luke reaches back to the promises of God in the OT and points forward to the next phase of God’s salvific plan for Israel and the nations.

Luke begins with an important time stamp: “In the days of King Herod of Judea” (1:5),20 which hints at the religious, social, and political tensions in the Jewish world at the time of John’s and Jesus’ birth.21 Herod the Great was ruler over Judea, Samaria, Galilee, parts of Idumea, and parts of Perea from 37 to 4 BCE. Of Idumean origin, he came into power by election of the Roman Senate. A pro-Roman vassal king, he was known for his paranoia and cruelty, killing off rivals, and executing even his wife Mariamne. He also embarked in massive building projects, establishing towns and monuments. His most impressive achievement was the restoration of the temple in Jerusalem, which gave him control over the priestly families and strengthened his clout with Rome.22 Under Roman rule, the yearning for God’s salvation and the anticipation of the promised Messiah continued to percolate in the Jewish consciousness when the curtains of the Lukan narrative were drawn.

The opening scene features Zechariah and Elizabeth, a couple struggling with a tension of their own. Zechariah is a priest of pure Aaronic pedigree. His ancestors, from the family of Abijah, constitute the eighth of twenty-four divisions of priests named after Aaron’s descendants. These divisions were reconstituted upon the Jews’ return from exile in Babylon.23 Zechariah’s wife, Elizabeth, is also notably a daughter of Aaron. Priests may marry any Israelite virgin, but to take a wife within the priestly family is preferable to maintain the purity of the blood line (Lev 21:14). This couple represents the purest of priestly stock, which underscores the high standard of piety maintained on both sides of the family for many generations.

Zechariah and Elizabeth live up to their pedigree. “Both of them were righteous (dikaioi) before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord” (1:6a). Luke applies the descriptor “righteous” (dikaios) to the likes of Simeon, Jesus, and Cornelius (2:25; 23:47; Acts 10:22). In the OT, righteousness (dikaiosyne) means more than moral uprightness; it connotes a right relationship with God.24 Zechariah and Elizabeth are exemplary in their obedience. Their consistent fidelity to God is a way of life.

All should be well for these good priestly folks, but it is not. Elizabeth has been unable to have children, and both are now old and beyond childbearing age (1:7, 18). In today’s world, we tend not to attribute infertility to moral failure or divine retribution. Empathy, rather than ostracism, is the typical response. In the biblical world, however, barrenness was viewed as a curse from God.25 After all, God gave creation the mandate to be fruitful and multiply (Gen 1:28; 8:17). If having children was considered a sign of blessing, then the natural explanation for God to close the womb would be a well-deserved punishment. Imagine the gossips and side glances between neighbors, the pretense of cordial interaction, and the ostracism so poorly disguised. Imagine the shame that Zechariah and Elizabeth have to endure decade after decade. Without children there will be no one to support them in their old age or bury them at death. Yet the two continue to carry themselves before God in dignity and faithful service. Unless God intervenes, theirs is a socially lonely and economically precarious existence.

For readers familiar with the OT, Zechariah and Elizabeth are in good company. Rachel, Hannah, and Manoah’s wife were all once barren, but God opened their wombs and they gave birth to Joseph, Samuel, and Samson.26 A wisp of hope hovers in the background. As we read on, it is the story of Abraham and Sarah—another righteous and barren couple whose advanced age makes conception a biological impossibility—that emerges as the type after which Luke patterns the announcement of John’s birth. In Genesis, the birth of Isaac involved an angelic visitation (Gen 17:1), a promise of a son named by God (Gen 17:16, 19), a response of incredulity from the barren couple (Gen 15:8; 17:17; 18:11–13), a confirmation of the conception (Gen 21:2), and a vindication from shame (Gen 21:5). Similar elements are found in John’s birth narrative.

The stage is set for a theophany. According to Jewish customs, daily sacrifices at the Jerusalem temple were made in the morning and in the evening, accompanied by the offering of incense in the sanctuary. Temple duties were distributed among the twenty-four orders on a rotational basis, a week at a time, twice a year for each order. Given the large number of priests, the responsibility of offering incense at the altar was assigned by lot. For Zechariah, it is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to have the lot fall on him. By God’s choosing, what is in store for Zechariah and Israel will far exceed the honor of the ritualistic task.

During the evening service, while the worshipers are praying outside, Zechariah goes alone into the sanctuary, puts the incense on the altar, and prostrates himself in prayer.27 Given that the altar is situated immediately in front of the curtain behind which is the holy of holies, Zechariah is standing at the most sacred location inside the temple that a priest of his rank will ever find himself (Exod 30:1–6). This is holy and dangerous ground.

