Sunday, January 5, 2020

January 5, 2020 - The Second Sunday of Christmas



In the name of the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ. Amen.
            Have you ever been at a party or social event where you didn’t know anyone? Now, some of you are extroverts and are thinking, “What’s the problem with that?” But maybe it isn’t a party, maybe it’s a hostile meeting at work and everyone in the room is an adversary. Perhaps it’s an airport terminal on a late-night layover. Or maybe you’re in a hospital waiting room, full of anxiety. If you can imagine any of these situations, you know that what makes these tense, uncomfortable, and lonely situations better is having an old friend show up out of nowhere to be with you.

            In a small way, those examples point us to the power of the Incarnation of Jesus Christ. The foundation of our faith is that God, the creator, redeemer, and sustainer of all things was born of Mary and lived as Jesus of Nazareth. As this saving event was foretold in the Old Testament and announced by angels in the New Testament, there was an anticipation that the Messiah would be not merely a heroic person, but would be God come among us. This is what the Hebrew phrase “Emmanuel” means – God with us. And at its core, this is what is so powerful and amazing about the Incarnation, that God was and is with us in Jesus.
            In the same way that a familiar face can make all the difference in a difficult situation, the presence of God among us makes all the difference in our lives. We need God as our companion because it is a dark world. We can talk about theological themes like Sin, Death, meaninglessness, and doubt – and we know that we need someone who knows us, loves us, and is mighty enough to be our champion when we face that darkness. And sometimes the darkness that we face isn’t quite as philosophical; sometimes it’s much more tangible as in cancer, being laid off, struggling with addiction, or worrying about children. When we are facing such darkness, having a light to guide and comfort us can make all the difference in the world. And in Jesus Christ, we are given that shining light of God’s presence with us.
            This is where this morning’s Gospel text is so helpful. It’s an incredibly difficult and terrifying text. It’s a bit out of order, as tomorrow we’ll mark the Feast of the Epiphany when the magi visit Jesus. Today’s reading picks up right after they offer their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The magi had told King Herod that they’d swing by the royal palace on their way out of town to let him know where this new King of the Jews was living. But they knew better than that, so they returned home by another road and this absolutely enraged Herod. He ordered that all male children under age two be gathered up and murdered.
            Sadly, the people of Israel have known such hatred and genocides many times before. They were enslaved in Egypt, Jerusalem was destroyed on multiple occasions, there was the Inquisition, the Holocaust, and we have seen in the news the rise of anti-Semitism in our own nation – synagogues being targeted for violence, a machete attack in a rabbi’s home at Hanukkah, and swastikas being painted on Jewish community centers. This is why Matthew recalls the words from Jeremiah about Rachel weeping for her children – there was weeping by mothers as their sons were being shipped off or killed by the Babylonians in the 500s BC. It was into this world of weeping that Jesus came and reminds us of why we so desperately need a Savior. It’s a reminder to us that, though King Herod has long since died, there are Herods born in every generation for us to contend with.
            Now, this heinous action not out of character for Herod. Out of jealousy and mistrust, he had his wife and one of his sons killed. He was such a narcissistic maniac that he had ordered that, on the day of his death, that several prominent citizens should be murdered so that people would be mourning on the day that he died instead of rejoicing. Herod was a terrible, terrible ruler. But he was tolerated.
            There was no uprising against Herod, no efforts to overthrow him, as had happened with other notoriously evil leaders. Why would people tolerate such an immoral and dangerous leader? Well, though Herod was cruel, he wasn’t completely ineffective. Under Herod, the economic status of Israel was good, the borders were secure, and the wealthy were comfortable. Yes, many people thought that Herod went too far, many of them probably wished that he would tone it down. But people were willing to overlook these flaws as simply the cost of doing business with a man like Herod. After all, it wasn’t their children that were murdered, and in the midst of the blood-curdling screams of mothers and infants, they remained silent because it was politically expedient to do so. Evil always has accomplices. Let us never forget that Jesus was born into a world that tolerated children being terrorized and killed, and so we desperately need a Savior.
            I can’t stress how important this story about the slaughter of the Holy Innocents is to the Christmas story. At our house, we try to have a somewhat more Biblically informed nativity set. At the beginning of Advent, we put out the manger, shepherds, and animals. Mary and Joseph start in another room and move closer to the crèche every day. Likewise, the magi are on a journey. Mary and Joseph arrive on December 24 and then the baby shows up in the manger on Christmas morning. Then on January 6, the magi arrive as the shepherds have left. But if I was really going to do it right, I would then splatter blood over the whole crèche to remember this genocide. Christmas is about flesh and blood – the Word becoming flesh and blood that was shed in response.
