December 2019
December 1, 2019
"Left Behind," based on Matthew 24:36-44
(reading follows the sermon)
Many years ago, when I was working at Catholic Charities in the Twin Cities, we had an annual summer event for all the employees—about 300 people. That year, we were invited to the Como Park Zoo in St. Paul. It was a beautiful June day. We had lots of time to wander through the trails and see dozens of animals in special habitats. Plus, a conservatory with exotic flowers and plants. And amusement park with lots of rides. We also had a free picnic lunch. A lovely, relaxing afternoon.
After a few hours, people started to leave, so I walked back to the parking lot with a couple friends. When I got to my pickup, I discovered the door was unlocked. Inside, it was obvious that someone had rummaged through the glove compartment. My gym bag was open, with my clothes pulled out and left behind. Then I remembered that I’d put my checkbook in my bag. Back then, everyone carried one wherever you went, just in case you had to pay for something. Of course, my checkbook was gone.
As it turned out, the cars of several coworkers were also hit. We called the police, who sent a squad car. When the officer arrived, he told us that kind of theft happens frequently there. Thieves often sit and watch groups like ours arrive in the morning—knowing that most people spend a few hours at the zoo. Then they break into their cars when no one is watching. Clever thieves, right? But what the policeman said made me angry. I thought, shouldn’t you put up signs, or station a guard in the parking lot, or tell zoo staff to warn everyone that they could become victims of theft?
Our Gospel lesson seems to provide that kind of warning. In today’s reading from Matthew, Jesus says, “If the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and… let his house be broken into. Therefore, you must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” Many Christians interpret this passage as referring to “the Rapture.” Based on prophecies from the books of Revelation, Isaiah and Ezekiel, the Rapture is an event some believe will happen before the second coming of Christ. A lot of people are interested in the Rapture. I Googled those words and got 39 million results.
You may have heard of Left Behind, a series of 16 novels by Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins, which has sold more than 90 million copies. The novels tell the story of how hundreds of thousands of Christians are suddenly raptured and disappear from the face of the earth.
I remember being part of a conservative Christian youth group in high school. Where we used to sing a song by Larry Norman about the Rapture, which went like this:
“A man and wife asleep in bed,
she hears a noise and turns her head, he's gone--
I wish we'd all been ready.
Two men walking up a hill,
one disappears and one's left standing still--
I wish we'd all been ready.
There's no time to change your mind,
the Son has come,
and you've been left behind.”
The point of this song is to make sure that you’re not one of those left behind. Yet, I would guess most of us in this congregation, aren’t overly concerned about the Rapture. Though some of us grew up with those beliefs. Maybe even scared silly into believing with the threat of God’s future punishment. However, I believe that if you read this Gospel lesson more carefully, there’s another way to look at these words. Jesus refers to the story of Noah and the ark. When the floods came, everyone was swept away. Only Noah’s family was saved. But that order is a complete reversal from Rapture theology, which says that true believers will be taken, while nonbelievers stay to suffer the final tribulation. In the story of the Flood, it’s the other way around. The bad people drown and Noah—who’s called righteous—is left behind.
The same is true in other stories from Hebrew Scriptures. For example, in the story of Moses and the 10 plagues of Egypt, when the angel of death passes over the land, the first-born of the Egyptians die. But the Israelite children are left alive. Or like when the Babylonians conquer Jerusalem in 586 B.C., the city’s wealthiest families and political leaders are carried away as refugees. So, it was up to the remnant of Jewish people left in their homeland to continue their faith. The prophet Isaiah in our first reading is speaking to those people—offering the hope of regaining freedom from oppression and rebuilding the Temple to those left behind.
Similarly, three weeks ago during our intergenerational event, we discussed the story of Sodom and Gomorrah in Genesis. Where the unwelcoming citizens of Sodom are destroyed by fire and brimstone. But Abraham’s nephew is deemed righteous—Lot and a few of his family members are left behind. During our time together, Rabbi Janeen from Temple Beth El Synagogue talked about the Jewish definition of a righteous person. She told us that in their faith tradition, a righteous individual was usually not much better than the bad people. What’s set them apart is that the righteous are the ones chosen by God to carry on the covenant.
In our Gospel reading, I believe that Jesus is telling us the same thing. Just like the Great Flood left behind the faithful Noah and his family, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. One will be taken. And the remaining person has a righteous calling. Life can be like that. When someone we love dies, those who have been left behind have to find the faith and courage to live through our grief. And figure out what it means to live without them.
Today is World AIDS Day. A day to remember those who have died of AIDS and those living with HIV. I lost my boyfriend Steve 31 years ago to AIDS. Since then, I’ve known many, many others like him. Gay men and straight women. Young hemophiliacs and older drug users. African Americans and Latinos and Native Americans. Countless intelligent, gifted and righteous ones. At times, like anyone who has lost a loved one in an accident or from cancer or by suicide, I wonder why I was left behind.
Some people like to say, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” And while I agree that I am still here because of God’s lovingkindness, I don’t like the implication that those other people might be less righteous than me. Reflecting on that, I also see a deeper meaning in today’s Gospel. I believe Jesus is calling us to work and pray for the Kingdom of God to come among us. And to make that happen, we have a holy calling in this world. A calling to be the living Body of Christ with-and-to others who just need a moment of grace in their lives right now. I believe that’s the meaning of these words of Jesus.
For today, on this first Sunday of Advent, Christ is quietly entering our hearts and minds—like a thief in the night (or at a zoo)—waiting for a time when we least expect. And suddenly, BAM! We come face to face with unanticipated righteousness and undeserved grace. Grace that’s greater than the love of a mother. More persistent than the cleverest criminal. More surprising than the best Christmas present you ever received. Which is exactly what we need on those dark nights when we feel lost and lonely and hopeless. As we long for redemption. For a brighter day. A better world with less hatred and more love.
When together, we will walk hand in hand in the light of God. For Christ is coming soon. Amen.
+ + +
Matthew 24:36-44
Jesus said to the disciples, “About that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. Then two will be in the field; one will be taken, and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken, and one will be left. Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore, you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”
After a few hours, people started to leave, so I walked back to the parking lot with a couple friends. When I got to my pickup, I discovered the door was unlocked. Inside, it was obvious that someone had rummaged through the glove compartment. My gym bag was open, with my clothes pulled out and left behind. Then I remembered that I’d put my checkbook in my bag. Back then, everyone carried one wherever you went, just in case you had to pay for something. Of course, my checkbook was gone.
