The Ugly Side of Christmas

There is an ugly side to Christmas. I think you know what I mean. It's not all about bright lights and pretty paper. It's not all soft music and candlelight services. There are some ugly things that start to crop up right about now in the Christmas season. Like the way you feel when you look at the bathroom scales in the morning. Or the blurry way your eyes feel after hours spent with a new computer game or video game that you got for Christmas. Or the mounds of trash piled up for pick up. Or the funny snoring noise Uncle Leopold makes when he's sleeping in front of the Meineke CarCare Bowl game. Or the balance on your credit card bill when it comes in a few weeks. Oh, it can get ugly allright, even at Christmas.

It's sad because it's not supposed to be like this, is it? Family members are not supposed to be annoying during this special season of the year, but somehow they still are. Brothers and sisters are not suppposed to fight with one another in the season of peace, but they do, don't they? Nations are not supposed to be at war, swords are supposed to be beaten into plowshares, and families are not supposed to be separated from their loved ones because of military service, but they are and we are. Our bosses are supposed to be more understanding, salesclerks are supposed to be more cheerful, people who are sick are supposed to make miraculous recoveries in order to be home for Christmas, the stock market is supposed to rise, creditors are supposed to be more lenient, people with serious differences are supposed to bury the hatchet, cats and dogs are supposed to live together. That's what Christmas is supposed to be like, right?

But as we come out into the harsh light of day after the beauty of those evening services with candles and soft lights last Monday for Christmas Eve, we find that, even though the baby is in the manger now, the world is still an unsettled place. The housing market is still dead, the war in Iraq and Afghanistan goes on, and we were witness to the horrible events in Pakistan this week as Benazir Bhutto, a hope for some sort of democratic reforms, was assasinated. If we were expecting Dec. 25 to look a lot different from Dec. 24, we had some huge disappointments.

So we come to Church this morning. Surely, if there is some place to come to hear that the world is different, it would be here. There are 12 days in Christmas after all. While the rest of the world is trying to rumble back to normal and pretend that Christmas is only one day, surely the Church can make the magic last a little longer. Alex is bound to tell us something hopeful, even if it's in some strange story. We're certainly going to sing some Christmas carols. That's what you were thinking, wasn't it?

Then we had to go and spoil the mood by reading the Bible! Well, you know, the Psalm was allright. It's all about praising God, and that's good. Hebrews was a little strange, talking about God sending Jesus to suffer. Not exactly warm and cuddly stuff, but understandable given that that is what Jesus did. But did you hear that passage we read from Matthew? Who decided that we'd keep reading Matthew after Christmas Eve? Didn't the lectionary people know that while the first 12 verses of chapter 2 are good stuff, all about the wise men and their gifts, the next 10 chapter are definitely rated R. No one in their right mind would let children hear this, would they? A story about King Herod throwing a fit when the wise men didn’t do what he asked and ordering all the babies in Bethlehem murdered? Sword-bearing soldiers are definitely not in my nativity set at home!

I remember preaching from this text when this lectionary reading came up in 1995, just three days after Rachel was born. Christmas was strange enough that year, but to go through this miraculous birth and to be celebrating the ways God had come to visit us in our new child, and then to go and preach about the slaughter of the innocents in Bethlehem was a good reminder that what is good and precious in the world is always at risk. There is always evil. There is always suffering and injustice and we are right to try to protect and defend those we love from it and rage against it when it comes into our families and our lives.

Christmas doesn’t change things so that we can never be hurt, but it does change the way we tell the story of evil. In the Christmas story, Jesus comes and evil does not just flee away forever vanquished. As Herod’s vicious act shows, evil remains and rages against the good, but the difference is that now, when we tell the story of how we and those we love and the whole world have been injured by evil and sin and death, we have a new ending to the story. Christmas shows us that while we were yet sinners, God showed love for us by sending Christ to live with us and die for us. Christmas shows us that God is not content to stand idly by while the creation God made is wounded and distorted by evil. Christmas shows us that God came to write a new ending to the story in which evil can never have the last word. It’s all a part of God’s story of redemption and liberation and salvation now. Even evil is part of God’s story and it can’t ultimately win.