            Sometimes you’ll hear people, and church people specifically, complaining about the commercialization of Christmas. That’s a very minor concern compared to the sentimentalization of Christmas. Yes, there is a sense of peace and joy that comes with Christmas, but there’s also a much darker side that cannot be ignored. If it’s all joy and peace and things going our way, then why do we need Jesus? A Messiah that’s essentially rainbows and unicorns is one that’s irrelevant and unnecessary. But thanks be to God that’s not what Jesus is. God is with us not only in the moments of serenity, but also in the midst of the horrors of life.
            You all have probably figured out by now that one of the most seminal quotes to my faith is Julian of Norwich’s “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” In conversation with one of you several months ago after I quoted Julian in a sermon, the question came up about how we can say that “all is well” in such a dark world. I’m not sure those Bethlehem mothers would affirm that “all is well.” And I clarified that though all shall be well, not all shall be easy.
            Jesus comes as our Savior, which implies that we need to be saved from something. And that’s what the Incarnation is all about, about God’s presence of light in a dark world. The Coventry Carol depicts the horrific incident in the form of a lullaby that the mothers of the doomed children sing to them – Lully, lullay, thou little tiny child. / Bye bye, lully, lullay… Herod the king, in his raging, / chargèd he hath this day / his men of might in his own sight / all young children to slay.” Though that carol was written in the 1500s in England, we can be sure that those Jewish mothers in Bethlehem in the 1st century sang a similar song to their children. Sadly, the lullaby didn’t change the outcome, but it changed how the event was experienced. And that is what God among us does.
            Now if you want to know why this is the way that it is, I’ll confess that I have no idea. Believe me, if it were my kids that were under threat of slaughter by Herod, I’d like a Savior with a sword more than one with a shoulder to cry on. When I pray for someone’s cancer to be healed, what I’m hoping for is remission, not consolation. Whether we want it to be or not, that’s not what Jesus is about. The French philosopher Simon Weil said, “The extreme greatness of Christianity lies in the fact that it does not seek a supernatural cure for suffering, but a supernatural use of it.”
            We see this in the slaughter of the innocents and we see it at the Cross. Jesus does not erase suffering or explain why suffering happens; instead, Jesus redeems suffering with love. Again, why it is this way, I don’t know. But I think that asking the question “why,” while interesting, is ultimately the wrong question to ask because there simply isn’t an answer. Instead, what we have is love, a love that is stronger than Sin, more lasting than Death, and truer than fear. Our trust and hope is that through the love of Jesus, all things will be made new. And the Incarnation of God in Jesus of Nazareth is the dawning of this possibility of new life.
            Jesus doesn’t erase violence, he challenges it and robs it of its power. This is why Matthew includes this in the nativity story of Jesus. Matthew is the only gospel to record this event, so he could have left it out. It is a rather uncomfortable and troubling story. If we read it with the question of “why” on our minds, we might think it’s a story of how God lets evil happen. But that is not why Matthew shares this story with us. To be clear, the person to blame for these dead children is Herod, not God.
The reason why we have this story as a part of Holy Scripture is because it shows us that in a world full of Herods, God came to be with us. Having someone with you can make all the difference, especially when that person is no one less than the Creator of the cosmos and the Savior of our souls. Many of us have learned that the worst thing that can happen to us is to be alone; truly alone where we have no meaningful relationships. We were created to be in community. And so the ultimate salvation is offered to us when God becomes flesh to be with us. We are never lost in Sin, we are never forgotten in Death, we are never alone in suffering. This story, as well as the story of the Cross, shows us that violence never gets the last word and that God is never absent.
            God receives with mercy those innocent victims of violence into eternal peace and love. God consoles and comforts the grieving. God takes a terrible situation and does not abandon us, but rather continues to pursue the plan of salvation despite the evil intentions of Herod. This is what God does in our own suffering – God extends mercy to us, God comforts us with a love that hopes all things and endures all things, and God works through our pain and loss to redeem what is broken and remind us that we are never, never alone.
            This morning’s Psalm proclaims that “The sparrow has found her a house and the swallow a nest where she may lay her young; by the side of your altars, O Lord.” Our home is in the love of God and because of Jesus, the Word made flesh, we are never without a companion, we are never without hope, we never have to face life alone, we are never without this love that makes all things well. Jesus is God with us. If you want a New Year’s resolution, let it be this: know that you are loved by God and live your life accordingly, because you are never, never alone.