A Gospel of Two Kingdoms

Back in the beginning of our study, I argued the narrative God was telling through His Text was “A Tale of Two Kingdoms.” We spent much of our time in the Old Testament showing how these two agendas continued to pop up as the central theme to the story of the people of God. Whether it was their time in the desert, learning how to lead with their voice and not the stick, the tension of living in shephelah, the challenge of living with abundance, or the way that we approached the socio-economic realities of our world, we kept seeing an agenda of empire and an agenda of shalom.

This narrative makes a prominent appearance at the very beginning of the gospel records. There are two birth narratives in the New Testament, one in Matthew and one in Luke; in a very interesting fashion, both of them set the stage for the life of Jesus in a world of contrast.

The gospel of Matthew draws out the deep background of the rule of Herod the Great. It showcases how paranoid Herod was that a future ruler would ever pose a threat to his kingdom.

Depending on how reliable one finds our historical sources (extra-biblical as well as biblical), Herod was the richest man ever to walk the face of the planet. If history is correct, there would not be even a close second; Bill Gates would mow Herod’s lawn. One of my teachers taught me that Herod’s income came in at well over a hundred times the national GDP of his country (don’t ask me how the math is done on those numbers, but just imagine even a fraction of that being true).

In Israel, everywhere you go you can see signs of the impact that Herod had on the world. Herod desired to be the greatest man who ever lived. He took this pursuit very seriously and did everything so wildly over-the-top that to this day, we are not sure how he and his architects did what they did at that point in history. The list is quite staggering. Whether the stones that we still find on the Temple mount (we’re talking about the sheer size of the stones, the perfection of the construction, the magnitude of the project), the underwater harbor poured in the self-built city of Caesarea, the construction and opulence of the famous fortress of Masada — even a cursory study of one of these sites would impress any student.

Yet, the King of the Universe wraps Himself in flesh and is born in a stable in Bethlehem, which isn’t just the backwater town of Joseph and his family. Bethlehem also happens to be the location for one of Herod’s three great palaces, the Herodium. Herod built an entire palace on top of a mountain that he had constructed.

Yes, I said that Herod built a mountain.

The ruins of the Herodium

And to steal a phrase from my teacher, Ray Vander Laan, the subversive nature of God’s plan is that He will send His son to be born in the shadow of the palace of the “greatest” man to walk on Roman soil. There are two kingdoms that are being put on display in Matthew’s gospel.

One king is the richest man ever to live. He constructs incredible buildings that stagger the mind and accomplishes incredible feats of human engineering. His ingenuity and wealth are second to none. He builds mountains where there aren’t any, pipes in water to places that it could never previously reach, and corners the market on beauty and innovation. He is the most powerful human being that the world has ever seen. His life is decorated with silver, gold, and the richest of fare.

The other king is born to a poverty-stricken, rejected family from the rural town of Nazareth. He is born in sheep crap surrounded by the ash of shepherd’s fire and the feces of cattle. His birth is announced to the marginalized of society and his advent is celebrated by shepherds.

One king is the leader of Empire. The other is the king of Shalom.


Luke’s gospel seeks to accomplish a similar juxtaposition. With a very brief phrase, Luke sets his audience on alert:

In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world.

And in those five words, Luke says more than we probably realize. These words are chosen deliberately by Luke. It should be noted that in no historical setting can Quirinius be the governor of Syria during the birth of Jesus. I have watched some biblical literalists do incredible gymnastics to try to explain how this is accurate; however, in no possible scenario is Jesus born during the census of Quirinius. We do not have record of a census taken by Augustus for those details, either, so this could be a marginal addition by somebody trying to make sense of the story, or Luke may be trying to make a statement that we are missing context for, or we may not have all the pieces of history yet. Regardless, it’s worth noting that something is taking place there.

At any rate, Luke is trying to set his own stage for his own narrative about the tale of two kingdoms. His version of the Christmas story puts us in the juxtaposition between two other kings.

One king thought himself to be god incarnate. The son of an ascended Julius Caesar, Augustus claimed that a mighty star in the sky (apparently seen by many), referenced today as “Caesar’s Comet,” was actually his father Julius ascending to his rightful throne as god. If Julius was god, then that would make Augustus the son of god. From this point in Roman history, emperors would — almost without exception — claim incarnate deity among their many attributes. Augustus was exclaimed by Roman propaganda (we already looked at the “gospel” plague found in Priene) to be “the Son of the Most High,” the “eternal Prince of Peace,” the “King of kings,” the “Lord of lords,” etc. It was often proclaimed that there was no other name under heaven which a man could be saved from terror except that of Caesar Augustus.

And yet in a stable is born a baby, who Luke claims to be the true King of kings, Lord of lords, Prince of Peace, and Son of the Most High God.

One king plays the part well. The other king challenges everything we expect of the Ruler of the Universe.

It’s a Tale of Two Kingdoms. And we’re being invited to consider our deepest assumptions about the world. What is real power? What is wealth? Where does security come from? Who is God? What is God trying to save me from?

