“Irony of Faith” (Matthew 2:13-23)

Paul Harvey used to have a popular radio spot called Now for the Rest of the Story for many years before he died.  In this brief segment he would share a story about some historical event as most people remembered it.  He’d begin by telling the story as remembered, but then he would pause and let his listeners know that he was about to tell the story as it happened . . . he was going to tell “the rest of the story.”  Then he would proceed to dispel all the myths and hyperbole about the story with the facts of how it really took place.  People loved it despite fact that it often blew their understanding of history right out of the water.

This morning we are confronted with a “now for the rest of the story” moment in the scriptures.  From the mountaintop of our Christmas celebration we’re are dropped back into reality.  Dashed are all our heartfelt images of the Christmas story that we hold so tightly on as we are told about what really happened.  It is kind of ironic how our understanding of salvation is not presented to us in a neat little package.

The reality of the Christmas story is that not everyone was thrilled about the prospects of this new savior arriving on the scene.  Not everyone is joining the heavenly choirs singing “hallelujah!”  No, there are some who are scared . . . scared of how this new savior can upset the apple cart and mess everything up.  We are told of King Herod.  Herod sees this new arrival as a threat . . . a threat to his power and control.  Like any good monarch of the time period he knew what he had to do . . . he had to get rid of the competition . . . he had to have the child killed.

Feigning interest in this new-born king, Herod seeks the help of foreign dignitaries who are seeking the child to pay homage.  Herod tells them to find the child and to come back to tell him exactly where the child is so that he can go and celebrate the child’s birth.  At least that is what he tells them.  His intentions are quite the opposite . . . and the Magi are warned not to go back.

Herod, having been tricked, is more than a little perturbed . . . he is angry.  In his anger he issues a decree to have all the male children, two and under, to be killed in Bethlehem and its vicinity.  In this way he knows that he will rid himself of his competition.  Surely, he will get the problem taken care with such an action.

This is an abrupt twist in the story.  Most of us go from the celebration of

the birth of Jesus to his adulthood . . . we jump over the nasty parts of the story.  That is kind of what we humans do when it comes to things in our lives, we want to forget . . . those bad moments.  We just jump over them and continue the story from a point where everything seems simple, nice . . . cut and dry.  We have a brief hiccup of amnesia. 

I’m sorry to say, despite our best efforts any of our stories—in order to be truthful and honest, must be complete . . . complete with the good and the bad.  The whole story must be told because it takes all parts of the story to understand who we are and what we believe.  Though we are trying to protect ourselves and others, the whole story must be shared.  When it comes to understanding our faith, the story must be told in its entirety.  We cannot leave out the parts that make us uncomfortable.

Murdering innocent babies surely makes us uncomfortable.  Threatening to have someone killed because they make us nervous makes us uncomfortable.  And, in the hearing of this story, that Joseph and Mary rush Jesus out of the country while innocent children are killed . . . well, the implications of that make us feel uneasy.  Innocents die so that Jesus may live . . . “A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning. Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.”

Who could blame anyone for wanting to jump over these parts of the story?

I sometimes struggle with what I can the “irony of faith.”  I sometimes struggle with the whole Christmas story and its implications on my faith.  It just does not make sense to me why such a beautiful story . . . such a wonderful gift . . . is plagued with such nasty details that go against what I want to carry in my heart.  Yet, this is how the story plays out.  It goes against everything I hold precious and valuable.  Things like life . . . innocent children are killed.  Obviously, Herod does not value any life beyond his own.  So, I wonder . . . I wonder why God plays the story out in the way we are hearing it this morning?  Surely God could have given the story a Disney-like ending.

In our hearts it seems so simple . . . love.  Through love all of God’s desires are achieved.  Love one another . . . love one another as we love ourselves.  Through love all things are accomplished . . . the world becomes a better place—the Kingdom of God.  If we could just learn to love one another . . . to love everyone.  That’s what our hearts know, but our minds know something completely different.

Our minds know that it is not as simple as it seems.  There are lots of people in the world and throughout history who are not comfortable in who God created them to be.  There are lots of people who are not satisfied with what they have, and they want more . . . more power, control, riches.  And, we know that these people are not grounded in love, thus they do not hesitate to do whatever must be done in order to get what they want for themselves.  As far as they are concerned, everyone else can go to you know where!

