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Sermon – Matthew 1.18-25, A4, YA, December 18, 2022

21 Wednesday Dec 2022

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I have always loved stories and images of Mary and the Christ Child.  Mary is revered around the world, a patron saint to many, an intercessor for others (just think of all the “Hail Mary”s said globally), and a spiritual companion to some.  I remember in the Holy Land visiting a chapel honoring Mary, the mother of Jesus.  The chapel commissioned artists from around the world to depict their unique cultural version of Mary and Child.  The walls are lined with these floor-to-ceiling renderings of the sacred pair.  I was so taken with the images that I now have my own collection of Mary and Child paintings in my office. 

I also remember that same day in the Holy Land, after spending what felt like hours meditating with these stunning paintings, then going down the road to a chapel dedicated to Joseph.  The chapel was much smaller, rather nondescript, and quite frankly, easily forgettable.  The only real memorable thing about the chapel is how distinctly different the Joseph chapel is from the Mary chapel. 

I am struck this year, particularly as we baptize little Melody, how glad I am that we get Joseph’s story this Advent as opposed to Mary’s.  On baptism Sundays with children, we have two realities.  The first reality is the adorable, belovedness of the child, the glossy photos with family and fonts, the perfect hopefulness of initiating a child of God into the family of faith.  We often skim over the second reality.  We will hear right at the beginning of the baptism some questions for the family about renouncing Satan, evil powers of the world, and sinful desires.  I often joke with the family how inappropriate talking about evil seems at a child’s baptism until you remember those painful sleepless nights of new parenting.  But the reason we talk about that second reality is because we are initiating someone into the life of faith, and for those of us who have been at the life of faith for a while, we know the life of faith is not all roses, glossy photos, and cake.  There will be real struggles.

And that is why I love that we start off Melody’s journey with a story about Joseph.  We are told Joseph is a righteous man.  He is devoted to God and lives an ethical life.  He represents reality number one of baptism.  But then, Joseph is presented with reality number two.  When he learns Mary is pregnant before their marriage is consummated, he has three options:  the harsh one would be to have her publicly held responsible, most likely by stoning; the generous one he plans to choose of quietly divorcing her, which saves her life, but will leave her in poverty with child in tow; or the unheard of third one, especially for a righteous man, of marrying her anyway and living forever in scandal.  As one scholar explains, “In choosing Joseph to be Jesus’s earthly father, God leads a righteous man with an impeccable reputation straight into doubt, shame, scandal, and controversy…[God] requires Joseph to embrace a mess he has not created, to love a woman whose story he doesn’t understand, to protect a baby he didn’t father, to accept an heir who is not his son.  In other words, God’s messy plan of salvation requires Joseph – a quiet, cautious, status quo kind of guy – to choose precisely what he fears and dreads the most.  The fraught, the complicated, the suspicious, and the inexplicable.”[i]

I would much rather Melody start her faith journey off with a story that lets her know, honestly and unequivocally, how messy this journey will be.  We have a hint of that messiness in Matthew’s gospel from the beginning.  In the verses before what we heard today, is a long list of Joseph’s forefathers: from Abraham, who almost kills his son Ishmael and twice risks the life and safety of his wife Sarah, to Jacob, the trickster who steals his inheritance and livelihood twice, to David, who steals another man’s wife and has her husband murdered, to Tamar, who pretends to be a sex worker, and Rahab who is one.  The genealogy of Christ is a “long line of broken, imperfect, dishonorable, and scandalous people.”  As Debie Thomas explains, “The perfect backdrop, I suppose, for God’s relentless work of restoration, healing, and hope.”[ii]

That’s what telling Joseph’s story does for Melody and all of us today.  Joseph reminds us that our faith journey will be messy.  Our faith journey will not take us where we think our journey will.  Our faith journey will invite us to love people we never thought we could.  Our faith journey will sometimes seem meaningless or small, like that Joseph’s chapel in the Holy Land.  But as the angel tells Joseph, so the angel of the Lord tells us today, “Do not be afraid.”  Do not be afraid of the messiness of this journey.  Do not be afraid of going where society may deem too messy.  Do not be afraid to love with abandon, even if your loving is not seen by the crowds, or recognized all over the world.  When we come out of the waters of baptism, we walk right into the mess – because the mess of the world is where God is.  And we want to be there too.  Amen.

