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December 26, 2004
The World God Comes To
Isaiah 63:7-9, Matthew 2:13-23
Very late on Christmas Eve—or perhaps it was very early Christmas morning—having arrived home after leading three Christmas Eve services, I found that the carols we had sung were still going through my head: Angels We Have Heard on High, It Came Upon the Midnight Clear, Joy to the World, and of course, Silent Night.
I had this sort of Christmas Eve buzz going—the beauty of the candlelight services, the wonderful music, the warmth of people gathering together to hear the Christmas Story again. I was especially happy that we were able to bring back the tradition of passing out candles and passing the light from the Christ Candle as we sing "Son of God, love's pure light; radiant beams from thy holy face, with the dawn of redeeming grace…" Somehow for me that moment was when it feels like Christmas!
Silent Night and the other carols paint a serene picture of Christmas—just like this beautiful Fontanini crèche does: the Christ child surrounded by his adoring parents, the docile sheep and cow gazing on, the wise men kneeling in amazement, all of them swathed in the radiant light of God…The Savior is born, all is right with the world.
The Christmas Eve buzz is toned down this morning. The decorations are still up, and no doubt we all have quite a few Christmas cookies and sweets left to be eaten. We started off worship with a Christmas carol, but you probably noticed a stark contrast between Angels, from the Realms of Glory and "In Bethlehem a Newborn Boy was hailed with songs of praise and joy. Then warning came of danger near: King Herod's troops would soon appear."
The peaceful image of Christmas is crashed in upon by a tragic story of fear and violence. Gone is the nativity scene where all is calm, all is bright. According to Matthew, Joseph is told in a dream to take Mary and the newborn babe, and flee to Egypt, a country they don't know, leaving family, friends, culture, language, livelihood behind, to become refugees, seekers of political asylum, in order to escape Herod. While they live in exile in Egypt, at home their family and friends suffer at the hands of Herod, as all children under the age of two in and around Bethlehem are killed by Herod's soldiers. What must it have been like for Mary to know that her beloved child, the one who was to redeem Israel, was the cause of so much pain for her people? After two years passed and Herod died, they could return to Israel. But Joseph took them not to his hometown of Bethlehem in Judea, because he feared Archelaus, the ruler who succeeded Herod. Instead they went north to the region of Galilee, in the town of Nazareth. Again, Joseph and Mary were strangers.
Now, it may make you feel better to know that most scholars believe that Herod's order to kill the children never happened. There's no historical record of it, and the story does not appear in any of the other gospels. (Although it is perhaps worth noting that such an order would not have been out of line with Herod's ruthless way of governing.) More than likely, the slaughter of the innocents was included to make a point. When the gospel of Matthew was written, it's main audience was Jewish, so the author of Matthew went out of his way to show that Jesus' birth, life, and death fulfilled the prophets' predictions of the coming Messiah. In our reading today, three times Matthew refers to events surrounding Jesus' birth that fulfilled what had been spoken by the prophets. Also, Matthew tries to draw a parallel between Jesus and Moses, who led the Hebrews out of slavery in Egypt and into freedom. Moses is one of the greatest leaders of the people of Israel, so it makes sense to compare Jesus to him for a Jewish audience. Just as Moses escaped pharaoh's edict ordering the death of all baby boys when his mother placed him in a basket in the river, so Jesus escapes Herod's decree when Joseph is told in a dream to flee. And Joseph is told to flee to Egypt, not so coincidentally the home of Moses.
Now whether the events described in Matthew actually happened is not the point. Matthew carefully constructed his narrative to share the meaning of who Jesus was for his community, and how they experienced God through the life and death of Jesus. That is the purpose of this gospel.
All that being said—Why do we hear this story of violence and fear now, the first Sunday after Christmas? Why did the creators of the common lectionary decide that this passage belonged here? In terms of the liturgical year, the story is out of order. Before our story began, the wise men had to visit Jesus, and that story isn't found in the lectionary until January 6, when we celebrate Epiphany. So, why this, why now?
One way of making meaning of this passage is to look at another lectionary reading from this morning. It's from Isaiah 63:7-9, and it's short enough that I'll read it for you now:
"I will recount the gracious deeds of the Lord,
the praiseworthy acts of the Lord,
because of all that the Lord has done for us,
and the great favor to the house of Israel that he has show them according to his mercy,
according to the abundance of his steadfast love.
For he said, "Surely they are my people, children who will not deal falsely";
and he became their savior in all their distress.
It was no messenger or angel but his presence that saved them;
in his love and in his pity he redeemed them;
he lifted them up and carried them all the days of old."
This passage is a hymn of praise, likely written during Israel's exile in Babylon, and possibly sung in worship, in the midst of the uncertainty and fear of that time when they lived as strangers in a strange land:
"I will recount the gracious deeds of the Lord, the praiseworthy acts of the Lord..."
These three verses are the beginning of a much longer poem that is a lament, an appeal to God for mercy and help. The lament begins with this recitation of trust in God's faithfulness, and it is this trust that is the basis for their lament. If God has been with us in the past, surely God will be with us in the future, if only we turn ourselves to God. Again, this passage is a rehearsal and reminder for a people longing for restoration of a broken relationship with God.
In this passage from Isaiah, God is the hope for the Israelites in the midst of their despair.
So I ask again, why these readings today? Perhaps to remind us that this was the reality of the world God came to: not a time where everything was in order, but one in which families had to flee their homes in fear, where some in power used their might to kill innocent people, where people were forced to leave their homes, and poverty and oppression were everywhere.
Doesn't sound so much different from today, does it? Two thousand years later, we live in a world where innocent people die simply because they are in the wrong place at the wrong time, where war and the threat of war rages on every continent, where over 20 million people are refugees.
At the close of 2004 we are no more prepared and no more deserving of the coming of Christ than they were when Jesus was born. The war in Iraq continues, with more troops headed there every day. Violence between Israelis and Palestinians still rages, and every time we think it can't get any worse, somehow it still does. Millions still go hungry every day; despots still rule. The list goes on and on. We are not ready for Christ's coming. But, thanks be to God, Christ comes anyway.
This is Immanuel, God with us—with us in the midst of fear, struggle, and injustice. In the midst of despair, God places God's very self. Into this world, a child is born who shows us a whole new way of being—a way of compassion and love, where we find strength in weakness, where we are loved, not for anything we do, but simply because we are. This is the ruler who challenges everything, not by coming in power, but as a helpless infant; who proclaims God's reign not in a world of justice or peace, but in a world of brokenness and despair. This is the incarnation of the God who promises to be with us always, no matter what happens.
This is the world God comes to: a world that is neither peaceful nor just, a world in which the innocent die, a world in which the darkness threatens to overwhelm us. But the God who has been there in the past promises to come and be with us in the present, and to sustain us as we journey into the future.
In closing, I'd like to read a poem by Madeleine L'Engle, found in her book, A Cry Like a Bell. It is titled, First Coming.
God did not wait till the world was ready,
till…nations were at peace.
God came when the Heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release.God did not wait for the perfect time.
God came when the need was deep and great.
God dined with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine. God did not waittill hearts were pure. In joy God came
to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
To a world like ours, of anguished shame
God came, and God's light would not go out.God came to a world which did not mesh,
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.
In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
the Maker of the stars was born.We cannot wait till the world is sane
to raise our songs with joyful voice,
for to share our grief, to touch our pain,
God came with love: Rejoice! Rejoice!
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