Category: Religion

Tomorrow’s Sermon, The Slaughter Of The Innocents

Matthew
2:13-23

Introduction
How did you spend Christmas? I spent Boxing Day and the twenty-seventh a
hundred miles away, helping my eighty-year-old father care for my mother. She
had had a fall ten days before Christmas. I got back to my wife, who had been
running a temperature all week. Our son had gone down ill that evening. The
next night, our daughter did.

However, that was nothing to Christmas Day. My first duty in
the Christmas morning service at Broomfield this year was to announce the
arrangements for a funeral. One of our elderly members had died in the early
hours of the twenty-third. Her husband, one of her daughters and sons-in-law,
and three grandchildren were in the congregation. I can’t imagine they felt
much like being there.

Then you come to our Lectionary Gospel reading for today,
‘the slaughter of the innocents.’ We’d like to pretend it wasn’t in the story.
But in the midst of Christmas joy is this tale of an ancient Saddam Hussein or
Robert Mugabe. It reminds me of the Dunblane massacre in
1996. The Sunday following that horrific crime was Mothering Sunday, and I
remember saying I ought to preach about it in the service, because people would
be talking about it and asking big questions of faith. One of my church
stewards was horrified. He wanted it reduced to a line in the prayers. I’m
ashamed to say I gave in to him.

This story forces us to confront the dark side of Christmas
and of life. It makes us face the very reasons God sent his Son into the world.

But how to preach about it? One of the keys to Matthew’s
interpretation of the story is in the three times he relates it to the
fulfilment of prophecy. The flight into Egypt is to fulfil the words of Hosea,
‘Out of Egypt I called my son’ (verse 15). The weeping of mothers for their
infant sons is connected to Jeremiah’s words (verses 17-18). And Jesus’
upbringing in Nazareth is said to be linked to prophecy (verse 23).

Yet Hosea, Jeremiah and the Nazarene prophecy (which
probably relates to Isaiah) would not have had these meanings in mind when they
first preached them. However, Matthew sees a deeper meaning in their words,
which can only be seen in the light of Christ’s coming. With that in mind, I
want to explore this troubling story, using the fulfilment of prophecy in
Christ as a way into some meaning.

1. Hosea
The first prophecy Matthew quotes is in verse 15, and comes from Hosea 11:1:
‘Out of Egypt I called my son.’ But he puts it in a strange place in the story.
At this point Jesus hasn’t come out of Egypt – he’s just gone there. Why make
this association with the Exodus?

I believe the answer is because Matthew is telling us he
sees several parallels between the experience of Jesus and that of Moses and
the Israelites. Jesus is having a Moses experience. There are many echoes of
Moses here. Both are rescued from a ruler intent on murdering infants. In both
cases, their deliverance is to some extent based on the actions of parents.
Jesus returns once Herod is dead, and Moses returned once Pharaoh had died.
Moses led his people to deliverance from slavery to the Egyptians; Jesus was so
named, because he would save his people from their sins.

And Jesus is the fulfilment of Israel’s story. When Hosea
originally said, ‘Out of Egypt I called my son,’ he meant Israel by ‘my son’.
Israel was called the son of God in the Old Testament. Jesus enters Israel’s
sufferings and victories. But unlike her, he will be fully obedient to the
Father’s will. He will therefore properly deserve the title ‘son of God’, on
grounds of that obedience as well as his conception.

What do I learn from all of this? I learn that Jesus is the
fulfilment of the Father’s plans. He is the climax of all God has done (and is
doing) in history. If you want the summit of the mountain, look at Jesus. We
see everything in the light of him. Even the bad stuff, like a cruel ruler
sending the death squads to take out toddlers, and the need to escape – look to
Jesus. Because Jesus is a threat to the unjust rulers of this world. They are
uncomfortable and frightened by him. They will lash out. But Jesus will win.
Let’s remember that next time we turn on the news and see atrocities, whether
it is

2. Jeremiah
Now we get closer to the pain of the story. We read of the slaughter. Scholars
reckon that given the likely population of Bethlehem in those days, Herod’s
henchmen probably murdered about twenty young boys. It’s entirely consistent
with Herod’s character: he had his wife and three of his sons killed, because
he felt threatened. However, by his standards, the death of only twenty boys
was small fry. That’s probably why the historians of his day don’t record the
incident. Nevertheless, that is twenty lives cut short, without flourishing and
fulfilling their potential. It is twenty families plunged into unimaginable
grief.

And in this context, Matthew quotes Jeremiah 31:15, where
Rachel is imagined weeping for those being taken into exile by the Babylonian
forces. It is a time of heartbreak, desperation and loss of hope from Israel’s
history. How the mothers of Bethlehem must have felt like that. No wonder
Matthew alights on this text about the weeping and wailing without consolation
in Ramah.

Coming to this story with our ears, we have questions about
why a God of love would allow this, especially to ‘innocent’ children. Alternatively,
we think of Christian testimonies where somebody explains how God delivered them
from a terrible tragedy. There was one
in last Thursday’s Essex Chronicle, about a man who survived the 9/11
attacks. Thankfully, he didn’t claim that he survived because of his faith and
others died because they didn’t share his faith. He simply said it made him
realise how important it was in life to have God, family and friends. I’m sure
he knew that other Christians perished on that terrible day.

So what is Matthew telling us? I think it might be something
like this. The scripture from Jeremiah 31 about the wailing of the exile is one
dark moment set in two chapters (30 and 31) that have traditionally been called
‘The Book of Consolation’ in Jeremiah. They are the short-term darkness in the
middle of long-term hope, just as the slaughter of the innocents occurs within
the joy of the nativity story. Moreover, although God delivers Jesus here, he
will not always be safe from harm. He will die a terrible death as an innocent
man on the cross.

Matthew, then, doesn’t tell us of a God who suddenly makes
everything right. He tells us of a God who works for good in the long term. He
tells us of a God who enters human suffering in order to redeem creation. He is
beginning a story that will embrace affliction but not end there. It will end
with resurrection and the command for the disciples of Jesus to preach this
good news. Our story today is part of a larger story: one of crib, cross and
empty tomb. And it is that story which gives hope and purpose to all who embrace
the central character, Jesus. If there were a deliverance from exile for the
people of Judah, there is a greater deliverance for humankind and even creation
brought by him.

3. Isaiah?
The last quotation is the difficult one. Difficult to identify, that is.
Matthew says that Jesus’ upbringing in Nazareth fulfils the word, ‘He will be
called a Nazorean’ (verse 23). The problem is this: there is no such verse in
the Old Testament. Even Matthew sounds a little coy. He doesn’t say it is the
word of a particular prophet, in the way he names Jeremiah. Nor does he say,
‘what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet’, as he does when he
introduces the citation from Hosea. He says instead, ‘what had been spoken
through the prophets’, a rather general statement.