As we hear the “rest of the story” we learn that the story of our faith is not a simple story that is not without its nastiness.  We are confronted with the reality that not everyone wants what God wants . . . that they could care less.  Thus, they become the stick in the mud, the fly in the ointment.  They complicate things.  In this they mess up our story, complicate our faith, and make us insecure.  In our insecurity we attempt to avoid the nastiness . . . to avoid the fact that being faithful to God’s desires is difficult.  We become frightened and look like deer caught in the headlights . . . not sure what we should do.

It has been said that “winners write history” . . . they tell the story from their point of view . . . which are not always the “whole story”.  They leave out those parts of the story that are nasty and paint them in unfavorable ways. 

So, who is writing our section of history as the followers of Jesus?  Who is telling the story as it is really played out? Will it be glossed over, the nasty parts forgotten, so that everyone—at least those in power and control—come out looking good?   

As the followers of Jesus, we are called to do God’s will . . . which is often not the ways of the world we live.  I do not think that I must give a whole bunch of examples about what I am talking about.  All of us can look around the world we are living in . . . our communities, our state, our nation, the world in which we exist.  All are filled with examples of the nastiness in the story that is taking place . . . we read it in our papers, on our social media, and on the nightly news.  All around us are those situations where the world’s desires are clashing with God’s desire.  And, people get hurt.  People get traumatized.  All because of what is happening goes against God’s will to fulfill the wants and wishes of those who cannot love.

It is ironic because we know better . . . we know better because we follow Jesus.  Jesus’ story is not cut and dry . . . not all good.  It was a hard journey filled with lots of challenges that often went against the world.  We know.

This is the never-ending story . . . the pursuit of God’s will . . . the establishment of God’s Kingdom.  We are writing our chapter in the story.  What will it be?  A glossed over happy story where the reality and difficulty of faith is not shared?  Or will it be the truth?  The truth that tells the reader or listener that faith is hard . . . there are hard choices . . . unpopular choices that come in walking in the footsteps of Jesus. 

I don’t know.  That will be up to each of us as individuals and as a community of faith . . . it will be our choice.  But what I do know, is that whether it is a glossed over version leaving out the gory details, or a straight-forward version with all the nastiness we are confronted with as the faithful . . . what I know is that God is with us whatever happens.  God was with Joseph and Mary as they rushed Jesus to Egypt to protect their child.  God was with the mourning families who lost sons in the genocide Herod afflicted upon them.  And, that God will be with us until the very end, and that is the truth.  That is the “good news”.  Kind of ironic how it all works out, isn’t it?  Amen.

“Do the Right Thing” (Matthew 1:18-25)

There is a conundrum when one considers the phrase “do the right thing.”   Dana, my wife, loves the musical Les Miserables or Les Mis as we North Americans like to refer to it as. It is based on Victor Hugo’s 1862 novel of the same name.  The story is simple.  Set in 19^th-century France, Jean Valjean, a French peasant, is set free from prison after 19 years for having stolen a loaf of bread to feed his sister’s starving child.  With his freedom he has a desire to redeem himself.  Yet, he runs into walls wherever he turns to find respectable work in order to support himself—as an ex-convict he is shunned wherever he goes.  Finally, in frustration and desperation—after receiving charity from the local Bishop—he steals the Bishop’s silver and flees. 

It is not long before he is caught, but the Bishop lies to the police that the silver was a gift . . . to which he hands Valjean a pair of silver candlesticks . . . telling him to use them “become an honest man.”  Ashamed and humbled by the Bishop’s action, Valjean resolves to redeem himself.  He breaks parole, takes a new name, and creates a new life for himself . . . from there the musical becomes a study in “doing the right thing.”

I have often thought to myself about those situations where I am thrust into having to decide on whether I should “do the right thing.”  If I saw a starving child, would I break the law to feed the child because I had no other means to do so?  Having not been put into the situation, it is easy to say that I would; but, without any consequences, such a choice is nothing more than empty boasting.  There is no risk in proclaiming that I would “do the right thing”, knowing that I really don’t have to decide.  Until I am faced with actually having to choose “doing the right thing”, I can get away with false promises . . . we all can.

Which brings us to our story this morning.  It is a familiar story for all of us.  Mary is pledged to Joseph for marriage.  Mary is chosen to conceive the child of God . . . thus, she becomes pregnant.  Mary and Joseph are not married yet . . . in fact, there hasn’t even been any hanky-panky between the two of them.  Upon hearing that Mary is pregnant . . . pregnant with someone else’s child . . . Joseph decides to quietly divorce Mary and not put her through public disgrace.  He would just go on with his life.  Cut and dry . . .

