Speaking Up During a Baptism

Matthew 3:13-17

Baptism of the Lord

January 12, 2020

William G. Carter

Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

Over the years, I have started to collect a list of Things People Say During a Baptism. Not the official words, but the words around the event. It’s surprising the range of things that you hear people say.

The most common expression is, “What a beautiful baby!” We hear that a lot, and it’s no wonder why. All babies are beautiful. I can’t imagine somebody saying otherwise. There’s something about the miracle of birth and the presence of child that defrosts the coldest heart.

Some months back, I had the privilege of walking one of the church’s newest children down the aisle. Usually we ask that task of a church elder, but for some reason, I was the one. About halfway down on the right, one of our most senior saints broke into a radiant smile as we approached, so I moved closer to introduce them. And the three-month old child wrapped her hand around the finger of someone 90-some years older.

It was a moment I will never forget, one generation touching another. And the senior saint said, “She’s beautiful.” We hear that a lot.

There are other comments, of course. Here’s one: “We love the dress.” That comes up sometimes, especially if it is a dress. Once it was a handmade dress of ivory satin. It was stunning. The mother said, “It was my wedding dress.” Her father said, “I don’t get it. Why is my grandson wearing a wedding dress at his baptism?” There’s no telling what you might hear people say at a baptism. 

The big day of 1992 was the day Herb was baptized. I didn’t want to miss it. Nobody did. Herb was well up in years. He had been coming here for years with his wife. In conversation, somebody discovered he had never been baptized. We asked, “Is this something you want to do?” And here’s what Herb said: “It isn’t too late, is it?” Of course not. You ought to hear what is said at a baptism!

I heard something at my own baptism. Well, it was spoken, but I don’t know if I understood it at the time. I was one of the Baby Boomer babies in Rev. Duffy’s office in North Springfield Presbyterian Church, Akron, Ohio. Six or seven of us baptized that day. It was no private affair; never is! Baptism is a sacrament of the people of God. It’s a public moment.

Apparently, the minister was getting acquainted with all the parents and admiring their babies. As my mother is holding me, my father blurts out that he had never been baptized. Rev. Duffy froze in his tracks. What? Dad blushed, and Rev. Duffy said (listen to this), “First things first.” Right then, they brought some water and Dad was baptized the same day as me, March 19, 1961. First things first.

Maybe there’s something about baptism that is so important that commentary happens. People talk about it, comment about it. As with Clarence, whom some of you remember. His whole family came literally from around the world when his three children were baptized. The family originated from Africa, but they gathered that day from all over the globe. It was a big day. We danced during the offering!

Sometime after that, the congregation elected Clarence to serve as an elder of the church. He thought about it, prayed about it, and said, “OK, the time is right.” The date was appointed to ordain all the elders and deacons. And in conversation, I discovered that Clarence himself had not yet been baptized. He was a faithful member of the church. He was elected to be an elder. He and his wife had presented their three children for baptism. But not him. The echo from 1961 was still ringing in my ears: “First things first.”

When nobody else was around, I asked why not. And he said, “I never thought I was good enough.” That's when I could quote God, who spoke on the day of Jesus' baptism, and said, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased." You are beloved as you are. You are the Beloved of God.

Curiously enough, and according to the story, Jesus hasn't "done" anything yet. Not in the Gospel of Matthew. Oh, he has been born. His life has been raised in the bosom of Israel, learning faith, reciting scripture, taking on the traditions of prayer and the customs of charity - now, some say at age 30, he steps up to the baptizer and says, "It's my turn."

But it doesn’t proceed without a conversation. John the Baptizer didn’t want to do it. He said, “No, not you.” Jesus said, “Yes, me.”

John said, “That’s all wrong. I’ve baptized people to prepare for the Messiah, but here you are.” Jesus said, “Right now. The time is full.”

John said, “But this is backwards; you should be baptizing me.” And then Jesus said something that prompted John to baptize him. He said, “We must do this in order to fulfill all righteousness."

Now, this is the Gospel of Matthew, and that is a loaded term, especially for this book. Matthew never explains it, but he shows what it means.

It happens in chapter one. Joseph the woodcutter is "a righteous man." He knows the rules and he does what was right. If you remember the story, the rules said, "Dismiss Mary, 'cause she's pregnant." The Bible said that.

But the right thing to do was to listen to what God said through a dream: "Don't be afraid to hold onto Mary; her baby is my baby, the baby is the saving baby, the whole world's baby. Don't be afraid to take her and her baby into your heart." That's what he did. He knew the rules - but he did what was right.