There are two popular theories here. One is that Matthew
thinks Jesus will be an Old Testament Nazirite. However, Jesus never keeps
Nazirite vows, such as refusing to touch alcohol or a dead body. So that’s
unlikely.

The better theory is that Jesus will be a neser, the Hebrew word for ‘branch’,
which is used in a prophecy of the Messiah in Isaiah 11:1. If that is the case,
then Matthew gives us a pun on Nazareth to say that this vulnerable infant who
escaped the clutches of Herod the Great is the one in whom ‘the hopes and fears
of all the years are met’.

But here’s the thing. He is Messiah. However, he is Messiah
from an unpromising, obscure northern town. He isn’t from Jerusalem, the
metropolis. God works his salvation from the margins. He doesn’t go for the
bright lights, the power, the flash and all that so routinely impresses our
society. He starts not at the centre, but at the edges. He begins not in
Herod’s palace but a manger in Bethlehem. His favour falls on an obscure
carpenter and his teenage bride, not princes and celebrities.

It isn’t what a modern-day publicist like Max Clifford would
advocate at all. Yet it is from this place of weakness, not human power, that
the climax of God’s great plan is set into motion. ‘Can anything good come out
of Nazareth?’ Absolutely. Nazareth, in Galilee – ‘Galilee of the Gentiles’ –
will be the location. From here, God’s salvation will reach not only his chosen
people but also the Gentiles, the entire world.

Therefore, if you feel like you’re not in the limelight and
not earning the reputation you’d like in this world, rejoice! You are just the kind
of person God loves to work with! If you think Coggeshall is a small,
out-of-the-way backwater village drowned by Colchester, Chelmsford and worst of
all, London, be happy! This is the very sort of location where God sets up camp
and gets to work with his beautiful plans of grace. It’s what he did in the
sending of his Son to set down roots in Nazareth, in Galilee of the Gentiles. Thrill
to the ways of God, instead of being in thrall to the ways of the world.

Conclusion
Let’s summarise and then ponder what we’re going to do about all this. Firstly,
I suggested that Jesus is the fulfilment of the Father’s plans, and is a threat
to the tyrants of the world. Secondly, I offered the thought that God’s work in
Jesus shows how he is at work long term even in the suffering of the world, to
bring long-term resurrection hope. Finally, I argued that God places Jesus his
Messiah in what the world would consider an unlikely, unworthy locality to
begin the revolution of his kingdom, and that is cause for joy.

Frankly, it’s all a reason for celebration, isn’t it? But it’s
also a reason for something else. Three times in the first two chapters of Matthew,
including twice in our reading today, an angel of the Lord appears in a dream
to Joseph. Joseph’s reaction is consistent. When he hears the word of the Lord,
he obeys.

So what have you heard today? Is it a voice of challenge –
that Jesus, the fulfilment of the Father’s plans, makes evil powerful people
scared, and that he calls his followers to share in his ways? Is it a voice of
hope and comfort (for yourself or others), that God in Christ is at work even
in the suffering of the world to bring hope? Is it a word of encouragement
(again, for yourself or others) that just as God placed his Messiah in a little
known town, so he still enjoys using people on the margins for his sovereign
will?

Whatever kind of word we have heard today, will we – like Joseph
– obey?

Technorati Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

0

Tonight’s Sermon: Christmas Reversals

Luke 2:1-20

Introduction
The Archbishop of Canterbury got in trouble the other day in the press. Nothing
new in that, you might think. Perhaps you saw the story. He gave a radio
interview on BBC Five Live to Simon Mayo. Newspapers
screamed that he had denied
the Nativity Story, calling the ‘three wise men’ a ‘legend’. The poor man
hadn’t denied the biblical story at all, as even the Daily Telegraph’s website
admits, by publishing
the transcript. Mayo asked him,

And the wise men with the gold, frankincense, and Myrrh –
with one of the wise men normally being black and the other two being white,
for some reason?

Williams replied,

Well Matthew’s gospel doesn’t tell us that there were three
of them, doesn’t tell us they were kings, doesn’t tell us where they came from,
it says they’re astrologers, wise men, priests from somewhere outside the Roman
Empire. That’s all we’re really told so, yes, ‘the three kings with the one
from Africa’ – that’s legend; it works quite well as legend.

In other words, he only called the idea that there were
three kings from Africa and one of them was black a legend. He untied tradition
from the biblical account. He never denied Matthew’s Gospel.

Why talk about that tonight? Especially when the reading we
have heard is not about the Magi but the birth in Bethlehem and the visit of
the shepherds? Because I want to do something similar. Rowan Williams was disentangling
‘Christmas card Christmas’ from biblical Christmas. I want to take the account
from Luke 2 and suggest to you that we have read it wrongly for centuries. I
want to offer some different understandings of the story that might help us
engage with what was in Luke’s mind in writing his account of the Nativity.
What is this story really about, and what might it mean for us?

1. Protection
I think there’s a case for arguing that the trip to Bethlehem is about Joseph
protecting Mary. That may seem odd – how is taking your heavily pregnant
fiancée from Nazareth in the north of Palestine to Bethlehem in the south
protective?

I think it goes something like this. The census is the
issue. Most of our translations say it happened ‘while Quirinius was governor of
Syria’ (verse 2). However, it’s just as possible to translate it, ‘before Quirinius was governor of Syria’.
Not only does this resolve some problems of chronology, it is a way of saying,
‘This wasn’t the big census you all know about. This was the head tax, where
every able-bodied person between the ages of 13 and 62 had to register for the
‘render unto Caesar’ payment.[1]

Now if that is the case, why go to Bethlehem? Luke tells us
Joseph went there, because of his family tree. But that doesn’t mean every Jew
travelled to their ancestral home. I think it means Joseph went to a place
where he knew there were supportive family members.

Why is that important? Mary is pregnant outside marriage. It
is a scandal. Joseph has chosen not to reject her, but to stand with her in her
rejection. He wants her away from those who would pick up stones or say nasty
things about her. So he takes her back to his roots, to Bethlehem.

Later, according to Matthew, Joseph will protect his wife
and the baby from Herod by taking them away from his murderous intentions into
Egypt until it is safe to return. Joseph is protective of his family.

There will be other times in Jesus’ life when he is
protected. He slips through the crowd in Nazareth that want to throw him off a
cliff after his sermon in the synagogue. Other times he thwarts the religious
leaders. But he will not always be protected. He will end up on a cross.

