The third chapter of Luke famously opens with a list of mighty men, seven mighty men, potential heroes of the Mediterranean world. Beginning with Tiberius Caesar and Pontius Pilate, passing on to Herod the Tetrarch and his brothers, and ending with two High Priests, Luke says that the word of God came to John the son of Zechariah in the wilderness. Mary’s song is coming true. The proud are being demoted while the humble are being exalted.
But another way to think of these men is as a list of potential suitors. The world was in search of a good man to deliver them. Would it be Caesar? Would it be Herod? Would it be another Maccabean Redeemer? For Jews, the hero could not be a gentile, God had promised a seed to Abraham, and a son of David would sit on the throne forever. So Caesar was out.
But Herod? What about Herod? Of course he was an Edomite, a descendent of Esau, not a son of David. This would have stung the memories of many faithful Jews, but he had poured money into Jerusalem and the temple in particular – could this be the one? Could he be a new Solomon? After all, new political situations perhaps called for new political solutions. Maybe Herod would be strong enough to stand up to Rome.
Going all the way back to Sinai, there had been a rich tradition of marital imagery woven into the political establishment of Israel as a special nation. God had carried Israel out of Egypt on eagles’ wings. He had redeemed her, and they were married and He came to dwell with her. But when Israel strayed from her Lord and Husband, God raised up judges who pictured His redeeming love. They would drive back the enemy suitors, the oppressors, and pay off her debts and give her back the land.
This was beautifully captured in the story of Ruth and Naomi, where two homeless widows returned to the land of Israel praying for redemption, and God raised up a kinsman redeemer in Boaz, a hero, a mighty man. And it’s no accident that David comes from this line, and He and Solomon became the pinnacle of this heroic husbandry, occasionally reemerging in heroes like Hezekiah, Jehoshaphat, and Josiah. In recent memory, the last heroes of Israel had been the Maccabeans, but that had dissolved in infighting, brothers killing brothers, and Rome had arrived with its ironclad solutions and imposed Herodian rule.
Much of this redemptive marital symbolism was embedded in the word “redeemer.” The same word was used in the Old Covenant law to describe the near relative’s duty to carry out the death penalty for murder (Numbers 35:16ff). This man was called the “avenger of blood.” The same word is used for the near relative who sees a family member fall into extreme debt and poverty. If a brother lost his house or property or was himself sold into slavery for his debts, the “redeemer/avenger” could pay the debts and redeem his brother or his house or land (Leviticus 25:25). And of course the same word is used to describe the near relative who married a childless widow to raise up an heir to a dead brother (Ruth 4:1-12). This provision was what Judah’s wicked sons refused to give Tamar (Genesis 38).
Thus, when the word of God comes to John in the wilderness preaching Isaiah’s message of return from exile, it is understandable that the crowds are in expectation (Luke 3:15). Could John be the anointed one? Could John be the hero, the redeemer they were praying for, hoping for? Could John be the one to execute God’s vengeance on their enemies, to buy back their land, and make them fruitful again?
No, says John, there is a Greater Hero coming, one Mightier than him. In ancient Israel, according to the law, if a brother or the nearest relative refused the duty of being the kinsman-redeemer, his sandal would be removed and given to the one who would marry the brother’s widow (Deuteronomy 25:9, Ruth 4:7-8). John says that there is a nearer relative, one more qualified, one who is coming, the strap of whose sandals he is not worthy to untie (Luke 3:16).
John is not merely saying that Jesus is greater than he. He’s not merely saying Jesus is worthy of more honor. John is saying that Jesus is the Nearer-Relative, the Kinsman-Redeemer, the Avenger of Blood, the One Coming who will buy Israel out of slavery and raise up children to Abraham in their barren widowhood.
In this way, Luke provides a sharp contrast between John and Herod. Of course Herod is threatened by John’s preaching. Herod perceives the political rivalry in John’s popularity. Herod wants the affections of the people. He wants to be their redeemer, their hero, their husband.
But it’s not merely that. John and Herod are clearly contrasted by the kind of potential suitors they reveal themselves to be. Herod is no Boaz because Herod has stolen his brother’s wife. The epitome of the redeemer’s calling was to sacrificially save and rescue a fallen, enslaved brother and even marry his widow and raise up an heir, potentially at an enormous cost to the redeemer. But Herod is not a brother-redeemer. He is a brother-oppressor, and by stealing his brother’s wife, he intimates that he wishes his brother were dead.
Not only does John stand in contrast to Herod by his preaching against Herod’s cowardly anti-heroism and thereby indicates to Israel that they can do better than him, but John also embodies the kind of selflessness they ought to be looking for. When John might have accepted their admiration, he firmly insists that he is only the Best Man. The Groom is Greater. Their true Redeemer is Mightier still.
Leadership is always in some ways a story of suitors. To the extent that people look to their leaders for rescue, for protection, and to the extent that they have a choice in the process, the presidential hopefuls, the rising preachers, the journalists, the authors – are all in some ways potential suitors of the people. The fundamental options therefore are to be Herodian or Johannine. The Herods grasp and steal and try to buy allegiance with money and coercion and manipulation. But they are ultimately Cains and Sauls, brother-hunters and therefore wife-oppressors.
The Johns proclaim the way of generosity, the way of brotherly love, the way of sharing tunics, which is the kind of man who will be a faithful and loving husband. And most importantly, the Johns point away to the Husband who is Greater.
Jesus comes to raise up children to his long dead brother Adam. He will give all that He has, even His very life, to redeem his brother from bondage to the grave.
Toby Sumpter is Pastor of Trinity Reformed Church, Moscow, Idaho.