Righteousness is more than keeping the rules. Righteousness is doing what’s right. That’s the life Jesus will pursue: a higher righteousness. Not long after the baptismal water dries, he stands tall on a mountain to say, “Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the merely religious people, you can't receive the blessings from heaven” (5:20). As soon as he said that, all the merely religious people said, “What do you mean by that?”

What does that mean? Oh, he could offer plenty of test cases. Here’s one: “You've heard it said, don't cross your fingers when you take an oath on a stack of Bibles. But I say to you, let your word be something that can be trusted. Mean what you say. Keep your promises. Be obedient to your own convictions.” (5:33-37) It’s not enough to say the word; You must do it.

Or here’s another one. “You have heard it said, draw careful boundaries. Live by putting up fences. This person is your friend. That person is your enemy. You’ve heard it said, keep those lines clear. Don’t cross them. But I say to you, God loves everybody. God creates everybody. So love the people who are not your friends; you don’t have to like them, but you must work for their benefit. Put them on your prayer list.” (5:43-48)

This is the higher righteousness. It is a life of generosity and whole-hearted commitment. It cannot be lived in half measures. We can’t dip in and dip out; it’s all the way in. For the sake of doing the right thing, the God-like thing, of moving beyond our natural inclinations as a human animal to do what is possible when God truly claims us and fills us with the Holy Spirit.

John Burgess teaches at our Presbyterian seminary in Pittsburgh. He’s written a book called After Baptism – and that’s the point of the whole book: what do we do to after we come out of the water. How do we live to show that we belong to God?

It’s no surprise that he has chapters on the Ten Commandments. Love God first of all, keep the Sabbath, honor father and mother, don’t steal or covet. God gives the commandments as a gift to direct our lives. After God claims us in the water, God says, “Here is how I want you to live. Here is how I want you to love.” If we don't listen to that Voice and live accordingly, writes John Burgess, baptism is merely a “sentimental ritual.”[1] There is an ethical life to be lived.

Now, this is shocking for some folks. It may have never occurred to them how God calls them to live once they have been claimed in the love of Christ. “Baptized? Sure, I was baptized, but that was a long, long time ago.” What does that baptism mean? It means that we are not only part of the Christian community, we are called to live the Christian life, a life of continuing growth, understanding, and devotion.

Sometimes when we see what God requires of our lives, it shocks us, disturbs us, even frightens us. I think of the parable that writer Brian McLaren tells. It unsettled me when I first heard it, so maybe it will unsettle you too. Goes like this:

“Please de-baptize me,” she said.
The priest’s face crumpled.
“My parents tell me you did it,” she said. “But I was not consulted. So now, undo it.”
The priest’s eyes asked why.
“If it were just about belonging to this religion and being forgiven, then I would stay.

If it were just about believing this list of doctrines and upholding this list of rituals,

I’d be OK.

But your sermon Sunday made it clear it’s about more. More than I bargained for.

So, please, de-baptize me.”
The priest looked down, said nothing.

She continued: “You said baptism sends me into the world to love enemies. I don’t.

Nor do I plan to.

You said it means being willing to stand against the flow. I like the flow.
You described it like rethinking everything, like joining a movement.

But I’m not rethinking or moving anywhere. So un-baptize me. Please.”
The priest began to weep. Soon great sobs rose from his deepest heart.
He took off his glasses, blew his nose, took three tissues to dry his eyes.
“These are tears of joy,” he said.

“I think you are the first person who ever truly listened or understood.”
“So,” she said, “Will you? Please?”[2]

McLaren doesn’t answer her question. He just dangles it out there, waiting for a response. In so doing, all of us are prompted to ask, “How are we going to live?” If we belong to God, it matters how we spend out time, how we take care of one another and our world, and where we give our first allegiance.

For Jesus, the old “repentance baptism” of John is fulfilled and finished. To live forward is to live according to the love and justice of God. And that is his invitation for all of us, too. When we are baptized, what God says, “You belong to me. Nothing can ever come between me and you. I love you completely.” And when the baptism is over, we are called to love all that God loves.

This, I think, is what it means for us to “fulfill all righteousness.” To love all that God loves. To live as generously as Christ lives. To be courageous as the Holy Spirit gives us strength. To do the right thing. For it matters what we do after the water has dried.   

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

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[1] John P. Burgess, After Baptism: Shaping the Christian Life (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2005) p. 3.

[2] https://brianmclaren.net/a-poem-that-struck-a-nerve/

Guided By Dreams

Matthew 2:13-16, 19-23

Christmas 2

January 5, 2020

William G. Carter

Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.” …

When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are dead.” Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of Galilee. There he made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, “He will be called a Nazorean.”

