Fourth Sunday in Advent, Proper 4A, December 18, 2016; The Rev. Pamela L. Werntz

O God of freedom, 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.

This year, our fourth Sunday of Advent falls as far away from Christmas as our calendar ever permits. This year, we have six full days after today left in this longest Advent. Perhaps that’s why the traditional Advent themes of waiting and watching and being patient are really chafing this year. Probably, though, it’s more than just the six extra days. My own irritation with the messages of waiting and watching and being patient, surely has something to do with our unfolding national political crisis, with the dramatic rise of hate crimes, with the growing threats to racial and religious minorities, immigrants and refugees, women, people who identify as LGBTorQ, poor people. My irritation with the messages of waiting and watching and being patient, surely has something to do with global political instability, and growing threats to the environmental condition of the planet. Waiting and watching and being patient seems like exactly what we cannot afford to be doing.

Then a couple of weeks ago, I read a quote about Advent from Diettrich Bonhoeffer in two different (and unrelated) places on two consecutive days. That seemed like as good a sign as any that it should go into my prayers and my preaching! Bonhoeffer wrote from prison to his best friend Eberhard Bethge in November of 1943: “Life in a prison cell may well be compared to Advent. One waits, hopes, and does this, that, or the other – things that are really of no consequence – the door is shut, and can only be opened from the outside.” [1] And so I’ve come to our three scripture lessons for today, looking at them through the interpretive lens of incarceration, literal and spiritual, searching for ways they might speak to us about the One who is coming with the promise of opening the doors of our cells.

Isaiah has an 8^th century BCE lesson for us that is about right then, right now, and also about the long view. Isaiah promised that a child would be born soon – he probably meant born to the terrified King Ahaz, to whom this promise was being made. Isaiah was writing that a young woman was already pregnant and would bear a son who would once again make it clear that God is with us (Emmanuel). The assurance that God was giving through Isaiah is that the enemy nation which was such an enormous threat would be gone in 65 years. Now on one hand, we can scoff at that and ask, what good does it do for people who are suffering and in prison to be told that the oppressors will be gone in one or two generations? But if we are seeking truth, come when it may and cost what it will, we might find that we can understand that what any generation does or fails to do will matter a great deal to the people who will come after them. (Surely that lesson has applications for us.) Bonhoeffer, for example, wasn’t actually spending his time in prison doing things of no consequence. He was praying. He was teaching and leading services for other inmates. He was writing volumes of great ethical and moral consequence for the future.

The Apostle Paul has a lesson for us in even in the opening sentences of his letter to the Romans. He wrote, “we received grace and apostleship, [that is, a commission] to bring about obedience, [or deep listening], among all the Gentiles including yourselves who are called to belong to Jesus Christ.” I love that Paul writes “belong to” and not “believe in.” Faith, or fidelity, is not as much about believing as it is about belonging. We are called to belong to the redeeming urge of God, or Love, made manifest in Jesus. We are called to belong, not to a private club, but to a public movement – or maybe more like a public moving (verb more than noun).

Matthew’s lesson for us begins with a genealogy – I wish it were included in our Gospel portion. 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. Fourteen is the sum of the numerical values of the letters that make up David’s name, by the way, and the list of Jesus’ ancestors includes men and women, Jews and Gentiles and at least three notoriously immoral characters. [2] I love that. Perhaps, best of all is that the genealogy names Joseph, just before Matthew tells us that Joseph was not the biological father of Jesus. It’s fantastic.

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 birth story according to Matthew. It’s surprisingly short. 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 pregnant out of a spirit of holiness. And Joseph, himself being ethical 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 rendered divorce, set free, unbind, and forgive – lots of translational elbow room there. The spare narrative continues with a word (idou) that Matthew uses 62 times in his Gospel that means, “Pay attention,” but ironically, the word is usually ignored by translators. “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 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 ‘God is with us.’ [It’s a bold claim, Emmanuel Church!] 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 Yeshua.” [3]

I take the time to read you that more literal translation because I think it gets underneath heaps of 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 not quoting an emperor, but the prophet Isaiah because the story of Jesus’ birth reminded him of Isaiah’s account of hope being born in the midst of so much war and hate, so much suffering and fear.

On one hand, this is a story about one particular honorable guy named Joseph and his fiancee 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 man named Joseph, who although he is betrayed and disgraced, is resolved to send Mary away quietly to protect her. 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. The angel invites and encourages Joseph to claim the scandalous holiness for his own.

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, or even the Church. Matthew is making it clear that “the empire is not sovereign and God is not powerless,” [4] and that God comes through ordinary people to save ordinary people who risk loving in the face of evil, ordinary people who insist on belonging to the ultimate power of Love.

Another early 20^th century theologian, an older contemporary of Bonhoeffer, Evelyn Underhill, had this to say: “when we consider the evil, injustice, and misery existing in the world, how can we claim that the ultimate Reality at the heart of the universe is a Spirit of peace, harmony, and infinite love? …It is of no use to dodge this issue, and still less use to pretend that the Church has a solution of the problem up her sleeve…. Christian spirituality does not explain evil and suffering…but does show us how to deal with them….[and] we see in this muddled world a constant struggle for Truth, Goodness, Perfection; and all who give themselves to that struggle – the struggle for the redemption of the world from greed, cruelty, injustice, selfish desire and their results – find themselves supported and reinforced by a spiritual power which enhances life, strengthens will, and purifies character. And they come to recognize more and more in that power the action of God [who is Love.]”

As we live through this last week of Advent, I implore you to wait like this: knowing that what we do and fail to do has consequences for the next generation. Wait like this: remembering to whom we belong and to whom we are accountable, that is Jesus Christ. Watch like this: fully awake, completely aware, with a wild patience. If Advent is like a prison cell, know that the door will be opened for us in a week. What will we do with our freedom this Christmas? What will we do with our freedom this Christmas so that we may free others in Jesus’ name?

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