At this point, however, God uses Joseph to protect Mary and
Jesus. God is protecting his rescue mission. Whatever opposition comes to the
kingdom of God, one thing is sure: God is ensuring that no one and nothing
derails his big plans. The purposes of God are secure.

Now isn’t that something to rejoice in at Christmas? I
repeat: the purposes of God are secure. Discouragement or opposition can suck
the spiritual life out of us. But the Christmas story assures us that the
purposes of God are secure. He will ensure that his will is done. He has
determined to send his Son. Whatever human beings do, God will overrule. Human
beings have free will, but God has greater free will.

So be encouraged this Christmas. Things may go wrong in your
life, in the life of this congregation, and even in God’s wider Church. But
that does not mean hope has gone. As Joseph protected Mary from scandal, so God
protects his kingdom plans and his great story of love and salvation. This is
Christmas Good News.

2. Provision
This is where I really get controversial. Despite being the father of a
primary-school-age daughter, what I am about to say probably ruins most school
nativity plays. It also undermines some of our popular approaches to the
nativity in church. But I think we have misunderstood Luke for centuries.
Ready? Here goes:

And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in
bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them
in the inn. (Verse 7)

Suppose I said that the familiar words, ‘no room at the inn’
were wrong. A mistranslation, in fact. Luke doesn’t use the Greek word for an
inn here. He knows that word, because he uses it later in the Parable of the
Good Samaritan. But he doesn’t deploy it here. He uses the word for a ‘guest
room’.[2]

In other words, all those plays you see where Mary and
Joseph go desperately from one Bethlehem inn to another, being told they are
all fully booked for the census, are mistaken. They owe more to mediaeval or
later English translators who knew the tradition of the wayfaring inn. The idea
that there is no room in the world for the Messiah is not what Luke is saying
here.

In fact, it is unthinkable that in Middle Eastern culture,
the family would not find a place for Mary and Joseph. They simply cannot
squeeze into the guest room. However, homes often had a cave at the back where
they kept the animals. This is where family members put up the young couple. As
Ben Witherington puts it,

This is not a story about ‘no room in the inn’ or about the
world’s giving Jesus the cold shoulder. It’s a story about no inn in the room!
It’s a story about a family making do when more relatives than expected
suddenly show up on the doorstep. It’s a story most of us can relate to in one
way or another. Jesus was born in his relative’s home, in the place where they
kept the most precious of their animals. One can well imagine the smell in that
room, and probably the shock of the Magi when they saw where the King was born.

Here, then, in the privations of a peasant family, God makes
provision for the care and nurture of his Son. Not in the wealth of a TV
evangelist. Nor in the extravagance of a Western Christmas. In basic,
subsistence-level living, God provides for his Son. In that respect, ‘no room
in the guest room’ subverts our Christmas and our lifestyle.

And it’s about how the family always takes the trouble to
make room and offer hospitality, however difficult the circumstances. So it is
also a call for us as the family of God always to make room for Jesus and not
push him out. It is the reminder that we can always say ‘Yes’ to Jesus, even
when the pressure is on. He will always accept our ‘Yes’ to him. There is
always space for him, even when we are stressed. In fact, in those
circumstances, he is perhaps at his most gentle and kind.

3. Privilege
I mentioned in the village carol service that society disdained the shepherds. They
were welcome to provide lambs for temple sacrifices, but the authorities
regarded them as ‘unclean’, and popular opinion viewed them as being like
common criminals. Yet they receive an angelic visitation. These people first
hear about the birth of Messiah. Not the religious leaders, not the
politicians, not the tastemakers and opinion-shapers. Despised shepherds. Theirs
is the privilege.

But it’s not the only way in which ordinary human
understandings of privilege are turned upside-down (or right side up?) in the
story. Privilege comes not in society honouring someone. It comes in the
shepherds responding to the announcement and visiting Jesus. It comes in them
telling everybody what the angels had told them – theirs is the privilege of
witness. It comes not in social recognition but in Mary treasuring the words of
the shepherds and pondering them in her heart. It becomes a privilege to praise
and glorify God for what he has done (and continues to do) in Christ.

So the Christmas story would have us ask the question, where
and why do we seek acclaim? Are we desperate to have other people like us? Do we
want social recognition? Would honour, promotion or a high public profile make
us happy? If so, there is a part of us that has not yet been converted to the
Gospel.

For the Gospel puts privilege, recognition and status in
radically different terms. Privilege comes in the call of God that has nothing
to do with social standing. God bases his call entirely upon grace towards
sinners, not the warped idea that he somehow owes us a favour. Privilege comes
in being a child of God, not by gaining what impresses the world. Privilege is
found in being a witness, telling the world what we have seen, heard and experienced
of Jesus. Privilege is expressed in treasuring the word and works of God,
especially as we see that work in others. Privilege is not in receiving
accolades, but in giving and serving. It is not in buffing up our image, but in
the worship of a God who has done his most revolutionary work in a weak,
vulnerable baby.

Conclusion
It’s not just, then, about turning upside down some traditional understandings
of this story. The Nativity Story itself upends so many of our values. The Church
may be in trouble in the West and some may have written her off, but God always
protects his ultimate purposes in Christ. There may have been no room in the
guest room rather than the inn, but that means Jesus can always find space in
our lives, even when we are at our most hassled. Finally, the Incarnation
entirely redefines privilege: rather than what we can gain for ourselves, real
privilege in Jesus terms is in what we can offer, give and serve.

In short, Christmas is a time for revolution: the revolution
of God’s kingdom as brought by Jesus. Here is where we sign up.

[1]
See Ben
Witherington’s fine sermon for more on this and other points I develop
here.

[2]
See Witherington again, who partly depends on Kenneth Bailey (quoted here by Dick France). Colin
Chapman first introduced me to Bailey’s approach in 1986.

Technorati Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

2

Tonight’s Sermon: Christmas Reversals

Luke 2:1-20

Introduction
The Archbishop of Canterbury got in trouble the other day in the press. Nothing
new in that, you might think. Perhaps you saw the story. He gave a radio
interview on BBC Five Live to Simon Mayo. Newspapers
screamed that he had denied
the Nativity Story, calling the ‘three wise men’ a ‘legend’. The poor man
hadn’t denied the biblical story at all, as even the Daily Telegraph’s website
admits, by publishing
the transcript. Mayo asked him,

And the wise men with the gold, frankincense, and Myrrh –
with one of the wise men normally being black and the other two being white,
for some reason?