Today it would be easy for a sermon to go off the rails. It wouldn’t take much. I suppose a preacher could simply point out how the Bible reports an assassination attempt. A nervous ruler tried to eliminate someone he believed would be a threat. Say that, the congregation might get the shivers, and some may buckle their seatbelts for a bumpy ride.

But I’m not going to talk about King Herod. This is still the season of Christmas, and it’s not his time.

But it wouldn’t take much for a sermon to cause a ruckus. All it might take is for a preacher to mention the scholarly consensus about the three wise men. Where did they come from – and where did they return to? Details are scarce, opinions are mixed, but many believe the wise man traveled from a large area called Persia. It encompasses the present-day countries of Iraq and Iran. Just mention that, on a day like today, and good Christian folks may reach for their smelling salts.

But I’m not going to talk about the Magi. They have already gone home by another way.

No, this is church so I’m going to talk about Jesus. This is his church, his time, and his story. And if I talk about him, that might seem curious, because according to the Bible story, today he doesn’t do anything. He is a passive participant, taken by his parents to Egypt. He is hidden from his enemies among his enemies.

When the threat is over, his parents bring him out of Egypt. Yet there is the possibility of a continuing threat, so his parents take him somewhere else. They land up north in the Galilee district, far from the palaces of power, in a small town nobody will be able to find. That is where Jesus will be raised. He will be taught to pray in the synagogue, instructed in the promises of God’s scripture, and apprenticed in Joseph’s woodshop.

In two different ways, Matthew says this was the will of God. The first is that he quotes the Bible prophets, as he has already done three times in this story. Jesus is relocated in God’s witness relocation program so that “the prophets might be fulfilled, ‘He will be called a Nazorean.’” Never mind that we can’t find the verse that he’s quoting. The phrase “he will be called a Nazorean” does not appear in the Jewish Bible. But it is Matthew’s way of saying that raising the child Jesus in a small northern town was what God intended.

The other way Matthew says this is by reporting on Joseph’s dreams. God has been directing the story by sending a series of dreams.

• Joseph discovers Mary is pregnant, and knows the baby isn’t his. He decides to fulfill the commandments by breaking off the engagement quietly, but God sends him a dream: “take Mary and the child as your own.” And he does it.

• The wise men arrive in Persia to ask, “Where is the king?” The current king says, “Find him for me, and report back.” They find him, but then they have a dream: “Don’t tell Herod nothing.” So they go home.

• Meanwhile, Joseph is pondering how to spend the gold, burn the frankincense, and what to do with the myrrh, when God sends another dream: “Get out of town! Run away to Egypt.” So he wakes Mary at midnight and off they go, far away from Herod’s soldiers.

• Sometime later, maybe a year or a couple of years, God suddenly sends another dream, “The coast is clear. Come home.” So they pack up and head north – until God sends another dream to say, “Head further north, not to Sepphoris, the big city, but to little Nazareth.” Once again, Joseph obeys what he hears God say.

Now, if you are keeping track, God sends four different dreams, not counting the wise men’s dream. That’s how God sneaks past Joseph’s conscious defenses – by speaking when Joseph is asleep, when he can’t defend himself, when he can’t shrug it off. Like another Joseph in the Book of Genesis, Joseph the woodcutter hears God speak and he does what he hears. In every case, he “goes the extra mile,” he pursues “the higher righteousness” that his son Jesus will teach some thirty years later.

On the face of it, it’s a miracle story, a story of how God rescues his own Son when the child is still defenseless. I’ve thought about that sometimes. Frankly, I wish God could have sent the same dream to the parents of all the other children in Bethlehem. The murderous brutality of King Herod should have been sabotaged by a few more dreams and a few more angels. That any other lives would have been lost is an enormous tragedy.

But then I reflect some more, and I realize that it’s because of Jesus, the grown-up Jesus, that I could ever name Herod’s actions for what they are. It’s because of Jesus that I could call “an enormous tragedy” the murderous events that happened far too often under a brutal empire.

In that time, life was cheap. Brutality was common. By birthing Jesus into the world, God was announcing an alternative. There’s another way to treat one another. It’s not a new way. God’s Law had taught for centuries to love neighbors, to welcome immigrants, to guard the vulnerable, to act with fairness, to work for justice. There’s nothing new about any of that. Yet the recurring human problem is the lack of moral courage to treat people the way God tells us to treat them.

