God's love and trust in us
Commentary
Object:
The Christmas season is over in the secular world. The leftovers have been eaten, frozen, or thrown out. The unwanted, unneeded, or incorrect gifts have been returned to the store. A very few radio stations are still including Christmas carols in their line ups, but you're probably sick of hearing them anyway since they've been on for over a month.
But in the Christian church, Christmas continues. This is the one time of the year that we talk about the kindness of God to come to us when we had turned away; to willingly take on human flesh, not by fiat, but in the same way each of us came into the world -- as a helpless infant, dependant on other humans to be safe, to remain alive, and to thrive and grow. In doing this, God becomes visibly vulnerable to us. It is the one time of the year when we know that we are valued, loved by God, rather than deserving of nothing but judgment and God's wrath. When we see the Christ Child, either in the manger or in the arms of Mary, fear is banished, and we cannot help but smile at this tiny representation of the most high Lord God.
A member of my last congregation donated a fairly large sum of money, designated for "church décor." The worship committee debated about what to do with the donation, and finally came to the decision to purchase a large nativity display to use on and around the altar at Christmas. We found that we could afford the basic set, and greatly enjoyed setting it up and decorating around it to create a "stable" as well as platforms for the shepherds and wise men, who could not fit on the altar with the holy family, donkey, and cow. The congregation oohed and ahhed, making us feel very good about this addition to our Christmas décor.
The first Sunday after Christmas we had a large number of children present, and for the children's chapel talk I invited them to come up to the nativity set and asked them some questions about the figures. One of the little girls asked, "Can we hold the baby?" I took a deep breath because I wasn't sure we could replace the baby if it were broken, but I seized the opportunity, took the baby from the manger, and let each of the children hold him for a few seconds. When we were done, I gently replaced baby Jesus in the manger and dismissed the children. I was pleased this went so well, but really thought no more about it until the grandmother of the little girl who had asked to hold the baby came to me a week later.
"I want you to know that my daughter's family goes to a church of a different denomination here in the city," she said. "This past Sunday, as they got dressed for church, my granddaughter said that she didn't want to go to their regular church." With a gleam in her eye, she continued, "My daughter said that was too bad, but they were going to their own church. And my granddaughter said, " 'But I want to go back to the church where you get to hold Jesus.' " This is just what the adults need too -- to be able to hold Jesus. Without Christmas, when would that happen?
The scriptures chosen for this Sunday are all about God having pity on us out of his love for us. In Isaiah, this is said directly. In Hebrews, the emphasis is on the willingness of Jesus to take on our flesh -- living, dying, and being resurrected so that we might be freed from our fear of death. And, of course, our gospel is focused on the vulnerability of Jesus even as he is born -- and the faith of Joseph in following God's directions to protect the Christ Child.
Isaiah 63:7-9
God's Mercy Remembered
This message from God through Isaiah is profoundly comforting, addressed as it is to a people who had been wrenched from their country, and who had seen their temple and capital city razed. Families had been split apart, as those men who had risen to high position in Judea were taken to Babylon, while their poor relatives were left behind under the rule of Babylonian officials. Their passage into what we now call Iraq was a long one, an ancient Trail of Tears.
Part of their misery was the belief, held by all of the nations of the ancient Near East, that their God was resident in the land in which they lived. When the sons of Israel had conquered the Canaanites, it was because God had been triumphant against the various gods of the Canaanites. A war on earth was a reflection of war in heaven, "and to the winner belong the spoils." To be defeated, captured, and exiled from their homeland was the end of everything they had ever known. "Sing us one of the songs of Zion," their captors said (Psalm 137:3), and it was a taunt: "How could your god hear you when you aren't even in the land where he resides?" The captive Jews were forbidden to practice their religion (and why should they even want to since their God was not able to protect them?) and they were brought into Babylonian worship.
