A Devotion from Frank E. Gaebelein
The Most Beautiful Story Ever Told
No Christian festival is celebrated more widely and often more superficially outside as well as
inside the church than Christmas. As the observance of the birth of Jesus Christ, Christmas
stands at the heart of the story of redemption that is uniquely unfolded in the Bible. Here in the
event of the Nativity is the center of human history. Of all who have ever lived, none is closer to
human life and destiny than Christ. If “the hinge of history is Jesus Christ,” as Charles Malik has
said, it is because of what happened at Bethlehem nearly 2,000 years ago when the living God
invaded human history through the Incarnation.
The celebration of Christmas came comparatively late in church history—not, in fact, until
the fourth century. The word “Christmas” does not appear in the Bible, although the Jewish
December festival, Hanukkah, is mentioned in the New Testament: “Then came the Feast of
Dedication” (John 10:22).
Not only is there no biblical mention of the word Christmas, but the Bible gives us no
mandate for celebrating Jesus’ birth, as it does for the sacraments or ordinances of the Lord’s
Supper and baptism, which by Christ’s own command were observed from the very beginning
of the church.
Celebration of the other great festivals of the church—Easter with its joyful celebration of
the resurrection preceded by Good Friday with its moving remembrance of the crucifixion, and
the Feast of Pentecost with its celebration of the descent of the Holy Spirit on the infant
church—while also not prescribed in the New Testament, goes back much further than the
Festival of Christmas, perhaps to the end of the first century or the beginning of the second.
To trace the origins of Christmas as the Festival of the Nativity, as it is defined by The Oxford
English Dictionary, is an exercise in early church history. Scholars, in fact, are by no means
agreed on the details of how it developed. The earliest reference to December 25 as the date
for the Nativity occurs in the Philocalian calendar, which refers to its Roman observance in AD
336. But recognition of December 25 had been preceded by that of another date—January 6,
when Epiphany was celebrated—first in relation to the baptism of Jesus in the river Jordan and
later in relation to the coming of the wise men, or Magi, to worship the infant Jesus. By the end
of the fourth century there is evidence of the widespread celebration of Jesus’ birth on
December 25. For example, Chrysostom, in a sermon preached at Antioch about AD 386, said
that the feast on December 25 was known from Thrace to Cadiz. But though December 25 has
found uniform acceptance—except in the Armenian Church, which celebrates the Nativity on
January 6—it is, of course, only the traditional date. We have no real evidence for the exact
month and day of Jesus’ birth. Nor can we be completely certain of its year. Yet good evidence
brings us close to the actual date, which was probably 4 or 5 BC (though some scholars say 7 or
8 BC).
That the Christmas festival had certain pagan relationships is well known. One of the great
festivals of ancient Rome was related to the winter solstice, celebrated on December 25 as the
Natal Day of the Unconquerable Sun and tied to the Persian religion of Mithraism, one of
Christianity’s early rivals. The church took over this day to turn the attention of Christians from
the old heathen festival to the celebration of the “sun of righteousness.”
Likewise, many of our cherished Christian customs have non-Christian origins. The
merriment and giving of gifts, especially to children, may reflect the Roman Saturnalia,
celebrated from December 17 to 24. As for the use of greenery and lights, this goes back to the
celebration of the Kalends of January in ancient Rome. The Yule customs have ancient
Germano-Celtic backgrounds. Many European countries have contributed to the Christmas
observance. The crèche came from Italy; the Christmas tree originated in Germany in the late
sixteenth century and was established in England early in the nineteenth century by Prince
Albert; we are indebted to Holland for Santa Claus.
Because of the extrabiblical origins of certain aspects of the Christmas festival, some
Christians in the past have suppressed its celebration. During Cromwell’s time in seventeenth-
century England it was banned by Parliament, and in old New England the celebration of
Christmas was officially forbidden.
Few Christians today, however, even among the most conservative groups, would go to
these lengths. Many of our happy Christmas customs have long since lost their pagan
connotations; perhaps it is through God’s common grace that they have found a place in the
celebration of Christ’s birth. As for the present-day commercialization of this beloved festival,
typified by the endless repetition of Christmas carols in shopping centers with scarcely a
thought for the meaning of their words, this is not celebration; it is desecration!
Christmas is like a many-faceted jewel, and surely one of its loveliest facets is the way it has
enriched music and the arts and literature. The distinguished music critic, Paul Hume, said of a
Christmas performance in Washington Cathedral of Benjamin Britten’s “A Boy Is Born”: “One of
the wonderful things regarding this time of year is that there is an endless treasure of beautiful
music for it, touching all moods and telling the central story in many different ways.” Indeed, if
Christ had never been born, culture would have been immeasurably impoverished. Have you
ever looked at a painting like Raphael’s “Alba Madonna,” or read a poem like Milton’s “Ode on
the Nativity,” or heard Handel’s Messiah, and thought, “This would never have been had Christ
not been born”?