So now the newness of the Gospel is that God’s very instruction – God’s Torah, God’s Word – becomes enfleshed in Jesus. And God is going to keep him alive until he is old enough to say:

·         “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.” (5:5)

·         “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” (5:6) 

·         “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. (5:7)

·         “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. (5:8)

·         “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” (5:9)

This is the Jesus whom God protects long enough for him to teach:

·         “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also…” (5:38-39)

·         “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven.” (5:43-45)

·         “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven.” (6:19-20)

·         “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets.” (7:12)

Jesus comes to teach and embody the higher righteousness of the kingdom of heaven. And if all of this seems impractical and impossible, Jesus smiles at us and says, “All of you are the salt of the earth, but if you lose your flavor, you are good for nothing but spreading on the road.” (5:13)

From the beginning of the Gospel, God’s plan is to send Jesus into the world to teach, to heal, to love, to judge, and ultimately to give his life for the benefit of the kingdom of heaven. In our world, the ways of God have always been resisted. Yet today we hear the testimony of God’s persistence. It is heaven’s plan that Jesus should speak the Gospel, that all of us should hear it, and that a resistant world would be won back one soul at a time.

And even if the evil in the world should finally track down Jesus and threaten him with a cross, the Gospel tells us that he comes back from the dead, that he stays with us (whether consoling or nudging), and that he will live eternally until all enemies are loved, all wounds are healed, and all injustices judged and corrected.

So at the beginning of a new year, the invitation for us is to trust this is God’s dream for all of us. The world is not lost, not on your life – and not on God’s life! The light has come in Jesus the Messiah. No one will ever be able to snuff it out. God is God, and God sends the light.

 (c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

Where Christ Was Born

Matthew 2:11-18

Christmas 1

December 29, 2019

William G. Carter

On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.”

When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah: “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”

It is the fifth day of Christmas. You are forgiven if you forgot your five golden rings. There has been a lot going on. Last Tuesday night, the midnight air was full of candlelight and joyful noise, the angels danced for Christ is born. Since then, some of the visitors have come and gone, the Wise Men among them.

For those of us some distance away, the question remains, “Where was Christ born?” You may think that’s a silly question, already answered. Where was he born? “In Bethlehem of Judea.” OK, fine – but where?

The children who were with us last week could not agree on a location. Some said Jesus was born in a cave They took their cue from Justin Martyr, who declared that to be so in the second century, about a hundred fifty years late. Others said Jesus was born in a barn, for he was placed in a feed trough for the cattle. Everybody knows you keep the cattle in the barn, right? Unless you are a first-century Palestinian; then you bring the cattle inside your home to keep them warm. That’s where the mangers were.

Where was he born? The wise men believed the new King of the Jews would be born in a palace. So they went to Jerusalem, the capital city. Wow, was the current king ever surprised! He had to ask the Bible scholars on the royal staff, “Where is the Messiah to be born?” They said, “Bethlehem of Judea,” just as the prophet Micah foretold. He didn’t know, because most kings don’t spend a lot of time reading the Old Testament prophets. And the wise men were six miles off.

Today, all the tourists visit Bethlehem if they can get through the checkpoint. They go to the Church of the Nativity, located (where else?) in Manger Square.  Founded by Emperor Constantine’s mother in 325 AD, that big old church took 240 years to complete. It’s a venerable old place, having survived earthquakes, the Crusades, and countless tourists.

If you go, you stand in a long line that moves slowly. A cranky priest snarls, “Be quiet, this is holy ground.” You wind down a stone staircase and there it is: a fourteen-point silver star surrounded by marble. According to Constantine’s mother in 325 AD, that’s the spot. It doesn’t look very humble. Not at all. Was Christ born there?

If you ask the scholars, they look down at their sandals and shuffle a little bit. The scholars remind us the Bible’s Christmas stories were written down 50, 60, ever 80 years after Jesus’ birth. They say, “We know he came out of Nazareth, a town ninety miles to the north.” But there’s no historical record of Caesar’s census, nor much evidence that the Holy Family spent much time in Bethlehem. So who knows? All we have are the Bible stories.[1]

Yet there is one thing we can say with absolutely certainty. Jesus was born into a world where a lot of children are still in danger.

We didn’t tell you that on Christmas Eve. No, that was the night to sing, “Away in a Manger, no crib for a bed; the little lord Jesus laid down his sweet head.” That was when we lit candles and sang, “Silent Night, holy night.” That was then; today, after the tourists have all gone, we hear about the aftermath of Christ’s birth.

The short version is that King Herod was a nut job. He was turned in upon himself. He couldn’t bear the thought of another king born in his land, on his watch. He was suspicious, fearful, paranoid, angry – and therefore murderous. The people of his land may have been waiting for a Messiah, but Herod never wanted that Messiah to come because he was in charge. He was on the throne. He was at the pinnacle of power, intended to keep it, and expected to pass that power onto his family. That’s the way power works.

