Advent 4, Year A
Donna Joy

Matthew 1:18-25

We are currently living in a moment that is increasingly riddled with hopelessness and despair. Much of this rises out of overwhelming concerns about our climate crisis (how will this impact on our children and children’s children; what, realistically, can we be doing about it; what ought our politicians be doing about it; what can we – as church – be doing about it; and on and on and on.

This hopelessness and despair rises out of seemingly shady politicians; personal pain, and loss, and brokenness; and the list goes on. But during this season of Advent we continue to receive a message that takes us beyond despair, toward an extraordinary sense of hope. We have been hearing messages during this Season of Advent, reminding us that with this long anticipated birth comes an ever-present God, always sewing seeds of hope, particularly in the midst of darkness of despair.

So, as we turn to our Gospel reading for this morning, we rediscover some important insights into the nature of this life-giving, hope-filled One being born, as we recognize some of the dynamics within Matthew’s telling of the story. But in order to better understand the point that the author is trying to make, we need to back up a bit and look at the verses just preceding this morning’s passage where we find the genealogy that traces the family line of Jesus.

It begins with Abraham, the father of the Jewish nation, and shows how Jesus comes from the royal line of Judah and King David. Certainly there are famous and familiar names along the way, along with a few surprises, names that you may not expect to see. Names, for instance, of four women, none of whom is Jewish and each of whom has entered into the family through strange circumstances. Tamar was Judah’s Canaanite daughter-in-law, who (long story short) dressed up as a prostitute in order trick him into having sex with her for the purpose of becoming pregnant. And her plan worked.

Ruth was a Moabite widow when she met her future husband, Boaz. Rahab was a prostitute from Jericho. Bathsheba was King Solomon’s mother, the former wife of Uriah; she was a Hittite and an adulteress.

In a culture where women - even in the best of circumstances - were held in low esteem, the inclusion of these four women suggests that this one about to be born is to embrace the whole of humanity. Since this genealogy includes not only the names that point toward the royal line from which Jesus comes, but also those names that would – presumably - just as soon be forgotten, the point is being made that Jesus also carries within his very being the marginalized, the forgotten, the despised. Clearly, Jesus carries within the very fabric of his being a profound connection with those who suffer. Knowing this genealogy offers great insights into who Jesus is. He both embodies, and reaches out to, those who society may identify as the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Following the genealogy, we then move into the reading for today, which speaks of the circumstances surrounding Jesus’ birth, primarily according to Joseph’s perspective. Mary and Joseph have been pledged to be married, a commitment as serious and binding as the marriage itself, and when Mary is found to be pregnant, Joseph thinks of offering her a quiet divorce in order to protect her from the inevitable embarrassment and shame that she would receive from her community. It is within the realm of possibility that she would be stoned to death. But then in the midst of this tumultuous situation Joseph has a dream in which an angel tells him that this baby is God’s own son, and will become the Saviour of his people. And the key here for me is that Joseph pays attention to this message and trusts it enough to remain with Mary and see it through.

I think that Joseph’s role here is one that deserves our attention. Although cultural norms around unmarried pregnancies have really shifted over the past 50 years, thankfully, most of us remember times when this was considered a shameful thing. We remember a time when young women were secretly shuttled away for a, prolonged “visit with an aunt in another part of the country.”

So, imagine in these circumstances, someone finding her young self pregnant, and saying that it had nothing to do with the person who might be presumed to be the father, but it had everything to do with the Holy Spirit. Under these kinds of circumstances, it can be assumed that her story may not be considered credible. But Joseph, in the midst of what must have been profound confusion and doubt, maybe a sense of betrayal and chaos, stands firm, hears what he discerns as a Godly message, pays attention to it, and allows it to inform his decision on how to respond. In other words, Joseph does not do what so many might do. The way the story is told, it seems he doesn’t judge Mary, or respond in anger. Instead, he listens to God, and discovers a way forward that is faithful, compassionate, generous, and kind.

I want to offer just a quick note about the place of Virgin Birth within the context of this story: there are those who believe in an actual, literal interpretation of Virgin Birth, and those who do not, and there are many good arguments to support each point of view. But at the end of the day, it is useful to reflect on why the notion of virgin birth may be significant. That is: if this child came into the world through no human act other than Mary saying “yes” we may be led to recognize that this birth marks the end of the old humanity and establishes the inauguration of a whole new humanity: where, as is found in the genealogy, no one is excluded; where, through a child who is born in a stable, dies on a cross and rises to new life, weakness overcomes strength; where, through Joseph in this story, compassion and kindness overrule hatred and revenge. It is, in a sense, a brand new start; God finding a way to be with us in a brand new way. It is the fulfillment of a long awaited promise.

As we read and reflect upon this story from Matthew’s Gospel, we must do so with a clear understanding that this story, along with the genealogy that precedes it, is our story. It is as intimate to who we are as any personal family genealogy or history. Some of you may know something of your own family history. Some of you may be in a position to know something about your family tree; perhaps how names and characters in that family tree have been evident throughout the generations. That is your story, and that story continues through you.

Just as these personal family roots are intimately linked to our identity, the genealogy at the beginning of Matthew’s Gospel is also intimately linked to who we are, because we are intimately linked to Jesus through the New Birth of our Baptism. Through our Baptism, he is family. He is family to the point that he lives at the very centre of who we are. This is a really difficult thing to grasp, since mainline traditional churches have tended to soft pedal this to the point that it is foreign to our basic understanding.

The genealogy we find at the beginning of Matthew’s Gospel, which tells us that Jesus embodies and reaches out to those who are despised and weak, those who are marginalized and forgotten, tells us that through our Baptism we, now, are accepted unconditionally. We, now, have a responsibility to embody this compassion and reach out to others.

This year of 2019 has marked the death of Jean Vanier, founder of the L’Arche Community. I recall him speaking about how difficult it is to live this way today. He talks about the culture in which we live as one that is driven by success and knowledge, and the more obsessed we become with this need to be on top, the greater and deeper the divisions between us. If we are driven by success, we will be driven to push over those who get in the way. If we push over those who get in the way, we will quickly not even remember that they exist. And the more invisible those on the margins become, the less this world is functioning as God creates it to be.

Jean Vanier makes the point that it is only when we acknowledge our own frailty, our own weakness, that we can celebrate the giftedness of every single person with whom we share our lives, our communities, our world. It is only when we recognize our own frailty, our own weakness, that we may recognize and respond to that reality in others.

And, as we remember the place of Joseph in Jesus’ birth story, we recognize that through our Baptism, Joseph is also part of our story. Joseph serves as an important inspiration. While many might choose to hate, and retaliate in circumstances similar to his, he instead listens to God, and discovers a way forward that is faithful, compassionate, generous, and kind.

Joseph serves as an inspiration because he chooses to trust in God’s ways of compassion and kindness, rather than in hatred and revenge. He chooses to trust in this, and he chooses to allow this to inspire the way in which he lives; the decisions he makes. In his book, The Mystery of Christ Robert Capon suggests that faith in the midst of life’s struggles, and challenges, and pain is a decision to trust. Faith is a decision to trust that through Jesus, God reaches out to each of us in our weakness and vulnerability, our frailty and our fears, and through this equips us to do the same for others. Certainly, we cannot single-handedly change the world, but if every single Christian was living in this way, the world would be a very different place.

As we prepare to celebrate this birth, which is absolutely central to who we are, I pray that we may remember to trust in God’s all inclusive embrace, to trust as Joseph trusts, and to make decisions that are filled with compassion.