[i] Debie Thomas, Into the Mess & Other Jesus Stories:  Reflections on the Life of Christ (Eugene, OR:  Cascade Books, 2022), 12.

[ii] Thomas, 13.

On the Legacies we Leave…

26 Wednesday Jul 2017

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IMG_5640This past weekend, my husband and I took a trip to Monticello.  Before I tell you much about my experience, I must confess that I am not a Thomas Jefferson scholar by any means.  I knew his role as a founding father, how revered he is – especially in this part of the country, and more recently, that he was likely the father of several children through a slave he owned.  Though my knowledge was admittedly superficial, that combination of information left me wanting to know more about this prominent man in American history.

Knowing the role Jefferson played in history and his relationship to Sally Hemings, I was surprised to learn Jefferson had written quite a bit about the immorality of slavery.  He found the practice of slavery and the slave trade to be an abomination; and yet, he also found extracting himself from the institution to be insurmountable in his generation.  As I listened to Jefferson’s revolutionary words, I felt myself becoming angry.  If Jefferson was so incensed by the system, feeling morally convicted, why didn’t he do something about it?  Why didn’t he work for change?

Now, I know the counterarguments.  Of slave owners, Jefferson was one of the less brutal ones.  Jefferson was a product of his day – an entire nation and economy caught up in and dependent upon the institution of slavery.  But despite those acknowledgments, I felt frustrated.  Of all the amazing legacies Jefferson left, and with the brilliant mind he had, why not more action against slavery?  And if he could not affect systemic change, why not at least change the system at Monticello, freeing and hiring the slaves he owned?

Luckily, my righteous indignation only lasted a few minutes.  In the midst of my anger at Jefferson, a deeper truth hit me like a ton of bricks.  I realized I am leaving a legacy around the issue of race too.  When relatives look back at my life hundreds of years from now, what will they say about my inaction around racial reconciliation?  Will they look at the violence against and degradation of African-Americans in the twenty-first century and say, “Why didn’t she do more?  If she believed in the dignity of every human being, why didn’t affect change?”  It would be easy to leave Monticello or any discussion about slavery feeling a sense of moral superiority.  Instead, I invite you to join me in reflecting upon our complicity with the sin of racism in our own day, considering how we might change our own legacy.

Sermon – Matthew 1.18-25, A4, YA, December 18, 2016

21 Wednesday Dec 2016

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This week, I have been thinking a lot about callings.  Of course, with Charlie’s ordination to the priesthood this weekend, thinking about callings is not unusual.  I have always enjoyed ordinations – and not just because I am a priest.  I remember the first ordination I went to there were six people being ordained.  I only knew one of the six because she was our new assistant at the Cathedral.  But I remember being awed by the service.  The six ordinands seemed set apart.  As they processed down the aisle, wearing their simple albs, I remember wondering how they came to be called as priests, imagining they must have led a special life or be particularly holy.  I remember the swarms of clergy who gathered up front to lay hands on the new priests.  I remember how the new priests somehow seemed bathed in light that day – as if they had some special connection to the holy.

Having been through the ordination process myself, I look at ordinands a little differently today.  Instead of seeing perfectly pious priests processing, I see people who have come through a great ordeal.  I imagine the countless nights of struggling with God about why in the world they should become priests.  I imagine the stressful meetings with bishops, priests, and committees and the ambiguity about what would happen.  I imagine the exams, the sense of failure after messy pastoral visit, and the countless “no”s that come along in the process.  I no longer see perfectly coifed new priests, but instead see the haggard, raw, vulnerable people who have said, “yes,” to what promises to be a life of hard, beautiful, ugly, blessed days.   In that way, I do not see the ordained as all that different from the rest of us – a vulnerable group of people who are trying to figure out what in the world God wants us to do with our lives.

