As many of you know, I love the way that each of our four Gospels tells a different story about the genesis of Jesus’ ministry – of how God in flesh, God in-creation, God incarnation, God inspiration came into our world. The Gospel of Mark notes the genesis with John the Baptist preparing the way in the wilderness. Jesus came into our world, according to Mark, at his baptism. For Matthew, it began way back with Abraham. Luke says, “No wait! It went all the way back to Adam.” And for John – it all began back before the world even existed.

Matthew’s account of Jesus’ birth is not a particularly sentimental one -- on the surface anyway. And it doesn’t make a good Christmas pageant because what drama there is in Matthew is adult drama for adult conversation. How ironic that today we have the Boston Children’s Chorus with us! Having established the legal precedent for Jesus’ family credentials with a long genealogy in the first 17 verses of his Gospel account, Matthew then wrote, “This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about.”

I’m sorry that our Gospel portion doesn’t include the genealogy of the first seventeen verses – it’s a theological genealogy – not the kind that could get proven with court records and church registries (and naturally, it’s a different genealogy than is found in the Gospel of Luke). In Matthew, there is a musical symmetry of three groups of fourteen generations: from Abraham to David, from David to the deportation to Babylon, from the deportation to Babylon to the Christ. It’s beautifully composed and it contains some surprising names.

Matthew’s genealogy includes five mothers – women of ill repute -- women who could all have been found guilty of sexual impropriety: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba (listed as the wife of Uriah), and Mary. Each of the first four was an outsider. Each of the first four appeared in a narrative where “powerful individuals fail[ed] to do justice and unconventional action is shown to be righteous. God’s work is characterized through them, and Mary, as active, inclusive, and unexpected.” (1)

So it is in that context, with this legal evidence ringing true according to Matthew, that our story begins today. I wanted to make sure you knew that lest you think that there is some other back-story. This is it, according to Matthew. I also want you to know that this story is not the back-story or the preamble to the story of a decreed census, and the heavenly host and shepherds and a babe lying in a manger because there was no room at the inn. There is none of that according to Matthew. After this passage, the very next line is: “In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem.” By the time they greet Jesus with their gifts, Jesus is described as a child in a house.

So. “This is how the genesis of Jesus Christ came about.” Just these eight verses are all that Matthew has to say about the birth of Jesus. Matthew was so concerned about establishing the legitimacy of Jesus’ kingship – his lineage from the House of David that he mentions David’s name six times in the first chapter. You might know that in ancient times, kings were widely believed to be gods in human form or direct descendents of gods (at least that was what kings insisted be believed). Every legitimate king was “Emmanu-el.” Emmanu=with us. El=god. The leap of faith here was not that Jesus was “God-with-us;” the leap of faith was that Jesus was a king at all; because he wasn’t born like a king, didn’t live like a king, and didn’t die like a king. So for Matthew, Jesus’ kingship is what needed to be established in the generations after Jesus’ most un-kingly death. You know, all of the Gospel writers were writing retrospectives in the harsh light of the aftermath of Jesus’ crucifixion by the Romans (some time in the early 30’s) and in the dusty light of the aftermath of the devastation of Jerusalem and destruction of the temple by the Romans (in 70 of the common era.).

But of course, just demonstrating legal justification and declaring kingship, “God is with us,” doesn’t necessarily mean that we feel it – or know it, does it?  King Ahaz showed that in the story told in Isaiah. King Ahaz was in the middle of a huge and dangerous political mess. Through Isaiah, God told King Ahaz to ask for a sign from God that would be so deep and so high that it could not be missed. It seems that God wanted to show off some. King Ahaz refused. Ahaz did it in a polite way – saying I will not ask and I will not test the Lord. “Oh no, no, I couldn’t – I wouldn’t want to presume to ask for a sign. I’m not going to test God.” But Isaiah wasn’t fooled by King Ahaz’s reluctance. Isaiah knew that King Ahaz either did not trust God enough to deliver a big sign or that Ahaz felt that he didn’t need any help from God. Isaiah knew that Ahaz’s reluctance certainly didn’t have to do with a lack of presumptiveness on Ahaz’s part!