As it turned out, the cars of several coworkers were also hit. We called the police, who sent a squad car. When the officer arrived, he told us that kind of theft happens frequently there. Thieves often sit and watch groups like ours arrive in the morning—knowing that most people spend a few hours at the zoo. Then they break into their cars when no one is watching. Clever thieves, right? But what the policeman said made me angry. I thought, shouldn’t you put up signs, or station a guard in the parking lot, or tell zoo staff to warn everyone that they could become victims of theft?
Our Gospel lesson seems to provide that kind of warning. In today’s reading from Matthew, Jesus says, “If the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and… let his house be broken into. Therefore, you must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” Many Christians interpret this passage as referring to “the Rapture.” Based on prophecies from the books of Revelation, Isaiah and Ezekiel, the Rapture is an event some believe will happen before the second coming of Christ. A lot of people are interested in the Rapture. I Googled those words and got 39 million results.
You may have heard of Left Behind, a series of 16 novels by Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins, which has sold more than 90 million copies. The novels tell the story of how hundreds of thousands of Christians are suddenly raptured and disappear from the face of the earth.
I remember being part of a conservative Christian youth group in high school. Where we used to sing a song by Larry Norman about the Rapture, which went like this:
“A man and wife asleep in bed,
she hears a noise and turns her head, he's gone--
I wish we'd all been ready.
Two men walking up a hill,
one disappears and one's left standing still--
I wish we'd all been ready.
There's no time to change your mind,
the Son has come,
and you've been left behind.”
The point of this song is to make sure that you’re not one of those left behind. Yet, I would guess most of us in this congregation, aren’t overly concerned about the Rapture. Though some of us grew up with those beliefs. Maybe even scared silly into believing with the threat of God’s future punishment. However, I believe that if you read this Gospel lesson more carefully, there’s another way to look at these words. Jesus refers to the story of Noah and the ark. When the floods came, everyone was swept away. Only Noah’s family was saved. But that order is a complete reversal from Rapture theology, which says that true believers will be taken, while nonbelievers stay to suffer the final tribulation. In the story of the Flood, it’s the other way around. The bad people drown and Noah—who’s called righteous—is left behind.
The same is true in other stories from Hebrew Scriptures. For example, in the story of Moses and the 10 plagues of Egypt, when the angel of death passes over the land, the first-born of the Egyptians die. But the Israelite children are left alive. Or like when the Babylonians conquer Jerusalem in 586 B.C., the city’s wealthiest families and political leaders are carried away as refugees. So, it was up to the remnant of Jewish people left in their homeland to continue their faith. The prophet Isaiah in our first reading is speaking to those people—offering the hope of regaining freedom from oppression and rebuilding the Temple to those left behind.
Similarly, three weeks ago during our intergenerational event, we discussed the story of Sodom and Gomorrah in Genesis. Where the unwelcoming citizens of Sodom are destroyed by fire and brimstone. But Abraham’s nephew is deemed righteous—Lot and a few of his family members are left behind. During our time together, Rabbi Janeen from Temple Beth El Synagogue talked about the Jewish definition of a righteous person. She told us that in their faith tradition, a righteous individual was usually not much better than the bad people. What’s set them apart is that the righteous are the ones chosen by God to carry on the covenant.
In our Gospel reading, I believe that Jesus is telling us the same thing. Just like the Great Flood left behind the faithful Noah and his family, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. One will be taken. And the remaining person has a righteous calling. Life can be like that. When someone we love dies, those who have been left behind have to find the faith and courage to live through our grief. And figure out what it means to live without them.
Today is World AIDS Day. A day to remember those who have died of AIDS and those living with HIV. I lost my boyfriend Steve 31 years ago to AIDS. Since then, I’ve known many, many others like him. Gay men and straight women. Young hemophiliacs and older drug users. African Americans and Latinos and Native Americans. Countless intelligent, gifted and righteous ones. At times, like anyone who has lost a loved one in an accident or from cancer or by suicide, I wonder why I was left behind.
Some people like to say, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” And while I agree that I am still here because of God’s lovingkindness, I don’t like the implication that those other people might be less righteous than me. Reflecting on that, I also see a deeper meaning in today’s Gospel. I believe Jesus is calling us to work and pray for the Kingdom of God to come among us. And to make that happen, we have a holy calling in this world. A calling to be the living Body of Christ with-and-to others who just need a moment of grace in their lives right now. I believe that’s the meaning of these words of Jesus.
For today, on this first Sunday of Advent, Christ is quietly entering our hearts and minds—like a thief in the night (or at a zoo)—waiting for a time when we least expect. And suddenly, BAM! We come face to face with unanticipated righteousness and undeserved grace. Grace that’s greater than the love of a mother. More persistent than the cleverest criminal. More surprising than the best Christmas present you ever received. Which is exactly what we need on those dark nights when we feel lost and lonely and hopeless. As we long for redemption. For a brighter day. A better world with less hatred and more love.
When together, we will walk hand in hand in the light of God. For Christ is coming soon. Amen.
+ + +
Matthew 24:36-44
Jesus said to the disciples, “About that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. Then two will be in the field; one will be taken, and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken, and one will be left. Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore, you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”
December 8, 2019
"John's Metanoia," based on Matthew 3:1-12
(readings follow the sermon)
The Green Mile is a 1999 film, based on a Stephen King novel that takes place during the Great Depression. Tom Hanks stars as a Louisiana prison officer named Paul Edgecomb.
Paul is in charge of death row, also referred to as the “Green Mile.” Early in the movie, while suffering from a severe bladder infection, Paul meets a black prisoner named John Coffey.
John is a gentle giant, sentenced to death after being wrongly convicted of raping and murdering two white girls. John also demonstrates strange supernatural powers. First, by curing Paul's bladder infection. Then by resurrecting Mr. Jingles, a pet mouse crushed by a cruel guard.
Eventually, Paul convinces John to help the prison warden's wife, who’s terminally ill with a brain tumor. Later at their house, John heals her.
Back at prison, Paul talks with John about the possibility of saving him from death row.