Williams replied,

Well Matthew’s gospel doesn’t tell us that there were three
of them, doesn’t tell us they were kings, doesn’t tell us where they came from,
it says they’re astrologers, wise men, priests from somewhere outside the Roman
Empire. That’s all we’re really told so, yes, ‘the three kings with the one
from Africa’ – that’s legend; it works quite well as legend.

In other words, he only called the idea that there were
three kings from Africa and one of them was black a legend. He untied tradition
from the biblical account. He never denied Matthew’s Gospel.

Why talk about that tonight? Especially when the reading we
have heard is not about the Magi but the birth in Bethlehem and the visit of
the shepherds? Because I want to do something similar. Rowan Williams was disentangling
‘Christmas card Christmas’ from biblical Christmas. I want to take the account
from Luke 2 and suggest to you that we have read it wrongly for centuries. I
want to offer some different understandings of the story that might help us
engage with what was in Luke’s mind in writing his account of the Nativity.
What is this story really about, and what might it mean for us?

1. Protection
I think there’s a case for arguing that the trip to Bethlehem is about Joseph
protecting Mary. That may seem odd – how is taking your heavily pregnant
fiancée from Nazareth in the north of Palestine to Bethlehem in the south
protective?

I think it goes something like this. The census is the
issue. Most of our translations say it happened ‘while Quirinius was governor of
Syria’ (verse 2). However, it’s just as possible to translate it, ‘before Quirinius was governor of Syria’.
Not only does this resolve some problems of chronology, it is a way of saying,
‘This wasn’t the big census you all know about. This was the head tax, where
every able-bodied person between the ages of 13 and 62 had to register for the
‘render unto Caesar’ payment.[1]

Now if that is the case, why go to Bethlehem? Luke tells us
Joseph went there, because of his family tree. But that doesn’t mean every Jew
travelled to their ancestral home. I think it means Joseph went to a place
where he knew there were supportive family members.

Why is that important? Mary is pregnant outside marriage. It
is a scandal. Joseph has chosen not to reject her, but to stand with her in her
rejection. He wants her away from those who would pick up stones or say nasty
things about her. So he takes her back to his roots, to Bethlehem.

Later, according to Matthew, Joseph will protect his wife
and the baby from Herod by taking them away from his murderous intentions into
Egypt until it is safe to return. Joseph is protective of his family.

There will be other times in Jesus’ life when he is
protected. He slips through the crowd in Nazareth that want to throw him off a
cliff after his sermon in the synagogue. Other times he thwarts the religious
leaders. But he will not always be protected. He will end up on a cross.

At this point, however, God uses Joseph to protect Mary and
Jesus. God is protecting his rescue mission. Whatever opposition comes to the
kingdom of God, one thing is sure: God is ensuring that no one and nothing
derails his big plans. The purposes of God are secure.

Now isn’t that something to rejoice in at Christmas? I
repeat: the purposes of God are secure. Discouragement or opposition can suck
the spiritual life out of us. But the Christmas story assures us that the
purposes of God are secure. He will ensure that his will is done. He has
determined to send his Son. Whatever human beings do, God will overrule. Human
beings have free will, but God has greater free will.

So be encouraged this Christmas. Things may go wrong in your
life, in the life of this congregation, and even in God’s wider Church. But
that does not mean hope has gone. As Joseph protected Mary from scandal, so God
protects his kingdom plans and his great story of love and salvation. This is
Christmas Good News.

2. Provision
This is where I really get controversial. Despite being the father of a
primary-school-age daughter, what I am about to say probably ruins most school
nativity plays. It also undermines some of our popular approaches to the
nativity in church. But I think we have misunderstood Luke for centuries.
Ready? Here goes:

And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in
bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them
in the inn. (Verse 7)

Suppose I said that the familiar words, ‘no room at the inn’
were wrong. A mistranslation, in fact. Luke doesn’t use the Greek word for an
inn here. He knows that word, because he uses it later in the Parable of the
Good Samaritan. But he doesn’t deploy it here. He uses the word for a ‘guest
room’.[2]

In other words, all those plays you see where Mary and
Joseph go desperately from one Bethlehem inn to another, being told they are
all fully booked for the census, are mistaken. They owe more to mediaeval or
later English translators who knew the tradition of the wayfaring inn. The idea
that there is no room in the world for the Messiah is not what Luke is saying
here.

In fact, it is unthinkable that in Middle Eastern culture,
the family would not find a place for Mary and Joseph. They simply cannot
squeeze into the guest room. However, homes often had a cave at the back where
they kept the animals. This is where family members put up the young couple. As
Ben Witherington puts it,

This is not a story about ‘no room in the inn’ or about the
world’s giving Jesus the cold shoulder. It’s a story about no inn in the room!
It’s a story about a family making do when more relatives than expected
suddenly show up on the doorstep. It’s a story most of us can relate to in one
way or another. Jesus was born in his relative’s home, in the place where they
kept the most precious of their animals. One can well imagine the smell in that
room, and probably the shock of the Magi when they saw where the King was born.

Here, then, in the privations of a peasant family, God makes
provision for the care and nurture of his Son. Not in the wealth of a TV
evangelist. Nor in the extravagance of a Western Christmas. In basic,
subsistence-level living, God provides for his Son. In that respect, ‘no room
in the guest room’ subverts our Christmas and our lifestyle.

And it’s about how the family always takes the trouble to
make room and offer hospitality, however difficult the circumstances. So it is
also a call for us as the family of God always to make room for Jesus and not
push him out. It is the reminder that we can always say ‘Yes’ to Jesus, even
when the pressure is on. He will always accept our ‘Yes’ to him. There is
always space for him, even when we are stressed. In fact, in those
circumstances, he is perhaps at his most gentle and kind.

3. Privilege
I mentioned in the village carol service that society disdained the shepherds. They
were welcome to provide lambs for temple sacrifices, but the authorities
regarded them as ‘unclean’, and popular opinion viewed them as being like
common criminals. Yet they receive an angelic visitation. These people first
hear about the birth of Messiah. Not the religious leaders, not the
politicians, not the tastemakers and opinion-shapers. Despised shepherds. Theirs
is the privilege.

But it’s not the only way in which ordinary human
understandings of privilege are turned upside-down (or right side up?) in the
story. Privilege comes not in society honouring someone. It comes in the
shepherds responding to the announcement and visiting Jesus. It comes in them
telling everybody what the angels had told them – theirs is the privilege of
witness. It comes not in social recognition but in Mary treasuring the words of
the shepherds and pondering them in her heart. It becomes a privilege to praise
and glorify God for what he has done (and continues to do) in Christ.

So the Christmas story would have us ask the question, where
and why do we seek acclaim? Are we desperate to have other people like us? Do we
want social recognition? Would honour, promotion or a high public profile make
us happy? If so, there is a part of us that has not yet been converted to the
Gospel.