Look at how Matthew tells the story. It’s really a story in three scenes and every one of the scenes ends with the fulfillment of a prophecy. Luke tells the story of Jesus’ birth from Mary’s persepective, but Matthew stays with Joseph. You might remember that Joseph was not quite as accepting of the news that Mary was going to have a child as Mary was. It took a dream and a visit from an angel to convince him to do the right thing, even though it didn’t look much like the right thing according to the standards of the time.

But he did take Mary to be his wife and they did have the child, and wise men did come to visit and as they were leaving they decided not to go back to tell King Herod where the new baby was born. They were warned by a dream. Dreams are very important in this story.

So that’s where we pick it up and verse 13 of chapter 2 tells us that an angel appeared in a dream to Joseph again. What the angel had to say to Joseph was pretty terrifying. The angel said, “Joseph, get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt and stay there until God calls you out because Herod is going to try and kill the child.”

Now, going to Egypt is no strange thing for God’s people to do. If Joseph thought about it he might have remembered the story of another dreaming Joseph who was forced to go to Egypt. Do you remember that story? Maybe it’s something you read in Sunday School a long time ago. Maybe you’ve been to see “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.” That’s the one I’m talking about. That Joseph became Pharoah’s dream interpreter and saved his family from danger in the land of Israel. That Joseph and his descendents came to be a huge nation which God eventually called out of slavery in Egypt to return to the promised land. It was that story that Matthew remembered because he ends the first scene of this story by saying that when Mary and Joseph and Jesus fled to Egypt they were fulfilling Hosea’s prophecy which said, “Out of Egypt I called my son.”

You see how this all works together? Matthew reaches back and says, “You see? Do you see what God is doing here? God didn’t forget. God didn’t abandon Israel and God is still with the people, even though they are occupied by the Roman Empire and oppressed by a puppet king. (That would be Herod.) The future is all tied up in the promise God made in the past and which God has repeated in every generation to everyone who will listen. It’s all about Immanuel. God is with us. God was with us. Lo, I am with you to the end of the age! Scene One ends with the hopes of the people in exile in Egypt once again, but it’s not the end of the story.

Then there is the horrible scene. The one that you often don’t see in movies about the life of Christ. Herod, the puppet king, who was angry to hear that the magi were looking for a baby they called king, who was furious when he realized they weren’t coming back to tell him where this child was…Herod who is devious, impulsive, paranoid and prone to fits of rage, orders the wholesale killing of all the children two and under in Bethlehem and the surrounding area.

It’s an act of pure evil. One that makes you wonder: where were the angels for the children of Bethlehem? Where are the dreams that would tell them to flee to a safe place? It’s incomprenhensible. It’s tragic. It’s outrageous. It’s evil. But even this scene has a place in the story. Because we all know that incomprehensible, tragic, outrageous, evil acts take place in the real world. Acts like September 11 that cause us to ask: where were the angels for the people who died in the World Trade Center? Where were the angels for those who died in the tsunami? At Virginia Tech?

But even in the midst of tragedy, Matthew remembers a similar time in the day of the prophet Jeremiah when the nation wept over those sent into exile. A time when Rachel, the mother of the nation, was “crying for her children, and she did not want to be consoled, because they were no more.” For Matthew this was another such time and God embraced the suffering of the mothers of Bethlehem and found a way to connect the promise of the past with the hope to be found in Jesus. Scene two ends, not with Herod’s success, because even though he exercised all his brutal power, he failed…no, scene two ends with God’s word spoken over human history to give it new meaning.

Then in scene three, still in the echo of the words, “crying for children that are no more,” Herod is no more. Ding, dong, the witch is dead. And guess who gets a visit from an angel in a dream? Joseph down in Egypt is visited once more and the gets almost the same command he got in the last dream. “Joseph, get up, take the child and his mother, and go to Israel, because those who sought the child’s life have come to an end.”