And although John is upset over being executed for a crime he didn’t commit, John says that he’s had enough dealings with humanity's cruelty. That he’s ready to die.
So, Paul himself oversees the execution. And he shakes hands with John just before he is killed.
The film received numerous awards. But Hollywood producer Spike Lee angrily criticized The Green Mile. He viewed the portrayal of John Coffey as what’s been called the “magical Negro.” A term used by African Americans for a black character who exists in a story solely to better the fortunes of white people, echoing the long history of slavery.
“Magical Negro” characters like John often possess special insight or mystical abilities. But they also subtly promote racial and cultural stereotypes, especially in the movie industry.
Like Latinos cast as drug dealers. Like Muslims cast as terrorists. Like gays cast as effeminate men with tragic endings. Like Native Americans cast as warriors. Like Jews cast as a miserly Scrooge. Like women cast as submissive wives.
Which all feed into our shared racism and sexism, homophobia and classism, antisemitism and xenophobia. Which cause us to see people through prejudice and distorted lenses.
People like Spike Lee are calling for the film industry to move beyond roles like John Coffey. To present more positive, authentic portrayals of people of color and other disenfranchised groups.
Our Gospel lesson presents the image of another John character, who calls us to see our world and other people in new ways. This John is telling people they need to change. Change their preconceptions. Change their previous behaviors. Change their perspective of God’s Kingdom.
This Jewish John mysteriously appears at the Jordan River—looking a lot like a modern homeless man. This John announces that the Kingdom of God is coming in unexpected ways. This John calls people to a baptism of repentance.
The Greek word for repentance in this passage is “metanoia.” Metanoia is filled with remarkable meaning in the Gospels. But it’s also misunderstood.
Most translations of the Bible use the English word “repentance” for metanoia. But “repentance” is a loaded term for many Christians.
Repentance has been interpreted to mean that you must feel extreme remorse or regret for your sins. For centuries, Christians were taught they had to repent from their sins and do penance to be saved. Some us grew up with exaggerated guilt or shame because pastors or priests condemned us because of what we had done or who we were.
But in the original Greek, metanoia has a different meaning. Metanoia comes from two Greek words. The first is “meta,” meaning “to change”—like in the word “metamorphosis.” A change in one’s body. Like a caterpillar changing into a butterfly.
The second Greek word “noia” translates as “mind,” referring to one’s mindset or worldview. Together they mean “change of mind.”
Unlike the word “repentance,” metanoia isn’t restricted to a narrow interpretation. It’s a change of mind in how we view God’s love and one another and the world.
In our lesson, John the Baptist preaches, “Bear fruit worthy of repentance.” Another way to read this would be: “Bear fruit that shows your change of mind.” I like how the Amplified Bible translates it: “Let your lives prove your change of heart.”
But in our Gospel story, some people respond to what John preaches with anger and excuses. As members of John’s own Jewish community, they complain, “But we are children of Abraham and Sarah. We have nothing to repent of!”
Today, I think those excuses would sound a bit different. Today, those of us who are white Lutherans or Christians might say things like: “But I’m not racist—I have African American friends.” Or, “I don’t hate the gays! I love the sinner.” Or, “I don’t mind having some immigrants here, but I wish they would just speak English.”
Most of us don’t have such extreme viewpoints, nevertheless, we still see the world through our own culture. In our heads, we make silent judgments about those who are different than you and me. Looking honestly into our own hearts and minds, John’s words about metanoia prepare us for the radical Gospel preached by Jesus.
From our Lutheran perspective, I have to admit that there’s a lot of Law in this story and my sermon. That was the main point of John’s prophetic ministry.
The Gospel message for us today is found, I think, in our Hebrew reading from Isaiah, which presents a new vision of the coming messiah: “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse…. He shall not judge by what his eyes see… but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth.” (Isaiah 11:1-10)
Many of you know that I’m a gardener. This past June, a giant cottonwood tree in our backyard was knocked down by a storm. It landed on our neighbor’s garage.
So, we hired someone to cut it down right away. Which they did. And for which they also charged us a lot. Before they left, they ground up the stump.
We gardeners know the chances of a tree growing back from a stump are pretty low. The stump has to still be alive without any decay. It also needs the energy to send up shoots, called “suckers,” to absorb sunlight for photosynthesis to be able to start a new tree.
In our case, I really had no desire for that tree to come back. But guess what? It did. By the end of summer, several branches grew from the stump. New growth from destruction. New life from death.
In our lesson from Isaiah, even though the tree also has been cut down—symbolizing the people’s failed covenant with God, there is still hope. Because God is going to do the unexpected. God is going to make a new tree sprout.
A new tree of justice for the poor and oppressed. Not just an empty promise, but something that will happen in the holy today of God’s vision. The promise of metanoia: change on a grand scale. Brought to us not by a famous movie producer, but by the creator of the universe.
A God who shows us that metanoia isn’t just a change within yourself. Metanoia also includes a change in how we deal with those who are different. Different in race. Different in economic status. Different in gender. Different in sexual orientation.
The Gospel vision we see in Isaiah is not that God takes away all those things that make us different. But that finally, we can live together in harmony, even with those who disagree with us. Like a lamb with a wolf. A calf with a lion.
A vision spoken by John in the wilderness. A vision fulfilled in the birth of Jesus. A vision coming to reality among us today. A vision that calls all people to metanoia. A change in mind. A change in our community.
A change that leads us to cry out for people of color and the elderly, for queer individuals and the poor, for the hungry and the powerless who have no voice.
And to challenge our Church and world to prepare a way for God’s Kingdom to come among us today. Amen.
GOSPEL LESSON Matthew 3:1-12
In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming,
“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near. This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said, ‘The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’” Now John wore clothing of camel's hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance. Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now. the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire."
Paul is in charge of death row, also referred to as the “Green Mile.” Early in the movie, while suffering from a severe bladder infection, Paul meets a black prisoner named John Coffey.
John is a gentle giant, sentenced to death after being wrongly convicted of raping and murdering two white girls. John also demonstrates strange supernatural powers. First, by curing Paul's bladder infection. Then by resurrecting Mr. Jingles, a pet mouse crushed by a cruel guard.