For the Gospel puts privilege, recognition and status in
radically different terms. Privilege comes in the call of God that has nothing
to do with social standing. God bases his call entirely upon grace towards
sinners, not the warped idea that he somehow owes us a favour. Privilege comes
in being a child of God, not by gaining what impresses the world. Privilege is
found in being a witness, telling the world what we have seen, heard and experienced
of Jesus. Privilege is expressed in treasuring the word and works of God,
especially as we see that work in others. Privilege is not in receiving
accolades, but in giving and serving. It is not in buffing up our image, but in
the worship of a God who has done his most revolutionary work in a weak,
vulnerable baby.

Conclusion
It’s not just, then, about turning upside down some traditional understandings
of this story. The Nativity Story itself upends so many of our values. The Church
may be in trouble in the West and some may have written her off, but God always
protects his ultimate purposes in Christ. There may have been no room in the
guest room rather than the inn, but that means Jesus can always find space in
our lives, even when we are at our most hassled. Finally, the Incarnation
entirely redefines privilege: rather than what we can gain for ourselves, real
privilege in Jesus terms is in what we can offer, give and serve.

In short, Christmas is a time for revolution: the revolution
of God’s kingdom as brought by Jesus. Here is where we sign up.

[1]
See Ben
Witherington’s fine sermon for more on this and other points I develop
here.

[2]
See Witherington again, who partly depends on Kenneth Bailey (quoted here by Dick France). Colin
Chapman first introduced me to Bailey’s approach in 1986.

Technorati Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

0

Tonight’s Sermon: Christmas Reversals

Luke 2:1-20

Introduction
The Archbishop of Canterbury got in trouble the other day in the press. Nothing
new in that, you might think. Perhaps you saw the story. He gave a radio
interview on BBC Five Live to Simon Mayo. Newspapers
screamed that he had denied
the Nativity Story, calling the ‘three wise men’ a ‘legend’. The poor man
hadn’t denied the biblical story at all, as even the Daily Telegraph’s website
admits, by publishing
the transcript. Mayo asked him,

And the wise men with the gold, frankincense, and Myrrh –
with one of the wise men normally being black and the other two being white,
for some reason?

Williams replied,

Well Matthew’s gospel doesn’t tell us that there were three
of them, doesn’t tell us they were kings, doesn’t tell us where they came from,
it says they’re astrologers, wise men, priests from somewhere outside the Roman
Empire. That’s all we’re really told so, yes, ‘the three kings with the one
from Africa’ – that’s legend; it works quite well as legend.

In other words, he only called the idea that there were
three kings from Africa and one of them was black a legend. He untied tradition
from the biblical account. He never denied Matthew’s Gospel.

Why talk about that tonight? Especially when the reading we
have heard is not about the Magi but the birth in Bethlehem and the visit of
the shepherds? Because I want to do something similar. Rowan Williams was disentangling
‘Christmas card Christmas’ from biblical Christmas. I want to take the account
from Luke 2 and suggest to you that we have read it wrongly for centuries. I
want to offer some different understandings of the story that might help us
engage with what was in Luke’s mind in writing his account of the Nativity.
What is this story really about, and what might it mean for us?

1. Protection
I think there’s a case for arguing that the trip to Bethlehem is about Joseph
protecting Mary. That may seem odd – how is taking your heavily pregnant
fiancée from Nazareth in the north of Palestine to Bethlehem in the south
protective?

I think it goes something like this. The census is the
issue. Most of our translations say it happened ‘while Quirinius was governor of
Syria’ (verse 2). However, it’s just as possible to translate it, ‘before Quirinius was governor of Syria’.
Not only does this resolve some problems of chronology, it is a way of saying,
‘This wasn’t the big census you all know about. This was the head tax, where
every able-bodied person between the ages of 13 and 62 had to register for the
‘render unto Caesar’ payment.[1]

Now if that is the case, why go to Bethlehem? Luke tells us
Joseph went there, because of his family tree. But that doesn’t mean every Jew
travelled to their ancestral home. I think it means Joseph went to a place
where he knew there were supportive family members.

Why is that important? Mary is pregnant outside marriage. It
is a scandal. Joseph has chosen not to reject her, but to stand with her in her
rejection. He wants her away from those who would pick up stones or say nasty
things about her. So he takes her back to his roots, to Bethlehem.

Later, according to Matthew, Joseph will protect his wife
and the baby from Herod by taking them away from his murderous intentions into
Egypt until it is safe to return. Joseph is protective of his family.

There will be other times in Jesus’ life when he is
protected. He slips through the crowd in Nazareth that want to throw him off a
cliff after his sermon in the synagogue. Other times he thwarts the religious
leaders. But he will not always be protected. He will end up on a cross.

At this point, however, God uses Joseph to protect Mary and
Jesus. God is protecting his rescue mission. Whatever opposition comes to the
kingdom of God, one thing is sure: God is ensuring that no one and nothing
derails his big plans. The purposes of God are secure.

Now isn’t that something to rejoice in at Christmas? I
repeat: the purposes of God are secure. Discouragement or opposition can suck
the spiritual life out of us. But the Christmas story assures us that the
purposes of God are secure. He will ensure that his will is done. He has
determined to send his Son. Whatever human beings do, God will overrule. Human
beings have free will, but God has greater free will.

So be encouraged this Christmas. Things may go wrong in your
life, in the life of this congregation, and even in God’s wider Church. But
that does not mean hope has gone. As Joseph protected Mary from scandal, so God
protects his kingdom plans and his great story of love and salvation. This is
Christmas Good News.

2. Provision
This is where I really get controversial. Despite being the father of a
primary-school-age daughter, what I am about to say probably ruins most school
nativity plays. It also undermines some of our popular approaches to the
nativity in church. But I think we have misunderstood Luke for centuries.
Ready? Here goes:

And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in
bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them
in the inn. (Verse 7)

Suppose I said that the familiar words, ‘no room at the inn’
were wrong. A mistranslation, in fact. Luke doesn’t use the Greek word for an
inn here. He knows that word, because he uses it later in the Parable of the
Good Samaritan. But he doesn’t deploy it here. He uses the word for a ‘guest
room’.[2]

In other words, all those plays you see where Mary and
Joseph go desperately from one Bethlehem inn to another, being told they are
all fully booked for the census, are mistaken. They owe more to mediaeval or
later English translators who knew the tradition of the wayfaring inn. The idea
that there is no room in the world for the Messiah is not what Luke is saying
here.