And Isaiah’s response was, “oh for crying out loud. Is it not enough that you should try the patience of people that you are also going to try the patience of my God? Listen. God told you to ask for a sign and you won’t. You know what? God’s going to give you a sign anyway. And this is the sign. A child is going to be born, in the midst of all this chaos, who will be nourished by God on the food of paradise – on honey and curds. That child will be called ‘With-us-is-God.’ (In other words, that child will be a king.) That child will grow up -- and then you’re going to see what’s what.”

We know that Matthew began his Gospel project with a lot of scripture from Isaiah on his mind. We can assume that Isaiah meant a lot to Matthew’s audience. Here is the king, Matthew is saying. It took a few hundred years, but here is a child, just like the one Isaiah spoke about who will be our king. And this child survived because of the active, inclusive, and unexpectedly deep righteousness of Joseph. I’ve been thinking a lot about Joseph’s honor this past week. You know, according to the law, Joseph could have had Mary put to death in a very public way as punishment for her infidelity. He was fully within his rights to have her stoned to death. I can imagine that he would have been supported by others saying things like, “well, that’s the law – she obviously broke the law.” I hear people say things like that all the time. But Joseph didn’t want to do it that way, according to Matthew. He must have been angry. He must have had other plans. He must have been frustrated and disappointed. And I think he must have loved Mary.

He resolved to end the betrothal quietly. Joseph wasn’t asking for a sign – he’d already made his mind up. He was an honorable man -- a righteous man – but not a stupid man. But no sooner had he resolved to quietly send Mary away, than he dreamt that he should not be afraid to keep Mary for his wife -- he dreamt that the child she was bearing would save them all. A dream. A dream of an angel. The life of Mary, the mother of Jesus – and the legitimacy of Jesus’ kingship was saved by something as hazy -- as nebulous -- as a dream about not being afraid. Joseph went to sleep, I imagine, hoping to get some relief from the terror of the daytime and dreamed that his own worst nightmare – his own worst despair might also become his greatest joy.

Joseph dreamed that he need not be afraid. And then when he awoke, Joseph dared to imagine that the dream meant something. Joseph dared to imagine that the dream could become true. He dared to imagine that he did not need to fear disgrace or shame. He dared to imagine that kindness and hope and joy could be born out of his sorrow; that the dream of God-with-us could be born out of the nightmare of his grief.

These stories in Isaiah and in Matthew and even in Romans make me wonder about our own dangerous political and precarious economic circumstances. These stories remind me of our own stories of regret and shame and anger and sorrow and grief and fear and love. These stories remind me of the plaque in my office, a gift from my faith-filled wife years ago, that says “Bidden or not bidden, God is present.” Signs and wonders and dreams of God are all around us even now revealing the ways that the Divine is among us -- active, inclusive and unexpected. May we be brave enough and foolish enough to respond accordingly.