Eventually, Paul convinces John to help the prison warden's wife, who’s terminally ill with a brain tumor. Later at their house, John heals her.
Back at prison, Paul talks with John about the possibility of saving him from death row.
And although John is upset over being executed for a crime he didn’t commit, John says that he’s had enough dealings with humanity's cruelty. That he’s ready to die.
So, Paul himself oversees the execution. And he shakes hands with John just before he is killed.
The film received numerous awards. But Hollywood producer Spike Lee angrily criticized The Green Mile. He viewed the portrayal of John Coffey as what’s been called the “magical Negro.” A term used by African Americans for a black character who exists in a story solely to better the fortunes of white people, echoing the long history of slavery.
“Magical Negro” characters like John often possess special insight or mystical abilities. But they also subtly promote racial and cultural stereotypes, especially in the movie industry.
Like Latinos cast as drug dealers. Like Muslims cast as terrorists. Like gays cast as effeminate men with tragic endings. Like Native Americans cast as warriors. Like Jews cast as a miserly Scrooge. Like women cast as submissive wives.
Which all feed into our shared racism and sexism, homophobia and classism, antisemitism and xenophobia. Which cause us to see people through prejudice and distorted lenses.
People like Spike Lee are calling for the film industry to move beyond roles like John Coffey. To present more positive, authentic portrayals of people of color and other disenfranchised groups.
Our Gospel lesson presents the image of another John character, who calls us to see our world and other people in new ways. This John is telling people they need to change. Change their preconceptions. Change their previous behaviors. Change their perspective of God’s Kingdom.
This Jewish John mysteriously appears at the Jordan River—looking a lot like a modern homeless man. This John announces that the Kingdom of God is coming in unexpected ways. This John calls people to a baptism of repentance.
The Greek word for repentance in this passage is “metanoia.” Metanoia is filled with remarkable meaning in the Gospels. But it’s also misunderstood.
Most translations of the Bible use the English word “repentance” for metanoia. But “repentance” is a loaded term for many Christians.
Repentance has been interpreted to mean that you must feel extreme remorse or regret for your sins. For centuries, Christians were taught they had to repent from their sins and do penance to be saved. Some us grew up with exaggerated guilt or shame because pastors or priests condemned us because of what we had done or who we were.
But in the original Greek, metanoia has a different meaning. Metanoia comes from two Greek words. The first is “meta,” meaning “to change”—like in the word “metamorphosis.” A change in one’s body. Like a caterpillar changing into a butterfly.
The second Greek word “noia” translates as “mind,” referring to one’s mindset or worldview. Together they mean “change of mind.”
Unlike the word “repentance,” metanoia isn’t restricted to a narrow interpretation. It’s a change of mind in how we view God’s love and one another and the world.
In our lesson, John the Baptist preaches, “Bear fruit worthy of repentance.” Another way to read this would be: “Bear fruit that shows your change of mind.” I like how the Amplified Bible translates it: “Let your lives prove your change of heart.”
But in our Gospel story, some people respond to what John preaches with anger and excuses. As members of John’s own Jewish community, they complain, “But we are children of Abraham and Sarah. We have nothing to repent of!”
Today, I think those excuses would sound a bit different. Today, those of us who are white Lutherans or Christians might say things like: “But I’m not racist—I have African American friends.” Or, “I don’t hate the gays! I love the sinner.” Or, “I don’t mind having some immigrants here, but I wish they would just speak English.”
Most of us don’t have such extreme viewpoints, nevertheless, we still see the world through our own culture. In our heads, we make silent judgments about those who are different than you and me. Looking honestly into our own hearts and minds, John’s words about metanoia prepare us for the radical Gospel preached by Jesus.
From our Lutheran perspective, I have to admit that there’s a lot of Law in this story and my sermon. That was the main point of John’s prophetic ministry.
The Gospel message for us today is found, I think, in our Hebrew reading from Isaiah, which presents a new vision of the coming messiah: “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse…. He shall not judge by what his eyes see… but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth.” (Isaiah 11:1-10)
Many of you know that I’m a gardener. This past June, a giant cottonwood tree in our backyard was knocked down by a storm. It landed on our neighbor’s garage.
So, we hired someone to cut it down right away. Which they did. And for which they also charged us a lot. Before they left, they ground up the stump.
We gardeners know the chances of a tree growing back from a stump are pretty low. The stump has to still be alive without any decay. It also needs the energy to send up shoots, called “suckers,” to absorb sunlight for photosynthesis to be able to start a new tree.
In our case, I really had no desire for that tree to come back. But guess what? It did. By the end of summer, several branches grew from the stump. New growth from destruction. New life from death.
In our lesson from Isaiah, even though the tree also has been cut down—symbolizing the people’s failed covenant with God, there is still hope. Because God is going to do the unexpected. God is going to make a new tree sprout.
A new tree of justice for the poor and oppressed. Not just an empty promise, but something that will happen in the holy today of God’s vision. The promise of metanoia: change on a grand scale. Brought to us not by a famous movie producer, but by the creator of the universe.
A God who shows us that metanoia isn’t just a change within yourself. Metanoia also includes a change in how we deal with those who are different. Different in race. Different in economic status. Different in gender. Different in sexual orientation.
The Gospel vision we see in Isaiah is not that God takes away all those things that make us different. But that finally, we can live together in harmony, even with those who disagree with us. Like a lamb with a wolf. A calf with a lion.
A vision spoken by John in the wilderness. A vision fulfilled in the birth of Jesus. A vision coming to reality among us today. A vision that calls all people to metanoia. A change in mind. A change in our community.
A change that leads us to cry out for people of color and the elderly, for queer individuals and the poor, for the hungry and the powerless who have no voice.
And to challenge our Church and world to prepare a way for God’s Kingdom to come among us today. Amen.
GOSPEL LESSON Matthew 3:1-12
In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming,
“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near. This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said, ‘The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’” Now John wore clothing of camel's hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance. Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now. the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire."