A visit from an angel is terrifying. Zechariah is in the midst of performing a very sacred task in the second most holy part of the temple, so any misstep may result in God sending an angel to destroy him. The angel, though, appears on the right side of the altar, which is both the authoritative and the favorable side.28 Still, Luke thrice emphasizes Zechariah’s fear: “he was terrified; and fear overwhelmed him” (1:12). Without introducing himself, the angel opens with an assurance that he comes not with judgment but with favor: “Do not be afraid” (1:13a).29

At first glance, the angel’s message seems to affect only Zechariah’s and Elizabeth’s private lives. He declares that Zechariah’s prayer has been heard and that Elizabeth will bear him a son to whom the name John, which means “God has been gracious,” will be given (1:13b). Yet John’s life will have an effect stretching far beyond his immediate family to the people of God. The joy he brings will be of national proportion, for beginning with his mission God will set in motion God’s salvation promised through the prophets of old (1:14–17). John’s greatness will reside in his divine commission and the high esteem in which he will be held (7:24–28).

Specific instructions are given as to how John will conduct himself and what his life’s work will entail. First, set apart to be God’s servant, John will be filled with the Holy Spirit even in his mother’s womb and must never drink wine or any alcoholic beverage (1:15). According to the OT, priests also did not drink alcohol when serving at the temple (Lev 10:9). It is not necessary to label John as a Nazirite (Num 6:1–8), but asceticism is indicative of a life dedicated to God’s service (Mark 1:6).

Second, John will be endowed with the spirit and power of Elijah (1:16–17). This promise recalls the words of Malachi: at the end of the age God will send a messenger to prepare the way before his coming (Mal 3:1). Malachi subsequently identifies this messenger as Elijah, who will “turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents, so that [God] will not come and strike the land with a curse” (Mal 4:5–6; cf. Sir 48:10). Although the wording in Luke 1:16–17 is not identical to that in Malachi, common to both are the themes of repentance and familial reconciliation, so that Israel will be prepared for the return of YHWH. John is to assume the role of this eschatological Elijah, calling Israel to repentance in advance of the arrival of the Lord, who, as we shall see, will come in the person of Jesus the Messiah.30

Is the angel referring to Zechariah’s personal prayer for a child or the prayer he prays on behalf of Israel as their priest? If the former, given the couple’s old age and the hopelessness of their conceiving a child, the prayer that God has heard may have been a distant memory by now. If the latter, what Zechariah prays for inside the sanctuary concurs with those of the people outside, petitioning God to bring about the restoration of Israel (cf. 2:25, 37–38).

Zechariah’s response fixes on the first part of the message, rather than on John’s role in God’s plan. His question, “How will I know that this is so?” (1:18), asks for a sign to assure him that the angel is telling the truth. Had he and Elizabeth still been praying for a son far into their advanced years, one would expect Zechariah to burst out in excitement: “This is unbelievable! Thank you, Lord, for answering our prayer for a son, the prayer that we pray every day, all the time!” Instead, Zechariah is doubtful that a prayer uttered long ago is still in effect. Unbelief sets in. It is not the first time that God opened the womb of a barren woman, so why should he doubt? His lapse of judgment earns him a divine reprimand.

The angel identifies himself and asserts his authority (1:19). In Jewish literature, Gabriel (“man of God”) is highly regarded as God’s personal servant and emissary.31 Zechariah’s unbelief is no small offense. He will indeed receive a sign, says the angel, and a punishment to boot (1:20). Zechariah is immediately struck mute until after the birth of the child. Since he is unable to speak, the good news that will bring joy to all Israel will remain an untold secret until the appropriate time of disclosure.

With Zechariah’s delay inside the sanctuary, the people outside wonder if something has gone awry. When he finally emerges they conclude from his gestures that he must have seen some vision rendering him unable to speak (1:21–22). If Zechariah cannot even pronounce the benediction at the end of the Tamid service (Num 6:24–26), he may as well return home and wait out the months of silence until the birth of his son (1:23).

This section closes with the confirmation that Elizabeth becomes pregnant soon after (1:24). Her words express gratitude to God for showering favor upon her and vindicating her from the shame she has experienced (1:25). In spite of Zechariah’s moment of distrust, Elizabeth joins him in preserving this secret until the baby’s development becomes apparent to all. The five months of solitude may also explain Mary’s ignorance of Elizabeth’s change of circumstances until Elizabeth is in her sixth month (1:36).