What do I really want and what do I strive for? Empire? Or shalom?

Would I have even noticed the King of the Universe, born in a stable, or would I simply look for a better Caesar? Is this a problem?

Who is truly King?

Written in the Stars

Ruins of Hellenistic theater

In the deep backcountry of Turkey sits the region of Galatia. In 2010, I had the opportunity to hike in this terrain and ascend one of the mountains in this region. As we began to get closer to the top, we ran across the ruins of an old, small, Hellenistic theater (dating to around 400–200 BC). This was odd, considering there was no ancient city or village located on this mountain; this served as a clear indicator that whatever happened on this mountain was significant to the people who lived in this region. The situation became more perplexing as, only a few hundred yards up the road, we ran into some other ancient ruins that dated a couple thousand years older than the theater. We continued to ascend the mountain, until we arrived at an ancient temple at its peak.

It turned out to be the temple to MenEskenu, of ancient Phrygian origin, around 4000–3000 BC. The temple was a place of astrological worship to the god connected to the constellation (what we would call) Taurus. All around the ruins were carvings and markings declaring “the Bull” (Taurus) was in “the house” (temple?).

Central to ancient pagan religions has always been the worship of the stars. In ancient cosmology, the belief was that the earth existed in a “vault,” a bubble of existence which was surrounded by chaotic waters. You can find this belief spelled out clearly in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, as well as Hittite belief, Babylonian/Chaldean/Sumerian belief, and even Hellenistic Greek belief. They believed the stars were great people who had gone before them (you may remember the Apostle Paul encouraging his readers to live like “stars” in the universe).

However, there were seven “stars” that didn’t hold to the same movement as the cosmic ocean — the sun, the moon, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus. Often, pagan worship connected these seven stars to the gods of their system. Those gods were so powerful that they existed outside the movement, constraint, and influence of the cosmic ocean. Obviously, the zodiac played into these beliefs in many different ways. But in the days of Jesus, on the spring solstice, the sun (the big “star”) would rise into the “house” (i.e., the sign) of Aries. If you go out and look up into the morning sky this March 21, you will see the sun rising into the sign of Aries.

However, in 167 BC, a Greek philosopher/astrologer made a startling discovery. As he studied ancient astrological thought in Egypt, he noticed all records indicated the sun rose every spring into the house of Taurus (hence, “the Bull is in the House” in the ancient Phrygian temple). Assuming the ancient Egyptians had made an error, he travelled to Babylonia, only to find their records said the same thing. Out of this discovery, a stunning conclusion was reached. There must be some god who is so big that he entered the system (from outside of the system), altered the cosmic ocean, and left the system.

That is one powerful god.

Needless to say, the rise of Mithra worship was underway — the worship of a god so big that he was outside the system. In the first century, the worship of Mithra was the fastest-growing religion of the Roman world (Christianity being the second). This belief was rocking the world as they knew it. What we understand today is that the earth has a  very slight wobble in its rotation that causes it to move in reference to the zodiac (or maybe vice versa?) every 2200 years or so. In just over one century, we will actually move into the house of Aquarius. They did not understand these scientific truths and instead assumed that “somebody” had changed the heavens.

This entire conversation is to say two things:

First, who are the magi who come to visit Jesus? My belief is that the magi are, in fact, Mithra priests from the region of Babylon. If this is the case, it would help explain why they knew WHEN and WHERE to come looking for Jesus. One of their very own prophets would have spoken about this many centuries before. Balaam, a Chaldean star-gazer, was once called in to prophesy against the children of Israel. Here is what he said:

“I see him, but not now;
    I behold him, but not near.
A star will come out of Jacob;
    a scepter will rise out of Israel.
He will crush the foreheads of Moab,
    the skulls of all the people of Sheth.
Edom will be conquered;
    Seir, his enemy, will be conquered,
    but Israel will grow strong.
A ruler will come out of Jacob
    and destroy the survivors of the city.”

You don’t suppose a few pagan priests would be willing to trust the Text, do you? Well, if they did, that Text led them to the birth of the Prince of Peace. This would sure fit the agenda of Matthew, an author who portrays the gospel of the outsiders and those who don’t belong. Attending the birth of the King of Kings will be a bunch of people who don’t belong.

Second, it is incredibly interesting to notice how Mark deals with his gospel in light of the fastest-growing religion of his day. Mark is the only gospel writer who states that at Jesus’s baptism, the heavens are torn open (versus simply being “opened”). His gospel will end with the tearing of the curtain. Now, the temple of Herod had two curtains; there was the famous curtain before the Holy of Holies and the curtain at the entrance to the Temple itself. This would be the only curtain a Roman audience would be familiar with. We know from Josephus that the front curtain had the zodiac on it.

That means Mark deliberately bookends the life and ministry of Jesus with the heavens being torn open. His message? You are now reading about a God that is so big he tore open the heavens and entered our world. He messed with the system and then left to return to His place outside the system.

Simply put, that’s awesome.

I continue to be amazed at what these gospel writers are able to do within their writings.