December 15, 2019
"The Voice of a Prophet," based on Matthew 11:2-11
(readings follow the sermon)
During a church trip to Israel eight years ago, my husband Charlie and I visited Herodium—a site named for and built by King Herod the Great about 20 years before Jesus was born. The Jewish King Herod was a master architect. His projects included renovating the Jerusalem Temple, the fortress of Masada, and the harbor city at Caesarea. At Herodium, Herod forced thousands of slaves, to move millions of tons of soil and rocks from a nearby hill, forming a human-made summit. Herod was known as a king who moved mountains. Seven stories up, Herod built a grand palace, the third largest in the Roman world. With an amphitheater, Olympic-size pool, and a fancy tomb for himself. A desert castle for an evil king.
During our Herodium tour, we climbed a steep path to the top. After exploring the site, our Palestinian guide led us down through the middle of the structure by a long, dark, rickety staircase. A dizzying descent made even worse by my fear of heights. I went last, thinking that if I slipped, there’d be plenty of people to break my fall! Herod built his palace on the site of a military victory, eight miles south of Jerusalem. You can see it from Bethlehem, where according to Matthew’s Gospel, King Herod ordered the genocide of innocent Jewish children in his scheme to kill the baby Jesus.
In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus is talking about Herodium, when he says to the crowds, “What did you go out into the wilderness to see?.... Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces.” Which sounds a lot like a critique of King Herod and his descendants, and their conspiracy with the Roman Empire. A royal family so decadent and conniving, they’d be perfect characters for HBO’s Game of Thrones. Jesus contrasts these rich tyrants to John the Baptist. In our Gospel lesson, John sends his disciples to ask Jesus a question. For John was not in one of Herod’s palaces, but in his prison. Before this, John had an exciting ministry—baptizing thousands of people. Then King Herod Agrippa, son of Herod the Great, arrests him. It’s clear that this King Herod wants John dead. And sitting alone in a dark prison cell, John the Baptist is deeply discouraged. For John believed God had sent him to proclaim redemption—a new dawn rising for the people of God. John believed what the prophet Isaiah says in our first lesson: “Say to those who are of a fearful heart, ‘Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God. [Who] will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. [God] will come and save you." (Isaiah 35:3-4) John believed that Jesus was going to set his people free from the Romans. That God would impeach Herod and install a just ruler over Israel.
Then Jesus started his ministry. But the apocalyptic coup predicted by John never happens. And John has serious doubts. John doubts whether Jesus is the “coming one.” John doubts the path he has gone down. John doubts his own voice. With all these doubts, John sends his disciples to ask Jesus a crass question: “Are you the one who is to come, or should we wait for another?” But Jesus doesn’t give a simple reply. Jesus doesn’t say that he’s the Messiah. Jesus doesn’t campaign against King Herod. Instead, Jesus tells John’s disciples to look around and see what’s happening. Jesus offers glimpses of the Kingdom of God and the best summary of his ministry found in the Gospels. A list of promises fulfilled. Like a mission statement, Jesus lists his goals and accomplishments: “The blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.” But those words confused John. John expected Jesus to usher in a new divine government. A complete turnaround of the political situation. However, not long after this, John is executed by King Herod. John never saw what he hoped for.
Today, I think, many of us have similar expectations. We hope someone or something will change what’s happening in our nation. A lot of us are overwhelmed with apprehension and fear about what the future holds. Like John the Baptist, we want to see an end to oppressive empires and evil rulers. But Jesus doesn’t promise that kind of kingdom. Instead, Jesus promises that if we follow him, we will catch glimpses of the Kingdom of God here on earth. Jesus says that even the least of those in the Kingdom are greater than a prophet like John. Greater than any ruler like a Jewish King Herod or the Roman Caesar or any American president. For Jesus sees something John couldn’t see. Jesus knows that the rulers of this world are not the ones who make a nation great. Jesus says that the weakest in this world are those who are great in the eyes of God. That’s not the way the world sees things. But that’s where we as followers of Jesus find hope. Hope when we feel disheartened. Hope when we’ve lost our way in this world. Hope that even in the darkest night, the light of Christ will shine. Hope that Jesus will keep his promises.
Recently, I’ve caught some glimpses of that light. Even among the least of those in our world. One day this week, I had lunch with a gay man who shared with me that a few years ago he had a stroke and lost his sight. But the miracles of modern medicine—and a lot of prayers—saved him from blindness. So, he can still see the light of love in the eyes of caring people. On Tuesday, I saw more light with the start of our new mosaic project at Churches United for the Homeless. Of course, it was a bitterly cold day. The kind of day when you don’t want to get out of bed. I wondered if anyone would come. But we had 12 volunteers, who one after another, walked in and started working together. Kind of like the quilting bees that church ladies at St. Mark’s used to do—where you sit and talk and laugh. Where today we share good news in a place where the poor and homeless live.
On Wednesday morning, I glimpsed another shining light, when Greta Thunberg was named Time Magazine's “Person of the Year.” Which is really amazing—amazing that they chose a16-year-old teen—the youngest person to ever receive the award. Instead of more famous nominees like Russian President Vladimir Putin, or Speaker Nancy Pelosi, or Taylor Swift, or Rudy Giuliani. Time describes Greta as the “biggest voice on the biggest issue facing the planet.” Last December, the Lutheran Church of Sweden lovingly called Greta the “successor of Jesus.” Despite living with Asperger Syndrome, obsessive–compulsive disorder and selective mutism, last year Greta founded a grassroots climate movement. Greta calls Asperger her “superpower.” A gift that she says makes her different. It also means that she speaks “only when it's necessary.” And “now,” she says, “is one of those moments.” *
Greta has also demonstrated that she is a clever prophet. One who knows how to respond to this world’s most powerful critic. This week, she changed her Twitter account (with 3.5 million followers) to describe herself as:
“A teenager working on her anger management problem. Currently chilling and watching a good old-fashioned movie with a friend.” Like John the Baptist of long ago, Greta’s prophetic voice cries out to those who today are deaf to environmental issues. I believe that Greta is a one of the “least among us” that Jesus describes as truly great in the Kingdom of God. And like Greta, today Jesus is calling each of us to bring glimpses of the light of God into the dark night of this world. Until (as the old Advent hymn says) we see the day of earth’s redemption. That sets our people free. Amen.
--------------------------
*Brady, Jeff (28 August 2019). "Teen Climate Activist Greta Thunberg Arrives in New York After Sailing The Atlantic". NPR.org. Archived from the original on 2 October 2019.