In fact, it is unthinkable that in Middle Eastern culture,
the family would not find a place for Mary and Joseph. They simply cannot
squeeze into the guest room. However, homes often had a cave at the back where
they kept the animals. This is where family members put up the young couple. As
Ben Witherington puts it,

This is not a story about ‘no room in the inn’ or about the
world’s giving Jesus the cold shoulder. It’s a story about no inn in the room!
It’s a story about a family making do when more relatives than expected
suddenly show up on the doorstep. It’s a story most of us can relate to in one
way or another. Jesus was born in his relative’s home, in the place where they
kept the most precious of their animals. One can well imagine the smell in that
room, and probably the shock of the Magi when they saw where the King was born.

Here, then, in the privations of a peasant family, God makes
provision for the care and nurture of his Son. Not in the wealth of a TV
evangelist. Nor in the extravagance of a Western Christmas. In basic,
subsistence-level living, God provides for his Son. In that respect, ‘no room
in the guest room’ subverts our Christmas and our lifestyle.

And it’s about how the family always takes the trouble to
make room and offer hospitality, however difficult the circumstances. So it is
also a call for us as the family of God always to make room for Jesus and not
push him out. It is the reminder that we can always say ‘Yes’ to Jesus, even
when the pressure is on. He will always accept our ‘Yes’ to him. There is
always space for him, even when we are stressed. In fact, in those
circumstances, he is perhaps at his most gentle and kind.

3. Privilege
I mentioned in the village carol service that society disdained the shepherds. They
were welcome to provide lambs for temple sacrifices, but the authorities
regarded them as ‘unclean’, and popular opinion viewed them as being like
common criminals. Yet they receive an angelic visitation. These people first
hear about the birth of Messiah. Not the religious leaders, not the
politicians, not the tastemakers and opinion-shapers. Despised shepherds. Theirs
is the privilege.

But it’s not the only way in which ordinary human
understandings of privilege are turned upside-down (or right side up?) in the
story. Privilege comes not in society honouring someone. It comes in the
shepherds responding to the announcement and visiting Jesus. It comes in them
telling everybody what the angels had told them – theirs is the privilege of
witness. It comes not in social recognition but in Mary treasuring the words of
the shepherds and pondering them in her heart. It becomes a privilege to praise
and glorify God for what he has done (and continues to do) in Christ.

So the Christmas story would have us ask the question, where
and why do we seek acclaim? Are we desperate to have other people like us? Do we
want social recognition? Would honour, promotion or a high public profile make
us happy? If so, there is a part of us that has not yet been converted to the
Gospel.

For the Gospel puts privilege, recognition and status in
radically different terms. Privilege comes in the call of God that has nothing
to do with social standing. God bases his call entirely upon grace towards
sinners, not the warped idea that he somehow owes us a favour. Privilege comes
in being a child of God, not by gaining what impresses the world. Privilege is
found in being a witness, telling the world what we have seen, heard and experienced
of Jesus. Privilege is expressed in treasuring the word and works of God,
especially as we see that work in others. Privilege is not in receiving
accolades, but in giving and serving. It is not in buffing up our image, but in
the worship of a God who has done his most revolutionary work in a weak,
vulnerable baby.

Conclusion
It’s not just, then, about turning upside down some traditional understandings
of this story. The Nativity Story itself upends so many of our values. The Church
may be in trouble in the West and some may have written her off, but God always
protects his ultimate purposes in Christ. There may have been no room in the
guest room rather than the inn, but that means Jesus can always find space in
our lives, even when we are at our most hassled. Finally, the Incarnation
entirely redefines privilege: rather than what we can gain for ourselves, real
privilege in Jesus terms is in what we can offer, give and serve.

In short, Christmas is a time for revolution: the revolution
of God’s kingdom as brought by Jesus. Here is where we sign up.

[1]
See Ben
Witherington’s fine sermon for more on this and other points I develop
here.

[2]
See Witherington again, who partly depends on Kenneth Bailey (quoted here by Dick France). Colin
Chapman first introduced me to Bailey’s approach in 1986.

Technorati Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

0

Drugs, Mood And Stress

In early December Brant Hansen posted
a powerful, honest account of his struggle with depression and the challenge to
his faith that he takes a drug, which has altered his personality for the
better. How is Jesus ‘enough’, he asks, if he needs his medication?

There are spiritual-common-sense answers to his questions.
Firstly, Jesus is enough, but the way he supplies the ‘enough’ is through what
Calvin (yes, this Arminian is going to quote Calvin positively!) called ‘common
grace’. That is, God sends the sun on the righteous and the unrighteous. The
general blessings of his creation are available to all. Properly prescribed and
taken prescription drugs are surely part of this. Healing comes as much through
the medical profession as directly in answer to prayer, and is not inferior for
that.

Secondly, depression and other conditions such as anxiety
state are just as much medical conditions as a fractured leg, especially if
they are caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain. It’s hard to induce that
by some kind of moral or spiritual negligence or wilfulness. Yet the stigma
remains for many.

Thirdly, and implied in this, we need to distinguish between
prescription drugs and recreational drugs. Being ‘on drugs’ is very different
if a doctor has said we need them for our healing.

So far, so uncontroversial, I expect, for most readers of
this blog. I don’t expect any of you would have given the hassle to Brant he
received when he talked about this on the radio: you know, the ‘not enough
faith’, ‘not living in victory’, ‘satanic attack’ clichés. Why write about it? I’ve never been diagnosed with depression, as
Brant has.

But it makes some
connections for me. My father was diagnosed with depression. He had to take
early retirement as a result. What I did have, in 1995, was six weeks signed
off ministry with stress. My first two years in the ministry were spent dealing
with an awful situation with unsuitable children’s workers, before all the
child protection laws and rules came into full force. I lived under threats of
violence. I was watched. There were anonymous phone calls at all times of day
and night. Much else, too. After putting that struggle to bed, there was a
nasty struggle in the church over worship styles. Then I had a broken
engagement. Finally, I cracked. After much resistance and receiving reassurance,
I ended up on beta-blockers. They gave my body space to recover.

Yet I still had big
questions about my experience and my faith. Surely if God didn’t allow us to
face more than we can cope with, given his presence in our lives, the fact that
I was issued with doctor’s certificates with the words ‘Anxiety state’ meant my
faith had failed?

There are other
connections, too. No, I don’t suffer from depression, but anyone who knows me well
sees the occasional periods when dark moods and an almost disabling lack of
confidence sweep over me for short periods. Some would say that isn’t much of a
testimony. When my head is together, I know I can point to heroes of the faith
who have been through the same: Jeremiah, Luther, William Cowper and others. I
tend to forget that when I’m down.