The only hitch this time is that Joseph is a little bit wary about returning to the area where Herod’s son is ruling, so, after another dream, he goes to Nazareth, but even this fulfills a prophecy. Matthew tells us that the Messiah will be called a Nazarene and Jesus is that Messiah. Thus ends the third scene and once again, God has the last word.

I don’t have to tell you that the world is a mess. You can turn on the television and see that. I don’t have to tell you that your life is sometimes a mess. Sometimes more than others, but always more than we would like. I don’t have to tell you that there are still evil forces like Herod, that there are still grieving mothers as in Bethlehem, and that there are still refugees, like the Holy Family in Egypt. Even Christmas can’t hide the fact that we are imperfect people in an imperfect world.

But the story of the ugly side of Christmas is not the whole story. Herod has his day, but it is short-lived. Within the space of four verses he has a fit, orders this genocide and then dies himself. And despite himself he fulfills a prophecy from the God of love.

You see, the message we should take away from this reading is not that there is evil and it assaults us even though Christ came at Christmas. That’s not a redemptive message. The real message is: yes, there is evil but it could not defeat good because God is Immanuel and because Christ came at Christmas. So, Herod, take your best shot. You won’t be the last. Christ will be persecuted, reviled, spit upon, whipped, stripped and strung up on a cross. God will die and evil will still not carry the day because God has power even over death. So try your best, Herod, the headline news will still be the same two thousand years later: King Herod is still dead, but King Jesus is still alive!

If that’s true, then what is to stop us from proclaiming the same thing to the Herods in our lives? Come on, Age! Come on, Illness! Come on, Depression! Come on, Heartache! Come on, Insecurity! Come on, Conflict! Come on, Insensitive Boss! Come on, Heartbreak of Psoriasis! Come on, Playground Bully! Come on, Acne! Come on, Embarassing Itch! Come on, Social Awkwardness! Come on, Low Self-esteem! Come on, Poverty! Come on, Life! Come on, Death! Come on, and give me your best shot, because you don’t have the last reel, you’ve only got the first scene. You can’t define my life because it’s been defined for me by a God who formed me in the womb, who has cared for me since the moment I was born, who has come to live with us and who has promised to never leave us. Come on, Herod, because Jesus is still the king!

So go tell it in the valley of injustice! Go tell it on the plains of pain and suffering! Go tell it in the desert of loneliness and conflict! Go tell it on the mountain of misery! Over the hills and everywhere that Jesus Christ is born. Jesus Christ is born. Jesus Christ is born and nothing will ever be the same!

Do you believe that Church? Do you believe that goodness is stronger than evil? That love is stronger than hate? That a baby in a manger is stronger than a king on the throne? Because I tell you when I looked at that baby in my arms twelve years ago I believed it.

God is here to turn the world upside down. God is here to turn your life upside down. God is here to remind us of the promise that goes all the way back to a garden in paradise. You and I and this whole crazy world are not meant to be victims of evil, we are meant to children of God. And whatever we look like, whatever road we have travelled, whatever heartache we have suffered, whatever darkness has entered our lives…the light has entered the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. Thanks be to God!

Matthew 2:13-23
Now after they had returned, look, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph saying, "Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt and remain there until I tell you, because Herod is about the seek out the child to kill him."
So Joseph got up, took the child and his mother in the night and left for Egypt and he was there until Herod's death, so that what was spoken by the Lord through the prophet might be fulfilled when he said, "Out of Egypt I called my son."
When Herod saw that he had deceived by the magi, he went into a great rage, and he arranged for the slaughter of all of the children aged two or younger in and around Bethlehem, working from the time established by the magi. Then that which was spoken through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled:
"A voice was heard in Rama,
there is weeping and great sorrow.
Rachel is crying for her children and she did not want to be consoled,
for they are no more."
Now upon Herod's death, look, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, "Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to Israel, because those who sought the life of the child have died."
So he got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. But upon hearing that Archelaus was reigning over Judea in place of his father, Herod, he was afraid to return there. So, having been instructed through a dream, he went away to the region of Galilee. And when he came there he settled in a town named Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled: "He shall be called a Nazarene."