Two final notes are worth mentioning. First, the strong allusion to the story of Abraham and Sarah reminds the reader of God’s overarching plan of salvation. God declared that the nations would be blessed through Abraham’s offspring (Gen 12:1–2). The miraculous birth of Isaac was a gift after all human means had been exhausted. The same God who did the impossible for Abraham and Sarah is now doing the impossible for Zechariah and Elizabeth as part of the blessing for Israel and the nations. Second, as God responds to the yearning of Israel for deliverance, he weaves into that grand solution an answer to the personal need of righteous Zechariah and Elizabeth. The God of the big picture does not miss the fine details. In this regard, Zechariah’s name fittingly describes his conviction and his experience, that indeed “YHWH remembers.”

Annunciation of Jesus’ Birth (1:26–38)

Six months have gone by since Gabriel’s appearance to Zechariah. Elizabeth has reemerged from seclusion as her pregnancy is now visible to all. The scene changes dramatically, moving from the holy place of Jerusalem to the humble family home of a young woman in the nondescript village of Nazareth.32 The sharp contrasts in status—from the holiness of the temple to the simplicity of a village abode, and from a respected male priest to a lowly female teenager—continue the theme of reversal that permeates the entire narrative. The reversal of Elizabeth’s predicament from shameful barrenness to blessed conception is but the foretaste of a much more significant reversal in this pericope as Gabriel reveals to Mary her role as the mother of Israel’s Messiah.

Unlike the detailed description of Zechariah’s and Elizabeth’s pedigree, Mary’s family of origin is not even mentioned. Instead, repeatedly noted are that Mary is a virgin (1:27 [2x], 34), and Joseph, to whom she is betrothed, is of Davidic descent (1:27; 2:4). According to ancient Jewish marriage custom, a marital arrangement could be made for a young Jewish woman at the age of twelve or thirteen. After the bride price had exchanged hands, the woman became the wife of her husband, even though the couple would not yet be living together. The betrothed remained in her father’s house for another year until she moved to her husband’s house.33 When Mary appears on the narrative stage, she is already legally bound to Joseph, even though she is still a virgin living in her childhood home. Although they have not consummated their marriage, her being the wife of a Davidide will legitimize Jesus as a descendant of that royal line. When Jesus is born, Joseph will become his adoptive father, as he carries no biological role in Jesus’ conception (3:23; 4:22).

Gabriel’s opening greeting is simultaneously affirming and shocking: “Rejoice (Chaire), highly favored one (kecharitōmenē)! The Lord is with you!” (1:28). Although Chaire is normally rendered as “Greetings!” (NRSV, NIV, ESV), hearing the words Chaire and kecharitōmenē in quick succession makes translating Chaire as “Rejoice!” a rhetorically attractive option. Being favored by God is surely a cause for rejoicing. In fact, the birth narratives of Luke are shot through with the theme of joy (1:14, 44, 47, 58; 2:10). Even before Mary knows of her assignment, she is assured of God’s abiding presence. By her own admission, her lowly status makes it inconceivable that she should be the recipient of God’s favor (1:48): “Who, me? Are you sure?” In reply, the angel points to her blessed state again: “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor (charin) with God” (1:30).

Gabriel first explains the “what” of Mary’s favored status (1:31–33), followed by the “how” of its accomplishment (1:35–37). Mary is going to be the mother of the Davidic Messiah. The staccato in the string of future tenses—“You will conceive . . . you will name . . . he will be great . . . he will be called . . . the Lord God will give to him . . . he will reign . . . his kingdom will be”—injects a sense of certainty characteristic of a divine mandate. God’s plan will come to pass, and Mary is called upon to bring the Davidic Messiah into the world. Verses 31 to 33 are pregnant with explicit messianic allusions taken from the OT. The name Jesus (Iesous), meaning “God saves,” is the Greek form of the Aramaic name Yeshu’a, a variant of Yehoshu’a (Joshua). While John will be “great before the Lord” (1:15), Jesus will be great—without qualification (Deut 10:17). The titles, “Son of the Most High” and “Son of God,” are identical in meaning and force (1:32, 35).

