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Context No. 510 of 4322 · Matthew

Context · Reflection

Matthew 1:12-16: in context

12After the exile to Babylon, Jechoniah became the father of Shealtiel. Shealtiel became the father of Zerubbabel. 13Zerubbabel became the father of Abiud. Abiud became the father of Eliakim. Eliakim became the father of Azor. 14Azor became the father of Zadok. Zadok became the father of Achim. Achim became the father of Eliud. 15Eliud became the father of Eleazar. Eleazar became the father of Matthan. Matthan became the father of Jacob. 16Jacob became the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary, from whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ.

This is the tail end of Matthew's genealogy of Jesus, the stretch running from the Babylonian exile down to Joseph, and it is almost entirely a list of names no one recognizes. Abiud, Eliakim, Azor, Zadok, Achim, Eliud, Eleazar, Matthan. There are no stories attached to them, no famous deeds, no recorded triumphs or failures. Unlike the earlier part of the genealogy, with its Abraham and David and the great dramatic turns of the nation's history, this section covers the long, dim centuries after the exile, the period people sometimes call the silent years, when it seemed God had gone quiet and no prophet was speaking and nothing much appeared to be happening.

But look at what the list is actually recording. Across all those obscure generations, through people whose names survive only here and whose lives left no other mark, God was keeping his promise alive. Generation by unremarkable generation, in the long stretch when heaven seemed silent, the line was being carried forward, one ordinary birth at a time, toward the moment at the end of the list: Joseph, the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ. The silence was not absence. Behind the quiet, uneventful centuries, God was patiently advancing the plan he had promised, using people who had no idea they were links in it.

That steadies me about the silent stretches of my own life, and there are many, the long uneventful seasons when nothing seems to be happening, when God feels quiet and I cannot see any movement toward the things he has promised. This genealogy is a record of exactly such a stretch, and it turns out God was working the whole time, through people who could see no further than their own ordinary days. When my life feels like a run of silent, unremarkable years with nothing visibly happening, can I trust that God is quietly keeping his promises through them, the way he did across all these forgotten names?

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