But turn from the facets to the jewel itself, that authentic historical event of the Nativity.
Here we must go back to the first chapter of Matthew’s Gospel and the first two chapters of
Luke’s Gospel, the source documents for the events on which Christmas depends. They are,
first of all, authentic historical documents. New Testament scholarship has traveled a long way
since the early nineteenth century, when F. C. Baur and the Tübingen critics in Germany denied
the authenticity of most of the New Testament. A few years ago W. F. Albright of Johns Hopkins
University declared that the whole of the New Testament was written between AD 40–80. And
more recently the Cambridge scholar J. A. T. Robinson has argued that all of the New Testament
books must be dated before AD 70.
Despite their many differences, the opening chapters of Matthew and Luke have these
things in common: that Jesus was born in Bethlehem of a virgin named Mary; that Mary was
betrothed to a man named Joseph, who was of the Davidic line; that Jesus’ conception by the
Holy Spirit was supernaturally announced; that the child who was born was the Christ, the
promised Messiah, for the Greek christos from which we get the word “Christ” is the equivalent
of the Hebrew “Messiah,” to whose coming the Old Testament points; and finally, that the child
born at Bethlehem was the Savior.
But what about the variations between these two accounts of the Christmas event? It is
Matthew who tells us most about Mary’s betrothed husband, Joseph. It is in Matthew’s Gospel
that we read the story of the Magi and the guiding star that has long fascinated astronomers
and been the subject of Christmas displays in various planetariums. It is Matthew who also tells
us of King Herod’s desire to kill the infant Jesus.
As for Luke, we owe to him our knowledge of the angel Gabriel’s annunciation to Mary that
she would be the virgin mother of Jesus. Luke tells us of the census that took Joseph and Mary
from Nazareth to Bethlehem. We learn also from him of the crowded inn and the manger
where the baby was laid, and through him we hear the angels’ song: “Glory to God in the
highest and on earth peace, good will toward men.”
The two accounts do not contradict, but complement each other. Taken together they give
us in words of restraint and simplicity that go straight to our hearts the most beautiful story
ever told.
Moreover, no one can read these narratives carefully without recognizing how Jewish they
are. Matthew begins with a genealogy. He sees Christ’s birth as the fulfillment of Old Testament
prophecy in Isaiah, Micah, Hosea, and Jeremiah. He reports that the child was to be called
Jesus—the Greek form of the Hebrew name Joshua, meaning “The LORD (Yahweh) is salvation,”
and also identifies him with the prophetic name “Immanuel,” meaning “God with us.”
In a different but no less unmistakable way Luke’s account of the Nativity is steeped in the
Old Testament. He begins with the birth of John the Baptist to Zacharias, a priest in the temple
at Jerusalem, and with his wife Elizabeth, a relative of Mary. After the annunciation, Mary visits
Elizabeth, who honors her as the mother-to-be of the Messiah. So Luke gives us Mary’s
wonderful song of praise, the Magnificat, so reminiscent of Hannah’s song before the birth of
Samuel. Again, it is from Luke that we know that Jesus was circumcised in the temple and later
presented there with his mother in obedience to the law of Moses.
This Hebrew matrix of Nativity narratives shows the integral relation of the Christmas event
to the whole of biblical history. This most marvelous of happenings when, as Christians have
always believed, the living God himself entered human life, takes us to the heart of the biblical
view of history. This is not a cyclical view but a linear one, moving forward to an end. Above all,
the Bible is the revealed record of God’s redemptive work in history, culminating in the life,
death, resurrection, and coming again of the Christ who was born in Bethlehem.
Like all the events in redemption history, the Christmas event is both particular and
universal. He who was born on the first Christmas day is more than a denominational figure. He
is too great to be the exclusive possession of any church or any theology. In his universal
significance he is greater than any creed, important though creeds are.
What, then, is Christmas really about? What does it say to us in 1979? Such questions have
many answers, and your answer and mine inevitably reflect who we are at the deepest level of
our being. But allow me to answer them briefly out of my convictions as you must answer them
out of yours.
Christmas shows us the supreme expression of love—the love of God himself who cared
enough for us and all mankind to enter into human life in his one and only Son, Jesus Christ.
For, as Paul said: “God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself.” Once we grasp the
greatness of God’s self-giving love, then, Christmas tells us, we must love others as God has
loved us.
John said it with beautiful simplicity in his first epistle:
“Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has
been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is
love. This is how God showed his love among us; He sent his one and only Son into the world
that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and
sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also
ought to love one another” (1 John 4:7–11).
The warmth and joy and peace of Christmas must be shared, not hugged to ourselves. For
the world today, with all its turmoil and tragedy, Christmas is the eloquent reminder that God
has not given up on humanity. It is the enduring assurance that he is involved in our affairs, that
he really does enter into our human life and history through his own dear Son.