. . . or so he thought.

Then Joseph has a dream.  An angel comes to him and tells him that things are not as simple as they seem.  The child Mary is bearing is special . . . the son of God . . . and, he is going to save the world.  The angel tells him not to be afraid of marrying Mary.  Hey, says the angel, great things are going to happen!  Then . . . poof!  The angel was gone.

What would you do?

There’s the rub.  Joseph’s first choice was an acceptable and even respectable solution . . . keep it quiet, save face, and go on.  No one would have faulted Joseph for making that choice.  But . . . was it the “right thing”?  God had other designs and Joseph was a part of them.  In the end, despite whatever push-back there might have been, Joseph decided to stand by Mary.  Joseph decided to do the “God-thing” despite whatever repercussions there might have been . . . and, we all know that the tongues were wagging.

On this last Sunday of Advent, we learn that not everything goes according to plan or expectations.  There is nothing “normal” about the story . . . nothing that goes the way one would expect it to go.  No, it doesn’t even fit into the social mores of the time . . . divine births, a heavenly donor, and a guy who just wants to “do the right thing” and get on with life.  It goes against everything that is expected in a moral and up-standing community or society.  It goes against what is acceptable and supposedly “right”.  Here, in going against what seems to be acceptable, in doing what seems contrary to popular opinion, is the “right thing to do”.

What we recognize is that the “gift” comes to us in ways that are not so socially acceptable . . . not in the ways we expect things to happen.  Instead of things happening in a way that we expect . . . socially acceptable ways . . . they happen in the way that God presents them.  The way things are supposed to happen is that marriage comes first, then comes the baby carriage . . . anything less is unacceptable; thus, the quandary that Joseph faced . . . thus, his first choice.  A choice none of us would have argued was wrong.

So, here is the point . . . God ways are not our ways.  What God wants does not always jive with what we think.  When I think of Jean Valjean and his life . . . breaking the law to feed his nephew . . . he chose to “do the right thing” even though it went against everything that people believed was right.  He saw a child and fed that child . . . with bread that he had stolen.  It was an expensive meal . . . 19 years of his life in prison for a cheap loaf of bread. 

“Doing the right thing” is quite a conundrum, wouldn’t you say?  Especially considering the Nativity story we hold so dear to our hearts.  As we celebrate this the Christmas story . . . silent night, holy night . . . sleeping child . . . all is calm, all is blessed.  In our hearts and minds we hold this Hallmark version of the Christmas story, and yet, it is a messy story at best.  It is a peaceful image we carry of our faith’s origin.  And, as peaceful as we imagine it to be . . . reluctantly—whether we want to admit it or not, we know better.  We know better because we know that throughout our journey of faith, God keeps throwing stones into our pond of tranquility.  Throwing stones that just mess up our expectations and keep putting us at odds with the world around us.

Why?  Because God expects us to “do the right thing”. 

God expected Joseph to “do the right thing” whether it seemed to be the right thing to him or anyone else.  God expects us to “do the right thing”.  The problem is that so often “doing the right thing” does not always fit in with the majority opinion or expectations.  “Doing the right thing” does not always make us popular, and it often leads to even more problems as we confront the world’s ways in contrast to God’s ways.  Yet, that is God’s expectations.

We cannot say that we have not been forewarned because we have.  Let us go ahead and embrace the romantic and beautiful story of the Nativity as we carry it within our hearts but let us also be aware that it is not all that it seems to be.  No, there is also a dimension that challenges us to move beyond the comfort of the status quo into the realm of living God’s will.  God’s will that demands of us to love . . . love God . . . love others.  That expects justice, peace, and respect.  That wants a world in which people “do the right thing” . . . that everyone is loved, that no one goes hungry, and that we are one family.

There in lies the conundrum.  As the followers of Jesus, we know what we are supposed to do . . . the problem is whether we are willing to “do the right thing” in the face of how the rest of the world sees it.  It is one thing to say it, it is another thing to do it.  When one considers how the Nativity or Christmas story pans out . . . it doesn’t make sense; and, yet, none of us can argue that it wasn’t the “right thing to do”.  It is a mystery . . . a holy mystery of which we have been graced.  How can we not join in the heavenly chorus and shout our praise?  We have been blessed and with such blessing there is much responsibility . . . responsibility to do the right thing.

Joseph had a choice.  We have a choice.  We live in times in which we need to heed the call of God to “do the right thing”.  Amen.