When Joseph Awoke (a father at Christmas): some thoughts for the 4th Sunday of Advent

 

“When Joseph awoke, he did

as the angel commanded him.”

--Matthew 1:18-24

 

Who, over the age of 25, has not experienced that frightening moment when you wake up and suddenly realize: Oh my gosh! It’s almost Christmas! But, I’m not ready!  And suddenly--if you are like me—you rush out to the garage in search of lights you promised to hang a month ago, and the wreath that still needs to be hung. Those Advent candles aren’t going to light themselves!... And has anyone seen the inflatable pug?

 

It’s just not Christmas without the pug!

 

In a desperate frenzy of activity, we set about doing everything the season commands. We want our house, our tree, our table to be just right!  Perfect, in fact. And there is always one more trip to HEB in search of gluten free ginger snaps for Aunt Lucy, or to Hallmark for a box of cards we still intend to write—Christmas is a season, you know; not just a single day!

 

And the presents! Aargh. What size sweater does my sister wear? Would your bother like a new tie? With Snoopy on it? What about Aunt Hildy? Does she still smoke a pipe?  And oh my gosh, I still haven’t bought your mother the tin of tea she loves!

 

Everything needs to be just right, and just when it seems like it might come together, suddenly your aunt is bringing her new boyfriend, and your niece has just announced she is vegan. And the new guy at work doesn’t have family in town so… Suddenly there are more guests than chairs at the table. We need to borrow a card table from the neighbors, and get a few old folding chairs out of the garage… The chaos that comes with Christmas can suddenly feel very overwhelming. There is so much to do and if you put it all off long enough, suddenly there is so little time left.

 

Think about Joseph, who goes to bed one night certain that he no longer has a wife, and his only concern is how to spare Mary from public shame. He knows what to do, and how and when and why. But then an angel appears in his dream and everything changes.

 

Can’t you just see this humble old carpenter rushing about trying to make his house perfect for his new wife and this mysterious miraculous child of her’s—who just happens to be the savior of the world. Not just sweeping up sawdust and scraps of wood, but preparing his house for God’s Holy Son… when suddenly there is another messenger. Another command.  This time from Caesar; Everybody pack your bags and head home for a census! 

What the what? Now? But I have plans for the holidays.

 

And again Joseph has to pivot, change plans, make new ones. A road trip. No problem. Freeze the turkey. How long does cookie dough last in back of the refrigerator? Or was it flat bread, dried fish and lentils? 

 

Regardless, there was no Trivago or AAA to help plan the trip, make reservations. Certainly, Joseph did what he could and for the rest put his trust in divine providence. Surely God would make sure they had someplace safe for His son to be born, maybe even a room with a private bath and a view of the winter hillside.  I hear the night sky is full of stars and the gathered sheep look almost like drifts of snow this time of year.

 

But like most of us, Joseph had to learn that no matter how well you plan or hard you try, something (or someone) unexpected always shows up at the last minute and suddenly your best laid plans for a perfect Christmas come crashing down around you like the shards of a shattered ornament.  And before you know it, you wake up in a stable surrounded by strangers (or stranger animals) as your wife cries out: It’s time. It’s time!

 

I am pretty sure that if you asked Joseph, Jesus born in a stable surrounded by animals and strangers was never part of his plan.  In fact, it probably seemed more like a catastrophe, a sign of his own failing as a husband and a step-father.  But, in God’s eyes --in the fullness of God’s plan—it was anything but; it was the fulfillment of His word.

 

“Thus says the Lord:

Heaven is My footstool, and the earth My throne;

What kind of dwelling can you build for me?

What is to be my resting place?...

This is the one I approve: the lowly and the afflicted,

the one who trembles at My word.”  --Isaiah 66:1-2

 

A child born into helplessness and need, vulnerable to the dangers and afflictions of the flesh and of this world; that is the dwelling God chose for Himself when He became flesh; the dwelling He prefers. And no matter how we try to clean it up, sanitize it for Christmas cards, or Hallmark movies, God will always find a way to break through our plans, our cautious attempts to create a perfect Christmas, a perfect family, a perfect life… and in the vulnerability and chaos of our discomfort and failure and dysfunction, He will be waiting for us –like that helpless baby lying in a manger, hungering for His mother’s tender breast, His father’s gentle warmth—waiting for us to put down all the packages and all the fancy treats, and take Him up in our arms, hold Him tight and let His love open our hearts.

 

We cannot plan for the perfect encounter with God anymore than we can plan for the perfect Christmas, but we can be fairly certain that He is there always waiting for us, especially when things start to go a little haywire and turn a little messy.  This Christmas don’t let the colored lights, and the glitter of the wrapping paper, the tinsel and the bows (all your plans and expectations) blind you to the unexpected grace only found in the actual gift waiting for you right probably right where you least expect it.

