Merry Christmas! I imagine that isn’t what you thought I would say this morning, but even though the calendar has turned, liturgically speaking we are still enjoying the Christmas season – at least until Friday, which marks Epiphany, the day those wise ones from the east finally made it to the manger. So we have a few days yet of celebration, even as your Christmas cheer might be winding down.
Maybe you came to worship this morning, though, with the hope of holding onto that Christmas joy just a little bit longer. Sing one more carol, and smile at the image of a sweet infant nestled into the manger for a moment longer. Or, maybe you came ready for something fresh. After all, Christmas is sooo last year, and you may not want to look back on 2016. Better to pop the champagne and usher in 2017 with the hopes for something better. What new message might come this first Sunday of the year?
Whatever your expectations were this morning, you probably weren’t necessarily hoping for the somber story we find in Matthew’s gospel. It’s not one that often makes our Christmas lessons and carols list. Rather than a beautiful picture to adorn with glitter on a holiday card, Matthew’s gospel, particularly in these verses, presents a much bleaker image of what followed the birth of Christ, perhaps even foreshadowing the events that will come some thirty years later. These verses are a sobering reality and wake-up call to the harshness of the world.
[walk to Advent Wreath]
In many ways, Matthew delivers a shocking Christmas reality check that threatens to unravel our Christmas spirit and put a damper on these candles that have lit our way throughout the season.
These verses challenge our idea of JOY. A proud father, who has already overcome obstacles of paternity, is jarred from his celebration of the newborn by a nightmare that his son’s life is in danger. [extinguish JOY candle].
These verses poke holes in our visions of PEACE, with news of a tyrannical leader so insecure in his own power that he orders a devastating sentence to all newborn boys, reminding us of the horror that came to the Israelites under the rule of Pharaoh. [extinguish PEACE candle]
These verses reveal the painful side of LOVE with a mother’s heartbreak as Rachel’s weeping cannot be soothed; her grief so great she cannot bear any consolation. [extinguish LOVE candle]
Finally, these verses almost shatter the very HOPE the child in the manger brings. The fulfillment of the prophetic promise is overshadowed again with fear.[extinguish HOPE candle]
This is a hard story for hard times. But maybe that’s just the point. For Matthew, the richness of this story is that God came into a broken world to bring wholeness. These verses spoke to real people who knew the immediate threats and inherent dangers one who claimed to be the Messiah would face in the world. Early believers knew just how high those stakes were – they were living them, too.
The examples of darkness and danger don’t just lurk in this text – they leap from the page and haunt our dreams. The examples of darkness and danger in our own world act in much the same way. In our reviews of 2016, the lists of loss and tragedy are great. Countless are mourning those deaths from the entertainment and arts world, along with several prominent political and humanitarian losses. Last year marked the deadliest mass shooting in U.S. history in an Orlando night club, and headlines too frequently reported shootings and bombings, terror and hate, even as we began to count down the final hours of the year the news sounded from Istanbul. Natural disasters, from flooding to Hurricane Matthew, brought humanitarian crisis and devastation around the world. Here in the United States, a contentious election cycle ripped many apart. The feeling behind this cadence of events is the rhythm drumming behind our gospel narrative for the moments after Jesus’ birth. It is as if the featured story of shepherds and angels has been interrupted, yet again, with breaking news, and it isn’t exactly pretty.
Matthew’s gospel reminds us that the story of Christ’s birth is not some idyllic fairy tale or Disney movie with singing animals around a manger. This story is real. It is scary, gritty, and fraught with all of the struggles that we face in the world. The holy family is on the run. From the very beginning, they are refugees fleeing for their very lives. I imagine these moments had a hushed sense of urgency for Mary and Joseph, perhaps trying to pull the few things they had for the baby together under the cover of night, hoping for the guiding light of a star to illumine their new path. Reading this text just before Christmas, I was struck by the reports of the ongoing conflict in Syria, particularly those images from Aleppo. One was particularly jarring for me. It came from the London based Channel 4 News, and told the story of the last hospital standing. In just under 4 minutes, the video followed several children in search of their parents, along with a neighbor who had taken several, not her own, under wing. One moment captured the scene, with a small child, no more than 4 years old, covered in dust and sitting on a stretcher in the hallway, clearly traumatized with a blank look on his face. The reporter brought a sobering explanation, saying “Aleppo is the place where children have stopped crying .” [https://news.channel4.com/livepages/2016/inside-aleppo/, “The Last Hospital” clip (3:48 long)]. What if this was the image we had for the toddler Jesus, life at risk and no place to call home? Suddenly the carol’s melody that “but little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes” takes a darker turn.
