Next December, it will be a quarter of a century since the release of the first film in “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy, based on the book by J.R.R. Tolkien, published about half a century earlier. When news of the film production broke, I, as a devoted fan of both the book and cinema, became massively excited about the upcoming movie. I was devouring every available piece of information about the production, trailers and teasers released to hype up the wait – it was absolutely crazy. Eventually, the first film was released. I made a two-hour journey to the nearest cinema, where I watched it with hundreds of others, and I loved it – so much so that I soon made a couple more journeys to watch it again. But some critical voices among the book’s fans accused the film director of veering from the original material. The criticism was unjustified and misplaced; it stemmed from a lack of understanding that different media use different forms of expression. When you read a book, it stirs your imagination, and you create your own adaptation in your head, rather unique because each reader is slightly different – knowledge, experience, temperament, mood and so many other factors are at play. Unlike books, moving pictures present us with a visual product that requires very little imagination. To keep the audience engaged and interested, filmmakers must use a completely different set of tools from book writers. Consequently, they must “translate” the book into the language of cinema while keeping its message and spirit. It’s a very tricky task, rarely pleasing all readers of the book in question. That’s why the comment “the book is better than the film” is so common. A similar mechanism exists even within the world of books. There’s a reason why no academic papers have ever beaten any fiction to the first one hundred bestsellers. They are just too dry and dull unless you are interested in that specific branch of science. The same principle applies to any official document, such as a police report or court papers. Even if these documents tell a story, their main purpose is to present the information as accurately and in as much detail as possible, even if that comes at the expense of the reader’s engagement.
It’s easy to dismiss the story of Jesus’ birth as a fairytale, and many do, arguing that it lacks consistency and includes too many supernatural elements. However, this criticism is based on a misguided assumption that the Gospel nativity narrative is intended to serve as a detailed, official account of events, similar to a police report or court document. This was never the goal of the biblical authors.
For the first few decades of the Christian movement, the message spread primarily through oral tradition rather than written texts (St Paul’s letters being a notable exception). During this time, the focus was on the redemptive Passion of Christ and His glorious resurrection. We can see this in the Acts of the Apostles, where the speeches refer very little to Jesus’ ministry, let alone His birthday. As new believers began to seek more information about Jesus, the Apostles and eyewitnesses to His ministry shared their memories, always focusing on their “theological” or educational significance. They were recounting stories in the style typical of their time. Eventually, as some began to compile these stories into a single narrative, their purpose was centred on presenting Jesus as the Messiah and Saviour, demonstrated through His words and actions. St Mark and St John considered Jesus’ nativity story non-essential and did not include it in their Gospels. In contrast, St Matthew included it, only to portray Jesus’ birth as the fulfilment of the ancient prophecy, as we heard last Sunday. St Luke approached the story of Jesus in the most comprehensive way as he stated in the opening of his gospel: “Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things that have been accomplished among us, just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word have delivered them to us, it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught.” (1:1-4)
Getting details about Jesus’ birth wasn’t easy, especially considering it happened some 60 years before the accounts were written. He was born in obscurity to poor, insignificant parents from Galilee, a remote area in the Roman province of Judea. There’s an ancient Christian tradition that St Luke based his account on Mary’s firsthand memories. This might be indicated by the phrase repeated in his Gospel: “Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart” (2:19). From these memories, St Luke crafted a compelling narrative rooted in real events but – with the benefit of hindsight – reinterpreted through the lens of Jesus’ ministry, passion, death, and resurrection. Some embellishments feature supernatural elements that reflect the profound spiritual meaning of the story. When we set aside these supernatural aspects, we can see quite a relatable tale of a couple travelling across the country while Mary was heavily pregnant. With no room available in the local inn, the sympathetic innkeeper likely offered them temporary accommodation in the stables typically used for his guests’ animals, surely better than spending the night outside. In small communities like Bethlehem, news travels quickly, so the unusual circumstance of a childbirth that had taken place in a stable would have likely spread fast, prompting locals to come to witness the scene or offer assistance.
The story of Jesus’ birth, in its human aspect, remains relatable and reflects our everyday challenges on individual, domestic, and communal levels. It offers us hope that we are never left to our own devices, because, as Romans 8:31 says, “If God is for us, who can be against us?” The story also invites us to play our part in helping those who are troubled or in need; to be an angel, not necessarily in appearance but certainly in actions. Goodwill is the prevalent theme of Christmas for a reason.
And there is more to the story of Jesus’ birth. I previously mentioned that St John did not include the narrative of the nativity in his Gospel. Instead, he approached it from a different, theological perspective. In the prologue to his Gospel, St John painted a picture that spans both eternity and the present, the divine and the human. He wrote, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. […] And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (1:1.14).
