Introduction
If you’ve been reading with me through this journey thus far, you know that this is my final piece in a series exploring how to use Scripture in bioethical reasoning, especially on the topic of abortion. Each part has focused on a different genre of Scripture (biblical law and poetry) and has explored a passage commonly utilized in the abortion debate. With this, I’ve also highlighted how these passages are aimed at forming us in relation to God and humankind. Thus, biblical law provides contextualized boundaries aimed at the timeless good of loving both God and neighbor. Biblical poetry uses such techniques as metaphor to walk readers through an embodied journey that shapes cognition, affection, and volition. Biblical narrative is no different. As Jeanine K. Brown suggests in The Gospels as Stories,
We “get” stories. We are drawn into their plotlines. We identify deeply with their characters. We are captivated by their settings. And we intuitively understand what a story is “doing”—what themes it communicates, what morals it highlights, what other stories it evokes or undermines. Neurobiologists suggest that story is hardwired into us; we make sense of our reality by interpreting it and retelling it as story.[1]
It’s no surprise then that the Gospel writers felt it important to not merely pass on the teachings of Jesus, but stories of his life. As God himself condescended upon our world wrapped in frail human flesh, his story would be the one to change every aspect of the lives and history of his followers. There is no story more powerful than that. Thus, when exploring narrative passages about the God we worship, we must be attentive to the story he lives and the story biblical authors chose to tell. With four different gospel authors recounting the life of Christ, biblical readers are invited into embodied retellings of his life; not mere facts but truths that transformed the lives of the authors who wrote about him. Transformative story begat transformative story.
Luke 1:26-45 and Narrative Criticism
Luke 1:26–45 is the most cited narrative passage in the abortion debate. As unborn John the Baptist is exposed to unborn Jesus, John leaps in his mother’s womb (v. 41). Based on this, pro-life advocates suggest that the work of the Holy Spirit even before birth proves that the fetus is an active subject deserving of personhood. As with each of the pieces I’ve written thus far, I want us to hold firm to the theological exhortations of the original biblical authors, to come away with theologically robust answers to life’s most important questions. Thus, if we study the rhetorical concerns of gospel author Luke, a non-Jewish companion of Paul and a physician (Col 4:14),[2] does this passage support such a position?
In order to discern this, narrative criticism is a helpful tool. Don’t let the term “criticism” deter you; this approach to reading is merely about exploring the message behind the artfulness of narrative. After all, as the apostle John says,
But there are also many other things which Jesus did, which, if they were written in detail, I expect that even the world itself would not contain the books that would be written (John 21:25, NASB).
The implication of John’s so eloquent statement is that every gospel author had to select those stories and details that intertwined to communicate the key aspects of Jesus’ ministry they wanted to shape the reality of the curious and committed alike. Narrative criticism seeks to therefore discover authorial intent through paying “attention to the artful use of language, to the shifting play of ideas, conventions, tone, sound, imagery, syntax, narrative viewpoint, compositional units, and much else.”[3]
In utilizing narrative criticism, Brown differentiates between the story level and the discourse level. The story level includes those elements readily perceivable to the eye of the reader: settings, events, characters, etc. The discourse level requires more careful study. Here, not only is the reader looking for the characters but also characterization. Discourse further includes irony, sequencing, narration, etc.[4] It is at this level where the plot must be studied, or the way in which the story is framed. Here, the author seeks to communicate cause and effect, not just a sequence of actions.[5] As a part of the exposition portion of this plot, Luke 1:39–45 sets up the backstory essential for understanding the central characters and events.[6] This movement of cause-and-effect continues into the rising action, the climax of plot tension, and finally the plot resolution.[7]
Studying the sequencing—selective ordering of events to highlight theological concerns—Luke begins his account of Jesus’ public ministry with a Sabbath synagogue reading (Luke 4:14–30) of Isaiah 61:1–2, evidencing a concern for the poor and oppressed in the testimony of the good news.[8] It is therefore significant that in setting up the main characters of the story, Luke includes an account of the Spirit testifying to the Lordship of Jesus through two women faithful to God yet burdened with cultural shame for either their lack of bringing forth children (Elizabeth, 1:5–7) or their pregnancy before marriage (Mary, Luke 1:26–38; cf. Matt. 1:18-19).
Indeed, further analysis of Luke’s characterization of Mary highlights his emphasis on the elevation of the humble and lowly. Based on Luke’s account, she is “a young girl, not yet or only recently having achieved puberty, in an insignificant town in a racially mixed region.”[9] Yet, the angel Gabriel’s opening words to her bestow God’s great favor on her (1:28); she who had no claim to elevated status would be raised from her humble circumstances and play a central role in redemptive history.[10] As textual evidence of her status reversal, Elizabeth—a descendant of Aaron (the priestly line), wife to a priest (1:5), and older than Mary—calls Mary blessed among women and proclaims the honor it is for her to visit (vv. 42-43).[11]
Mary’s subsequent song praises God for how he performs such status reversals, elevating the humble over the proud and the poor over the rich (1:46–55), asserting, “He has brought down rulers from their thrones, and he has exalted those who were humble” (v. 52). For women in a first century Greco-Roman context, even to highlight their accounts of God’s faithfulness is an elevation. Indeed, a major argument for the veracity of the gospels is the use of female testimony of Jesus’ resurrection. In a patriarchal age in which the testimonies of women were distrusted, God chose to work through women. The gospel authors remained faithful in recounting that work,[12] Luke especially. Comparative analysis of the gospels evidence that Luke has more narrative accounts of women in relation to Jesus than any other gospel writer.