We talk a lot these days about “empowerment,” about helping others to gain strength and achieve their goals. It’s a worthy aim, but do we understand the nature of power? Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. As somebody notes, “Power means that you do not want to be confront something that questions you. You cannot stand the threat, and therefore you become more and more encased in your own pride.”[2]

This is one of the moral lessons from the new Star Wars movie, “The Rise of Skywalker.” To everybody’s surprise – to nobody’s surprise - the nasty old emperor has been lurking in the shadows for years, ready to pursue his vain dream of galaxy domination. He will do anything to win. Just like King Herod.

Herod is intoxicated with power. He orders the destruction of the innocents, all because of the announcement of one Innocent Child. The sad truth is that nobody in his kingdom would have been surprised by this. They were well accustomed to his cruelty. They knew all about deprivation, poverty, and senseless destruction.

There is no need to go into further detail, especially if the taste of candy canes lingers in our mouths. The other day, a three-year-old boy and his mother were attacked in Brooklyn by a crazed fanatic. They are Jewish and were walking to a Hanukkah celebration. For no other reason, or maybe that was the reason, the assailant came out of nowhere and started hitting them. It was the latest of an increasing spree of anti-Semitic attacks in Brooklyn, where more Jews live than in Israel.[3]   

And I’ll tell you something: this is where Christ was born. It’s the same world. It’s the same place where people are threatened by people who are threatened. Some will summon their power to strike others down. Some will summon their power to hold their ground. Meanwhile the sad truth is that the world hasn’t changed much since the time of Jesus. People who are hurt will hurt other people.

Jesus is born right in the middle of all this. Matthew’s Gospel tells the truth. From the very beginning of Jesus’ life, there was a cross. He is born with complete innocence and that’s what exposes those who are guilty. In a display of moral weakness, King Herod tries to get rid of the future Messiah. He does it in the most desolate way possible, threatening all the children of Bethlehem in order get rid of the One.

God outsmarts King Herod, thanks to dreams and angels. This time, young Jesus is saved by his parents. Yet the cross still awaits him even after Herod is out of the picture. An anxious empire may exchange one leader for another, but anxiety continues if it is untreated. That is the foreshadowing of the wise men’s myrrh, a most curious gift for a child. Myrrh is a burial spice. If you ever get invited to a baby shower, don’t take any myrrh.

The wise men brought myrrh. In the case of Jesus, this “bitter perfume” is a reminder of the evil that taints our world. Cruelty is still in the air. The myrrh foreshadows how Jesus will face the cross of an anxious empire.

Yet the death of Jesus will count for something. It will flip everything. As with his life, the death of Jesus opens up an alternative to everything King Herod stands for. Instead of fear, Jesus steps out in courage. Instead of self-protection, Jesus offers himself in self-giving. Instead of creating wreckage and grief, Jesus gives life and offers healing. Instead of anxiety which is usually expressed through destruction, Jesus dies to cancel human sin and its lingering effect, and this is the will of God.

And in the greatest mystery of all, the myrrh given to the infant Christ is never used. When Jesus dies, it is the eve of the Sabbath, so he is buried quickly. When the women can finally get to his tomb to anoint him with the myrrh, Jesus has already been raised from the dead. There is a greater power at work in him, than the power of death. It is the power of life, expressed in love, lived with simplicity and honesty, for the benefit of all.

Where was Jesus born? This is the world where Christ was born. This is the world he died to save. This is the world God has raised him up to keep saving. The work goes on and he remains with us, just as he said.

All of life comes from God, and it is a ceaseless invitation to live with God, just as Jesus taught. All that Jesus did – teaching, healing, serving, restoring – all of it is a model for how we can live. We don’t ever have to be afraid. We can trust God above everything else, because Jesus has come, and he has come back, and he stays with us, just as he said.

If King Herod pokes up his head along the way, the Gospel has already exposed him for what he is: a tormented soul, less than fully human, wounded and anxious. His way is not the way to the fullness of life. We can go home by another way.

And if we get the chance, we can look Herod square in the eye and declare what the poet said long ago: “Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.” (Zora Neale Hurston)

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

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[1] See, for instance, Raymond E. Brown, “Historically, Was Jesus Born in Bethlehem?” The Birth of the Messiah (New York: Image, 1977), 515-18

[2] James I. McCord, “Dark Night of the Soul: A Christmas Meditation on Matthew 2:16-18,” Princeton Theological Seminary, 15 December 1982. Accessed online at http://commons.ptsem.edu/id/03758

[3] “Four Jewish women targets in latest anti-Semitic attacks in Brooklyn,” New York Daily News, 27 December 2019.