That is why I love that we hear Joseph’s story today.  Most of us think of Joseph as the stable, quiet figure in Jesus’ life.  He is present on the holy night of Jesus’ birth.  He protects Jesus from Herod by fleeing to Egypt.  He teaches Jesus a trade.  He accepts the mighty task of raising a child that is both his own and not his own.  In our minds, he is a righteous, quiet, solid man of faith.

While all of those things may be true, what they miss is the mess of his life behind the scenes. [i]  Joseph is a typical man of faith, righteously living his life, betrothed to a faithful, promising young woman.  He is quietly living his life when his world gets turned upside down.  His betrothed becomes pregnant, which must mean she has been unfaithful, and in Joseph’s time, that means his soon-to-be wife must either be stoned or divorced immediately.[ii]  Trying to overcome this tremendous disgrace and disappointment, Joseph discerns the best, most gracious path forward.  And just when he has settled what is next, God comes along, and flips his world upside-down again.  Now Joseph is supposed to not only believe that Mary is magically pregnant through the Holy Spirit, but he is also to stay with her and take the baby in as his own.  And based on scripture, we know once Jesus hits the teenage years, Joseph’s story disappears altogether.  Even though God calls Joseph to do this tremendous, hard, messy, but beautiful thing, Joseph does not get the spotlight for long.  He goes about his everyday life, living out his calling, relatively unnoticed by the world.

One of the things I have loved about mentoring people over the years is seeing just that same phenomenon.  Throughout our lives we have distinct seasons of discerning call.  Sometimes those moments are obvious:  graduating from school, trying to find a job, figuring out how to spend time in retirement.  The pattern seems to go a little like this:  we hit a point where we need to discern what God is calling us to do; we go through a process of discernment, sometimes formal, but usually informal; we make a decision and take the necessary steps to follow that path; and eventually we look back.  In looking back, we rarely find that the call we heard and answered leads us to where we expected or wanted.  Invariably, there are twists and turns we never could have anticipated.  Invariably, there are failures scattered throughout the successes.  Answering a call is never a simple, clean, or easy process.

Just this week, I was reading about a young man from North Carolina who happened to see a traveling ballet company at his church at age seven.  Four years later, he found himself practicing six days a week.  He eventually joined the New York City Ballet.  He says, “I’ve always seen ballet as my way of serving God.  I think it’s what God has called me to do.”[iii]  What I love about this young man’s story is that whether you are a ballet dancer, cabinet maker, housekeeper, or financial manager, at some point, God has called you to that work for a reason.  The ballet dancer admits he sacrificed a lot to follow his call.  I imagine he failed a lot before he succeeded.  And some day, his body will no longer be able to dance, and he will have to figure out what else God is calling him to do.  His story is the messy, beautiful, challenging story of call we all live.

And if we have never struggled with discerning our professional calling, we have certainly struggled to understand what God is doing in our personal lives.  Though we are approaching a season of joy and merriment, I know there are many of us who are facing medical diagnoses whose purpose we do not understand.  There those among us who are living in relationships – romantic, familial, or otherwise – that are at times loving, hurtful, confusing, and life-giving.  And there are those of us who feel lost, lonely, or restless, even though everything in our lives seems to be moving along well on the outside.  God is in the midst of the personal too – calling us, challenging us, and shaping us.

If we were ever unsure about God’s presence in our messy professional and personal calls, Joseph stands ready to remind us.  He too faces a medical diagnosis that changes his world – a pregnancy that he did not plan, or even participate in, that changes the course of his life forever.  He too faces a relationship that seems broken.  Even when he feels as though he is choosing a kind, compassionate, and righteous decision, God calls him to take another path.  Joseph too understood what feeling lost is like.  Just because an angel tells him to take in Mary and adopt the child as his own, I doubt that things are easy sailing at home, on that journey to Bethlehem, or even after Jesus’ birth.  Though Joseph is listening to God and following God’s call, he is never promised a simple, peaceful, happy life.

