Sunday, January 10, 2016
Joseph’s
calloused hands gingerly remove the apron.
He picks up his hammer and heads for the one-room hut he shares with
Mary and the baby – Yeshua.
Everything
was so spectacular. First, he was the
nervous suitor, filled with joy when her father said, “Yes.” He was found acceptable for Mary. Then he was the enraged fiancé whose
betrothed fooled around and got herself pregnant. Compassion was being crowded out by something
new and unwelcome – anger.
Then it
got weird. How did she get
pregnant? God did it, she said. Right. How desperate could she be? Then he had a dream. God did
do it! Don’t even tell anyone. They would only ask, how desperate could he
be?
Then the
census: with a pregnant wife carrying
not his baby, but God’s, he had to travel the miles to his birthplace,
Bethlehem. There, the child was born in
a barn. OK he tells himself, ‘Joseph,
you can handle this.’ Then in the middle
of the night, a bunch of crazy shepherds show up. How did they know she was pregnant? There are strange lights in the sky. They hear angel-song.
That pep
talk turned into self-evaluation. He asks
himself, ‘Joseph, can you handle this?’ When
they have the baby dedicated at the temple, people prophesy, like prophets of
old, and it is all about this baby.
‘Really, Joseph, can you handle this?’
Finally,
things settle down. He has work and
living quarters in Bethlehem. It is
modest, but a suitable roof over their heads.
The baby is healthy. Mary is a
wonderful mother. With this job, he will
make enough to feed them for a month.
Twilight
falls and he heads for the hut. He’s
tired and glad to be headed home. But
around the bend, he sees that the weirdness has come back. Strangers on camels – rich men, foreign men –
are outside the house. What is this??
These
stargazers have followed a star that has led them to his house. Time for another pep talk. ‘Joseph,’ he asks, knees trembling, ‘How do
you talk to royalty?’ No answer comes.
He looks
at the exotic visitors. “Um,
Shalom. Hello. Come on in.
Don’t know if you’ll all fit.” It
turns out, all he has to do is smile, nod, and stay out of the way as they
parade in and drop gifts at Mary’s feet.
They worship – the baby. Who is this child God has entrusted to
Joseph’s care?
He latches
the windows so no one can see in. The
last thing this poor man needs is for his poor neighbors to find out he’s
suddenly gotten rich.
The next
day they leave. He tells Mary not to let
anyone in. He goes to work, but is
constantly looking around, glancing back over his shoulder. ‘Joseph, what’s gotten into you? You’re not yourself today.’ It is a long day.
Finally,
he comes home. Mary and the baby are
still there. They are well. All the gold and the spices are still
there.
“Mary did
anyone come today?”
“No.”
“Did you
talk to anyone from the village?”
“I talked
to Sarah and Hannah.”
“Mary!”
“Joseph,
I had to draw to water. Would you
relax! We are protected.”
Joseph
nods. He barely eats. Then, he lays awake, staring out the window
at the stars, listening to the normal night sounds of the village. Occasionally he jumps up, looks out, and then
lays back down.
Finally,
he nods off. It gets weirder and it gets
worse. Someone is in the house, but Joseph
does not feel the adrenalin infused fear as if there were an intruder. He doesn’t fear this person.
He fears
the message. “Get up, take the child and
his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you: for Herod is
about to search for the child to kill him.”
Suddenly
he’s awake. Joseph sits straight up,
sweating despite the chill in the night air.
Mary and Jesus are sound asleep.
He dresses quickly and goes to the home of Benaiah, the guy who raises
horses.
He vigorously
knocks Benaiah, frazzled, opens the door.
“Ok, ok. Joseph, for heaven’s sake.
You’ll wake my whole family. What
do you want?”
“You were
going to sell that cart to Abner today.”
“The new cart?” Benaiah is confused and suspicious. “What of it?”
“I’ll buy
it. Right now.”
“You
can’t afford it, Joseph. You’ve been
drinking. Go home and go to bed.”
“How much
will he pay you?”
“More
than you can afford.”
“More than this is worth?” Joseph opens the box with the myrrh.
Benaiah’s
eyes grow wide. “Where did you get
that?”
“Never
mind. You give that cart right now, and
this is yours.”
For a
minute, Benaiah just stares. “Why are
you coming in the middle of the night?”
“That’s
my business.”
“Will the
temple police or the Romans come looking for this box of stolen spices?”
“No. Now, do we have deal?” Again, Benaiah stares. Finally he agrees. “And,” Joseph continues, “I’ll need a strong
pack mule, and a horse.” Benaiah’s stares
again. Joseph shows a gold.
By
sunrise, Joseph, Mary, the baby, and everything they own are 10 miles down the
road headed toward Egypt. Bethlehem does
not notice their absence until they are long gone.
When
Herod, the puppet King, the ruler who sat on a throne in Jerusalem but ruled at
Rome’s pleasure, realized that the wise men would not be coming back, he was
infuriated. Throughout this story,
everyone was seeing angels, following stars, and hearing from God in
dreams. Zechariah (the Father of John the
Baptist), Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, the wise men – they all had direct
encounters with the divine. But not
Herod.
He was
hot with anger, boiling over. He did not
need God, he thought. He had his power
and wealth by his cunning and ruthlessness, he thought. He would kill his own family members to
protect his throne. In fact he did just
that. He killed one of his own sons. He had no problem killing God’s son. And if he wasn’t sure which child in
Bethlehem was the one, he’d kill them all.