At the very least, we see a picture of struggle and challenge, like one illustrator made with a depiction of their journey to Bethlehem, Mary great with child:
[Comic by Everett Patterson – Jose y Maria]
Now, imagine this couple, a bundled newborn in Mary’s arms, making their way across the desert to Egypt, a route Google Maps estimates to be 148 hours walking. We talk about the difficult journey they made from Jerusalem to Bethlehem, but it was only a glimpse of this harrowing path they would now take. It was one marked by fear, no doubt with Joseph constantly looking over his shoulder at each turn or pause. Matthew’s gospel paints a pretty bleak picture.
And yet, it is from this darkness that the Lord comes. Into a world like this, where terror reigns and people are fleeing in fear, the Lord comes. Into a world like this, where mothers sob endlessly at the loss of children, where grief overwhelms us, the Lord comes. Into a world like this, where dreams seem dashed and nightmares become reality, the Lord comes.
[walk over to Christ candle]
The light of the world has come, John’s gospel proclaims. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness shall not overcome it. Matthew’s gospel brings us this good news, too, with the promise of the dawning of a new day. The fears and concerns and threats in the world may be great, but God’s plans are even greater.
The end of our passage this morning ushers in the promise of a new era for God’s people, hinged on a fulfillment of the promises of old. This is what Matthew is known for – the ability to link the past with the future, and show his readers that God has been present through it all. In faith, then, we might be able to relight those Advent candles with a fresh understanding of God’s presence in this text in a way that illumines our Christmas story even more.
Matthew rekindles HOPE, that God can and will take care of us, even if we are put on a different path than the one we originally thought we’d be taking. In fact, God may call us to new ways entirely, but promises to help orient us and find our way back home again. Even if the path looks different, God offers possibility and hope for a secure future. [relight candle for HOPE]
Matthew rekindles LOVE, the love a parent has for a child. A mother who will do anything for her children, and a father who will stop at nothing to keep his children safe. This is the same love that God has for us, of course, made clear in the coming of Christ, who literally would live among us and would stop at nothing, not even death on a cross, to hold us close. [relight candle for LOVE]
Matthew rekindles PEACE, with the news that the reign of terror from Herod the great would not be the end. The smoke would clear, and another way would come. The path would be different, but a simple and humble life would come from Nazareth. Such a promise is one of peace, harkening back to the promises made by prophets like Isaiah, for a kingdom where wars would cease and the lion and lamb would lie together. [relight candle for PEACE]
Finally, Matthew rekindles JOY, allowing us to find ourselves in the Christmas story even if all is not as it should be in our lives or in our world. The baby in a manger isn’t just for those who have it all together – it is truly for all people, imperfect people in a violent world, just trying to make it one day at a time. Into the very darkest depths of our existence, light comes, giving glimmers and promises of joy. [relight candle for JOY].
In many ways, I think Matthew’s telling of the story makes our Christmas complete, and helps us take Christmas with us into the new year. Long after the tinsel and trees have been packed away, Matthew’s story of Christ’s winding road stands as a witness to how committed God truly is to being with us, and the lengths at which God will go to bring grace to the world – to us.
Matthew’s story reminds us to look for signs of God’s presence not just in the shining moments, but in the difficult ones, and he assures us that God will be there. These verses proclaim that there truly is no situation in life which our God does not understand. Through Christ, God has experienced all that life in this world entails, including those moments that are hidden in shadows and darkness, trapped by fear and grief. This is where the light of the world begins ministry – where we need it the most.
These are words of promise from Matthew that return us to the hope of the prophet Isaiah, who spoke of God’s steadfast love in this way, saying “and he became their savior 9in all their distress. It was no messenger or angel but his presence that saved them; in his love and in his pity he redeemed them; he lifted them up and carried them all the days of old.” (Isaiah 63:8-9)
This is good news to hear as we begin a calendar year, and wonder what 2017 will have in store. God will still be with us, no matter where the road may lead. And, if we find ourselves on a very different path than before, in a place that is totally outside of our comfort zone, God will be there, too. In those places in our lives where we have anxiety or fear, God is there. In those places where tears flow and grief is great, God is there. And God will see us through, even if that takes us over the river and through the woods. God will not abandon us.
Our Christmas reality check is this – even in the most challenging circumstances imaginable, God comes. And that is good news, indeed. Amen.
Preached by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, January 1, 2017
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