Although in many ancient cultures the ruler was thought to be the son of a deity, in Luke, the concept of divine sonship is derived from the OT. The people of Israel had always understood themselves to be God’s children by divine election. They prayed to God as “Our Father” and cherished their unique relationship with YHWH that set them apart from the nations.34 In particular, Israel’s king was vested with the honorific role as God’s son. He represented the people of Israel before God and ruled over them on God’s behalf. In the book of 2 Samuel, God did not allow David to build a temple for him, but instead gave him an even better promise. Not only would David’s son build a house for God, but God would establish the throne of David’s kingdom forever: “I will be a father to him, and he shall be a son to me” (2 Sam 7:14). The psalm sung at coronation ceremonies of a king’s accession likewise reflected the same understanding of the privileged status of Israel’s king: “[The lord] said to me, ‘You are my son, today I have begotten you. Ask of me, and I will make the nations your heritage, and the ends of the earth your possession’” (Ps 2:7–8; cf. Ps 89:26–29). God’s promise to David became the basis of the dominant strand in Jewish messianic expectations that the Messiah would be a king descended from David.35

Given this background, the implication of Gabriel’s words to Mary is obvious. Betrothed to Joseph the Davidide, Mary will carry in her womb the Davidic Messiah. Mary has not misheard the angel’s message, but her concern is logical and practical: “How can this be, since I am a virgin?”(1:34). Mary expects this conception to occur at once or at least in the near future, not when she finally has sexual relations with her husband.36 Her question is different from that of Zechariah (1:18). Zechariah wanted proof that his old and barren wife would really bear a son. To Mary, if Joseph has no part in her impregnation, what other option can there be? Puzzlement, not doubt, lies behind her response (cf. 1:45).

Mary’s pregnancy will happen through the power of the Most High (1:35a). The verbs, “will come upon you” (epeleusetai) and “will overshadow you” (episkiasei), are mutually interpretive. Neither carries a sexual connotation. In the wilderness, God’s presence overshadowed the tabernacle (Exod 40:35). In this mysterious yet divinely empowered conception, the Holy Spirit will create the baby in Mary’s womb. The exact mechanism is not revealed, but the creative role of the Spirit in human life is foundational to Jewish thought (Job 33:4; Ps 104:30; Eccl 11:5). As divine Son of God, Jesus is holy because he is born of the Holy Spirit (1:35b). At the same time, Jesus the human Messiah is holy in that he is set apart for a life dedicated to God’s service.

In contrast to Zechariah asking for a sign (1:20), Gabriel offers Mary a sign without being asked. Elizabeth’s miraculous pregnancy, now progressing well and visible to all, signifies that God’s power defies human limitation (1:36–37). The repeated mention of “the sixth month” ties the story of Mary’s conception to that of Elizabeth (1:26, 36). The two mothers are kinswomen of each other. This fact, not disclosed until now, makes the double miracle all the more notable. Translated in the NRSV as “nothing will be impossible with God,” the Greek actually reads “the word (rhēma) of God will not be disabled” (1:37). This is reminiscent of God’s response to a laughing Sarah upon hearing that she would bear a child, “Is anything too wonderful for the lord?” (Gen 18:14). If God’s word came to fruition in Sarah and Elizabeth, so it will in Mary. The pericope closes with a calm, submissive consent of Mary to the will of God, “Here I am, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word (rhēma)” (1:38). With that note of deference on Mary’s part, the angel departs.

There are many literary features tying the two annunciations together. The parallelism in form, down to specific wording, is remarkable. The same angel appears to both Zechariah and Mary (1:19, 26). Gabriel tells both of them not to be afraid (1:13, 30). Both respond to the message with a question (1:18, 34), and both are given a sign to prove the veracity of the angel’s word (1:20, 36). Both births are miraculous, and both infants have clearly delineated roles in God’s purposes. At every turn, the parallelism also shows a step up from John to Jesus. As miraculous as it is for God to open the womb of Elizabeth for John’s conception, the way in which Mary becomes pregnant has no human precedent. The kingly status of Jesus also surpasses that of John, who even with the spirit and power of Elijah is at best the forerunner of the Messiah. Jesus is point-by-point superior to John even as both participate in the same saving mission of the one sovereign God.

Song of Mary (1:39–56)

Having received a sign from Gabriel, Mary embarks on a journey from Nazareth of Galilee to the hill country of Judah, near Jerusalem, to pay Elizabeth a visit (1:39–40). The Greek words meta spoudēs can be translated as “hastily” or “eagerly.” Either would fit Mary’s disposition, given the situation. One might wonder how a young teenager could make that journey of seventy to eighty miles, over a course of three to four days, safely or readily, as ancient travel could be slow and dangerous. Perhaps she joins a caravan or she has a chaperone. The author does not elaborate, except that the next scene places her in the home of Elizabeth. At the least, this visit reflects Mary’s faith in Gabriel’s words, for she would not have been privy to Elizabeth’s pregnancy since her relative has sequestered herself from public view (1:24).

