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Each day this month we’re looking closely at one of the 1:1 verses of the Bible – exploring what we can learn from chapter one / verse one of various Old and New Testament books.
Across the spectrum of the Bible’s 66 books, there’s no opening salvo quite like the one we find in Luke.
Chapter one / verse one isn’t a stand-alone statement. The first four verses are more like a package deal – a cautious historian’s carefully crafted explanation of his method and motivation.
“Many have undertaken to draw up an account of the things that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed down to us by those who from the first were eyewitnesses and servants of the word. With this in mind, since I myself have carefully investigated everything from the beginning, I too decided to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may know the certainty of the things you have been taught” (Luke 1:1-4).
Questions abound.
Who is this author? If he wasn’t one of Jesus’ original 12 disciples, how did he come by his information? Is his “orderly account” of Jesus’ life markedly different from the ones attributed to Matthew, Mark, and John? Who is this guy named Theophilus? And why would his parents give him a name like that?
OK, maybe those last two questions aren’t on everyone’s mind.
Theophilus appears to be the patron (that is, financial sponsor) of this Gospel research project. Theophilus literally means “lover of God.” It’s possible, therefore, that the book isn’t dedicated to a particular person, but to anyone who loves God and wants to learn more about Jesus.
From the earliest years of the Church, the third Gospel has been attributed to Luke. We know him to be one of the apostle Paul’s traveling companions on his missionary journeys. Traditionally, Luke has also been identified as a physician, a Gentile, and almost certainly the author of the book of Acts.
Luke and Acts together comprise 28% of the New Testament, which represents an astonishing percentage of the Good News arising from a non-Jewish pen.
Those opening words are intriguing: “Many have undertaken to draw up an account…” Historians would give their last nickel to know who or what he was referring to.
When Luke sat down to write his account, did he have pre-existing copies of the Gospels of Matthew and Mark close at hand? Even a quick scan of Jesus’ first three biographies reveals why they are known as the Synoptic or “see-things-the-same-way” Gospels. The trio displays a significant amount of overlapping material – from Jesus’ miracles to his teachings to his death and resurrection.
But Luke stands alone in some very important respects.
He has been described as the literary artist of the New Testament, writing in elegant, well-polished Greek.
If it wasn’t for Luke, we would never have heard the parables of the Good Samaritan or the Prodigal Son. He writes in depth about the Holy Spirit, the role of women in Jesus’ ministry, the power of prayer, the significance of the poor, the hazards of riches and wealth, and the importance of taking the Good News to the rest of the world.
He also tells us more about Mary, the mother of Jesus, than the rest of the New Testament combined.
And that is a very big deal.
Look again at Luke’s opening paragraph. He writes, “I myself have investigated everything from the beginning.” Does that mean that Luke had special access to primary sources? Was he able, for instance, to sit down with Mary and learn from her, firsthand, the circumstances of Jesus’ birth?
How else would he be able to report, with such intimate detail, the conversations that Mary had with the angel Gabriel and with her relative Elizabeth (the mother of John the Baptist), and that after the shepherds’ visit she “treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart” (Luke 2:19)?
Historians suggest that it was only because of Luke’s diligent efforts, as prompted by the Spirit, that we know most of what we know about the arrival of Jesus – not to mention what we know about the woman whom God specifically chose to bring him into the world.
In 1991, an artist named Michael English debuted a song that is on its way to becoming a Christmas classic: “Mary, Did You Know?”
Its popularity seems rooted in the endearingly provocative questions that are asked of Mary:
Mary, did you know your baby boy would some day walk on water?
Mary, did you know your baby boy would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?
This child that you delivered will soon deliver you.
So what exactly did Mary know? Theologians agree on this much: None of us can know for sure.
What we do know is that when the eight-day-old Jesus was presented at the temple in Jerusalem, an aging prophet named Simeon approached Mary. His words were simultaneously uplifting and crushing: “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel…and a sword will pierce your own soul, too” (Luke 2:34-35).
In other words, your child is going to turn the whole world upside-down. But along the way your heart will be broken into a million little pieces.
An echo of that can be spoken to every mom: Your child is simply wonderful, and the world wouldn’t be complete without him or her. But there will be days in which this kid is going to drive you to distraction, test your patience beyond the breaking point, and generate the kind of heartache you’ll wonder if you can ever survive.
But that’s what it means to love.
Could Mary possibly have comprehended the fullness of her child’s identity?
As the song puts it, “The sleeping child you’re holding is the great I Am.”
Author and pastor Max Lucado once wrote, while imagining what it would have been like to interview Mary: “Do you realize that’s God eating your soup?”
It’s just possible that Luke – the friend of Paul, beloved physician, and cautious historian – actually had such a conversation.
And the whole world is richer because of it.