Room

Scripture:       Isaiah 7:10-16            Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19   Romans 1:1-7             Matthew 1:18-25

On this 4^th Sunday of Advent, we finally get to the reason for the season.  Three weeks ago, we had apocalyptic texts connected with the return of Jesus.  Two weeks ago, we were out in the desert listening to the rantings of John the Baptist.  Last week I was away, but you heard Mary sing her song about a God who looks with favor on the poor and lowly, and brings down the high and mighty.  And this week, we get to hear Joseph’s side of the story. 

And Joseph’s side of the story begins with embarrassment and shame – his fiancé, Mary, as found to be “with child”.  With child.  As in, “Baby on board”. As in, preggers.    It would be embarrassing enough if Mary’s child was his – but it isn’t, because they hadn’t been together.  By all appearances, this was not going to end well for anyone, mother, father, or baby.

We’re told that Joseph is a righteous man – he’s a decent person who wants to do the right thing in what appears to be an indecent situation.  In that culture, marriage wasn’t primarily a matter of emotion, but about carrying on family lines and providing economic security – and if the spouses came to love one another, well, that was a bonus - and Joseph would have paid Mary’s family money as part of the engagement. Were Joseph to divorce her in court publicly and repudiate the child as “not his”, Joseph perhaps could have recovered his money and his honor.  On the other hand, had Joseph gone for a public divorce, Mary would have been seen quite literally as damaged goods – again, in that culture, marriage was primarily about continuing family lines and providing economic security – and, unfortunately, Mary’s being pregnant with God only knows whose child was no help with either of those goals.  Joseph didn’t want to subject Mary to shame and poverty by divorcing her publicly, so he resolved to divorce Mary quietly by giving her a certificate of divorce in front of two witnesses rather than in court.  He’d made up his mind along those lines when an angel appeared to Joseph in a dream with another option:  take Mary as his wife and raise up the son – who was from the Holy Spirit, as his own, naming him Jesus.  “Jesus” is the Greek version of the Jewish name Joshua, which means “The Lord saves” – and the angel tells Joseph that Jesus will save the people from their sins.  And Joseph did as the angel instructed.

It was a difficult decision for Joseph.  He could have left the whole messy situation behind, with some degree of damage to Mary’s reputation, but with a chance to start over for himself.  Instead, the angel of the Lord is asking Joseph to embrace the situation with all its embarrassment, rather than running from it.  And Joseph said “yes”.

At heart, the Christmas story is about making room, about making room for Jesus – Mary making room for the child within her and the scandal the baby would bring, Joseph making for Mary and her baby and the scandal that they would share.  And throughout the Christmas stories, characters are  defined by whether or not they allow room for Jesus.  Famously, when Mary and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem, there was no room in the inn and so they ended up in the manger with the animals.  The shepherds and wise men traveled considerable distances, made considerable room in their schedules to see the Christ child.  By contrast, there was no room in Herod’s plans for a new-born king of the Jews, and so he tried to have the baby killed.  

How about us?  Is there room for Jesus in our lives?  The name of Jesus means “God has saved” – but do we feel the need for a savior…or are we doing just fine by ourselves, thank you very much?  Presumably, if we’re here, we’ve made some room for Jesus in our lives, or at least are considering the notion.  But how much room?  Do we turn our whole lives over to Jesus – give Jesus the run of the house – or do we lock Jesus into a little room called Sunday morning and keep the rest for our own priorities?  And that’s not an easy yes/no question – I’ve found for myself that once I let Jesus in the front door of my life many years ago, the rest of my life has been a process of welcoming Jesus into the various spaces of my life, and it hasn’t come all at once – and occasionally I’ve decided I wanted a closet or crawl space back for myself.   It’s one thing to trust Jesus with my Sunday mornings.  But with my money?  With my job? With my family and friendships?  With my free time?

There can be one other problem with making room for Jesus – he has a habit of inviting his friends.  We’d like to have a private, personal relationship with Jesus – just Jesus and me – but if Jesus is in our lives, we will find ourselves among the poor, among those on the margins, among those whom our society rejects.

Trappist monk and writer Thomas Merton wrote a meditation on Luke’s Christmas story of there being no room in the inn.  I’d like to share a few lines of it.

