Jesus’ Family Tree
Tracing family history seems to be increasingly popular. We have some friends who recently traced both sides of the family back several centuries. Some years ago now, I tried the same thing on my side but the trail went cold in the mid-nineteenth century. Is it important to know our roots—where we have come from? It certainly seems that it was for two of the Gospel writers who were, in effect, Jesus’ biographers—Matthew, and Luke. Matthew even begins with that: “An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham.” (Matthew 1:1-17). Luke’s account is found in Luke 3:23-38.
The two genealogies are somewhat different, for reasons that scholars argue about (as is their wont). I won’t bore you with all the questions they raise; instead, I will just offer some of my own thoughts and observations (this is a blog after all).
Matthew begins Jesus’ lineage from Abraham, moving forward. Luke, however, traces it backwards, all the way to Adam. The theological point that Matthew seems to be making is presenting the story of Jesus in unbroken continuity with Israel’s story (Abraham being the father of the Jewish nation). The theological point that Luke seems to be making is presenting it in unbroken continuity with the whole world’s story (Adam being the father of all nations). This would fit with Matthew’s audience being primarily Jewish and Luke’s primarily Gentile.
How are we to explain the discrepancies in the number of generations and some of the other inconsistencies? One basis is that we see similar discrepancies and inconsistencies elsewhere in the Gospels when we compare events and sayings side-by-side. Rather than undermining their authenticity, these differences add credibility: eyewitnesses always remember events slightly differently. The fact that no one sought to sanitise those differences (trying to correct them) speaks well of an early church that was more concerned with an authentic record of what was personally experienced than the modern concern for meticulous factual accuracy as the definition of “truth.” Matthew and Luke likely had their reasons for highlighting certain forebears but not others. We will never know why, exactly, but we can perhaps hazard some guesses in some cases. By the way, when the genealogies speak of someone as “the son of,” or “the father of,” or so-and-so “begat” someone (in King James language), they do not necessarily mean directly. Hence, Jesus is spoken of as “the son of David, the son of Abraham” in Matthew 1:1 when this is, clearly, not literally true.
Concerning that “meticulous factual accuracy” point—the reason the writers included some of Jesus’ ancestors while omitting others—let me offer the analogy of recounting a car journey. If I ask someone, “How did you drive from Dover to Newcastle?” they will most likely not mention every single town, village, suburb, city, and landmark along the way. It will be an abbreviated, selective summary of the principal waypoints in the journey from their perspective—probably focused on naming the places that will be familiar to me, as their audience. So, too, I suggest, in the biblical “journey” that culminated with Jesus, for the Gospel writers.
Some scholars suggest that one of the accounts describes Jesus’ maternal ancestry (tracing to Mary) while the other describes his parental ancestry (tracing to Joseph: “He was the son (as was thought) of Joseph …” Luke 3:23). This may be so, but it’s not known which would be which in that scenario.
Luke’s list includes only male relatives, as would have been the custom, culturally, in that patriarchal world. But interestingly, Matthew includes four women: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba (“the wife of Uriah”). The fact that this is somewhat unexpected should cause us to consider what Matthew’s theological reasoning might have been. There is no obvious common thread between the four and nor is it obvious why other notable women from the Old Testament, such as Abraham’s wife Sarah, are omitted. In some way, Matthew clearly perceived that they were significant as persons, or that their stories were significant—either in the story of Israel or in the identity of Jesus as Son of God and Messiah (or maybe, for all of those reasons!). Rahab was a prostitute. She was also a Gentile (a Canaanite). She is honoured for her faith and obedience to the God of Israel in both Hebrews and James in the New Testament. Notably, her “sinful” status is not mentioned. Bathsheba was raped, sexually abused, and forced into marriage (people did not “say no” to the King) after her husband Uriah was murdered—all by the King David who was so venerated in Israel’s history and whose later descendant the Messiah was prophesied to be. Jesus is often spoken of as the “Son of David” in the synoptic Gospels (see Matthew 1:1—also, Matthew 1:20; 12:23; 15:22; 21:9, and similar references in Mark and Luke).
Perhaps Matthew is saying that these women and others like them are not forgotten in Israel’s story and nor will they be forgotten in the messianic era; that Jesus was not ashamed for them to be part of his story, part of his heritage (in fact, the very opposite—he was honoured to identify with them). Not only are those women not forgotten, but their stories are not forgotten. Take the story of Bathsheba. If there is an archetypal ideal leader in Israel’s history, it would surely be King David. But his flaws and failings (more than that, his abuses) are never glossed over. They are never hidden, minimalised, or relativised. The potential negative repercussions for the reputation of Israel as the people of God, the reputation of the Messiah, or the reputation of the Kingdom, are never allowed to justify a lack of openness, honesty, and accountability for what happened. The complete, unvarnished truth being brought into the light—and preserved in Scripture for eternity—speaks to the victims and their stories not being forgotten. Might there be a model here for how churches and Christian organisations should respond to leadership abuse?
The fact that the deeply flawed King David should be the principal archetype and forebear of the Messiah does, on one level, speak to the grace, mercy, and forgiveness of God towards him as an individual. We hear that in sermons. But dare I say, it’s a rather limited, perpetrator-friendly perspective, focused on his forgiveness and restoration, in which the victims are rather sidelined. Our understanding of the gospel of Jesus must be good news for the victims of sin, not just its perpetrators.