December 18th, 4th Sunday in Advent, Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

Matthew 1: 18–25
Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your name. Amen.

We’re almost there.  For those of you who’ve been counting, this is the fourth and final Sunday of Advent.  By next weekend we will be telling the ancient and wondrous story of the God who loved us so much he came in humility to dwell among us – to shine his light on our darkness, to share our struggles . . . and finally to lead us home.
But there are two different New Testament accounts telling us how all of this happened.  Luke tells the story from Mary’s point of view.  According to Luke, it’s to Mary that the angel Gabriel came, telling her she’d found favor with God and announcing God’s startling plan to bring Jesus, Emmanuel, God–with–us — into this world.  With the help of the Holy Spirit, the angel tells Mary, this will happen through her own young body.
Even earlier in Luke’s account it’s to Mary’s cousins, Zechariah and Elizabeth, that the angel Gabriel announces the birth of John the Baptist, Jesus’ forerunner.  In response to John’s birth, his father Zechariah prophesies.  In response to Elizabeth’s warm greeting, Mary sings Magnificat.  And in response to Jesus’ birth, the starry heavens split wide open and a whole host of angels sing, “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace, good will toward men.”  That’s the way Luke tells the story – sort of like a Broadway musical, with people breaking out into prophetic, Holy Spirit–inspired song all over the place.
But Matthew, Matthew takes a different approach.  Matthew tells the story from Joseph’s point of view.  And Joseph is a man of few words, as solid and simple as the wood he fashions into ax handles and sturdy plows.  He is also a righteous man, who knows the Law, whose heart inclines towards mercy.
But one day this good man, this righteous man, awakens to find his life in shambles.  His trust seems to have been betrayed.  His betrothed is telling him she is pregnant.  His good name — and the name of his family, he thinks — will be ruined.  And his dreams lie shattered in a million pieces at his feet.  I can only imagine the waves of shock and grief and anger that roll through his mind, day after day.
And then there was the question of what he was to do about it.  He knows what the Law says.  The Law says he must break off the engagement, accusing Mary of infidelity.  The Law also allows the possibility that Mary will be stoned to death for her crime.  More often, in fact, the woman accused of such behavior was disowned by her family and left to eke out an existence for herself and her child from whatever she could beg or steal.  But this is where we see the gentle goodness of Joseph.  For even before he knows God’s plan, even before he’s been visited by the angel in a dream, he has determined to break off the engagement as quietly as he can – to spare Mary public disgrace.
But God has another plan, an impossible plan.  God usually does.  In the face of the Law’s “No” . . . and society’s “No” . . .  and his own common sense saying,“No. No way!”   God comes to Joseph through an angel in a dream and tells him that, against all odds, the answer is “Yes.”   Yes – he should marry Mary.  Yes, he should raise this child as his own.  “Don’t be afraid,” the angel tells him in the dream.  “Mary is pregnant by the Holy Spirit.  Don’t be afraid.  Just take her as your wife.”
Joseph doesn’t need another word.  Nor in Matthew’s version does he say a word.  He simply marries Mary, letting go of his own dreams so he can enter into God’s dream for the world.
I suspect that most of us have been in a similar place.  We’ve had our hopes and our dreams and our schemes.  We’ve probably worked hard to make it all happen.  But one day we awaken to a very different reality.  We find ourselves surrounded by circumstances we never chose, living a life we’d never imagined.  Our first impulse is to get as far away as we can – to divorce ourselves from the whole mess.  But all too often there are other people involved – people who might be hurt by our actions.  So to us, as well, the whisper comes.  “Don’t be afraid.  God is here.  This might not be the life you imagined.  This might not be the life you chose.  But if you will allow it, God can be born in this situation as well.”
“If you will allow it . . . ”   That’s a great big “if.”  It always takes us by surprise that God’s plans require human cooperation.  Not just God’s plans for you or me personally, but God’s plans for the whole world.  But that’s what faith is all about.  It’s about saying, “Yes” to God when every common sense voice, every worldly voice, every cynical voice around us is saying “No.”  And then, like Joseph, we’re to act on that faith, daring to believe that God is still with us, still struggling to be born – not just in spite of the mess, but in some strange way right in the midst of it.
May God grant us all a faith like Joseph’s.
Amen.
 
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