So why do we do it?  Why do we listen to God’s call for us if we have no guarantees of a happy, smooth, or peaceful life?  We follow God’s call because we have experienced that sense of dis-ease when we do not follow God’s call – that sense that we are not using all the gifts God has given us, or that discomfort that comes from trying to force what we “should” do in life with what God calls us to do in life.  We follow God’s call because we have experienced the tremendous grace that comes from answering God’s call.  Sure, the road is messy, and hard, and sometimes frustrating.  But the road is also full of beautiful surprises, wonderful accidents, and joyful confirmations that we are right where God wants us.  And we follow God’s call because we are part of a people who have always followed God’s call:  from Abraham, to Moses, to Esther, to Jonah, to Mary, to Joseph.  Our ancestors have taught us that when we say “yes,” God does indeed turn our lives upside down.  But our ancestors have also taught us that in the midst of that topsy-turvy turmoil is where we find out truest selves, where we meet the world’s deepest needs, and where we find ourselves in Christ’s light and love.  So, do not be afraid.  God is with us.  God is with you.  Amen.

[i] David Lose, “Matthew’s Version of the Incarnation,” December 17, 2013, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=2961 on December 14, 2016.

[ii] Douglas R. A. Hare, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 93.

[iii] Quote and story from Humans of New York, December 12, 2016, at http://www.humansofnewyork.com/post/154395391126/i-was-first-exposed-to-ballet-at-the-age-of-seven, as found on December 14, 2016.  Photo by Brandon Stanton.  Subject unnamed.

Sermon – Matthew 1.18-25, A4, YA, December 22, 2013

08 Wednesday Jan 2014

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So there he is, betrothed to Mary.  The way betrothal works in those days was that the husband and wife, or often the husband and the wife’s parents, enter into a marriage contract.  From that point on, the couple is considered married for all intents and purposes.  Any breaking of the contract would require a divorce.  During the betrothal period, the man prepares financially for his marriage, and the woman grows a bit more into womanhood, since she usually enters into the contract right after beginning puberty.  Some time later, the couple completes the marriage process with some sort of celebration or feast; then, the groom takes his wife into his home and the couple is considered fully married.[i]

Joseph had done everything by the books.  He is a righteous man, which means he follows the law to the letter.  Everything is heading in the proper direction, going as planned, according to schedule.  And then he gets the worst possible news.  Mary is pregnant.  Since Mary and Joseph are betrothed, but not yet in the stage of marriage where they have consummated the union, there is no way Joseph is the father of the child.  He can only assume Mary has been unfaithful.  Joseph has two options: he can have Mary stoned or he can divorce her.[ii]  He is well within his rights to utilize either path, and would not receive criticism by other faithful Jews.  But Joseph is one of those rare treasures who not only knows the letter of the law, but also understands the spirit of the law.  Instead of a brutal, public punishment for Mary, he decides he will divorce her quietly, hoping to help her avoid the full force of cultural judgment.

Joseph makes a well-informed, respectable, and compassionate decision.  He makes his decision and then rests his weary mind and body.  That is when life changes yet again.  God appears to Joseph in a dream, and explains that Joseph’s decision cannot stand.  This child in Mary’s womb is special, and not only is Joseph not to divorce her, he is to legally claim the child as his own by naming the child.  So what does Joseph do?  He bends even further than he already has, and takes Mary as his wife.

When most of us think of the Holy Family or even that holy night, we have a pretty romanticized picture of their life.  Our joy about the Christ Child seems to erase the reality of that poor family.  In fact, the Holy Family was a bit of a holy mess.  Mary is in the extremely vulnerable position of having her body taken over by the Holy Spirit and this child, all without the promise of a willing partner.  And Joseph is in a legal and cultural predicament.  I am sure that anyone in their community could do the math about Mary’s due date and wonder why Joseph stays with her, let alone assume ownership of the child.  Despite being obedient to God, I cannot imagine that Joseph’s dream wiped away all the tension between Joseph and Mary.

