The genealogies of Jesus as found in the gospels of Matthew and Luke have become a source of contention over time. One of the main issues in contention is the fact that Matthew records Jesus’ adoptive father, Joseph, as being descended from a man named Jacob, whereas Luke says that Joseph’s father was a man named Eli. The gospels appear to be tracing two entirely separate lineages, which only come together with King David. Matthew’s gospel says that Jesus was descended from David through his son Jeconiah, while Luke says that Jesus was descended from David’s son Nathan.
The most plausible explanation for this divergence is that Matthew is tracing Jesus’ lineage through Joseph, whereas Luke is tracing it through Mary. This seems reasonable enough on the surface. After all, this is how we trace genealogies today: through both the mother and the father. In the ancient world, however, this was exceedingly rare. A child’s genealogy was almost always traced exclusively through the father because the father bore the family name, and with that name came rights associated with titles and inheritance. For this reason, if Luke did trace Jesus’ genealogy through Mary, he did something rather extraordinary for the time. This may in fact be the case, but if so, why didn’t Luke just say this? He doesn’t mention Mary at all in this genealogy. He claims to be tracing it through Joseph, and he names Joseph’s father.
So, what gives?
In what follows here, I’ll give you what I think is the most plausible explanation for this divergence, and why both lineages are attributed to Joseph.
Modern Western society (especially here in America) is highly individualistic. With certain exceptions, people tend to rise or fall on their own merits, and their actions do not ordinarily affect their families. This has not always been the case, however, especially in small town environments where most people knew one another rather well, and in the circles of the well-to-do, where one’s family name had standing. Family standing is far more important in collective societies, such as in the Far East today, with Japan perhaps being the most important example. One’s personal behavior can either honor or disgrace an entire family—sometimes for generations.
Such was definitely the case in the culture of the ancient Near East, and we find examples of it in the Old Testament. Perhaps the most prominent example is a man named Jeroboam. After the death of King Solomon, Israel split into two kingdoms. Jeroboam took leadership of the northern ten tribes, which became known as “Israel” and the “Northern Kingdom.” The remaining two tribes constituted the “Southern Kingdom” or simply “Judah,” were ruled by Solomon’s son Rehoboam. Jerusalem, located in Judah, had been the capital of united Israel. Jerusalem was also the site of the temple, which was the center of Hebrew life and culture. In order to keep the people of Israel from going to Judah for worship—and thereby to solidify the split between the tribes—Jeroboam set up idols in the northern extremities of Israel. This was the beginning of Israel’s departure from Yahweh, and led to the nation’s ultimate downfall. For this reason, the Old Testament frequently refers to Jeroboam as “Jeroboam, the son of Nebat, who caused Israel to sin.” Jeroboam is thus disgraced in the Old Testament as an idolater who destroyed his people, and his father’s family is disgraced right along with him.
Another example is found in the story of Amnon and Tamar, as recorded in II Samuel 13. Amnon and Tamar were half-brother and sister through different wives of David. Tamar is said to have been beautiful, and Amnon loved her greatly—or at least he thought he did. His desire for Tamar was so great that he actually became ill as a result, and a “friend” told him how to go about seducing her. Amnon carried out the scheme and raped Tamar, setting off a family quarrel that ultimately resulted in civil war in the kingdom. When his intentions became obvious, Tamar pleaded with him not to do it, saying: “No, my brother, do not violate me, for such a thing is not done in Israel; do not do this disgraceful thing! As for me, where could I get rid of my reproach? And as for you, you will be like one of the fools in Israel. Now therefore, please speak with the king, for he will not withhold me from you” (II Samuel 13:12-13). Tamar’s reaction here clearly shows that she was concerned, not only with what was happening to her physically at the moment, but with how she would be perceived afterward. She also appealed to Amnon’s concerns for his own reputation.