The followers of Isaiah had a different word for the captive Jews to hear. He reminds them that their ancestors had been in captivity a thousand years before, but God did not abandon them. He promises that just as God loved his people when they were in captivity in Egypt, he loves them still, even in exile. In fact, God has loved them with "the abundance of his steadfast love." This statement needs a bit of digging into the Hebrew, because the root of the word for steadfast is the word "womb," which is a marvelous description of the all-encompassing, protective love of God. We are like children in the womb, safe from any external dangers, living on the nurturance that comes from our mother's own blood.
Can we imagine the comfort the captives could take from this metaphor?
But the prophet goes on. Here we need to look at the footnotes, because the Hebrew in verse 9 not easy to translate into English. Verse 9 can be read as "In all their distress he was distressed; the angel of his presence saved them." This translation tells us exactly what the writer of Hebrews is saying about Jesus -- that God has come into the world in the person of Jesus to show us his love for us.
This passage from Isaiah also helps us understand the Hebrew belief about angels and their function and relationship to God. The word translated "angel" literally means "broker" or "go-between," which describes the function of angels. But it is never quite clear in the Old Testament whether angels are separate creatures from God or an extension of God's self, meeting us humans on our own level. In this passage, God's presence is more than any experience one might have with an angel. Isaiah points out that God did not send a messenger, broker, or go-between when the children of Abraham and Sarah needed to escape Egypt. God came in person, seen as fire and smoke, and lovingly led them out of captivity to the land where they became a nation.
The inference is clear: How can you not keep faith with that kind of God? Even in the darkest circumstances, we can trust Adonai (pronounced Ah-don-ay), the God of the Jews, who opens to our pain and suffers with us when we are in distress. More, God will not abandon us to the darkness that surrounds us (both literal and figurative), but will come and save us as he did in the past.
Hebrews 2:10-18
The writer to the Hebrews takes up that same theme of trust, though in a different way. This author (who is not Paul, as we can tell by the style of writing, though clearly influenced by the ideas of Paul) starts this section of the sermon by reminding us that God is not only the Creator of all that is, but also has the right to enjoy everything that is. This includes us! This is why God wants us all to know that we are held in high esteem (another meaning of the Greek word which is translated here as "glory" in the NRSV).
This is quite a revelation to the majority of human beings. And it has been the element that continues to be overlooked in much preaching and writing in Christianity. But at the Christmas season we have the opportunity to preach, in a naturalistic sort of way, this concept of us being held in high esteem by God. After all, most people are drawn to babies, and that is why when God decided to interfere in history by coming in the flesh (the meaning of the word "incarnation"), he came as we all must -- as a baby. Even when babies are at their worst -- covered in spit-up milk, needing a diaper change and crying, repelled as we are by the smells and mess -- freshly changed and cleaned-up, sleeping, somber, laughing babies delight us! And so it is with God, who is willing that we call him Father: We are a delight to God!
This cleaning-up process is called sanctification, which means that we are made whole, holy, and set aside for the use of God. We cannot clean up ourselves, any more than a baby can change its own diaper. This must be done by the loving parent. So we are to understand, our salvation and sanctification are given to us by a loving God, who took on human flesh (the meaning of the term "incarnation") and put forth the effort to defeat evil. That includes the evil we are aware of in our own hearts and the hearts of all humankind. In this way, God reveals the glory that is inherent to a being that carries the Holy Spirit within, as we all do.
The writer of Hebrews was speaking to Jewish Christians of the first century, who would never have thought Jesus equal to God. This is why Jesus is seen in this passage as only a human being, though the "pioneer" of our salvation, who has suffered so that we might all be one family, with Jesus as older brother and God as Father. So the words of the Psalmist are put in Jesus' mouth: "I will proclaim your name to my brothers and sisters, in the midst of the congregation I will praise you" (Psalm 22:22).
Likewise, the words of Isaiah 8:17-18 become the words of Jesus: "I will put my trust in him" and "Here am I and the children whom God has given me."
Like the psalmist and the prophet, Jesus stands before the almighty, reporting his work completed. That work has required sacrifice and suffering on his part, but it has yielded a sanctified people. In this way, we have the high esteem of God. In this way, Jesus has set us free from the power of evil and death.