Upon Mary’s arrival, both Elizabeth and her unborn child respond with divinely inspired expressions of joy. Elizabeth is filled with the Holy Spirit, and Gabriel has already pronounced the same concerning her child “even before his birth” (1:15). The repetitions between verses 39 and 45 underscore the intensity of the emotions: Mary’s greeting (1:41, 44), the leaping of the child in Elizabeth’s womb (1:41, 44), and the blessing of Mary are all mentioned twice (1:42, 45).37 The sense of joy, implicit in Elizabeth’s loud cry and John’s leaping, is carried from the anticipation of John’s birth to that of Jesus (1:14, 44). More rejoicing will take place when each baby arrives (1:58; 2:10).

Whether it is Elizabeth blessing Mary or John greeting Jesus with his joyful jolt, the elder is acknowledging the younger. Mary has yet to tell Elizabeth the purpose of her visit, let alone the angel’s message, but the latter is already blessing “the fruit of [her] womb” (1:42; cf. Deut 28:4). We suppose the filling of the Holy Spirit has resulted in Elizabeth’s prophetic utterances. Elizabeth blesses Mary, not only for her role as the mother of Israel’s Messiah, but especially for her trust in God’s fulfillment of everything the angel has said about her and the destiny of her child (1:45). Noteworthy is Elizabeth’s humility. Being much older and married, her social status is higher than that of Mary, a teenager living under her father’s roof. Yet Elizabeth deems herself unworthy to receive a visit from “the mother of [her] Lord” (1:43). Even before his birth, Jesus is called “Lord,”38 a title used of God himself in the OT. By addressing Jesus with an elevated title, Elizabeth trades places with Mary, lifting the latter’s status above her own.

Mary appropriately attributes the honor bestowed upon her to God’s benevolence. The Song of Mary is poetic in form with its requisite parallelism and chiasm. While Moses, Miriam, Deborah, and Asaph all sang of God’s mighty deeds,39 in content Mary’s Song is more reminiscent of that of Hannah, who praised God for answering her prayer for a child (1 Sam 2:1–10). This song is a collage of themes and phrases found in various Psalms and other OT passages, which articulate Israel’s experience and understanding of YHWH as mighty savior and promise keeper.

Although Mary begins the song with her personal blessedness (1:46–49), in the second half she expands the recipients of God’s goodness to all Israel (1:50–55). She testifies to the favor that God has bestowed upon her, not for self-elevation but to declare what God has done and will do for his people as he has for her. God is the main actor in this song and the subject of the active verbs: “he has looked . . . has done . . . has shown strength . . . has scattered the proud . . . has brought down the powerful . . . [has] lifted up the lowly . . . has filled the hungry . . . [has] sent the rich away . . . has helped” (1:48, 49, 51–54). God saves by enabling a reversal of conditions, for God is merciful, God remembers, and God is powerful.

First, God is merciful toward those who fear and revere him. Given the covenantal relationship between Israel and the almighty God, this fear engenders respect and faithfulness on Israel’s part. Second, because God remembers his promise to Israel’s ancestors, his mercy is a sustaining grace that stretches from generation to generation. Despite Israel’s sufferings and faithlessness then and now, the people continue to trust that YHWH remembers them and his promises to them (1:54–55). Third, God has the power to save. The exodus is the paradigmatic event of God’s deliverance of his people. Through the time of the judges, the kings, the exile, and the post-exilic period, Israel continued to experience God’s help when their enemies came upon them. Israel was lowly, oppressed, afflicted, and weak, but God always came through. God’s past acts of deliverance form the basis of Israel’s hope for future salvation.

Mary depicts God as the divine warrior who shows strength with his arm (1:49, 51), exercising justice as he extends mercy (Exod 6:6; cf. Deut 4:34; Ps 77:15). He liberates those who need deliverance and punishes those who deserve condemnation. On the one hand, the lowly, the poor, the oppressed, and the underprivileged are lifted up. On the other hand, the proud, the rich, the arrogant, and the powerful are brought down.40 The reversal levels the playing field. While the historical backdrop of the song comprised actual wars that God fought for Israel, Mary is expressing a hope that transcends nationalism and militarism (1:51–52). She envisions a subversion of socio-economic power structures toward mutuality and equality, as expressed in the chiastic arrangement of verses 52 and 53:

He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,

and lifted up the lowly;

He has filled the hungry with good things,

and sent the rich away empty.