“In the time of the end there is no longer room for the desire to go on living. The time of the end is the time when men call upon the mountains to fall upon them, because they wish they did not exist. Why? Because they are part of a proliferation of life that is not fully alive, it is programmed for death. A life that has not been chosen, and can hardly be accepted, has no room for hope. Yet it must pretend to go on hoping. It is haunted by the demon of emptiness. And out of this unutterable void come the armies, the missiles, the weapons, the bombs…and all the other crimes of mass society….

Into this world, this demented inn, in which there is absolutely no room for Him at all, Christ has come uninvited. But because He cannot be at home in it, because He is out of place in it, and yet He must be in it, His place is with those others for whom there is no room.  His place is with those who do not belong, who are rejected by power because they are regarded as weak, those who are discredited, who are denied the status of person, tortured, exterminated. With those for whom there is no room, Christ is mysteriously present.  He is mysteriously present in those for whom there seems to be nothing but the world at its worst.”[1]

May we at Emanuel make room in our lives for Jesus, and for those whom Jesus calls us to serve.  May we be able to pray, in the words of an old hymn, “O come to my heart, Lord Jesus; there is room in my heart for Thee.”  Indeed, may every heart prepare Him room. Amen.

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[1] Thomas Merton, ‘The Time of the End is the Time of No Room’, in Raids on the Unspeakable

Pastor's Message - December 2016 Newsletter

Dear Emanuel Members and Friends –

An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham.
 Abraham was the father of Isaac, and Isaac the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers, and Judah the father of Perez and Zerah by Tamar, and Perez the father of Hezron, and Hezron the father of Aram, and Aram the father of Aminadab, and Aminadab the father of Nahshon, and Nahshon the father of Salmon, and Salmon the father of Boaz by Rahab, and Boaz the father of Obed by Ruth, and Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of King David.

 And David was the father of Solomon by the wife of Uriah, and Solomon the father of Rehoboam, and Rehoboam the father of Abijah, and Abijah the father of Asaph, and Asaph the father of Jehoshaphat, and Jehoshaphat the father of Joram, and Joram the father of Uzziah, and Uzziah the father of Jotham, and Jotham the father of Ahaz, and Ahaz the father of Hezekiah, and Hezekiah the father of Manasseh, and Manasseh the father of Amos, and Amos the father of Josiah, and Josiah the father of Jechoniah and his brothers, at the time of the deportation to Babylon. 

And after the deportation to Babylon: Jechoniah was the father of Salathiel, and Salathiel the father of Zerubbabel, and Zerubbabel the father of Abiud, and Abiud the father of Eliakim, and Eliakim the father of Azor, and Azor the father of Zadok, and Zadok the father of Achim, and Achim the father of Eliud, and Eliud the father of Eleazar, and Eleazar the father of Matthan, and Matthan the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called the Messiah.
 So all the generations from Abraham to David are fourteen generations; and from David to the deportation to Babylon, fourteen generations; and from the deportation to Babylon to the Messiah, fourteen generations.  (Matthew 1:1-17)

Matthew– thought to have been written by a Jewish convert (by tradition, Matthew the tax collector) to the way of Jesus to convince fellow Jews that Jesus is the Messiah – begins his Gospel with a genealogy, a list of Jesus’ ancestors going back to Abraham.  For modern readers, while it’s possible that we may be interested in our own family’s genealogy, we probably can’t imagine anything more tedious to read than an ancient genealogy for somebody else’s family.  As we begin to read through it, our eyes glaze over, and most of us just skip over these verses to get to Mary and Joseph and the baby.  But for ancient cultures and for more traditional cultures even today, genealogies are very important.  In these cultures, remembering the family line was and is crucially important; one’s lineage says a great deal about who a person is.  So what does this genealogy tell us about who Jesus is?

On one level, the genealogy is intended to associate Jesus with Abraham and David, key figures in Jewish history.  It was expected that the Messiah be descended from King David, and this genealogy demonstrates this connection.  Indeed, the descendants in the second set of fourteen names (from David to the deportation) were likewise kings, and so generations of royal blood flowed in Jesus’ veins.  It should be noted that In numerology, the number seven is the number of perfection, and so the number fourteen – two time seven - signifies double perfection.  (It should likewise be noted, though, that David’s descendants included kings that were regarded as relatively faithful, such as Hezekiah and Josiah, as well as kings who were extremely unfaithful, such as Manasseh and Jeconiah.)