The author of Hebrews believes that the devil is the one who has the power of death. Most of our parishioners don't believe this; they think that God determines when we will live and when we will die. From the Hebrew point of view, eternal life is the original intention of God for us, lost due to the interference of the devil (Genesis 3); this is the way that evil entered into the world, and it takes tremendous effort to overcome it. We must be willing to suffer and die in that process, if necessary. And Jesus was willing.
This is what the author of Hebrews is getting at in saying that "the pioneer of their salvation [was made] perfect through [his] sufferings" (v. 10). This statement needs to be taken apart piece by piece. In 1 Corinthians 15:21, Paul says that Christ came to undo what the sin of the first human being brought into the world -- sin and the fear of death. The Greek is not easily translated into English. The word here translated as "perfect" means mature rather than without blemish or fault. And the word the NRSV translates as "sufferings" really means feeling emotion, not just pain and sorrow, but joy and love.
The heart of the gospel, according to the writer of Hebrews, is that Jesus willingly entered into battle with the devil (Matthew 4:1-11), died as a result, and was resurrected by the power of God. In his resurrection, Jesus set Christians free from the fear of death, because he promised that we should all be like him (Romans 6:5; Philippians 3:9-11). So we are, because we have faith that Christ has set us free from sin, so that we do not need to fear death.
This business of being set free from the fear of death is central to our Christian faith. Yet there is every evidence that we do not realize we have been set free. Like a bird that has been caged for most of its life, we sit in the cage of our beliefs, unwilling to trust the open door. Think of the many things we do to put off the fear of old age and death; how many things that we buy serve to distract our minds from the universal fear of death? A red Ferrari convertible appeals to the youngster a person used to be and wishes to be now. Facelifts and hair plugs will, we hope, stave off the appearance of old age. How many people leave their hearing aids in a drawer at home or avoid getting or using bifocals so no one will see them wearing something that says they're getting older? Hypochondria, many phobias, constant anger at young people -- all are usually mechanisms by which we seek to avoid the inevitability of our death. And this is just the general run of people. The most extreme examples are the survivalists, hoarders, white supremacists, and "Doomsday Preppers," whose fear of death has taken forms where they obsess over the possible end of the world -- and the assurance of surviving such an event -- if only they can hide away and stock up enough food and water to stay alive when everyone else -- or at least those they hate -- will die.
But these first-century Christians have a hope that we really cannot appreciate the way they did: They have a "merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God." The high priest in later Judaism was both a political and religious figure. He was the go-between of God and the community, standing in the place of Aaron, Moses' brother and the first high priest. He represented God to the king, and in Jesus' day to the Roman governor of Judea. He had to have the look of a leader and the ability to call the nation to God. He was by default the one to call even the rulers of the land to repentance, and to help them as they made decisions that affected every man, woman, and child in Judea.
According to the Jewish Encyclopedia, "The high priest was required to be mindful of his honor. He might not mingle with the common people, nor permit himself to be seen disrobed, or in a public bath, etc. He might not participate in a public banquet, but he might pay a visit of consolation to mourners, though even then his dignity was guarded by prescribed etiquette." On the other hand, the sins of the high priest were also the sins of the people in the eyes of God, so his behavior could redeem or condemn the entire nation. It was important, therefore, that he be as humble before God as he was authoritative before the people.
These functions were so important to the life of the community that the high priest was expected to literally live his life in the sanctuary from the moment of his consecration. He was to bear the sins of the community before God and offer the sacrifices for the forgiveness of the sins of the nation as well as himself and all of the other priests.
In contrast, Jesus came from the common people, just as we pastors have. The Hebrews author says "... he had to become like his brothers and sisters in every respect." Because this is so, because "he himself was tested by what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested." This is a high priest who knows what our life is like and has compassion on us, helping us when we are being tested. The author is not speaking only of the crucifixion, but of Jesus' love and compassion for others. So it is not just what Jesus went through on the cross, but his entire life, lived (as we do) in laughter and in sorrow and anger.