So it is in that context, with this legal evidence ringing true according to Matthew, that our story begins today. I wanted to make sure you knew that lest you think that there is some other back-story. This is it, according to Matthew. I also want you to know that this story is not the back-story or the preamble to the story of a decreed census, and the heavenly host and shepherds and a babe lying in a manger because there was no room at the inn. There is none of that according to Matthew. After this passage, the very next line is: “In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem.” By the time they greet Jesus with their gifts, Jesus is described as a child in a house.
So. “This is how the genesis of Jesus Christ came about.” Just these eight verses are all that Matthew has to say about the birth of Jesus. Matthew was so concerned about establishing the legitimacy of Jesus’ kingship – his lineage from the House of David that he mentions David’s name six times in the first chapter. You might know that in ancient times, kings were widely believed to be gods in human form or direct descendents of gods (at least that was what kings insisted be believed). Every legitimate king was “Emmanu-el.” Emmanu=with us. El=god. The leap of faith here was not that Jesus was “God-with-us;” the leap of faith was that Jesus was a king at all; because he wasn’t born like a king, didn’t live like a king, and didn’t die like a king. So for Matthew, Jesus’ kingship is what needed to be established in the generations after Jesus’ most un-kingly death. You know, all of the Gospel writers were writing retrospectives in the harsh light of the aftermath of Jesus’ crucifixion by the Romans (some time in the early 30’s) and in the dusty light of the aftermath of the devastation of Jerusalem and destruction of the temple by the Romans (in 70 of the common era.).
But of course, just demonstrating legal justification and declaring kingship, “God is with us,” doesn’t necessarily mean that we feel it – or know it, does it?  King Ahaz showed that in the story told in Isaiah. King Ahaz was in the middle of a huge and dangerous political mess. Through Isaiah, God told King Ahaz to ask for a sign from God that would be so deep and so high that it could not be missed. It seems that God wanted to show off some. King Ahaz refused. Ahaz did it in a polite way – saying I will not ask and I will not test the Lord. “Oh no, no, I couldn’t – I wouldn’t want to presume to ask for a sign. I’m not going to test God.” But Isaiah wasn’t fooled by King Ahaz’s reluctance. Isaiah knew that King Ahaz either did not trust God enough to deliver a big sign or that Ahaz felt that he didn’t need any help from God. Isaiah knew that Ahaz’s reluctance certainly didn’t have to do with a lack of presumptiveness on Ahaz’s part!
And Isaiah’s response was, “oh for crying out loud. Is it not enough that you should try the patience of people that you are also going to try the patience of my God? Listen. God told you to ask for a sign and you won’t. You know what? God’s going to give you a sign anyway. And this is the sign. A child is going to be born, in the midst of all this chaos, who will be nourished by God on the food of paradise – on honey and curds. That child will be called ‘With-us-is-God.’ (In other words, that child will be a king.) That child will grow up -- and then you’re going to see what’s what.”
We know that Matthew began his Gospel project with a lot of scripture from Isaiah on his mind. We can assume that Isaiah meant a lot to Matthew’s audience. Here is the king, Matthew is saying. It took a few hundred years, but here is a child, just like the one Isaiah spoke about who will be our king. And this child survived because of the active, inclusive, and unexpectedly deep righteousness of Joseph. I’ve been thinking a lot about Joseph’s honor this past week. You know, according to the law, Joseph could have had Mary put to death in a very public way as punishment for her infidelity. He was fully within his rights to have her stoned to death. I can imagine that he would have been supported by others saying things like, “well, that’s the law – she obviously broke the law.” I hear people say things like that all the time. But Joseph didn’t want to do it that way, according to Matthew. He must have been angry. He must have had other plans. He must have been frustrated and disappointed. And I think he must have loved Mary.
He resolved to end the betrothal quietly. Joseph wasn’t asking for a sign – he’d already made his mind up. He was an honorable man -- a righteous man – but not a stupid man. But no sooner had he resolved to quietly send Mary away, than he dreamt that he should not be afraid to keep Mary for his wife -- he dreamt that the child she was bearing would save them all. A dream. A dream of an angel. The life of Mary, the mother of Jesus – and the legitimacy of Jesus’ kingship was saved by something as hazy -- as nebulous -- as a dream about not being afraid. Joseph went to sleep, I imagine, hoping to get some relief from the terror of the daytime and dreamed that his own worst nightmare – his own worst despair might also become his greatest joy.
Joseph dreamed that he need not be afraid. And then when he awoke, Joseph dared to imagine that the dream meant something. Joseph dared to imagine that the dream could become true. He dared to imagine that he did not need to fear disgrace or shame. He dared to imagine that kindness and hope and joy could be born out of his sorrow; that the dream of God-with-us could be born out of the nightmare of his grief.
These stories in Isaiah and in Matthew and even in Romans make me wonder about our own dangerous political and precarious economic circumstances. These stories remind me of our own stories of regret and shame and anger and sorrow and grief and fear and love. These stories remind me of the plaque in my office, a gift from my faith-filled wife years ago, that says “Bidden or not bidden, God is present.” Signs and wonders and dreams of God are all around us even now revealing the ways that the Divine is among us -- active, inclusive and unexpected. May we be brave enough and foolish enough to respond accordingly.