Matthew writes that Herod had his soldiers kill all the boys in and
around Bethlehem who were two years old or younger.
In the
anchor Bible commentary, W.F. Albright says such an act of cruelty and violence
was typical of Herod. It would not raise
an eyebrow. He called it a comparatively
minor incident. In two years, the
kindergarten class at Bethlehem elementary would be all girls. People in neighboring towns, where Herod
killed twice as many, might count Bethlehem lucky that they weren’t hit even
harder. And no one would think to ask
why. This is the world into which Jesus
was born.
This part
of the story should be told in winter.
This is not for the warm, soft glow of Christmas candles. God came as a baby who grew up in a world
where it was not uncommon to have father come in and say, “Everyone, we’re
leaving because someone wants to kill us.”
Herod’s troops. Arab raiders. Romans enforcing order. Doesn’t matter. Someone wants to kill us. God stepped into this in order to deal with
sin and the destruction it brings to his good earth.
Surprised? The death of the helpless is not part of our
nativity sets. But we put those last
week. Are we surprised that this death
is a part of the story of salvation?
The only
way this can make sense is when we read what Herod did as a part of the grand
story of God’s plan to rescue the world from sin. Why did God allow Joseph and Mary and Jesus
to escape? Why didn’t God rescue the other
children from Herod? These are fair questions. I have no easy answers.
The first
part of the answer I do offer is God is committed to human freedom. God is sovereign – all powerful. We see this in God’s absolute authority in
creation. Yet the highlight of God’s
creative act is the formation of human beings in God’s image. To be in God’
image, we cannot be robots. We cannot
live by pre-programming or blind instinct.
We cannot merely exist by natural selection.
We have
consciences. We have
self-awareness. We ask, why are we here? Where
are we going? Self-awareness is the
sign that we are God’s image bearers.
But, inevitably, with free choice each and every one of us at some point
chooses our own way instead of God’s. Collective
sin is the history of humanity choosing the way opposite of God’s – the way of
suffering and death.
Were God
to erase all the painful effects of sin, the image of God would be wiped out in
the process. God’s salvation comes in
the midst of human evil. Maybe God could
achieve salvation in other ways. I don’t
know. This is how God did it.
Children,
murdered by Herod; first-graders, gunned down in Newtown, Connecticut; unarmed
young men killed in altercations with the police; my answer about why God
allows it all – human freedom – my answer does not feel satisfactory. I bring up the Sandy Hook the plague of
deaths across our country, especially of black young men, not to indict police
or to lay blame or be overly political.
That’s not my point. My point is
evil lurks and heartbreak follows. In
the days of Jesus, it was seen in the capricious acts of a murderous tyrant. In our day evil speaks through systemic
racism and rampant violence.
In the
midst of Herod’s evil, God spoke.
Matthew quoted the passage of the wailing in Ramah in verse 18 because
when children die, there should be widespread, demonstrative grief. It is not enough to say Joseph, Mary, and
Jesus got out OK. God had to stop and
weep. We do too.
In the
midst of today’s evil, God is bringing salvation. God also stops to weep. If we want to be where God is when evil hits,
we call it evil. We weep. And we work for justice, comfort, reconciliation,
and healing because those things are marks of God’s kingdom.
It’s been
a few years since the move. Joseph and
family are in Egypt. He is making horse
carts in Alexandria. After a long day
and a find meal, he plays with the 4-year-old child he’s adopted. Little Jesus is a joy. Joseph’s heart melts
when the child calls him “Daddy.” Mary
thinks she’s pregnant. If she has a boy,
they will name him James. A girl will be
Elizabeth.
He lays
down to sleep. Someone is in the
house. Joseph knows him. It is the same guy who told him Mary was
pregnant by the Holy Spirit. It is the
same guy who warned him and Mary to move to Egypt. ‘O no,’ Joseph thinks. ‘What now?’
“Yes,
Lord?” He says.
“Get up
Joseph. Take the child and his mother,
and go to land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are
dead.”
‘Things
are starting to look up for me here in Alexandria.’ That’s what he wants to say. But he doesn’t. He nods in humility.
The next
morning, loads that cart he bought from Benaiah. They head back.
The first
night back in Bethlehem, that guy shows up in his dream again! “Joseph.”
‘Criminy.’
“Yes
Lord.”
“Joseph,
Herod’s son Archelaus is now king. He is
as bad as Herod.”
‘I am not
going back to Egypt. The money from the
gifts the wise men gave is nearly out.
And I don’t want to travel across the desert again. I am a carpenter, not a tradesman.’ That’s what he wants to say to this
angel. But he doesn’t.
He
exhales. In humility, he says, “What do
we do?”
“Go
to Galilee. Raise the child there. You won’t see me anymore.”
Joseph
mutters, ‘If I did, I’d never go to sleep again.’
The
angel squints at Joseph. “I didn’t catch
that.”
Joseph
catches himself and straightens himself up.
“Galilee. Yes Lord. Galilee. We’ll leave in the morning.”
God
shows up in the real places of life; sometimes in the darkest places. Search your heart,. That’s where God wants to
meet you. Look for God into your own
story.
I
titled this talk “Joy to Sorrow.” Sin
leads everyone to sorrow. That’s why
salvation is needed. In Jesus salvation
has come and nothing – not Herod or the cross or the evils of today – can stop
God’s salvation plan. So, turn to
him. Turn to the Lord. From the depths your real life turn to God
and embrace his love for you. When we do
that, sorrow gives way to hope.
AMEN