But that is not all. The polarities between power and lowliness, hungry and rich, and so on, have a spiritual dimension. The lowly ones who earnestly seek after God will enter the kingdom, and those with power and an inflated sense of self-righteousness will be denied (cf. 5:29–32; 6:20–25; 18:9–14). The theme of reversal will continue to play out in the mission, teaching, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Mary and Elizabeth are poised at the cusp of change. Their supernatural conceptions testify that God is setting in motion his final act of salvation by sending the Davidic Messiah and his forerunner. Not only does this song provide assurance, it engenders hope that defies even the uncontested power of Rome.

The scene ends with a statement that moves the timeline toward the next important event, the birth of John. If Mary remains with Elizabeth for another three months, it is possible that she stays long enough to be present at the next scene (1:56a). Then Mary returns to her father’s house (1:56b), still a virgin betrothed to Joseph, bearing the Son of God in her womb. How heavy a responsibility that is for a young maiden to carry!

Song of Zechariah (1:57–80)

The announcement of John’s birth takes us back to Gabriel’s appearance to Zechariah (1:57–58). Gabriel’s prophecy that Elizabeth “will bear a son” (gennēsei huion, 1:13) is now fulfilled. Luke uses near-identical language here: “she bore a son” (egennēsen huion, 1:57). Gabriel predicted that Zechariah “will have joy (chara) and gladness, and many will rejoice (charēsontai) at [his son’s] birth” (1:14), and here the neighbors and relatives “rejoiced (synechairon) with her” (1:58). The theme of joy, already echoed in John’s leaping in his mother’s womb (1:44), will appear in the birth of Jesus as well (2:10). But for now, Zechariah will have more to say about the future role of his son, which sets the stage for the coming of the Messiah.

Customarily, Jewish male babies were circumcised on the eighth day (Gen 21:4; Acts 7:8). The rite of circumcision was a sign of the covenant between God and Abraham, and stood at the core of Jewish identity and self-understanding as God’s chosen people (Gen 17:9–14; Lev 12:3). Naming a child at circumcision was a departure from traditional practices.41 Traditionally, a child was given a name at birth (Gen 25:25–26). Greeks, however, named their children seven to ten days after birth. That John is named on the day of his circumcision may reflect an adoption of a popular Hellenistic practice in first-century Palestine.

At this joyous occasion, neighbors and relatives function as well-wishers and witnesses to the parents’ obedience to the law. When a dispute arises over the naming of the child, the spectators turn from being witnesses to challengers. Their expectation that the baby be named after Zechariah does not stem from any specific custom that must be followed, though naming a boy after his father or grandfather was not uncommon in that culture (1:59).42 In their enthusiasm and presumptuousness, the bystanders overstep their boundaries and begin to deliberate over what to call the child. The flurry of opinions has created a tense moment in an otherwise celebratory occasion.

But Elizabeth holds her ground: “No, he is to be called John” (1:60). The naming of a child by the mother was not an issue even in that patriarchal society.43 Perhaps Elizabeth has not divulged that God has already named the child (1:13). Her words fail to satisfy the relatives, whose objection that the name “John” is not used elsewhere in the family seems arbitrary (1:61). Unconvinced, they gesture to the one who is yet unable to speak to overrule his wife. Unfazed by the commotion, Zechariah puts an end to the dispute. He writes on a wax-coated wooden tablet: “His name is John” (1:63). The phrasing has a definitive ring to it. The name “John” is a constant reminder that “YHWH has shown favor” to Elizabeth, Mary, and all Israel. Immediately his tongue is loosened and his punishment is over (1:20, 64).

The people are amazed, and the news spreads like wildfire (1:65). Even though a clear picture will not emerge for another few decades, the people’s wonderment concerning the destiny of this newborn child invites another song (1:66), in which Zechariah picks up where Mary leaves off and offers an interpretation of these evolving events. Filled with the Holy Spirit, Zechariah pronounces a blessing on God’s saving provision for Israel and a prophecy of his son’s future role in it (1:67). Poetic in form, what follows connects thematically with Mary’s song, circling back to the themes of remembrance, Abrahamic covenant, divine mercy, promise of salvation, etc., and at the same time moves the audience further in their anticipation of the future mission of John as the Messiah’s forerunner.

