 | The New England Church PulpitNew England Congregational Church UCC |
From Manger to Danger | Matthew 2:13-23 | December 30, 2001 |
For Matthew, the flight into Egypt is an integral part of his presentation and interpretation of the life and ministry of Jesus in terms of a New Exodus for a New Israel. As Moses, the embodiment of the Old Israel, survived the massacre of the innocents, so likewise does Jesus who is the embodiment of the New Israel. As the Old Israel went down into Egypt and later escaped from Egypt, so the New Israel, personified in Jesus, travels the same path. Matthew's presentation of the story of Jesus attempts to demonstrate to the reader who is familiar with the biblical history of the Hebrews that this life story of Jesus is a continuation and fulfillment of what had happened to, and what had been promised to, the Israel of old. So the story of terror and escape becomes a symbol of providence and deliverance.
The church in the Middle Ages did not ignore this part of the Christmas story. The theme of the innocent victims occurs in the art of the Christmas story; there is also a feast day of the innocents. And December 26 was the feast day for Stephen, the first Christian martyr.
All this is a recognition that part of the story of God's coming to us is the response of hostility. Perhaps the recognition of suffering as part of the story is an antidote to the temptation to overly sentimentalize the Christmas events. Here is a sober reminder of the rejection of peace and the Prince of Peace.
Herod was very good at killing. There was a popular saying that it was safer to be one of Herod’s dogs than a member of his family. You see history and legend tell of a Herod who condemned to death several of his wives, his favorite wife’s grandfather and mother, his own brother, three of his sons, and at least two grandsons. Later, on his death bed, Herod accurately calculated there would be few tears at his passing, so he arranged for soldiers to arrest and execute some leading citizens of Jerusalem at the very moment of his death so there would be mourners and tears at his passing. So when Herod received the word that a possible new Messiah had been born in Bethlehem, he reacted in his normal murderous manner. Herod calmly rid himself of any possible threat by murdering all the baby boys in and around Bethlehem; and just to hedge his bets, he killed all of them up to two years of age. The first hearers and readers of Matthew’s gospel were reminded that Herod’s actions echoed the similar actions of another king, the Pharaoh of Egypt. In the book of Exodus, Pharaoh was threatened by the numbers and the possible strength of the Israelites. In a Herod-like fashion, Pharaoh ordered the murder of all male Hebrew babies. Yet, even as Israel suffered, God was active in providing a leader by the name of Moses. God would lead God’s people from slavery into freedom. Matthew wants his readers to recall that God ultimately is stronger than the Pharaohs and Herods of this world.
We might think that the Pharaoh and Herod slaughter stories were Biblical exaggerations if we were not all too familiar with the actions of Hitler, Pol Pot, Stalin, Mao, Osama bin Laden. But it is not only the tyrants, the suicide bombers and other bad guys who put children at risk and make mothers cry. Jemeleh is a 12 year old Palestinian Muslim living near Hebron. She must go to the Augusta Victoria hospital three times a week for dialysis. The hospital is located here on the Mount of Olives. It is open to all people, but most of its patients are Palestinians. The need for security has led the government of Israel to set up road blocks and check points so that the usual hour trip takes from three to four. The documents that the hospital provides Jemeleh are not always honored by the soldiers. The hospital grounds have been occupied by troops. Recently the Israeli government has tried to revoke the hospital’s tax exempt status and recover back taxes so there is a risk the hospital will have to close and many children will be without care. Our own nation’s war on terrorism has created many refugees and among those there are children as young as those killed in Bethlehem who will not survive the winter.
At the end of perhaps the bloodiest century the world has ever known, if you just count up the number of those killed by their own governments, to say nothing of the wars, and a year on the streets of any U.S. city, including Aurora, we are beckoned by the Bible to Bethlehem. The world calls it Bosnia, Beirut, Belfast, Beijing; the Bible calls it Bethlehem.
But the story in today’s lesson is not all about Herod and devastation. There is Joseph. Joseph, one of the good guys, "a just man" the Bible calls him. We first meet him when he is engaged to Mary and things seem to go wrong for him. But you know that story. By the way, we never hear Joseph say a word, ever. His role in the Christmas story, however, is wonderful. He was available to God. Wedged between the private scandal of Mary's pregnancy and the public intrigue of Herod's plots, Joseph listened to his dreams. Perhaps we, like Joseph, can hear God's call and entertain the possibility that what we really long for lies somewhat behind or beyond what it is we think we want. We may even know the power of Joseph, the power to know that it is possible to live without the kind of power the world pushes at us.
We might be tempted to say that today’s scripture is a dose of realism. After all, worldly realism knows that life is brutal, tragic and hard. Realists know “what the bottom line is.” Realists do not get carried away by their dreams and enthusiasms. Realists have been through the wars. And so it is appropriate to hear the Bible confirm what the world knows: life is brutal, tragic and hard.
But side by side with these stories of oppression and violence we have read this season the most extravagant hopes of the human heart. The magi follow a star. The prophet Isaiah foretells a ruler who “shall not judge by what his eyes see/ or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth’ (Is 11:3,4). “The wolf shall live with the lamb/ the leopard shall lie down with the kid,/ the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them” (Is 11:6). How are we to understand the contrast between the slaughter of innocent children and the magi’s hope-filled quest, between power politics and the prophet’s visions of a transformed world? If our only standard of realism is that life is brutal, tragic, and hard, then we will conclude that Herod gives us realism while the magi and the prophet give us legend and fantasy.
But what if our standard of realism is greater than the world’s? What if realism means believing in the whole range of what the heart can envision and enact? Then this season can open us to the fullness of who we human creatures are and what we can do. Christmas remakes worldly into holy realism. Herod perpetuates his violence, but the Christ child grows up to restore, to heal, to bring good news to the poor. Holy realism sees that although life is often tragic and hard, there is born in the midst of us a spirit that will draw out the glorious possibilities of its transformation. (From Thomas H. Troeger Iliff School of Theology)
We notice that Matthew presents the story by saying that Jesus' every move was a fulfillment of prophecy. Interpretations of such passages vary, but one thing is clear to Matthew: in those critical hours the violent authorities only seem to be in control. To interpret acts of violence by those who oppose God's people as fulfillment of prophecy is to believe that God has something else in mind. God is God. God is able to turn even human wrath to serve the salvation of the world. God can turn this shadow on the Christmas story into a story of hope.
The good news of Christmas is that, despite the cruelty in the world, we are loved and we can love. Kathy Galloway, a minister of the church of Scotland, writes that to “make Christmas really real it needs to be shared. Not hugged to ourselves, like a private affair, not even kept within the safety of church walls. It needs to be told out, not in words but in action. The word became flesh, not more words. It lived among us. We give glory to God by living good news, by being the word of love become flesh; in our healing of wounds, in our restoring of right relationships, in our struggle for justice, in our daily care-giving, in our delight in life.” (Kathy Galloway, Getting Personal) As John Bell says it,
Pull back the curtain on Bethlehem’s stable
Strip off the tinsel and peer through the dark,
Look at the child who’s a threat, yet in danger,
Homeless and helpless, he first makes his mark.
Love’s the secret, love’s the secret
Love is God’s cradle, God’s table, God’s cup and God’s ark.
(John L. Bell, Wild Goose Worship Group)
Amen.
Joe Dunham
| Copyright © 2001 by Joe Dunham. All rights reserved. |