The Fulfillment of the Law

 

                             “…love is the fulfillment of the Law.”
                             --Romans 13: 8 -10

Why is the world so angry these days? Why is America so angry? Why are Christians so angry? And why are we all so reflexively defensive? It seems to me that part of the problem is we have forgotten how to love, and forgotten what love looks like, how love acts, and what love costs. A man gets shot and instead of coming together in sorrow and compassion as a nation we start pointing fingers, Democrats desperate to blame Republicans and Conservatives righteously blaming Liberals! Each side bitterly blaming the other. A husband and wife are brutally murdered (possibly by their own son) and our president posts cruel self-righteous messages about how the victim brought it on himself. After a school shooting, instead of coming together in solidarity to protect our children each side reaches for a camera to start broadcasting vitriole and reasons why the other side is responsible for another unimaginable nighmare, another empty seat around some poor family's table. Why is it that we aren't coming together? Why are we treating each other this way? What has happened to us as a nation? As a society? As a people? It's like we are just looking for enemies? Why aren't we treating each other with love?
Perhaps we just need someone to remind us what that is... and what it looks like.

Here at Christmas time we often get quite caught up in the whole sentimental baby in the manger with lovely clean sheep hovering about, breathing their sweet warm grassy breath over the rosy cheeked, pink and freshly swaddled infant. This image of Christmas with its gentleness and radiant beauty can distract us from the truth—Love is hard. It requires sacrifice. It demands patience. And it can be exhausting…and risky. When we are expecting something tender and sentimental, we may be utterly shocked by the truth-- the wood of that manger inevitably leads to the wood of the cross. It’s unavoidable. Love makes us vulnerable, and that is very uncomfortable. Something we (by instinct) avoid at any cost. And yet, here at Christmas that is exactly the image of Christ we are presented with. A newborn child, helpless; the God who is Love lying in a manger, dependent for food and warmth upon His own creation, the comfort of His mother's breast and the warmth of her flesh holding Him close. The rough fingers of his carpenter "father" gently lifting him to change a diaper or at least the straw that makes up His bed.

Love makes us vulnerable, and that is always uncomfortable. And Love maes demands upon us, demands we too often might rather avoid.

But, as Paul reminds us in his letter to the Romans, “love is the fulfillment of the Law.” The Law is capitalized here because it refers not just to human laws but to the Law of God (as found in the Torah). Think about that; Paul is telling us that all those rules found in Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy—all those hard and fast regulations—boil down to one thing: Love.

Paul gives us three wonderful lessons at the end of Romans that—if we take them seriously—will utterly change the way we treat each other. Especially anyone we might be tempted to call our enemy. First:

                             “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, thus sayeth the Lord.” (12:19)

This tells us that getting revenge (or getting even) is not our business; that belongs to God.

Second:

                            “If your enemy is hungry, give him something to eat;
                             if thirsty, give him something to drink.
                            By doing this, you will heap red-hot coals on his head.” (12:20)

Hence, if we begin to think of someone as our enemy, we now know how God wants us to treat them: with generosity and compassion. This is what Love looks like... The answer isn't revenge, the answer isn't cruelty or meanness, but generosity and compassion. Of course, we might think this is just the old "Kill them with kindness" ploy, but is there something more to it? Is the strangeness of this lesson not just about how we treat our "enemies" but how we transform them (and ourselves)... By heaping red-hot coals of generosity and kindness upon them, we might change their hearts... But, more importantly we might change our own. It is hard to hate someone you are caring for, harder even to see them as an enemy when you see their hunger and thirst and their need for help, for compassion, for Love. It seems that the Law of God is asking us not to harden our hearts against our enemy but to become even more like Christ as we approach them. To see them not with the eyes of politics or nationality but with the eyes of Jesus.

Which leads me back to this:

                             “…love [truly] is the fulfillment of the Law…” (cf.13:8-10)

Why do Christians so quickly forget these essentials? Especially in a time of conflict? Whether it is personal or social or even international, what is it about these simple lessons that eludes us? Why does their obvious meaning fade so quickly when our eyes are clouded by anger and resentment?

Let us ponder this as we approach the celebration of the birth of God’s Love made flesh. This whole turn the other cheek, feed the hungry, care for the sick, visit the prisoners, clothe the naked, care for the vulnerable and the outcast thing isn’t just some liberal agenda run amuck. It is the fulfillment of the Law of God. And it is our call as Christians, as the Body of Christ we are called to live it, to embody it, to love our enemy and bless those who curse us, to give ourselves away, and by so doing to give our flesh to the Love of God. To let God’s love shine through our words and actions we must abe willing to allo the wood of the cradle to reveal the wood of the Cross. This way of life, this way of Love –it is the salt we are called to be for the earth; it is the Light our faith must shine in a world frightened and lost in the darkness of hate.

It is the Law and the Law is Love. What kind of blessing will you become this Christmas? And who will you bless? If you are still looking for a way to shake up your holiday season, let that become your Advent prayer.