On the other hand, while most of those listed are males – not unusual for a highly patriarchal culture – four women are identified early in the genealogy.  What’s notable is that each of these women acted in ways that were unconventional and even scandalous, and yet each had a crucial role in continuing the family line of King David.  Tamar (Genesis 38) pretended to be a prostitute and slept with her father-in-law, Judah, in order to continue the family line.  Rahab (Joshua 2, Joshua 6) was a prostitute who provided hospitality to the spies from Israel who were scouting out Jericho in preparation for the conquest of Canaan.  Ruth (about whom the book of Ruth was written) was Moabite woman who married into the family of Boaz; their son Obed was the grandfather of King David.  (Ruth’s marriage to Boaz would have raised eyebrows, as Israel detested the Moabite people. Deuteronomy 23:3 states “No Ammonite or Moabite shall be admitted to the assembly of the LORD.  Even to the tenth generation, none of their descendants shall be admitted to the assembly of the LORD.”)  And “the wife of Uriah” was Bathsheba, with whom King David committed adultery (2 Samuel 11-12).   (In this last mention, the genealogy not only references Bathsheba but her husband, Uriah, whom David set up to be killed in battle in order to claim Bathsheba.) The mention of these unconventional women with their scandalous stories prepares Matthew’s Jewish readers to accept that just as God was at work in their lives, God was working through Mary, who was “found to be with child by the Holy Spirit” and in a potentially scandalous situation.  Matthew was preparing his readers for the reality that Mary’s son was not from an illicit union, but from God.

The lineage of Jesus includes patriarchs and kings – some faithful, some not so faithful – along with some unconventional women, at least one of whom was a Gentile, Ruth the Moabite. An old hymn states that “the ground is level at the foot of the cross” – that is, all of us without exception are equally in need of God’s grace – and this is the case at the manger as well.   As we read this genealogy almost 2,000 years later, we can be comforted and challenged by the reality that just as the genealogy of Jesus included all sorts of people, likewise, all sorts and conditions of people are welcome to worship the Christ child.  Indeed, God can use anyone, even us, as unworthy as we are, or even somebody we detest, as unworthy as they may be, for God’s purposes.  All of us are in need of God’s grace, and none of us is beyond the reach of God’s grace.   As human beings created in God’s image, we are not defined by the worst thing we’ve ever done, and no scandal is beyond the reach of the forgiveness Jesus offers.  At the manger, as at the foot of the cross, all the lines we draw to separate ourselves from others, to define our neighbors as “other” and “less than” – all of these lines vanish.

In this season of Advent, may we prepare our hearts to make room for the Christ child.  May we come to the manger to worship, and there may we be reconciled to God and neighbor.  Let every heart prepare him room.    

With prayers for a blessed Advent, Christmas, and New Year – Pastor Dave     

Prepare the Way

Scriptures:     Isaiah 11:1-10, Psalm 72    Romans 15:4-13,   Matthew 3:1-12

Thompson Street is finally paved.  Hallelujah!  For months, the top surface of Thompson Street had been removed, leaving a rough, bumpy surface, along with manhole covers that stuck up several inches from the road.   For months, traveling anywhere on Thompson Street meant a slow, bumpy, uncomfortable ride.   But, finally, the surface of Thompson Street is smooth.

In our readings today, we hear three contrasting voices.  One, the voice of John the Baptist,  is loud, abrasive, verging on obnoxious.  Another, that of Isaiah, makes promises that seem too good to be true. And the third, that of Paul writing to the church at Rome, urges his readers to welcome the Gentiles, the outsiders, whom God is making insiders through the work of Jesus Christ.  Three voices, seemingly out of sync with one another, yet telling us something about the God we worship.

 Once again, our Gospel reading has us out of sync with what’s going on around us.   At the mall, our children can tell Santa whether they’ve been naughty or nice.  But in our Gospel reading, we’re out in the desert with a loud, cranky, oddly dressed fellow name of John – John the Baptist, as we know him.  And as far as John’s concerned, everyone’s been naughty and nobody’s been nice.  That is to say, for John, all are in need of repentance.

