Fourth Sunday of Advent (A), December 22, 2013; The Rev. Pamela L. Werntz

O God of blessing, grant us the strength, the wisdom and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth, come when it may, and cost what it will.

The Gospel according to Matthew begins with a genealogy genealogy, and it’s too bad that it’s not included in our lectionary portion for today (although it’s full of tongue-twisting names and lectors all over Christendom are probably grateful for its omission)! It begins with Abraham and lists fourteen generations to David, then another fourteen generations to the deportation to Babylon, and fourteen generations from the deportation to Babylon to the Messiah. (A handful of kings have to be omitted in order to achieve the perfect symmetry – oh well.) The best thing about the genealogy is that the list includes women, non-Jewish ancestors and several immoral characters.¹ In other words, it’s not an unblemished pedigree, in other words – it’s a mixed bag, not unlike my own ancestry!

And then Matthew writes, “The birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way,” and a curious and brief description follows. This is not the prelude – this is the whole story according to Matthew. It’s a surprisingly small story. Here’s a more literal translation: “The birth of Jesus the Christ was thus: his mother Mary having been promised to Joseph, before their coming together was found having in her belly out of a spirit of holiness. And Joseph, himself being a just man and not willing to make her a public example, was intending to send her away privately, having pondered these things.” As an aside, that word that can be translated dismiss or send away, can also be translated divorce, set free, loose, and forgive – lots of elbow room there. The spare narrative continues with a word that Matthew uses 62 times in his Gospel, Idou, which means, “Pay attention”. “An angel of the Lord was manifest to him in a dream saying, ‘Joseph, son of David, may you not be afraid to companion Mary your wife, for the one having been begotten in her is out of a spirit of holiness. And she will bear a son and you will call his name Joshua or Yeshua [literally God rescues] for he will rescue his people from their sins. And this all has taken place in order that what was said by the Lord might be fulfilled which is said through the prophet, ‘behold the young woman will have in her belly and will bear a son and they will call his name Emmanuel which is translated ‘the God with us.’ And having roused from the sleep, Joseph did as the angel of the Lord enjoined him and accepted his wife and he did not know her until she bore a son and he called his name Joshua or Yeshua”. ²

I take the time to read you that more literal translation because I think it gets underneath heaps of beloved church tradition and doctrine that trip up so many people that I know and love. I always want us to get underneath the layers so that we can see what is there and what is not there. While stories of miraculous births abounded in Greek and Roman mythology, and Caesar himself claimed to have had a miraculous birth, Matthew was quoting the prophet Isaiah from the 8th century BCE. The context in Isaiah indicates that the child will be born soon – probably to King Ahaz, to whom this promise is being made. Isaiah is writing that a young woman is already pregnant and will bear a son who will once again make it clear that God is with us (Emmanuel).
I think we lose a great deal of valuable time when we argue about the plausibility or implausibility of a paranormal birth of our Savior, or choose to disengage in good Christian praxis because we will not pass a doctrinal examination! I also think that we lose a great deal of valuable personal and communal agency when we imagine that nothing like this ever happened before or since. I wonder whether we can regain some time and some agency and, at the same time, not lose sight of the mystical and miraculous birth of Jesus the Christ. Can we hold that tension or that creative space? Can we, Emmanuel?

On one hand, this is a story about one particular honorable guy named Joseph and his wife named Mary. This is not a story of wonder and beauty and it makes a very spare pageant! It’s a story about a surprise pregnancy and a sense of betrayal, of disappointment, vulnerability and disgrace and fear. It’s about a dream in which a messenger of God invites and encourages Joseph not to be afraid to stick with Mary – that there is holiness inside of her. But this isn’t just a story about Joseph and Mary. Matthew’s reference to Isaiah makes it clear that through them, God’s mighty work – God’s immeasurable presence is ongoing. God’s opposition to imperial power, imperial oppression and aggression, yes, even imperial theology, is ongoing, whether the empire is Babylon or Rome or the United States of America. Matthew is making it clear that “the empire is not sovereign and God is not powerless,”³ and that “God comes through ordinary, mixed-up people in order to save ordinary, mixed-up people.”⁴ It’s blessing in the chaos.

I want to tell you about three times just in this past week that this happened to me — three times in this past week that made me stop and think that something mysterious and mystical is being born again whether I am ready or not, whether I believe it or not! On Monday night at the Suffolk County House of Correction, the front desk guards shared some homemade cookies with our little group of volunteers. It might be the most surprising thing that has ever happened to me there. In 17 years of going to the prison nearly every week, no front desk guard has ever offered to share something good with my little band of volunteers. Blessing in the chaos.

On Wednesday in the parish hall, a group of homeless women invited me to help them put together a fairly difficult jigsaw puzzle at common art’s holiday party. I said yes to the invitation because I love doing jigsaw puzzles, although I thought it was going to be completely impossible to finish the puzzle given the level of commotion in the room, the challenges of the puzzlers, the difficulty of the puzzle, and the limited time available. A jigsaw puzzle at a crowded party in the parish hall. Done in what seemed like no time at all. Blessing in the chaos.

Mid-day on Thursday, after two meetings out of the office, I was feeling besieged by all of the work that goes with this time of year, and realized that I’d left my church keys at home. I was feeling grumpy and more than a little sorry for myself. I trudged across the Common and the Public Garden, tromped up the three flights of stairs, checked in with the parish administrator and then turned the corner to head into my office. To my amazement, there was an incredibly beautiful Christmas tree – decorated with lights and ornaments, complete with wrapped presents under it! I couldn’t believe my eyes, but I knew right away who the secret Santa was. I knew it had to be Dennis Gaskell, who keeps the church and parish house so clean. Apparently he had spent the morning cleaning the offices while singing and dancing to Christmas songs. He brought in and put up a fresh tree in a stand in my office, on a table with a red tablecloth, lights, ornaments and wrapped presents. Blessing upon blessing in the chaos.

I wonder if you’ve seen any signs that God is with us in the chaos in the last week. And I wonder how any of us might offer something completely surprising that might let people see and know that God is with us – Emmanuel – in the chaos. And I mean people like Boston drivers, folks in lines in stores, people lurching down the sidewalk not looking where they’re going. I mean both people in your way and people who you may have to go out of your way to encounter. I mean people in your neighborhood and your workplace, and maybe people in your own home! Here’s what I pray for you – I pray that you may not be afraid to find blessing in the chaos. I’m going to close with a poem with that title by Jan Richardson⁵ that I keep on my desk for times like this:

Blessing in the Chaos

To all that is chaotic
in you,
let there come silence.

Let there be
a calming
of the clamoring,
a stilling
of the voices that
have laid their claim
on you,
that have made their
home in you,

that go with you
even to the
holy places
but will not
let you rest,
will not let you
hear your life
with wholeness
or feel the grace
that fashioned you.

Let what distracts you
cease.
Let what divides you
cease.
Let there come an end
to what diminishes
and demeans,
and let depart
all that keeps you
in its cage.

Let there be
an opening
into the quiet
that lies beneath
the chaos,
where you find
the peace
you did not think
possible
and see what shimmers
within the storm.

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