Christmas on Your Knees

Matthew 2:1-12

Christmas Eve

December 24, 2019

William G. Carter

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: ‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.’” Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.”

When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

There are two Christmas stories in the Bible: Luke’s story and Matthew’s story. Luke tells his story among the poor. Matthew sets his story among the rich and powerful. According to Luke, Mary and Joseph are displaced in a peasant home, with no available guest room. Matthew begins with a palace. For Luke, the first circle around the child includes shepherds, unnamed and largely insignificant in their society. Matthew gives a name: King Herod, and points to the chief priests of the Jerusalem temple, the scribes who guarded the scriptures of the nation, and the unusual visitors from a far-off land who travel with wealth. The contrast couldn’t be greater.

Each of the Christmas stories reveals the larger theme of the Gospel writer. Luke speaks of Jesus as a prophet for the people. He comes to lift up those under foot. He pays attention to those too frequently overlooked. He speaks up on behalf of the last, the least, and the lost. Every day he rescues the Misfit Toys and gives them a home. Jesus comes for all the people, especially the forgotten people.

Matthew would agree with all of this, but he sees this as an issue of authority. That’s one of his favorite words: authority. Jesus teaches with authority, unlike the Jerusalem scribes. He heals with authority, unlike the healers of his day. At the end, he stands tall on the top of a mountain and declares, “All authority on heaven and earth has been given to me.” It’s no wonder that those in power shake in their boots.

King Herod is nervous. He doesn’t have to be. He could choose to ignore those strange stargazers who knock at the door of the palace. Everybody knows that if you have been chasing after a star, the directions will be vague. Those odd wise men don’t know where they are going. They are not Jews. They aren’t looking for a Messiah. Herod could brush off the whole business, snatch their gold, and send them back to Persia.

But he doesn’t do that. Herod has a crown, but he is not the king. He may live in a palace, but he doesn’t rule over very much. He has subjects beneath him and can enforce his will, but he has no real power over them. The historical record of King Herod is clear: he was a terrible person. Arrogant and vain, unfaithful to multiple wives, demanding loyalty but never showing loyalty, suspicious to a fault – Matthew says he may be the king, but he’s not really the king.

Herod knows all of this in the pit of his stomach. Pushed to extremity, he is forced to ask the Bible scholars, “Where is Messiah supposed to be born?”

Meanwhile, wise men from the East are asking, “Where’s the king? The newborn king? The real king? Where is the One who rightfully deserves our hearts?”

That’s the big question in the Gospel of Matthew: where is the true king?  After Jesus is baptized, he faces three temptations about power. Does he have the power to feed the hungry by using magic tricks? Does he have the power to command the angels to catch him when he jumps? And the big one, for Matthew: does he have the power to claim all the nations without giving himself in self-sacrificial love? Jesus sees each temptation for what it is and refuses it. He refuses to misuse his power to only benefit himself.  

You see, that’s what the kings of the world do not understand. The truly powerful Ruler is the One who gives himself away for the benefit of all. The King from heaven gives and does not grab. He offers and does not plunder. He rules with justice, multiplies the nation, and increases its joy. He is Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace – and the prophet says, “his authority shall grow continually.”

According to Matthew, the Christmas question is “Whose world is this?” Does this world belong to King Herod and all his counterfeit imitators? Or does it belong to King Jesus? This is an either-or question, not a both-and. We can’t have it both ways.

The Christ who is born in Bethlehem is remarkably different from King Herod who sits nervously in his palace. Just remember what he will teach one day from the top of a mountain:

• Be reconciled to one another rather than live in anger and insult (5:21-26).
• Pursue the truth and forego empty promises (5:33-37).
• Give abundantly and refuse to be a victim (5:38-43).
• Love all people, even your enemies, and work for their benefit (5:43-48).
• Don’t worry (6:25-33), don’t judge (7:1-5), don’t stop forgiving (6:14-15).
• Pray to God who rules over all. Live by God’s will rather than your own. (6:9-10)

The True King has been born among us. This is the Good News of Christmas. His birth frees us from the counterfeit dominions of the world. It’s refreshing, even life-giving. As a sign of this, the wise men fall to their knees. They bow down to honor him.

From the treasures entrusted to them, they give gold worthy of the Infant King. They offer incense, for this King is worthy to respond to their prayers. They bring the bitter perfume of myrrh, not only because a King like Jesus unsettles the powers on earth, but because this Christ offers life to all through his sacrificial death.