A Domestic Disturbance

Overheard by the nativity set:
I am Joseph, the quiet one. I was one of the first to see God in that baby in the manger....and I was his father....in a way.

Sometimes I feel like I don't belong in that scene. I should be placed over here, at a distance, removed from the center of the action. Because, you see, the story is really about that baby - about how he was born and what he came to do.

And as for me? Well, I was the adopted father - the one with the pedigree and the ancestral line. For me the birth came in the midst of chaos. Leave it God to choose a domestic disturbance for a display case.

Look at me! I look so calm and gentle. My eyes are closed with such a peaceful look. My hand is extended in a gesture of caring. I look so strong.

I suppose I might have looked a little like that on the night. The Church through the centuries has certainly wanted to remember me like this. The countless nativity scenes, the stained-glass windows - they all look pretty much the same. Good, strong, kind, understanding, obedient Joseph. Definitely not a deadbeat dad.

But it wasn't that easy! I may not have been a deadbeat dad, but I sure was a downbeat one - at least at first. I was the outsider and it almost didn't happen this way. If it hadn't been for that dream and that angel....

Well, you all know the story. It's written down right at the front of the New Testament. We read it each year. You just have to read between the lines to see how difficult it all was - and most people don't look beyond the baby to see the disturbance he caused and the turmoil within me. They only see Joseph the Good. My wife, Mary, they remember well. Her words and her song are part of the Christmas tradition. But Joseph? I have no words to record my dilemma. Mary was blessed among women, but I was embarrassed among men.[i]

Matthew tells the story pretty well. He knows that the point of it all is that baby. He says so right up front. To prove it he goes through the genealogy - the family tree - from Abraham right on down to me. And there are all the greats from our Jewish history - Jacob and Judah, David and Solomon, Hezekiah and Zerubbabel - all the giants who walk through the stories of scripture.
But read between the lines and you see that there are some surprises here. Even a few scandals. There aren't many women in this list, but the ones that are there are interesting. There's Tamar - who posed as a prostitute to lure her father-in-law into a liaison that resulted in the birth of my ancestor Perez. There's Rahab, the Canaanite prostitute who rescued the Jewish spies from Jericho. Ruth, was a Moabite - a foreigner from a land we consider evil. Bathsheba, who was taken by David and whose husband David murdered. Not exactly a peaceful and pure family line. But God used them anyway.

So I guess it's no surprise that the whole family tree ends with a question mark and another scandal. It says, "Jacob was the father of Joseph," (that's me), "who was the husband of Mary, of whom the baby was born." You'd expect it to say "Jacob was the father of Joseph who was the father of the baby" wouldn't you? But no. I was the outsider, only connected to the baby through my relationship with Mary. Mary. The fifth woman in this family tree - and the fifth surprise.

Surprise isn't the word for it! You see, it all happened while Mary and I were still engaged. "Engaged" is not really the best word to use because it was more than that. To be engaged in my land, in my religion, meant that we were not just intended for each other, we were already called husband and wife.

Mary and I were young. We were in love. We had the future in front of us. Which made it all the more painful when I found out....that Mary was pregnant.

What was I supposed to do? It was adultery! Even though we weren't married, to be engaged and to have your wife come tell you she's pregnant, even if it's by you, it was...adultery!

It broke my heart. For Mary to be expecting was not what I expected! I knew that it was over. Or at least I thought I did.

I really didn't have many options. The Law of Moses says that a woman caught in adultery was to be stoned to death at the gate of the town. But death? For Mary? This severe punishment wasn't carried out very much anymore, but if it had been, could I have lived with that?
More likely the result of a public divorce would have been that Mary would spend the rest of her life shamed and shunned. Her prospects for marriage would be ruined for good. Could I have done that to Mary? My Mary? If I was to follow the Law of Moses, I would have to. And I had followed the Law of Moses all of my life.

Matthew has it right. He knew my dilemma. "Joseph," he said, "was a righteous man and he was unwilling to expose Mary to public disgrace." Those two things don't go together. A righteous man follows the Law and does not quietly go around the rules to save a sinner from public shame. But that is where I was - wanting to be righteous and yet wanting to do what was right. They're not always the same.