In Jewish society, when a man and a woman were betrothed, they were considered legally married, even though they weren’t living together as of yet. During that time, both were expected to remain sexually chaste; and if either failed to do so, it was considered adultery, which was punishable by death under the law of Moses. At the very least, it was grounds for divorce. If a couple slept together before being officially married, it was still considered a reproachful act: a violation of sacred tradition and pledges made before witnesses.
When Mary was found to be pregnant during her betrothal to Joseph, only one of three things was possible as far as the families would have been concerned: Mary had been raped, Mary had had consensual relations with another man (again, adultery), or Mary and Joseph had gotten an unauthorized head start on things. Any of these would have resulted in public shame for both families. The only way Joseph could keep himself and his family in the clear would be to divorce Mary, and thereby claim that whatever had happened was not his doing. Under the law of Moses, if a woman was raped, she was under obligation to declare it. If she failed to do so, she’d be suspected of having consented to sex with a man who was not her husband. Socially speaking, this was about as bad as a situation could get for a young woman and her family (particularly her father) in those days and in that culture.
We’re not told what Joseph thought when he discovered that Mary was pregnant, but it obviously wasn’t good, as the gospel writer tells us that he was planning to divorce her. Still, it’s recorded of Joseph that he was “a just man.” He had no plans to disgrace Mary publicly, as was his right. Instead, he was going to divorce her privately. Of course, when he learned the truth, he married her. In modern, Western culture, we have little real appreciation for what this meant for Joseph. As far as the Jewish community was concerned, he was basically claiming Mary’s child as his. This would have been seen as evidence that the two of them had acted inappropriately, and it would have brought a measure of reproach on both families. By his actions, Joseph chose to spare Mary and her family one of the worst social stigmas possible at that time; and in the process, he brought a degree of reproach upon himself and his family. This wouldn’t have left things in an ideal state, by any means, but the relief Mary’s family would have felt is probably unimaginable to most of us today.
If you have any knowledge of the Bible, you’ll probably remember the story of Joseph, whose father Jacob gave him the famous “coat of many colors.” Joseph was one of Jacob’s most beloved children, so much so that his older brothers were murderously jealous of him. When they finally saw their chance, they sold him into slavery, and Joseph ended up in Egypt. To make a long story short, Joseph eventually proved himself among the Egyptians as one who had the favor of God. He was elevated to a place of high leadership in Egypt, second only to the Pharoah, who gave Joseph his daughter in marriage. Joseph had two sons with her: Ephraim and Manasseh. When Joseph was finally reunited with his father after many years, Jacob placed his hands on Ephraim and Manasseh and blessed them. He also effectively adopted them on the spot: “Now your two sons, who were born to you in the land of Egypt before I came to you in Egypt, are mine; Ephraim and Manasseh shall be mine, as Reuben and Simeon are” (Genesis 48:5). Ephraim and Manasseh became known as “half-tribes” of Israel, constituting the “House of Joseph.” Manasseh is actually mentioned as one of the twelve tribes in Revelation 7, whereas one full tribe—the tribe of Dan—is omitted.
I believe we’re dealing with something similar in the genealogy of Luke 3.
When Joseph chose to spare Mary and her family the terrible disgrace they would have suffered otherwise, and even brought a measure of reproach upon himself in the process, my guess is that Mary’s father effectively adopted him just as Jacob adopted Ephraim and Manasseh. For an older man to give a younger man his name was the greatest honor he could possibly bestow in that time and culture. Even giving Joseph his daughter in marriage was not as significant as giving Joseph his name, as it potentially involved matters of inheritance. Also, in giving Joseph his name, Eli would have been essentially handing him the entire family legacy: the family honor going back generations.
While this scenario is not explicitly stated in scripture, I believe it’s entirely plausible. It’s consistent with the culture of the day and with the examples I’ve cited from the Old Testament. It may not be convincing to more hardline skeptics, who would like to see it spelled out clearly in the text, but it makes sense and that’s my personal view of the matter.
***
Scriptures cited in this article are from the NASB.
