Like any good Hallmark
movie or holiday sitcom episode, today’s Christmas story starts with a relationship
problem: Mary is pregnant and it is not Joseph’s kid.
There’s the implication of infidelity and the story starts with a pending divorce.
There’s the implication of infidelity and the story starts with a pending divorce.
You and I, the
audience, know what Joseph does not: that there’s no infidelity. This is a
misunderstanding, a lack of knowledge, that’s pulling the couple apart. We also
know that Joseph is a good guy. An upstanding, solid, faithful guy. One who
does right and for whom good things should happen.
It’s got all
the essential elements of a good holiday story and now we’re invested. We want
it to work out for them, so we are primed for resolution.
In contemporary
Christmas stories, resolution comes from true love, seasonal good will, fate,
or the intervention of the family dog. Divine intervention is not the usual
method of resolution in the stories we see on TV.
Matthew’s
readers might be better primed to expect the action of God, but for Joseph
himself – as it would be for you or me in most of our own relationship problems
– an angelic dream is probably pretty unexpected.
I mean, Joseph wasn’t
praying for a miracle.
He wasn’t
looking for salvation – not for himself and not for the whole nation of Israel.
He was just
trying to solve a family problem, as best he could, without hurting anybody
else worse than he had to. He’s trusting to himself to do the right thing, and
letting that be enough.
And then this
dream.
An angel of the
Lord – unmistakably a divine messenger – appears in his sleep and speaks
directly to him: Don’t be afraid, Joseph.
Don’t worry
about the consequences, don’t try to manage this quietly to avoid scandal. Go
ahead. Marry Mary. Name her son as your own: he is going to save his people
from their sins.
Wait, what?
It’s one thing
to have God’s assurance that Mary hasn’t betrayed him. But parenting the Savior
of Israel…? Parenting the Son of God is not the solution to his relationship
problems Joseph was looking for.
But it’s what he’s getting.
But it’s what he’s getting.
The narrator
steps in here with an explanatory note: It’s like that other story, remember? The
one Isaiah told, about a pregnant young woman whose child is a sign of God with
us.
Matthew’s first
audience would have gotten that reference as a confirmation of divine intention,
a cultural reference to expectations of the Messiah who would come and fix the
world for God, whom Israel has been waiting for so long.
And many might
also remember the context of that reference – you and I heard a little of it
this morning:
Isaiah the
prophet is talking to King Ahaz of Judah, who is under threat from the
neighboring kings of Damascus and Samaria, determined to sweep Ahaz up into
their fight with Assyria, the big bully in the neighborhood. That’s a situation
always dangerous for the little nation caught in the middle.
Isaiah wants to
encourage Ahaz to stand firm as God’s king, not get swept into foolish choices
by fear. So Isaiah invites him to ask God for a sign: for guidance and
reassurance and support.
Ahaz declines.
It’s okay; he’s
fine. No miracles necessary.
I won’t test
God, he says. I don’t need to see what’s in the divine rescue kit.
Independence is
a fine thing. But refusing to depend on God - depending instead on one’s own
self - is a profound failure if you’re the king of God’s people. It’s a
dereliction of duty, a betrayal of your responsibilities to God and to the
people you’re supposed to lead.
It’s a lack of
faith. And a lack of faithfulness.
So God – speaking
through Isaiah – won’t have any of that.
You don’t want
a sign? I’m giving you a sign.
Look, see this
pregnant young woman? Her child is the sign that God is with you; that’s his
name, even. And by the time that child is weaned those threatening kings will
be a distant memory, forgotten. Less than two years, probably.
God is going to
save God’s people whether you ask for it or not.
God is going to
save Ahaz and the kingdom of Judah whether or not Ahaz is willing to accept the
help.
God is going to be born of Mary; God is going to save God’s people, whether Joseph was looking for it or not. The stories we hear today insist that God is going to save even if it never occurs to us to ask.
God is proactively
faithful to us, to God’s people, God’s whole world, whether or not we ourselves
are faithful.
God insists on
being with us when we aren’t looking for help, or for company.
God is going to
help, to save, even when we say, “No, thanks, I’m good. I’ve got this.”
God insists on proving
trustworthy when we would much rather trust ourselves.
That’s amazing.
The proactive
generosity of God is beyond our imagining.
And it can
sometimes be a little hard to accept.
Not for Joseph,
apparently. Joseph wakes up and does exactly what God proposes to him; takes up
his role in God’s salvation.
Joseph
apparently hears and accepts the angel’s assurance that he has nothing to fear
from the uninvited eruption of salvation into his life.
But it can be
hard for many of us.
I know I find
it a lot more attractive – much easier! – to put my trust in myself than to accept
uninvited help.
When I’ve got
my head down into a task, a challenge, or a problem to solve, uninvited help and
unasked solutions seem like interference. When I’m methodically testing every single
bulb to find the burnt out one in that strand of lights on the Christmas tree,
I don’t want your whole new lights. I’m not ready to hear that the tree looks
great without them, either. And telling me to quit worrying about the lights
because Jesus is going to come anyway is….
well, it’s true.
It’s reassuring. (But I still want to fix the problem my way, too.)
And when it’s a
bigger battle than tree lights – serious illness, grief, a dangerous scarcity
of money or a frustrating scarcity of time, or the sometimes avalanche-like
overwhelm of the holidays?
Well, like Ahaz, I like to say I don’t want to put God to the test. I can manage it myself. Because it’s emotionally hard to depend on a solution, a salvation, that I can’t control myself, can’t even imagine, and just have to trust.
Well, like Ahaz, I like to say I don’t want to put God to the test. I can manage it myself. Because it’s emotionally hard to depend on a solution, a salvation, that I can’t control myself, can’t even imagine, and just have to trust.
But that is
exactly what God invites us to, today.
God invites – calls
– us to test out the reality of God’s proactive, generous love for ourselves.
To accept God’s insistence on helping, though it’s almost never the form of
help I thought I wanted, and rarely as comfortable as what I planned.
God invites,
calls, us to accept the uninvited offers of signs, of reassurance and
encouragement that come our way and to believe that God is at work to disarm
the threats to our faith, our love, our wholeness, even (sometimes especially!)
when we might be able to do it ourselves.
To learn to
look for salvation when we don’t feel the need. To look not only for my own
salvation, but to expect the desire and action of God to transform the whole
world.
What we hear
today is an invitation – really an implied command – to be, like Joseph,
faithful in our acceptance of God’s faithfulness to us. To receive God’s faith toward
us, God’s absolute insistence on Immanuel, on God being with us, now and
always, to the end of the age.
No comments:
Post a Comment