Matthew 2:13-23
Matthew's account of Jesus' birth is unique in the scriptures. He has a different agenda from Luke, whose gospel contains the only other account of Jesus' birth. Matthew's gospel seems to be anti-Jewish in tone, yet he is clearly addressing issues that would be of primary interest to Jewish Christians, and he attempts to tie the events of Jesus' life with the prophets of old and the originators of the Jewish nation and religion.
According to The New Interpreter's Study Bible, Matthew was probably written between 70 and 110 CE.* The Jewish nation had risen up against their Roman overlords and had suffered complete defeat, including the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple. "Many scholars see the gospel as addressing followers of Jesus who were involved in inter-Jewish debates... about God's faithfulness, will, presence, and forgiveness, and force debate about how to live faithfully" since the centers that united Jews were gone (Intro to The Gospel According to Matthew, p. 1745). Of course, if that date is true, the gospel cannot have been written by the disciple Matthew. The NISB suggests, "Perhaps, given the similarity of the name Matthew to the Greek words for 'disciple' and 'learn,' Matthew represents the gospel's ideal reader as a disciple learns from the story of Jesus."
Matthew's opening of the birth narrative presents Jesus' credentials as a child of Abraham and to justify the claim of Jewish Christians that Jesus came as the long-awaited Messiah. The narrative takes us from Abraham through Jesus' earthly father, Joseph, even though Matthew agrees with Luke that Jesus' conception was miraculous. Jesus is born in Bethlehem, the place where King David was anointed as king, and the place of which the prophet Micah had said, "from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old" (5:2).
The wise men, having come from "the East" (their origin unknown), went to Jerusalem, the center of power for Judea, and straight to Herod, announcing that they had come to worship the new king of the Jews. The appearance of these Gentiles, who were probably priests (certainly not kings), throws Herod and his court into agitation. This kind of priestly prophecy had overthrown kingdoms in the past, and Herod was having none of it. But he was nothing if not cagey. He passed on to the wise men the intelligence he was given by his own priests and scholars, and he urged them to find the child and come back and tell him, so that he might go and pay homage (the Greek word sometimes translated worship also means the honor due to a king).
It ought not to take a message in a dream to make these wise men avoid returning to Herod. If they were all that wise, they could see the fear in Herod's eyes and his allies, the scribes and priests. But Matthew gives the credit to God that the wise men returned home by another route. And notice who it is that does what God wants -- not King Herod nor his allies, but these Gentiles come from afar to pay homage and refuse to abandon him to the king.
So we come to the beginning of today's gospel reading. It begins after the wise men have left. Mary and Joseph and Jesus are sleeping when an angel "appeared to Joseph in a dream" and told him to pack up and leave town, indeed, to "flee to Egypt, [because] Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him." So Joseph, like his counterpart ancestor, left that very night for Egypt, against his will, but for the later good of God's people Israel. (When famine threatened God's chosen people, Joseph of old had risen from slavery to power and arranged for Egypt to store up enough grain in seven good years to allow for plenty when there followed seven lean years.) Egypt is a good place to be when trouble is brewing for the Jewish nation.
Matthew is pointing at this ancient history of the Hebrews residing in Egypt when he quotes Hosea 11:1, "Out of Egypt I have called my son." The son of God Hosea refers to is the wise person, the king, and the Messiah -- are all called "son" by God (to be inclusive we might use the word "heir," as this is the implication of "son" throughout Matthew's gospel).
What follows is one of those incidents in history that we would just as soon skip over, especially when preaching in the Christmas season. Herod, infuriated by the escape of the child and the betrayal of the Gentiles, sends men to kill the child. Since he has no way of knowing which boy might be the one he is after, he orders every boy under the age of two to be killed. That more advanced age doesn't jibe with our manger scenes in church, where Jesus is still an infant. The reason for this is that the wise men had seen a star (more likely an arrangement of important stars and planets) and had then to travel to Jerusalem. This could make Jesus as much as a year old by the time they consulted with each other, gotten a caravan set up, and made the trip essentially on foot. And Herod wants this so-called king of the Jews dead for certain.