But I had so many plans for Mary and me. I couldn't let them go so easily or so quickly. In fact, I even briefly considered a third option which would have been legal - I could have claimed the child as my own and gone ahead with the marriage. Which is what I eventually did. But that was before...before the angel. And I guess I wasn't that much of a saint.

Now I know what you're saying. Why didn't I talk this out with Mary - find out what really happened? Why didn't we discuss the options together? Why didn't we sit down with a premarital counselor for relationship therapy to see if we could salvage this marriage? In my time - in my land - we hardly spoke to one another privately before marriage. It wasn't done.

So I had made up my mind. Or at least I thought I had. I had decided to let her go quietly and to let her take all of my dreams with her. That was before the dream.

Now I've always been known as something of a dreamer. I guess that could be expected from a man named Joseph. Like my namesake so many years before in ancient Egypt, I was known to have prophetic dreams. This one was so clear and so compelling that it was like talking out loud. I still can't be sure that I didn't!

I was speaking with an angel - surely one of God's own angels. The angel knew what I was going through. The angel greeted me by saying, "Joseph, son of David, don't be afraid." Son of David - that's what the called the child when he grew up. But it was my family line. "Don't be afraid to take Mary for your wife, for what is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit." It was beyond belief what this angel said. A child conceived by God's own spirit! "She will bear a son," the angel said, "and you will call him Jesus, for he will save his people from all their sins."

Jesus. That was to be his name. It was not all that uncommon of a name. There are many men named Jesus. But I had never really thought about what the name meant - "He saves." That’s what it means – “He saves.” Now the angel was telling me that this child - this baby would save his people from sins. God knows there's enough of that around. And we have been waiting for the savior to come. And I was given the task of naming this savior.

When a father names a child he accepts the child as his own. That's one of the ways adoption is done. I had been asked to adopt this child of God into my family line so that he would also be the son of David. And when he would save his people, it would include me.

Well, Matthew records that I did what the angel commanded. I married Mary and she did have a son and I did name him Jesus. But it wasn't as easy as all that. It's never easy when God interrupts your life with a baby. And when the baby is also Emmanuel - "God with us" - well, it's even harder.

Despite the angel's assurance in that dream, which was so vivid, I still felt a distance between Mary and me. We had no relations between us before the child was born. During the pregnancy I was never sure that I shared the incredible joy that Mary seemed to feel. During the labor and the birth there was no sign that this was miraculous.

But when I held that child for the first time. When I looked into his eyes and heard his fresh, stripping cry - then I knew that what the angel had said was more than true.

He stripped away all of my defenses, leaving me feeling naked, vulnerable, raw and needy…just like him. There was no sense putting up a front with this baby. He would have nothing to do with it. He saw behind it and beyond it. He seemed to know me as I really am.

This child was God's child and he saw me in all my sinfulness. He knew how hard I struggled to be righteous, even when it meant I wasn't right. He knew how much I needed a Savior. How much I longed for a world made right. How deep the wounds were that kept me from experiencing joy.

I looked at Mary and we smiled at each other. We touched for the first time in weeks.
That's how I got to be at the center of it all. In the midst of a messy domestic disturbance, God used an unwed mother and a disturbed but righteous man to do the right thing. And I became the father of a savior, and the husband of a saint. And the world was never the same. Thanks be to God.

Matthew 1:18-25
Now the birth of Jesus Christ happened like this:
When Mary, his mother, was engaged to Joseph, but before they came together, it was discovered that she was pregnant by the Holy Spirit. But this man Joseph, being righteous and not wanting to publicly disgrace her, made quiet plans to send her away.
Yet while he was considering this, look, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream saying, "Joseph, son of David, don't be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for what she carries was fathered by the Holy Spirit. And she will bear a son; you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins. All of this has come about so that what the Lord had spoken through the prophet might be fulfilled:
'Look, a young maiden shall become pregnant and will bear a son,
and they shall call his name, Emmanuel,'
which means 'God is with us.'"
Upon rising from sleep, Joseph did as the angel of the Lord commanded him and took Mary as his wife. And he did not have sexual relations with her until she had borne a son, and he called his name Jesus.