The Song of Zechariah opens with a familiar blessing: “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel” (1:68; cf. Pss 41:13; 72:18). First, Zechariah blesses God for having fulfilled the promise given to Israel through the prophets by sending a messianic redeemer (1:69–71). This divine deliverance has a political or nationalistic dimension. The descendant of David is expected to rule over Israel, teach God’s people, and exercise justice, but above all he is to be a warrior king or “a mighty savior” who can lead Israel to military victory against her enemies.44 Behind the translation “a mighty savior” in the NRSV is the Greek phrase keras sōtērias, “a horn of salvation.” An animal fights with its horn, making it an effective symbol of power and strength. While David calls God “the horn of [his] salvation” (2 Sam 22:3; Ps 18:2), another psalmist applies the metaphor directly to the royal Messiah: “I will cause a horn to sprout for David; I have prepared a lamp for my anointed one. His enemies I will clothe with disgrace, but on him his crown will gleam” (Ps 132:17–18). As such, the Davidic Messiah will assume a role attributed to God; he will become Israel’s horn of salvation.

Second, God saves in order for Israel “to serve (latreuein) him without fear in holiness and righteousness” (1:74–75). When God sent Moses to Pharaoh, the rationale was the same: “Let my people go, so that they may serve (latreusē) me in the wilderness” (Exod 7:16). Since the verb latreuō encompasses the ideas of both worship and service, divine rescue is not only from imprisonment to freedom but also from malicious domination to beneficent lordship. All this has little to do with what Israel can offer but everything to do with God’s grace, mercy, election, and faithfulness as he remembers his covenant with Abraham (1:72–73). A God who remembers, acts. Since God has decreed that Abraham’s numerous descendants will bless the nations (Gen 12:2–3; 22:16–18), every time the existence of Israel is threatened, God must stretch out his hand of deliverance to make good on his promise (Exod 2:24–25; Ps 105:8–9).

Third, serving as prophet of the Most High, John will awaken God’s people to be ready for their mighty savior (1:17a, 76). The task of preparation for the Messiah’s coming hearkens back to the words of the prophets: “A voice cries out: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God’” (Isa 40:3); “See, I am sending a messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple” (Mal 3:1a). In these passages, the coming one is God himself. But the uniqueness of Jesus as the agent of salvation and Son of God conceived by the Holy Spirit makes it fitting to identify him as “the lord/Lord” of these passages. The role of the forerunner remains unchanged. John is the eschatological messenger who “will go before the Lord—[Jesus]—to prepare his ways” (1:76b; cf. 3:4; 7:27). John’s mission is reconciliatory, for he will turn many in Israel back to God (1:16), which is what the eschatological Elijah will do when he appears (Mal 4:5–6). Turning is an image of repentance, used by the prophets to persuade Israel to turn from their evil ways (Isa 31:6; Jer 18:11). Now John will again urge Israel to repent. He is to “give knowledge of salvation to [God’s] people by the forgiveness of their sins” (1:77; cf. 3:3). Israel’s preparation is not military but spiritual. The Messiah will be greeted not by an army thirsty for bloodshed, but by a lowly people, humble in heart and grateful for God’s mercy. Redemption here is rescue not from the Romans but from sin (Ps 130:7–8).

Fourth, God’s redemption results in peace and life for all Israel (1:78–79). The English translation, “By the tender mercy (dia splanchna eleous) of our God, the dawn (anatolē) from on high will break upon (epeskepsato) us” (1:78 NRSV), obscures the richness of the images that are loaded with messianic significance. God’s splanchna refers to God’s “heart” or “gut” in anthropomorphic terms. They are the “inner organs” in which God’s deepest emotions reside. God’s saving actions are motivated by his most tender, loving, and sympathetic compassion for his own (cf. 7:13; 10:33; 15:20). The dawn or sunrise is only one meaning of anatolē (cf. Isa 60:1; Mal 4:2), which fits well with its goal “to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death” (1:79a). Light is a common metaphor to denote God’s presence (Exod 13:21; Ps 27:1). Salvation is described as moving from darkness into light (Isa 9:2; 42:7). Another meaning of anatolē is shoot, sprout, or branch, which reminds us of depictions of the Davidic Messiah as “a righteous Branch” (Jer 23:5), “[God’s] servant the Branch” (Zech 3:8), “a man whose name is Branch” (Zech 6:12), “a shoot [that comes] out of the stump of Jesse” (Isa 11:1), and “the root of Jesse” (Isa 11:10). All these layers of meaning for anatolē converge at the Davidic Messiah who leads God’s people into “the way of peace” (1:79b; cf. Isa 9:6–7; 59:8).45 It is noteworthy that the glorified Jesus in the book of Revelation makes this claim: “I am the root and the descendant of David, the bright morning star” (Rev 22:16; cf. Num 24:17)!46

The last verse of chapter 1 fast-forwards through the childhood and youth of John with a summary of his physical and spiritual maturity (1:80). This statement is reminiscent of similar ones said of Samson (Judg 13:24–25) and Samuel (1 Sam 2:26; 3:19). Both, like John, were born of mothers who were once barren until God opened their wombs and were dedicated by those mothers to God’s service.