And Brant’s
experience came back to mind last Monday. A much lower scale than his, again,
though – I must emphasise that. Early this year, it was discovered I had
slightly raised blood pressure. The doctor told me to get more exercise. I’ve
failed to do so. I went to see the practice nurse about something else two
weeks ago, and she noticed I’d never been back about the BP. My readings are
now a bit higher than they were at the start of the year. Action needs to be
taken. We talked about the stress in 1995 and my tendency to panic first and
reach equilibrium later. We talked about family medical history. And guess
what? It’s beta-blocker time again. The hope is, they might give me a calmer
personality and lead to a lower BP.

During the
appointment, the questions came back – from the nurse. She asked very nicely,
why I as a person of faith had these difficulties. Surely, I shouldn’t be like
this when I had the comfort of expecting an afterlife. I replied that I had the
same questions, too. The best I could do off the top of my head was to say that
yes, some Christians do have a serene faith. Others of us are like some of the
psalmists who rant at God and then calm down. I was more like them. I don’t
know whether that is a valid answer, or just a bit of self-justification.
Perhaps I should have more faith (= trust).

After the
consultation, and waiting for my tablets at the pharmacy, I read a few pages of
Tim Keel’s wonderful
book Intuitive Leadership. It seems I had arrived at some pages that
made some unintentional connections with my experience. He talks about leaders
not only giving spoken words but also being living words (pp 232-4). ‘The
person of God hosts the word of God and there is a cost to be paid,’ he writes.
I connected this with a conversation at a recent ministers’ meeting. We got
onto the subject of pressure. I related my 1995 story of stress, and the
unanswered questions I had about it. One friend replied that he thought my
stress constituted the carrying of the cross for me. It was my suffering for
doing the right thing. That insight came as revelation and relief to me. Keel
seems to be saying something similar.

In the next
section, when talking about leaders transitioning from ‘preparation’ to ‘meditation’
on the Scriptures, Keel writes about Elijah. I think this is worth a fuller
quote:

Elijah, serving God
at a time of enormous confusion in the identity of Israel, opposes Ahab and
Jezebel and their altar to Baal. At first, it seems that his labours have paid
off: the offering of Yahweh is consumed by fire while Baal’s priests work
themselves into a frenzy that ultimately goes nowhere. But when his work does
not result in the end that he had anticipated and Jezebel issues an edict to
kill the prophet, he flees for his life. When he finally collapses, he finds
himself on a sheer cliff burrowed in a small mountain cave. All of his
preparation and work have amounted to very little, and in his despair, he hides
himself away. You know the story. You have probably lived it. It is in this
very hollow of desperation that the hallowed voice of God comes to Elijah. It
is in this place that Elijah learns he had not nearly comprehended the scope of
God’s power or intent. It is to a servant of Yahweh emptied of his own agenda
and strength that revelation comes. (pp 236-7)

God meets Elijah in
his time of extreme stress. He feeds him. He lets him sleep. He encourages him
quietly. He gives him someone to help him with the next stage of his witness.

Some of my most
dramatic experiences of the Holy Spirit were around my 1995 stress. Admittedly,
that was when the Toronto Blessing was big news, but as I look back, I don’t
think it was a coincidence that God most clearly made himself known to me at a
down time. Could it be that God is kinder to the stressed or depressed than we
are? None of that absolves me from the need to exercise as part of my cure, but
maybe – just maybe – God is gracious, and he doesn’t go in for the ‘Pull
yourself together nonsense’ that is still prevalent inside and outside the
church.

Technorati Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

3

Tomorrow’s Sermon: Joseph The Disciple

Matthew
1:18-25

Introduction
Here is a series of telegrams between a young man and his mother:

Mum
Wedding off STOP Mary pregnant STOP Not mine STOP Why me STOP
Joseph

Joseph
Cannot believe it STOP Seemed such a nice girl STOP Will you be stoning her
STOP
Mum

Mum
Have decided to dump her quietly STOP Stoning a bit messy STOP Still love her
STOP
Joseph

Joseph
Plenty more fish in the sea STOP What about Deborah from baker’s shop STOP You’ll
never be short of bagels STOP
Mum

Mum
Change of plans STOP Wedding back on STOP Angel told me God is father STOP See
you at the synagogue STOP
Joseph[1]

Poor Joseph. And he’s a neglected character in the Nativity
Story. But this morning I want to remedy that, to a small extent. I believe
Joseph is a positive example of discipleship. He is a man of faith, who goes
beyond human conventions to radical trust in God. How so? Here are three ways
in which he is a model disciple.

1. Joseph Goes Beyond Righteousness
Your fiancée is pregnant, and you’re not the father. What would you do? There are
plenty of answers that our culture might give, but in Joseph’s Jewish culture,
there is one answer: stone her. That is the righteous thing to do. It fulfils
the requirements of the Torah, the Jewish Law. Joseph, you have a reputation
for doing the right thing: organise the mob and the stones.

But Joseph, righteous as he is, does not want to expose Mary
to public disgrace (verse 19), let alone a stoning. He is more than righteous. He
has a strong streak of compassion in him. He decides to have the betrothal
dissolved. He doesn’t just follow the letter of the law; he is considerate. Surely,
we would respect a decent man like that today.

However, the story doesn’t stop there. In a dream, an angel
tells him not to be afraid to take Mary as his wife, because the Holy Spirit
has caused her to conceive (verse 20). Now that is one big step further. If being
considerate has moved him beyond cold righteousness, he is now being asked to
take a giant leap.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ says the angel. That’s the issue for
Joseph, isn’t it? Fear. He is afraid to take Mary as his wife. A quiet,
considerate dissolution of their relationship will at least preserve his
reputation. But to marry one who is already pregnant in a society that believes
sex is only for marriage – well! To marry Mary is for Joseph to share in her
shame. It is to stand with her in her social rejection.

Standing with the rejected – whether they deserve it or not –
is something Joseph’s legal son Jesus would do. Taking their shame upon
himself, although he was innocent would be central to Jesus’ life. He would be
baptised for repentance with sinners, even though he was guilty of nothing. He would
be executed on a cross, despite being innocent of the trumped-up charges. Jesus
would identify with the shamed and the sinners.

I am not saying that Mary had done wrong. She had not. For the
record, I believe in the Virgin Birth. But if you stand alongside the rejected,
you do so whether they are in the right or the wrong. So we care for an AIDS
patient, whether they were infected through a parent or spouse, or through
their own foolishness or sin. It’s called grace. We show love, forgiveness and
mercy to people. It’s not about whether they deserve it, because none of us deserves
it – especially ourselves.