[i] With credit to Will Willimon.

Stolen Time: What Advent Can Take From You

Plenty Coups, the last great chief of the Crow nation, looked over at Frank Linderman, a Montana cowboy who had befriended him. “When the buffalo went away,” he said, “the hearts of my people fell to the ground, and they could not lift them up again. After this nothing happened.” The two men were talking in the 1930s and Linderman was trying to get Plenty Coups to talk about how his life had changed since the end of the Indian Wars. When he wrote about the discussion later on, Linderman said, “Plenty Coups refused to speak of his life after the passing of the buffalo, so that it seems to have been broken off, leaving many years unaccounted for.”[i]

The old chief had lived a long, full life. He was born in 1848 when the Crow were a proud, warring people living on the high plains in what is now Montana and Wyoming. When he was young the plains were filled with buffalo and Crow warriors were feared by other tribes and by the advancing white settlers. When he died in 1932 he and the remaining Crow were living on a reservation, totally disconnected from the life they once lived.

In 1921, Plenty Coups was invited to Washington to attend the ceremonial burial of the Unknown Soldier. He was wearing beaded buckskin clothes, carrying a coup stick, which the Crow used to carry into battle, and wore a magnificent eagle-feather headdress. As the ceremony ended Plenty Coups did something entirely unexpected. He took off his war bonnet and laid it on the tomb alongside his coup stick. It was a symbol of the death of a way of life for his whole people. He was burying them.[ii]

If anybody could have been prepared for this, it would have been Plenty Coups. When he was nine years old he went out on a vision quest, something many young men would do as rite of passage in his culture. He went off to a mountaintop by himself and prayed to God for a dream. The first night he had no dream so he chopped off a piece of his finger to encourage a vision, something that was not uncommon in his culture.

The second night he had a dream. In the dream he saw buffalo, huge herds of buffalo, coming out of a hole in the ground. They filled the plains as far as he could see in every direction. Then in an instant they were gone. The young boy, Plenty Coups, in his dream looked around and all he could see now were a few antelope. Then more creatures started coming out of the ground. Creatures like buffalo were again coming out of the hole but these were different from other buffalo. They were spotted and when they lay down on the ground they looked different. The noises they made were different, too. They were not buffalo. To Plenty Coups they were like strange animals from another world.

Then Plenty Coups saw a great forest of trees. At the base of one of the trees was an old man that the young boy understood was him at a much older age. Then a storm came and the Four Winds went to war with the forest. Every tree in the forest was knocked down except for the one under which the old man sat.

The tree that remained was the lodge of the chickadee. The chickadee was not admired for his strength, but for his wisdom. The chickadee is a good listener and he never misses a chance to learn from others. It was the chickadee’s tree that remained when all the others fell.

When Plenty Coups came back and told this story to the elders of the Crow people they understood what it meant. Yellow-bear said, “He has been told that in his lifetime the buffalo will go away forever and that in their place on the plains will come the bulls and cows and calves of the white man.” The storm that destroyed the forest was understood to be the coming of the white men. Yellow bear said, “The meaning of this dream is plain to me. I see its warning. The tribes who have fought the white man have all been beaten, wiped out. By listening as the Chickadee listens we may escape this and keep our lands.”[iii]

The tribe listened to Plenty Coups’ dream. When the white men came they made alliances with them. They were able to secure a large reservation. And soon the buffalo were gone and the cattle came. The Crow still existed, but something had died. They had no framework for understanding what their lives meant in this new time. As Plenty Coups said, “After the buffalo went away nothing happened.” Or as another elderly woman, Pretty Shield, told the cowboy Linderman in the 30s, “I am trying to live a life that I do not understand.”[iv] How do you make sense of the world when everything that helped you make sense of it is gone? What do you do when you are trying to live a life that you do not understand?