There is no historical record outside of the Bible to confirm this slaughter of innocent babies. There are many reasons this might be so, but we might suspect that the main reason is that such an incident was not all that unusual. Herod had a reputation for violence, in any event. And then it might be that this story is told as a reflection of the ancient Pharaoh's declaration that all Hebrew boys be slaughtered when the Hebrew slaves were becoming restive back in the days of Moses. In any event, Bethlehem was where Rachel, the beloved matriarch of the Jewish people, the favorite wife of Jacob, died during childbirth. This is the reason Matthew includes the lament of Rachel from Jeremiah.
The exile of Jesus' family in Egypt comes to an abrupt end. An angel again appears in a dream to tell Joseph that it was time to go back to Israel. Here we have an interesting insight into Jesus' father's relationship with God. He learns that although Herod has died, Herod's son Archelaus was now king, and he is afraid to go back under those circumstances. The angel appears to him again in a dream and advises that they should go to the Galilee. So Jesus grows up "in a town called Nazareth." But there is no known Old Testament reference to the Messiah being "called a Nazorean" as Matthew uses. The term usually refers to a man who is called by God to a special status which is outwardly shown by leaving the beard and hair uncut and abstaining from alcohol and sexual relations for life.
As we think about this passage, it is clear that the underlying theme in Matthew is again that trust in God. Joseph has a dream of an angel, and he trusts the message he receives. He bases his actions that night and for years to come on what he was told in that dream. And his family trusts in him as well, moving quickly enough to escape the vengeance of an angry king.
We read this story year after year, but do we have a sense of what it took for Joseph to do all that God is demanding of him? To take his wife, who is pregnant when he has conducted himself in a perfectly honorable way, because an angel in a dream tells him this is God's own son? This may have been a common idea in Hellenistic society, but it is much less common to the Romans, and unknown completely in Judaism. So we might expect Joseph to question his dream, at the very least. But this story is about implicit faith in God, and in whatever vision one might have either waking or in a dream. And who has this faith in God? Not the temple cohort. Not the Jewish king. Only this man who doesn't even have the status of a peasant.
For the Christian Jews of the first century after the death of Jesus, there is conflict. Barred from the synagogues if they declared that Jesus was the Messiah, they nevertheless declared themselves followers of Jesus. The result was the loss of their community. And then came the uprising against Rome and the destruction of Jerusalem. With that, there was nowhere for them to practice sacrifices for their sins. They are forced to rely on Jesus, who has promised that his sacrifice reunites the people with their God. As the writer of Hebrews says, Jesus as high priest makes the "sacrifice of atonement for the sins of the people." Instead of relying on the sacrifice of a lamb to pay for our sins to put us "at one" with God, we rely for now and always on the sacrifice Jesus made for us, out of the love and pity of God for the children he created.
But in the Christian church, Christmas continues. This is the one time of the year that we talk about the kindness of God to come to us when we had turned away; to willingly take on human flesh, not by fiat, but in the same way each of us came into the world -- as a helpless infant, dependant on other humans to be safe, to remain alive, and to thrive and grow. In doing this, God becomes visibly vulnerable to us. It is the one time of the year when we know that we are valued, loved by God, rather than deserving of nothing but judgment and God's wrath. When we see the Christ Child, either in the manger or in the arms of Mary, fear is banished, and we cannot help but smile at this tiny representation of the most high Lord God.
A member of my last congregation donated a fairly large sum of money, designated for "church décor." The worship committee debated about what to do with the donation, and finally came to the decision to purchase a large nativity display to use on and around the altar at Christmas. We found that we could afford the basic set, and greatly enjoyed setting it up and decorating around it to create a "stable" as well as platforms for the shepherds and wise men, who could not fit on the altar with the holy family, donkey, and cow. The congregation oohed and ahhed, making us feel very good about this addition to our Christmas décor.