In the middle of it all, they offer one thing more. Notice what it is? Joy. They are “overwhelmed with joy.” They bend their knees in joy. All the promises that there is holiness in the heavens are revealed in the Infant King. All the hopes that there truly can be love and justice on earth are unveiled by this Vulnerable Child, and He alone has the authority to direct the stars in the sky.

So tonight, let the joy break forth like light in the darkness. We are not forgotten. Nor have we been abandoned to the worst of our human impulses. Christ the King has come. Everything can be different now.

“For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom.” Merry Christmas!

(c) William G. Carter.  All rights reserved.

Hope is the Unexpected Child

Matthew 1:18-25

Advent 4

December 22, 2019

William G. Carter

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.

Christmas is a couple of days away, so we know a baby is on the way. For most people, the go-to Gospel is the Gospel of Luke. Luke tells us about the women who will give birth.

There is an old woman, Elizabeth, representing the traditions of Israel. In her advanced age, Elizabeth reminds us of all the Old Testament women who were told they could not bear children – and by the grace of God, some of them do: Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, Hannah, and now Elizabeth.

By contrast, there is a young woman, Mary, who reveals a brand-new day. The angel of God announces to Mary she will be bear a son without the benefit of a man. After asking how this can be, she accepts her future and says, “Let it be according to your word.”

Luke says the two women are related somehow. One day they meet. Elizabeth feels a flutter in her belly and interprets it as her gestating child leaping for joy. She breaks into song, Mary breaks into song. Pretty soon, Elizabeth’s husband is singing, and then the angels are singing. The first two chapters of Luke should be produced as a musical.

But this month, we are in the Gospel of Matthew. There isn’t any singing in the Gospel of Matthew. Maybe that’s because Matthew’s story is about the men. As we will hear on Christmas Eve and the Sunday that follows, he tells about a king. In the palace, the king has men who are his advisors. The king receives guests from a far-off land who are men. The king sends out male solders after the guest depart.

Before all that happens, Matthew shines his spotlight on a very special man: Joseph, who had claimed young Mary as his future bride. We discover more about him today than anywhere else. He disappears from the story after chapter two.

The first detail we learn is Joseph is a just man. He is righteous. This is the way the Bible describes someone who is right with God. He lives according to God’s instruction. He keeps all the commandments. In the Jewish village, he is highly respected. There is nothing he has said nor done that stands between him and God and neighbor.

As it happens with many righteous people, Joseph has an unexpected problem on his hands. Mary is pregnant. They have not yet been married. She has been living in her parents’ small house, so they have not been together. The news is stated as a non-debatable matter of fact: “she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit.” And what is Joseph to do?

On the one hand, the Bible is clear. There is a law that says, “If an already-promised maiden hooks up with another man in the city, the two of them are to be put to death.” (Deuteronomy 22:23). But on the other hand, there’s no evidence of another man.

What should he do? On the one hand, he had chosen Mary. In a real sense, the whole village has chosen the two of them. They are intended for one another. But on the other hand, there is some evidence of outside intrusion.

What should he do? On the one hand, she is his intended. He is ready to promise away his life to her. But on the other hand, he didn’t sign up for this. When her pregnancy is disclosed, which will not take long in a small Jewish village, the news will be explosive. Everybody will talk. All the righteous people in town will nod their heads in shame.

For Joseph, as we have heard, is a righteous man. He lives by the Word of God. And yet, on the other hand, he lives in a spiritual tradition that knows the Word of God must be interpreted in the way we live. Yes, there’s that old verse from Deuteronomy staring him in the face. But the Bible has a lot of other verses about showing mercy. He resolves to live his righteousness through kindness. As hard as it will be, he will break it off and tell her to remain with her parents. Mary may be “full of grace,” but he will not submit her to dis-grace.

Figuring this out has been hard work for him. He is emotionally spent and mentally exhausted. He goes to sleep. We hear what happens then. Yet according to the Bible scholar Ken Bailey, we have jumped ahead a little too fast.

Our Bible translation says, “just when he resolved to do this.” Actually, he hadn’t quite resolved it; the original Greek word says he was “considering” it, “pondering” it. And that might sound like Mary’s story, over in the Gospel of Luke. When the angel appears, she “ponders” it. When the shepherds show up, she “ponders” what they say. But that’s a different word.

The word for Joseph is “enthumemai,” which comes from “thumos,” a word for anger. It’s the kind of anger that produces smoke. So Joseph is not merely pondering the situation. He fumes. He fusses. He can’t do much about it, and this annoys him.