+ + +
Matthew 11:2-11
When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”
As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’ Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”
During our Herodium tour, we climbed a steep path to the top. After exploring the site, our Palestinian guide led us down through the middle of the structure by a long, dark, rickety staircase. A dizzying descent made even worse by my fear of heights. I went last, thinking that if I slipped, there’d be plenty of people to break my fall! Herod built his palace on the site of a military victory, eight miles south of Jerusalem. You can see it from Bethlehem, where according to Matthew’s Gospel, King Herod ordered the genocide of innocent Jewish children in his scheme to kill the baby Jesus.
In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus is talking about Herodium, when he says to the crowds, “What did you go out into the wilderness to see?.... Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces.” Which sounds a lot like a critique of King Herod and his descendants, and their conspiracy with the Roman Empire. A royal family so decadent and conniving, they’d be perfect characters for HBO’s Game of Thrones. Jesus contrasts these rich tyrants to John the Baptist. In our Gospel lesson, John sends his disciples to ask Jesus a question. For John was not in one of Herod’s palaces, but in his prison. Before this, John had an exciting ministry—baptizing thousands of people. Then King Herod Agrippa, son of Herod the Great, arrests him. It’s clear that this King Herod wants John dead. And sitting alone in a dark prison cell, John the Baptist is deeply discouraged. For John believed God had sent him to proclaim redemption—a new dawn rising for the people of God. John believed what the prophet Isaiah says in our first lesson: “Say to those who are of a fearful heart, ‘Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God. [Who] will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. [God] will come and save you." (Isaiah 35:3-4) John believed that Jesus was going to set his people free from the Romans. That God would impeach Herod and install a just ruler over Israel.
Then Jesus started his ministry. But the apocalyptic coup predicted by John never happens. And John has serious doubts. John doubts whether Jesus is the “coming one.” John doubts the path he has gone down. John doubts his own voice. With all these doubts, John sends his disciples to ask Jesus a crass question: “Are you the one who is to come, or should we wait for another?” But Jesus doesn’t give a simple reply. Jesus doesn’t say that he’s the Messiah. Jesus doesn’t campaign against King Herod. Instead, Jesus tells John’s disciples to look around and see what’s happening. Jesus offers glimpses of the Kingdom of God and the best summary of his ministry found in the Gospels. A list of promises fulfilled. Like a mission statement, Jesus lists his goals and accomplishments: “The blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.” But those words confused John. John expected Jesus to usher in a new divine government. A complete turnaround of the political situation. However, not long after this, John is executed by King Herod. John never saw what he hoped for.
Today, I think, many of us have similar expectations. We hope someone or something will change what’s happening in our nation. A lot of us are overwhelmed with apprehension and fear about what the future holds. Like John the Baptist, we want to see an end to oppressive empires and evil rulers. But Jesus doesn’t promise that kind of kingdom. Instead, Jesus promises that if we follow him, we will catch glimpses of the Kingdom of God here on earth. Jesus says that even the least of those in the Kingdom are greater than a prophet like John. Greater than any ruler like a Jewish King Herod or the Roman Caesar or any American president. For Jesus sees something John couldn’t see. Jesus knows that the rulers of this world are not the ones who make a nation great. Jesus says that the weakest in this world are those who are great in the eyes of God. That’s not the way the world sees things. But that’s where we as followers of Jesus find hope. Hope when we feel disheartened. Hope when we’ve lost our way in this world. Hope that even in the darkest night, the light of Christ will shine. Hope that Jesus will keep his promises.
Recently, I’ve caught some glimpses of that light. Even among the least of those in our world. One day this week, I had lunch with a gay man who shared with me that a few years ago he had a stroke and lost his sight. But the miracles of modern medicine—and a lot of prayers—saved him from blindness. So, he can still see the light of love in the eyes of caring people. On Tuesday, I saw more light with the start of our new mosaic project at Churches United for the Homeless. Of course, it was a bitterly cold day. The kind of day when you don’t want to get out of bed. I wondered if anyone would come. But we had 12 volunteers, who one after another, walked in and started working together. Kind of like the quilting bees that church ladies at St. Mark’s used to do—where you sit and talk and laugh. Where today we share good news in a place where the poor and homeless live.
On Wednesday morning, I glimpsed another shining light, when Greta Thunberg was named Time Magazine's “Person of the Year.” Which is really amazing—amazing that they chose a16-year-old teen—the youngest person to ever receive the award. Instead of more famous nominees like Russian President Vladimir Putin, or Speaker Nancy Pelosi, or Taylor Swift, or Rudy Giuliani. Time describes Greta as the “biggest voice on the biggest issue facing the planet.” Last December, the Lutheran Church of Sweden lovingly called Greta the “successor of Jesus.” Despite living with Asperger Syndrome, obsessive–compulsive disorder and selective mutism, last year Greta founded a grassroots climate movement. Greta calls Asperger her “superpower.” A gift that she says makes her different. It also means that she speaks “only when it's necessary.” And “now,” she says, “is one of those moments.” *
Greta has also demonstrated that she is a clever prophet. One who knows how to respond to this world’s most powerful critic. This week, she changed her Twitter account (with 3.5 million followers) to describe herself as:
“A teenager working on her anger management problem. Currently chilling and watching a good old-fashioned movie with a friend.” Like John the Baptist of long ago, Greta’s prophetic voice cries out to those who today are deaf to environmental issues. I believe that Greta is a one of the “least among us” that Jesus describes as truly great in the Kingdom of God. And like Greta, today Jesus is calling each of us to bring glimpses of the light of God into the dark night of this world. Until (as the old Advent hymn says) we see the day of earth’s redemption. That sets our people free. Amen.
--------------------------
*Brady, Jeff (28 August 2019). "Teen Climate Activist Greta Thunberg Arrives in New York After Sailing The Atlantic". NPR.org. Archived from the original on 2 October 2019.
+ + +
Matthew 11:2-11
When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”
As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’ Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”
December 22, 2019
"Joseph the Dreamer," based on Matthew 1:11-25
(reading follows the sermon)
In today’s first lesson, the prophet Isaiah says:
“Therefore, the Lord… will give you a sign. A young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall call him Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14)
Last weekend, a 19-year-old Honduran woman crossed the Mexican border at Tijuana and turned herself over to Border Patrol. She had gone into labor and was in desperate need of medical care.