This may seem a strange story with which to begin Advent but it’s no stranger than the gospel passage that we have for this day. The story of Plenty Coups and the Crow nation is not a warm and fuzzy tale of the season. But Jesus’ apocalyptic warnings are not exactly heart-warming either. Somebody forgot to tell the preacher today that Christmas is coming! Surely something is wrong when there’s more Christmas cheer in Peeble’s than there is in Franktown Church! But there’s something deeper here. There is hope and for Christians hope comes in some strange forms. Maybe it’s a candle on an Advent wreath. Maybe it’s like a chickadee in the only tree left standing. Or maybe it’s like a thief in the night.

It seems to me like Jesus was trying to get those disciples’ attention when he told them about the times that were coming. Like the Crow people they were about to experience a total disorientation. They had no idea what they were in for. These followers who had given their lives over to Jesus were about to be living in a strange new time that was not framed by who they had been but by what Jesus had done. They may have been fishermen and tax collectors and mothers and brothers before, but none of those things were going to determine who they were going to be now. “Come with me and I will make you fish for people,” Jesus said. [Mat. 4:19] “Who are my mother and my brothers and sisters?” Jesus said. “Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.” [Mark 33, 35] “Anyone who puts their hand to the plow and looks back is not fit for the kingdom of heaven,” Jesus said. [Luke 9:62] They couldn’t live out of who they had been. Because of the cross that Jesus died on…because of the tomb that Jesus had vacated…because of the heavens into which Jesus ascended…and because of the earth to which Jesus would return nothing was going to be the same for any of them and they had better get used to it.

So here in this 24th chapter of Matthew, just before his crucifixion, we have Jesus telling the disciples what it will be like when he returns. And the images he uses are disconcerting, to say the least. “It’s going to be like the great flood,” Jesus says. In the days of Noah people were going about their business as usual, doing the things that give life rhythm and meaning. Eating, drinking, getting married…all of those things that we still do. Little did they suspect that the whole world was going to change. It wasn’t until Noah closed the door on the ark that it was clear that something was wrong. It wasn’t until the floods came that they were hit with the realization that the lives they had been living didn’t make sense anymore. It’s going to be like that when Jesus comes back.

Then Jesus talks about his return as a kidnapping. Two people will be working in the field. One will be taken and one left. Two women will be grinding in the mill. One will be taken and one will be left. It’s going to be like that when Jesus comes back.

A flood. A kidnapping. How about a thief in the night? If the householder had known when the thief was coming, he would stand guard, but Jesus is coming unawares at an hour when you don’t think he will be coming. It’s going to be like that when Jesus comes back.

So what were those disciples supposed to do with that information? What are we supposed to do with this information? Is Jesus trying to get us to live our lives in a constant state of anxiety? Are we always supposed to be looking over our shoulder, ready for the other shoe to drop? What does it mean for him to say to those disciples and to us, “Be alert because you don’t know when your Lord will come”?

Whatever it means, it cannot mean that the defining characteristic of our lives should be fear. As Paul reminds us, we did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but we have received a spirit of adoption so that we can be children of God. [Romans 8:15-16] Fear kills. Fear saps us of life. Isn’t it fear that keeps you awake at night? Wondering if that strange new pain is something terminal? Wondering if there’s enough money in the bank? Wondering if your boyfriend can be trusted? Wondering if your kids are going to turn out alright? Wondering if you’ve done enough? Wondering if you’re good enough? Wondering if you’re acceptable in God’s sight? Wondering where you’ll get the strength to pull through? Do you know what it’s like to live out of fear? I’m betting you’ve had those nights and those days.