A word about John’s clothing – in wearing clothing of camel hair, with a leather belt around his waist, John wasn’t making a fashion statement.  Rather, John is dressed like the prophet Elijah, who is described in 2 Kings as a hairy man wearing a leather belt (2 Kings 1:8).  And John baptized in the Jordan River, which was where the Israelites had crossed into the promised land.  If we here see someone down at Independence Hall dressed in reproductions of colonial-era clothing, we will associate what that person is saying with the Revolutionary War and the fight for independence. And, aside from the re-enactors we may see down at Independence Hall or at a group of Revolutionary War re-enactors, people may sometimes dress in colonial-era clothing to make a political statement that the country has lost its way, and has to get back to its founding principles. Or we may think of characters such as Philly Jesus, who shows up at public events dressed in a white robe as a statement that the city has lost its way and needs to get back to the message of Jesus.   John was dressed as he was so that his words would be associated with those of the ancient prophets such as Elijah.  In addition, Malachi’s prophecy stated that before the Messiah came, Elijah would return – and Jesus himself referred to John as fulfillment of that prophecy.  

As we read the words that John the Baptist spoke to the people, he comes across as a wild-eyed fanatic.  He tells the people to repent.  When the Pharisees and Sadducees come – and it’s striking that they would have come together, as they were on opposite ends of the religious and political spectrum, and likely they were united only in their opposition to John – John called them a brood of vipers, and their institutional religion a snake pit.  John would know – according to Luke’s gospel, John’s father, Zechariah, had been a priest in the temple at Jerusalem, and so John would have seen the system’s corruption close up, just as any preacher’s kid can tell you stories about the church’s corruption and failings.  And John talks about fire – every tree that doesn’t bear fruit will be chopped down and thrown into the fire, wheat will be separated from chaff, and the chaff thrown into the fire.  John’s message is fire, and fire, and more fire.   John’s message is “turn or burn”.

John’s message is loud, intrusive, jarring.  But that’s intentional – his message is urgent. If there’s a fire, you don’t want a fire alarm that plays elevator muzak and a soothing voice saying, “this building is warmer than usual.…please consider moving toward the exits.”  Rather, if we think of the fire alarms in our homes or at our places of work, they’re loud, intrusive, and jarring – when my office holds fire drills, as we exit the building, there are lights that flash on and off, and the sound of the alarm is so loud I feel like my ears are going to explode – I literally can’t physically stand to stay in the building, the noise is so loud.   And so John’s message is sort of like a spiritual fire alarm, warning his listeners to wake up, to move out of their complacency and pay attention to the one who is to come.

So John’s message is like a fire alarm.  But our Gospel also compares him to a road crew paving the way, smoothing the road, for the coming of the Messiah, just like the road crews who worked on Thompson Street paved the way for all of us to get here this morning.  John is the one who prepares the way, the one who prepares his listeners for the message of Jesus.  To use another comparison, he might be like the opening act at a rock concert….he’s not the main attraction, but he gets the crowd ready for when the featured band walks on stage.

Our readings from Isaiah and Romans tell us what the main attraction will be like.  Paul tells his readers, many of whom were Roman Jews, to welcome each other – and especially to welcome the Gentiles.  To this point, these Gentiles, non-Jews, were considered outsiders, but Paul goes to great lengths to ask his Jewish readers to welcome them – and for the Gentiles to welcome the Jews in return.  So for Paul, Jew and Gentile alike have a place.  And Isaiah gives us a picture of the promised world to come, in which a descendent of Jesse – that is to say, someone in the line of King David – would rule in righteousness, and in which nature will be at peace, so peaceful that a little child will lead.  

Outsiders – children – and nature, the animals and trees – are important in Paul’s and Isaiah’s vision of the world to come.  I hope they’ll be important to us as well.  Are our actions in line with this vision, or working to undermine it.  Are outsiders welcome among us, in this church, in our community, or not?  Are our actions leading toward a world in which children are loved and cared for and can feel safe, or a world in which children go hungry, live in fear, are orphans?  Are our actions leading toward a world in which the natural order will be at peace, or toward a world in which calves and lions and cows and bears have gone extinct?   Today’s scriptures hold up a yardstick and a plumb line by which we can measure the straightness of the path we’re walking, can measure the horizontal and vertical of the world we’re building.     

In this season of preparation, may John’s words shake us out of complacency, and may Isaiah’s and Paul’s words give us a vision to look to.  May God give us the grace to live into this vision, and to welcome our neighbors into this vision as well, as we await the coming of the Christ child. Amen.