And as we stand alongside the suffering, both the victims
and the culpable, our grace is what will speak most truly of God, rather than
our judgmentalism. I am not asking that we change our beliefs on the rights and
wrongs of certain ethical issues. I am saying, though, that a compassionate
solidarity with the hurting will speak faithfully about the purposes of God,
just as Joseph standing with Mary did.

2. Joseph Goes Beyond Tradition
When my sister and brother-in-law thought I would never marry, they gave their
second boy the middle name ‘David’ in my honour. When our daughter Rebekah was
born, we gave her the middle name ‘Anita’, after Debbie’s late mother. And when
Mark came along, we chose the middle name ‘Alan’, which is my father’s name.

Names are so important in the Bible, and perhaps nowhere
more than in the Nativity stories. Zechariah is to call his son ‘John’, and
here, the angel tells Joseph to name Mary’s child Jesus, ‘for he will save his
people from their sins’ (verse 21). The naming of Jesus to show his purpose and
destiny outranks any of the usual traditions. Remember that first century Jews
also had a tradition about using family names when a baby was born. We see it
in the surprise when Zechariah confirms his boy will be named ‘John’.

So Joseph’s obedience to God’s will as revealed by the angel
means that he will go beyond the normal human traditions. Traditions and
conventions have their place. They can describe tried and trusted ways of doing
things. They can be the means of handing down important truths. But when
tradition stops being a means to an end, we hit problems. When tradition
becomes an end in itself, we’re up the chute. When tradition has to be defended
or worshipped, we are in trouble.

The faithful disciple, then, will be keen to know when to
keep tradition and when to go beyond it. What is a tradition trying to
preserve? To take one issue here, does keeping wooden pews enhance worship? Do
the pews make us more like the community of Jesus or not? What exactly is the
church at gathered worship? We would need to pose questions like that if our
occasional discussions ever became a substantial debate.

We can be glad, though, that Joseph showed the obedience of the
disciple by dispensing with typical family tradition to name the baby ‘Jesus’. Giving
a child a name according to their divine purpose was the classic time when the
Jewish people over-ruled the tradition of family names. What matters most are
God’s purposes.

Therefore, that becomes the issue for us. What are God’s
purposes for us? His purposes for Jesus were those of salvation. He has
purposes for us in Hatfield Peverel and beyond. We have to ask whether our
traditions serve those purposes or get in the way.

One thing is for sure: Joseph becomes so committed to the
purposes of God that he is prepared to dispense with tradition if it gets in
the way. He is prepared to stick out as different from convention. Perhaps he
will be teased or mocked. If so, he takes the risk and the flak. It is worth
it, if going beyond tradition is what God requires in order for him to be
faithful.

And as with the first point, Joseph here gives a foretaste
of what Jesus will do. Jesus will participate in many Jewish traditions. But if
the traditions of the elders get in the way of grace and mercy, you can be sure
that Jesus will oppose them and thrown them out.

As for our situation, I’m not going to give any answers about
the pews or anything else. It’s something we have to grapple with together. Suffice
it to say, however, that like fire, tradition is a good servant but a bad
master. Is tradition our servant or our master? Joseph treats it as a servant,
and so does Jesus. Do we?

3. Joseph Goes Beyond His Rights
You will have heard preachers at Advent tell you before that a Jewish betrothal
is more than an engagement. The couple were called husband and wife (Joseph is
called ‘husband’ here in verse 19), and dissolving a betrothal required a
divorce. However, they only live together and sleep together once they are
married.

Against this background, let us assume that Joseph is a
typical red-blooded male. I think that’s reasonable. To read, then, at the end
of the story that not only did he obey by taking Mary as his wife, he also had
no marital relations with her until Jesus was born (verse 25), is quite a story
of self-denial! He does so to protect the integrity of the miracle. And it’s
because of Joseph’s self-denial here that we popularly speak of the Virgin
Birth rather than the Virginal Conception. Yes, Joseph is guarding the
integrity of God’s strange work by denying himself what every bridegroom would
have wanted on his wedding night and in the months to come.

It isn’t about the early Church having a downer on sex. That
wouldn’t be true of the New Testament. In 1 Corinthians 7, Paul tells his
readers there is only one reason why a married couple should deny each other,
and that is for a short season of prayer. No, as I said, Joseph abstains as an
act of self-denial to witness to the miraculous work of God in his wife’s body.

Suppose it became widely known that Joseph had done this. He
has probably already been despised for standing with the rejected Mary. He has
broken social convention. Now, surely, he will be mocked for this. What a fool
he will appear to be. His manhood will be in question.[2]

Were it to have happened today and in our culture, Joseph
would have been ridiculed even more. Not merely because ours is a sex-saturated
society, but because that is one symptom of a society addicted to pleasure. Self-denial
is not a prime virtue; self-fulfilment is. Do what you want, so long as you don’t
hurt anybody. You deserve it. Er,
why?

The lifestyle of the Christian disciple is not to satiate
every desire. Christ does allow us to enjoy following him. But it is the way of
love. And love gives up things for the beloved. Love sacrifices. It risks. It gives
up.

Our culture does know that in certain ways. We expect it of
parents with regard to children. We admire it when we see it in a Mother Teresa.
But we don’t make it the norm. We build
our economy around desire, lust and consumption.

Yet again, though, Joseph is only doing what his legal son
Jesus would do and teach. Jesus would grow up to teach that the lifestyle of
God’s kingdom was one of denying ourselves for the sake of the Gospel. And as
we approach the annual orgy of buying and selling, giving and receiving, we do
well to ponder the example of Joseph and consider where we would deny ourselves
our ‘rights’ so that the purposes of God’s merciful kingdom might be more truly
fulfilled.

Conclusion
You may know the story of how somebody once asked a famous orchestral conductor
what the hardest instrument to play in the orchestra was. The reply came back: ‘Second
fiddle.’ People want to play first fiddle, but who wants to play second? It
takes not only technique: it requires a humble attitude.

Joseph is a ‘second fiddle’ player in the nativity stories:
second fiddle to Mary, and ultimately second fiddle to Jesus. But what a second
fiddle! He gives us a taste of the melody Jesus will play. Joseph foreshadows
Jesus’ identification with the despised. Jesus’ overturning of tradition when
it gets in the way of God’s kingdom – Joseph previews that, too. And Joseph
models Jesus’ call to self-denial.

Joseph may be a bit-part player in the Nativity, but he
deserves to be known as more than the legal father of Jesus. He is more than
that. He is a model disciple of Jesus. May we follow in his ways this
Christmas.

[2] I
am grateful to Ruth
Haley Barton’s article Joseph And The
Walk Of Faith for some of these perspectives.

Technorati Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

0

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