And why not? The Bible tells us about real people, flesh and blood people, people with honest emotions. As Ken Bailey says,

Isn’t anger the natural emotion for him to have felt? Perhaps long generations of veneration for “Saint Joseph” have led to an assumption that he could not have become angry – particularly not with Mary! But this to overlook the pure humanness of the man. On hearing that his fiancée was pregnant, is he expected to sit quietly and “consider” this matter? Or would he naturally feel deeply disappointed and indeed angry?[1]

Before we rush ahead and say, “Yes, but in the end, Joseph did what the angel told him; he went ahead and took Mary and her child as his own,” let’s dwell for a bit on his very human reaction to the news of an unexpected child. Joseph was fuming and fussing.

Life doesn’t always go as we planned. Ever notice that? There are twists and turns, no matter how smoothly we plan the journey to be. The job is going well. The career is at the peak of productivity. The co-workers are getting along. Then comes the summons to the front office: “We are going to make a change.” And it does not unfold as expected. Anybody here know what that’s like?

The son comes home for the holidays. His wife does not come along. She hasn’t been coming for a few years. Always had a reason – too much work, can’t get away, other demands on her time. Late at night, after a couple of glasses of wine, the son confesses, “I have some news. She won’t be coming. Not ever. We are splitting in different directions.” Mother blurts out, “But we are scheduled for a family portrait in the morning.” That night, she tosses and turns, can’t get any sleep. She’s fuming.

We know what it's like to have our very ordered plans disrupted. This week is typically the test case. You plan the Christmas dinner for 5 o'clock, and the phone call comes that they won't get there till 7:00 and it is already 4:45. Some dinner planners have a complete meltdown over that one.

Or what about the complexities of travel? When my kids were little, they used to bust my chops when I would put the GPS unit on my dashboard and set it for my parents’ home. A little voice from the back seat would inquire, “Don't you know how to get to your mom and dad’s house?” Well, it had nothing to do with directions and everything to do with timing. I could know precisely by satellite accuracy when we would arrive. The truth is that's rarely when we arrived. There would be some detour, some traffic snafu, some kind of disruption.

I can understand my old Joseph is fussing, even in the best of circumstances. His pristine village marriage is going to be tarnished. His righteous reputation will be in tatters. There will be snickers behind his back as he walks down the street. Behold the righteous man who can't even control his own circumstances.

But who among us really can control much at all? I know a woman, an engineer, who had her babies planned on schedule. Her daughter showed up right on time. It fit perfectly with a brief pause in her career. She listens to the child psychologist who says, “three and a half years are a perfect interval,” so Number Two is planned. Nobody told them their son would show up six weeks early, and they would have him baptized in the neonatal ICU. In time, he would turn out just fine. But it was on God's time, not anybody else’s.

So back to Joseph. As he fusses about his dilemma, he goes to sleep. You may have noticed that, when we go to sleep, we can't really defend ourselves from whatever pops up. Somewhere past our conscious defenses, the messages can get in. The ancients believed, and some still hold, that dreams are a way for God to speak to us, through all the unfinished business of the day still stirring in our brains. That's what happens to Joseph. 

Now it's Joseph turn to hear the whisper of an angel. “Joseph, Joseph, don't be afraid to take Mary as your wife. The child within her is a gift of the Holy Spirit.” You didn't produce this baby because you're not in charge.

This is a most disruptive dream. And I'm sure in his first conscious response, Joseph fussed again. The gospel of Matthew doesn't say that, but I must believe it. No matter how fearsome an angel or a dream might be, it still takes some time to work things through. Real change doesn’t happen until we say so. There must come a point when we must give in and surrender. The ultimate test of righteousness is setting aside our personal agendas and accepting what God is doing right here and now, even if it demands a great deal of us.

Joseph is a righteous man. A just man. He chooses kindness even if it was an initial struggle. He chooses to trust that God is at work even if his life will be perpetually disrupted. He chooses to believe there is a fiercer grace at work even if he cannot control it. God is coming to save us through the unexpected child born to Mary. This is the hope at the heart of Christmas.

I hope you have a wonderful holiday, with whatever that means for you. Maybe it will be safe travel, or gatherings of loved ones, or celebrations worthy of the holy day. I hope it is spectacular.

But may I suggest that we also welcome the unexpected gift, whatever that might be? There may be something you weren’t seeking, something you couldn’t plan, something that invites you beyond comfort into the future God is setting before you. If such a gift should come, ask if it is the way God is calling you to trust, to believe, to hope that the world is in better hands than yours. For Christ, the Unexpected Child, is born to save us all.

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

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[1] Ken Bailey, Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes (Downers Grove, IL: IVP), pp. 44-45.