16. Cf. Josephus Ag. Ap. 1.1–5; Polybius 2.37; Diodorus Siculus 1.3. Alexander (1986: 48–74) notes similarities with prefaces in scientific works, and Moles (2011: 1–82) with those found in Greek decrees.

17. For the value placed on eyewitnesses in ancient historical writing, see Josephus Ag. Ap. 1.53–56; Eusebius Hist. eccl. 3.39. See Bauckham 2006: 21–30 on eyewitnesses as a “living and surviving voice.” The work should be useful, instructive, important, and truthful.

18. The Greek word asphaleia may be translated as “certainty,” “surety,” or “assurance.” “Truth” (NRSV) is less specific but communicates credibility and theological significance. Strelan (2007: 163–71) adds “soundness in argumentation,” the ability to stand up to challenges.

19. Green 1997: 44.

20. Cf. the time formula, “In the days of King ‘X’” (Isa 1:1; Jer 1:2; Amos 1:1).

21. Ford (1984: 1–12) describes first-century Palestine as a “seething cauldron.”

22. Bond 2013: 380.

23. 1 Chr 24:6–19; Neh 12:1–7; Josephus Ant. 7.363–66.

24. Gen 15:6; Ps 17:15; Isa 32:17.

25. Gen 20:18; Lev 20:21.

26. Gen 29:31—30:23 (Rachel); 1 Sam 1:1–20 (Hannah); Judg 13:2–24 (Manoah and his wife).

27. Exod 29:38–42; 30:7–8; m. Tamid 5:1—7:3. So Hamm 2003: 220–21.

28. Fitzmyer 1981: 324–25.

29. Gen 21:17; Judg 6:23; Luke 1:30; 2:10.

30. In Luke John is identified with the eschatological Elijah of Mal 3, whereas the depiction of Jesus frequently contain allusions to the historical Elijah of 1–2 Kgs (e.g., 4:24–26; 7:11–17; 9:52–55). See Miller 2007: 1–16.

31. 1 En. 20:1–7; 40:1–10; T. Levi 3:5–8.

32. Sitting in the shadow of nearby Sepphoris, the capital of Galilee, Nazareth was small and poor. Cf. John 1:46.

33. Matt 1:18; m. Ketub. 4:5; Brown 1993: 123–24. Ancient betrothal was not analogous to the modern notion of engagement, it served an economic function for the two families to finalize the dowry (Hanson 2008: 31, 34–35).

34. Exod 4:22; Isa 63:16; 64:8; Jer 31:20.

35. Isa 9:6–7; 11:1–10; Jer 23:5; 33:15; Ezek 34:23–24; 37:24–25; Amos 9:11; Mic 5:2; Zech 6:12–13; 9:9–10; 4Q174 3 I, 11; 4Q252 V, 3–4; 4Q285 V, 2–4; 4 Ezra 12:32; Pss. Sol. 17–18.

36. Landry 1995: 72–76.

37. The Greek words eulogēmenē (1:42) and makaria (1:45) are both translated as “blessed” in the NRSV. Although eulogeō usually means “to give thanks,” it can denote blessedness (Mark 11:10).

38. In Luke, Jesus is called “Lord” by those who exhibit faith in him (5:8; 7:6; 9:54; 10:17, 40; 11:1; 12:41; 13:23; 18:41; 22:33, 38, 49). This may reflect the postresurrection perspective of the author and his audience.

39. Exod 15:1–21 (Moses and Miriam); Judg 5:1–31 (Deborah); 1 Chr 16:7–36 (Asaph).

40. Deut 10:17–18; Prov 3:34; Isa 2:11–12.

41. Evidence of such a practice is found in later Jewish literature (Nolland 1989: 79).

42. Jub. 11:15; Josephus J.W. 5.534; Josephus Ant. 14.10; 20.197.

43. Seth, Moab, Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Onan, and Shelah were all named by their mothers (Gen 4:25; 19:26–37; 29:32–35; 38:4–5).

44. See p. 21, n. 20.

45. Gathercole (2005: 471–85) suggests that 1:78 further emphasizes the heavenly origin of the Davidic Messiah, who is traditionally expected to be a human figure.

46. Strauss 1995: 103–8.