But what Jesus calls us to is not fear of what is to come. He did not tell us about the suddenness of his coming so that we would be afraid. In fact, the Bible tells us that we should pray for Jesus to come and come quickly. Practically the last words of the Bible are John’s words at the end of Revelation where he quotes Jesus as saying, “Surely I am coming soon!” to which he responds, “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.” [Rev. 22:20]

No, Jesus is not giving us these words to strike the fear of God into us, but to tell us how to live out of hope. We light these candles because it is an act of defiant, radical hope. From the world’s perspective it’s a silly gesture. Why light a candle for Christ’s coming? The world cannot comprehend what it means for life to be determined by what God has done and is going to do through Jesus. The world may find Advent and Christmas useful. To have a boost for the economy because of the tradition of giving gifts is a useful thing for Wall Street. To have a message of generosity for those in need is a useful thing for a world in which there are people left out and looked over. Even to have a message of peace and light is a useful thing in a world disrupted and overturned by war. But the world does not have a use for Jesus’ coming again. The world is invested in the way things are. Christians are invested in the transformation of everything. The world doesn’t want to hear about the end because it sounds too much like bad news. Christians have to hear about the end because they know that it is good news. The world doesn’t want a thief to come because there is too much to protect. Christians know that they need a thief to take away all those things that are keeping us from being alert and watchful and waiting and ready to receive what God has to give.

The difference is in what we expect in the end. If the end is destruction and death then it might make sense to just enjoy what we’ve got until it all comes crashing down. Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we may die. Try to cover over the fear and anxiety and just forget.
But if the end is life…a life beyond anything we can now imagine…a life determined by God and promised by Jesus’ death and resurrection…well, our waiting may take on a different character. As the First Letter of John says, “We are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when it is revealed, we will be like [God].” [1 John 3:2] That’s why we look forward to the coming day of the Lord. The world will be turned upside down, but God’s reign will be revealed as right side up.

God knows we need a word of hope. God knows what a mess our lives are. God knows how unprepared we are to receive a savior. God knows how wounded our world is. But hear the good news: God didn’t wait until we were ready to come to us in Jesus. “While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” [Romans 5:8] And Jesus won’t wait until we are ready to come back. That’s the source of our hope.

Jonathan Lear tells the story of the Crow chief, Plenty Coups, in his book, Radical Hope. He tells how the Crow people stopped doing one of their most essential dances, the Sun Dance, when they went onto the reservation. In the midst of everything they had lost it didn’t make any sense for them to do the dance anymore. The symbols of the Sun Dance were about the warrior culture that had died. But in 1941 they started to do the dance again. Only now it was done as a prayer…as when a young girl is getting ready for a heart operation, the dance is done. Lear sees hope in this.

It was important for Plenty Coups to recognize and to say out loud, “After the buffalo went away, nothing happened.” The old ways had died. But it cleared the way for something new to happen. “It is one thing to dance as though nothing has happened,” Lear says. “It is another to acknowledge that something singularly awful has happened—the collapse of happenings—and then decide to dance.”[v]

It would have been one thing for the disciples to act as if nothing had happened when Jesus died. It is another to acknowledge that something singularly awful happened in Jesus’ death and then to decide to dance because the hope of the resurrection cannot be eliminated from the face of the earth.

There is dancing to be done, sisters and brothers. There is hope in this season. And it is a hope on the horizon. Jesus is coming. Come, Lord Jesus. Thanks be to God.

Matthew 24:36-44
“But about that day and hour no one knows, not the angels in heaven, not the Son, but only the Father. For just as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Humanity. Because, as it was in those days before the flood, they were feasting and drinking, marrying and being given in marriage, until the day when Noah entered the ark. They did not know until the flood came and swept everything away, just so will be the coming of the Son of Humanity.
“Then two will be in the field – one is taken and one is left. Two women will be grinding in the mill – one is taken and one is left. Be alert, therefore, because you do not know in what day your Lord will come.
“Understand this, though: If the homeowner knew in what watch of the night the thief comes, he would stand guard and not allow his house to be broken into. Because of this you also must become ready, because the Son of Humanity will come at an hour when you do not think he will come.”

[i] Recorded in Jonathan Lear, Radical Hope: Ethics in the Face of Cultural Devastation, [Harvard University Press: Cambridge, MA, 2006], p. 2. Referred to hereafter as Lear.
[ii] Lear, p. 33.
[iii] Lear, pp. 66-72.
[iv] Lear, p. 56.
[v] Lear, p. 153.