Of course, we are no stranger to this kind of messiness in families.  We all have experienced tensions in our relationships with parents, partners, siblings, and extended family.  Sometimes the tensions are from minor issues that eventually get resolved.  But sometimes the tensions break down communication, create broken relationships, and have ripple effects in our families.  Just this week, I have had conversations with people about an aging mother who is creating tensions among her children; a couple struggling with infertility; parents navigating the sexual orientation of their child; and a single person who feels lonely and hopeless.  We all know the messiness of life – in fact, we may have begun to wonder whether our dreams of peace and concord among our families is just a pipe dream.  Or maybe we would rather just divorce ourselves entirely from what our lives have become.

In the midst of messiness, another way emerges.  Joseph, a man who we know to be righteous and faithful makes a choice.  He had nothing to do with the messiness in his life, and he has every reason and right to just walk away and find a much neater, tidier life and a more conventional wife.  But Joseph makes a choice to believe God.  Joseph chooses differently.  “He claims the scandal, he owns the mess – he legitimizes it – and the mess becomes the place where the Messiah is born.”[iii]  Joseph’s choice is unconventional, a bit radical, and perhaps even a bit illogical.  But Joseph, having no idea where the choice will lead him, or how he will navigate his relationships once his decision is made, chooses to believe and to follow God right into the heart of the messiness, trusting that God will sustain him in the messiness and make something beautiful out of the mess.

Of course, Joseph had reason to believe that God could make a way through the messiness.  Just a few verses before the text we hear today in Matthew, Matthew lists the genealogy of Jesus.  In that genealogy, Jesus’ heritage begins with Abraham, goes through David, and ends with Joseph.  But in that list of forty-two fathers, four women from the Old Testament are also listed – all of whom had a history either before marriage or childbirth that made their story either strange or scandalous.  Take Tamar for example.  She was found to be pregnant long after her husband’s death.  Her father-in-law denounced her until he realized that he was the father.  Or look at Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah.  She became pregnant not by her husband Uriah, but by David.[iv]  Joseph comes from a long line of messiness and scandal, and yet, God moves through the messiness to create something new and powerful every time.  Perhaps a family history of messiness and divine action leads Joseph to take that leap of faith with Mary.

I wonder how all of this messiness resonates with your life.  We are still wrapping up Advent, and not quite yet to Christmas.  Like Joseph, we are not quite at the manger, finally arriving at our destination.  Now I recognize that some of you will be blessed by a blissful, picturesque Christmas with nothing but familial harmony.  That kind of reality may be entirely due to some good luck, and if that is what your Christmas looks like, then praise be to God.  But most of us probably are approaching Christmas with our fair share of messiness.  There are relationships to navigate or perhaps relationships that have entirely crumbled over the years.  You may have lingering questions about how God will act and what kind of goodness can come out of your mess.

Our invitation today is to remember that God still speaks to us in the messiness, and that God can still work not in spite of our mess, but through our mess for goodness.  And if you not convinced, perhaps then Joseph might be your best companion in the coming days.  Perhaps Joseph can journey with you as you wade into the messiness of your life, praying to hear God’s words for you.  Perhaps Joseph can fill you with hope and promise that your messiness, which may or may not be as severe as some of the Biblical messiness we have heard about today, has surely been seen by and blessed by God.  Perhaps Joseph can hold your hand at the stable, like he did with Mary, inviting you into a sure, steady trust that your God can do infinitely more than you can ask for or imagine this Christmas.  Amen.

[i] Arland J. Hultgren, “Commentary on Matthew 1.18-25,” as found on http://www.workingpreacher.org/ preaching.aspx? commentary_id=1936 on December 18, 2013.

[ii] David Lose, “Matthew’s Version of the Incarnation,” as found on http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft. aspx?post=2961 on December 18, 2013.

[iii] Martin B. Copenhaver, “Jesus’ Other Parent,” Journal for Preachers, vol. 31, no. 1, Advent 2007, 35.

[iv] Raymond E. Brown, “The Annunciation to Joseph,” Worship, vol. 61, no. 6, November 1987, 483.