Agents took the pregnant teen to a hospital in Chula Vista. There she gave birth to an infant who had complications and was placed in ICU.
While visiting her baby there, a cruel Border Patrol agent told her that ICE planned to place her newborn in the custody of Child Protective Services, and then return her (the mother) to Mexico without the baby.
Thankfully, on Monday attorneys from an advocacy agency stepped in to help. Eventually Border Patrol released the young mother from custody with a “Notice to Appear” at a later date. Most likely, however, the woman and her child will be deported to Honduras, even though the baby was born in the United States.
Overshadowed by impeachment and other political news, our border crisis has quietly marched on with dozens of untold stories like this woman. Even though the courts put a hold on family separations in the summer of 2018, since then more than 1,100 migrant children have been taken from their parents after crossing the border.
Our government seems to have little mercy or grace left for families like them.
Perhaps we need a sign to open our eyes to this injustice. Perhaps Isaiah speaks prophetic words to us today: “Therefore, the Lord… will give you a sign. A young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall call him Immanuel.”
Today’s Gospel lesson repeats those same words, directed to Joseph in a dream.
And later in the Gospel of Matthew, Joseph has a second dream, where the angel tells him that King Herod wants to kill the baby Jesus. And that Joseph and Mary should take their newborn baby and cross the border to Egypt as refugees.
If this story was happening today, I believe the parents of Jesus would be undocumented immigrants. Who don’t speak English. Who don’t have jobs.
And Mary would be an unwed pregnant teen. Who claims the father is not her boyfriend, but instead the Lord of Hosts. A crazy tale nobody would believe.
In Matthew’s story, Joseph the dreamer must decide what to do. Knowing the baby isn’t his, Joseph could end their relationship with a nasty break-up.
Or, he might accuse Mary of adultery. According to the code laid out by Moses in Leviticus, this young woman deserved death by stoning. In Joseph’s era and culture, either of those options was the “right” thing to do. Men did things like that to women all the time.
The Christmas story told here in Matthew is very different than the one in Luke. Luke focuses on Mary, the mother of Jesus. But in Matthew it’s all about Joseph the dreamer.
We really don’t know much about Joseph. He stands in the shadows beside Mary and the baby Jesus. Pushed to the back of the manger scene, behind shepherds and magi and angels.
Christian tradition says Joseph was an old man who died before Jesus began his ministry. The Gospels tell us that Joseph and Mary had other children. That Jesus had at least four brothers and some sisters.
But only Matthew focuses on Joseph in detail. Matthew presents Joseph from a Jewish perspective.
In Matthew, Joseph is called “righteous.” We Christians assume that term applies only to those who are pure and sinless.
But many of our Jewish brothers and sisters have a different interpretation. During one of our intergenerational events last month, Rabbi Janeen from Temple Beth El Synagogue (where we now worship) told us that in their faith tradition, a righteous individual really isn’t much better than the really bad people.
What sets the righteous apart, she said, is that they are the ones chosen by God to carry out the covenant. In Hebrew, the word for righteous also means “just.”
In this story, Joseph the dreamer shows that he is righteous by his sense of justice and mercy. By how he deals with Mary and her unplanned pregnancy. By his humane response. By his compassion.
Initially, Joseph decides to divorce Mary quietly. But then Joseph the dreamer has a dream. An amazing dream.
An angel tells him to take Mary as his wife. That the baby is conceived of the Holy Spirit. That Jesus is not born out of sin, but born to save people from their sins.
So, Joseph welcomes Mary into his home. And adopts Jesus as his son. For Joseph, according to his society, this was not the “right” thing to do. But it was the loving thing.
Like his ancestors of the Jewish faith, like Abraham and Sarah, like Noah and his family, like Moses and his sister Miriam, Joseph the dreamer listens to God’s voice and does what is righteous and just.
Like them, Joseph is not a righteous person because he never sins or always follows the rules. Joseph is righteous because he puts his faith in God. And because he strives not to be a self-righteous judge, but a righteous dreamer who does justice.
Of course, it must have been scary for Joseph to do that. He had put aside his worries about what others might think. Anytime we engage in actions that aren’t popular or go against what society considers to be right, you have the possibility of conflict and judgment.
At times, it can be very lonely and scary, even terrifying—with real risks and consequences. In today’s world, people can tear you apart.
Like when churches vote to become Reconciling In Christ and welcome LGBTQ individuals (as St. Mark’s did 29 years ago), but then lose members who are unhappy with that decision.
Or like pastors who stood up for Native Americans during the Standing Rock Reservation protests two years ago, but then were criticized by angry congregations.
Or like local citizens of Burleigh County and Bismarck who recently decided to allow refugees to still find safe homes in their communities, but then were chastised by local politicians.
Or like youth who protest about climate change, but then must endure the wrath of world leaders.
But even when we face hatred or racism or bigotry, like Joseph the dreamer, we need to remember that we’re not doing this by ourselves. The angel told Joseph not to be afraid because the child was “Emmanuel,” which means “God is with us.”
Today, the story of Joseph reminds us that, even in situations like this, we are not alone. We have God. And we have one another.
Maya Angelou once wrote a poem[1] about that, which reads in part:
Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
‘Cause nobody, But nobody
Can make it out here alone.” 1
Although it sounds like something you’d write today, Maya wrote this poem 40 years ago, lying awake late one night. Dreaming and agonizing about how to deal with people who have “hearts of stone”—who lack compassion for their fellow humans.
In difficult times like today, our world needs more dreamers like Maya and Joseph. People who are unselfish and caring. People with the vision to take risks for the sake of justice.
Joseph the dreamer acted from his heart. And like Joseph, when we act in love, we become God’s righteous people. Born anew in grace and mercy.
Like Joseph the dreamer, when we dare to believe, God comes among us—not just in a dream, but as a baby born into the harsh reality of our sometimes-cruel world. Born to set our people free.
Emmanuel. A dream come true. Amen.
-----------------------------
1 Maya Angelou, “Alone,” 1975. https://learnodo-newtonic.com/maya-angelou-famous-poems.
+ + +
GOSPEL LESSON: Matthew 1:11-25
Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.” When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.
“Therefore, the Lord… will give you a sign. A young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall call him Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14)
Last weekend, a 19-year-old Honduran woman crossed the Mexican border at Tijuana and turned herself over to Border Patrol. She had gone into labor and was in desperate need of medical care.