Yet, the elevation of the humble goes beyond Mary and Elizabeth. Unborn John and Jesus also play central roles in this thematic development. The use of the Greek term brephos for both Jesus and John the Baptist covers both the unborn and earliest born stages of a child’s life, reserved for those years in which an infant is the most helpless and dependent (John: 1:41, 42; Jesus: 2:12, 16). Luke is the only gospel author to use this word, Matthew using the more universal paidon, or “child,” even during the infancy years of Jesus (e.g., Matt 2:8). By this, Luke evidences how Jesus would be the savior of the vulnerable and oppressed, God even utilizing them to foretell and retell this good news. Brown indeed notes the paralleling birth and growth accounts of Jesus and John (Luke 1–2), “a central purpose of this extended comparison is to show God at work in the lives of both John and Jesus, even prior to their conceptions, bringing redemption for Israel.”[13] All of this aligns with how God has worked throughout the Old Testament, frequently choosing leaders with either less social power or less physical strength.[14] Thus, the purpose of our passage in the overall development of Luke’s gospel is to establish Jesus as the miraculous fulfillment of God’s promise,
To bring good news to the humble;
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
To proclaim release to captives
And freedom to prisoners;
To proclaim the favorable year of the Lord
And the day of vengeance of our God;
To comfort all who mourn (Isa 61:1b–2).
The Elevation of the Humble and Abortion
In light of this, does Luke 1:39–45 apply in the abortion debate? Yes, I believe it does. However, perhaps not for the reasons typically cited. The use of this passage regarding abortion will often emphasize the Greek term brephos and assert that Luke was blurring the line between the status of the unborn and born, making an intentional statement of personhood. I want to ensure that we don’t get so deep into the trees of the abortion debate that we miss the theological forest before us. In each biblical passage I’ve explored through this series, I’m concerned that we’re reducing the theological feast offered to a mere assertion of unborn status. Instead, Exodus 21 bridges the Ten Commandments (theology) and legal protection for both the mother and pre-born child (public life). Psalm 139 presents life in the womb as a place outside of the control of the psalmist, and therefore the turning point towards celebration of God’s sovereign intimacy. Luke 1 is not concerned with arguments regarding the ontological status of pre-born life. Rather, the passage highlights the genuinely good news found in the coming of God to the earth: God’s time of favor and redemption for the humbled who are faithful to him.
What does this passage add to our discourse on abortion, and to life in general? God can work in the weakest and most vulnerable of persons. Human life is not precious merely because of our functionality, but because of our identity in relationship to him. A common critique of this passage in abortion discussions results from its miraculous nature: If these events precede the birth of the savior of the world, how can they act as a paradigm for unborn child personhood beyond such an event? Indeed, the text recounts the miraculous, but its miracle extends beyond the boundaries of the foretelling of the coming Son. Instead, it includes the miracle of his Kingdom in which the proud would be humbled, the humble would be elevated, the poor would know true wealth, and the wealthy would not be shown preference. This miracle is for the unborn and the born alike. It is for the old and the young, the woman and the man, and the Gentile and the Jew.
Thus, if you’re passionately pro-life, I encourage you to sit and listen. Sit and listen to stories. First and foremost, listen to the stories of Christ and the kind of kingdom he has brought and is bringing. How might your own story change based on these truths? Listen to the stories of faithful women. Contrary to cultural assumptions, God has used them to share the good news of his Kingdom throughout history. How can you participate for the good of that Kingdom in supporting God’s work through all, including women? Listen to the stories of children. How can we societally and personally protect the most vulnerable among us? After all, God himself chose to enter the world in frail human flesh. Let us delight in God’s work even through human dependence and vulnerability, being transformed by a Kingdom coming in power yet conceived in frailty.
References
[1] Jeanine K. Brown, The Gospels as Stories (Baker Academic, 2020), 3.
[2] Darrell L. Bock, Luke, The NIV Application Commentary (Zondervan, 1996), “The Composition of Luke’s Gospel,” accessed in NIVAC Bundle 6: Gospels, Acts (Zondervan Academic, 2015), eBook.
[3] Robert Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative, Rev. & Up. (Basic Books, 2011), 13
[4] Brown, The Gospels as Stories, 11–12.
[5] Brown, The Gospels as Stories, 25–26.
[6] Brown, The Gospels as Stories, 27.
[7] Brown, The Gospels as Stories, 27–28.
[8] Brown, The Gospels as Stories, 33.
[9] Joel B. Green, Luke as Narrative Theologian: Texts and Topics (Mohr Siebeck, 2020), 47.
[10] Green, Luke as Narrative Theologian, 49.
[11] Green, Luke as Narrative Theologian, 51
[12] Michael R. Licona, The Resurrection of Jesus: A New Historiographical Account (IVP Academic, 2010), 349–51.
[13] Brown, The Gospels as Stories, 47.
[14] For instance, in the Old Testament, God chose Joseph, the nearly youngest child of his family and one who was abandoned by them to slavery, to bring about the ultimate redemption of the Israelite people from servitude. He chose Moses to be the leader of Israel, a man self-proclaimed to be ineloquent and reluctant. He chose David, yet another of the youngest amongst his brothers and less physically capable then the statuesque and impressive Saul.