Agents took the pregnant teen to a hospital in Chula Vista. There she gave birth to an infant who had complications and was placed in ICU.
While visiting her baby there, a cruel Border Patrol agent told her that ICE planned to place her newborn in the custody of Child Protective Services, and then return her (the mother) to Mexico without the baby.
Thankfully, on Monday attorneys from an advocacy agency stepped in to help. Eventually Border Patrol released the young mother from custody with a “Notice to Appear” at a later date. Most likely, however, the woman and her child will be deported to Honduras, even though the baby was born in the United States.
Overshadowed by impeachment and other political news, our border crisis has quietly marched on with dozens of untold stories like this woman. Even though the courts put a hold on family separations in the summer of 2018, since then more than 1,100 migrant children have been taken from their parents after crossing the border.
Our government seems to have little mercy or grace left for families like them.
Perhaps we need a sign to open our eyes to this injustice. Perhaps Isaiah speaks prophetic words to us today: “Therefore, the Lord… will give you a sign. A young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall call him Immanuel.”
Today’s Gospel lesson repeats those same words, directed to Joseph in a dream.
And later in the Gospel of Matthew, Joseph has a second dream, where the angel tells him that King Herod wants to kill the baby Jesus. And that Joseph and Mary should take their newborn baby and cross the border to Egypt as refugees.
If this story was happening today, I believe the parents of Jesus would be undocumented immigrants. Who don’t speak English. Who don’t have jobs.
And Mary would be an unwed pregnant teen. Who claims the father is not her boyfriend, but instead the Lord of Hosts. A crazy tale nobody would believe.
In Matthew’s story, Joseph the dreamer must decide what to do. Knowing the baby isn’t his, Joseph could end their relationship with a nasty break-up.
Or, he might accuse Mary of adultery. According to the code laid out by Moses in Leviticus, this young woman deserved death by stoning. In Joseph’s era and culture, either of those options was the “right” thing to do. Men did things like that to women all the time.
The Christmas story told here in Matthew is very different than the one in Luke. Luke focuses on Mary, the mother of Jesus. But in Matthew it’s all about Joseph the dreamer.
We really don’t know much about Joseph. He stands in the shadows beside Mary and the baby Jesus. Pushed to the back of the manger scene, behind shepherds and magi and angels.
Christian tradition says Joseph was an old man who died before Jesus began his ministry. The Gospels tell us that Joseph and Mary had other children. That Jesus had at least four brothers and some sisters.
But only Matthew focuses on Joseph in detail. Matthew presents Joseph from a Jewish perspective.
In Matthew, Joseph is called “righteous.” We Christians assume that term applies only to those who are pure and sinless.
But many of our Jewish brothers and sisters have a different interpretation. During one of our intergenerational events last month, Rabbi Janeen from Temple Beth El Synagogue (where we now worship) told us that in their faith tradition, a righteous individual really isn’t much better than the really bad people.
What sets the righteous apart, she said, is that they are the ones chosen by God to carry out the covenant. In Hebrew, the word for righteous also means “just.”
In this story, Joseph the dreamer shows that he is righteous by his sense of justice and mercy. By how he deals with Mary and her unplanned pregnancy. By his humane response. By his compassion.
Initially, Joseph decides to divorce Mary quietly. But then Joseph the dreamer has a dream. An amazing dream.
An angel tells him to take Mary as his wife. That the baby is conceived of the Holy Spirit. That Jesus is not born out of sin, but born to save people from their sins.
So, Joseph welcomes Mary into his home. And adopts Jesus as his son. For Joseph, according to his society, this was not the “right” thing to do. But it was the loving thing.
Like his ancestors of the Jewish faith, like Abraham and Sarah, like Noah and his family, like Moses and his sister Miriam, Joseph the dreamer listens to God’s voice and does what is righteous and just.
Like them, Joseph is not a righteous person because he never sins or always follows the rules. Joseph is righteous because he puts his faith in God. And because he strives not to be a self-righteous judge, but a righteous dreamer who does justice.
Of course, it must have been scary for Joseph to do that. He had put aside his worries about what others might think. Anytime we engage in actions that aren’t popular or go against what society considers to be right, you have the possibility of conflict and judgment.
At times, it can be very lonely and scary, even terrifying—with real risks and consequences. In today’s world, people can tear you apart.
Like when churches vote to become Reconciling In Christ and welcome LGBTQ individuals (as St. Mark’s did 29 years ago), but then lose members who are unhappy with that decision.
Or like pastors who stood up for Native Americans during the Standing Rock Reservation protests two years ago, but then were criticized by angry congregations.
Or like local citizens of Burleigh County and Bismarck who recently decided to allow refugees to still find safe homes in their communities, but then were chastised by local politicians.
Or like youth who protest about climate change, but then must endure the wrath of world leaders.
But even when we face hatred or racism or bigotry, like Joseph the dreamer, we need to remember that we’re not doing this by ourselves. The angel told Joseph not to be afraid because the child was “Emmanuel,” which means “God is with us.”
Today, the story of Joseph reminds us that, even in situations like this, we are not alone. We have God. And we have one another.
Maya Angelou once wrote a poem[1] about that, which reads in part:
Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
‘Cause nobody, But nobody
Can make it out here alone.” 1
Although it sounds like something you’d write today, Maya wrote this poem 40 years ago, lying awake late one night. Dreaming and agonizing about how to deal with people who have “hearts of stone”—who lack compassion for their fellow humans.
In difficult times like today, our world needs more dreamers like Maya and Joseph. People who are unselfish and caring. People with the vision to take risks for the sake of justice.
Joseph the dreamer acted from his heart. And like Joseph, when we act in love, we become God’s righteous people. Born anew in grace and mercy.
Like Joseph the dreamer, when we dare to believe, God comes among us—not just in a dream, but as a baby born into the harsh reality of our sometimes-cruel world. Born to set our people free.
Emmanuel. A dream come true. Amen.
-----------------------------
1 Maya Angelou, “Alone,” 1975. https://learnodo-newtonic.com/maya-angelou-famous-poems.
+ + +
GOSPEL LESSON: Matthew 1:11-25
Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.” When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.