The first Sunday after Christmas we had a large number of children present, and for the children's chapel talk I invited them to come up to the nativity set and asked them some questions about the figures. One of the little girls asked, "Can we hold the baby?" I took a deep breath because I wasn't sure we could replace the baby if it were broken, but I seized the opportunity, took the baby from the manger, and let each of the children hold him for a few seconds. When we were done, I gently replaced baby Jesus in the manger and dismissed the children. I was pleased this went so well, but really thought no more about it until the grandmother of the little girl who had asked to hold the baby came to me a week later.
"I want you to know that my daughter's family goes to a church of a different denomination here in the city," she said. "This past Sunday, as they got dressed for church, my granddaughter said that she didn't want to go to their regular church." With a gleam in her eye, she continued, "My daughter said that was too bad, but they were going to their own church. And my granddaughter said, " 'But I want to go back to the church where you get to hold Jesus.' " This is just what the adults need too -- to be able to hold Jesus. Without Christmas, when would that happen?
The scriptures chosen for this Sunday are all about God having pity on us out of his love for us. In Isaiah, this is said directly. In Hebrews, the emphasis is on the willingness of Jesus to take on our flesh -- living, dying, and being resurrected so that we might be freed from our fear of death. And, of course, our gospel is focused on the vulnerability of Jesus even as he is born -- and the faith of Joseph in following God's directions to protect the Christ Child.
Isaiah 63:7-9
God's Mercy Remembered
This message from God through Isaiah is profoundly comforting, addressed as it is to a people who had been wrenched from their country, and who had seen their temple and capital city razed. Families had been split apart, as those men who had risen to high position in Judea were taken to Babylon, while their poor relatives were left behind under the rule of Babylonian officials. Their passage into what we now call Iraq was a long one, an ancient Trail of Tears.
Part of their misery was the belief, held by all of the nations of the ancient Near East, that their God was resident in the land in which they lived. When the sons of Israel had conquered the Canaanites, it was because God had been triumphant against the various gods of the Canaanites. A war on earth was a reflection of war in heaven, "and to the winner belong the spoils." To be defeated, captured, and exiled from their homeland was the end of everything they had ever known. "Sing us one of the songs of Zion," their captors said (Psalm 137:3), and it was a taunt: "How could your god hear you when you aren't even in the land where he resides?" The captive Jews were forbidden to practice their religion (and why should they even want to since their God was not able to protect them?) and they were brought into Babylonian worship.
The followers of Isaiah had a different word for the captive Jews to hear. He reminds them that their ancestors had been in captivity a thousand years before, but God did not abandon them. He promises that just as God loved his people when they were in captivity in Egypt, he loves them still, even in exile. In fact, God has loved them with "the abundance of his steadfast love." This statement needs a bit of digging into the Hebrew, because the root of the word for steadfast is the word "womb," which is a marvelous description of the all-encompassing, protective love of God. We are like children in the womb, safe from any external dangers, living on the nurturance that comes from our mother's own blood.
Can we imagine the comfort the captives could take from this metaphor?
But the prophet goes on. Here we need to look at the footnotes, because the Hebrew in verse 9 not easy to translate into English. Verse 9 can be read as "In all their distress he was distressed; the angel of his presence saved them." This translation tells us exactly what the writer of Hebrews is saying about Jesus -- that God has come into the world in the person of Jesus to show us his love for us.
This passage from Isaiah also helps us understand the Hebrew belief about angels and their function and relationship to God. The word translated "angel" literally means "broker" or "go-between," which describes the function of angels. But it is never quite clear in the Old Testament whether angels are separate creatures from God or an extension of God's self, meeting us humans on our own level. In this passage, God's presence is more than any experience one might have with an angel. Isaiah points out that God did not send a messenger, broker, or go-between when the children of Abraham and Sarah needed to escape Egypt. God came in person, seen as fire and smoke, and lovingly led them out of captivity to the land where they became a nation.
The inference is clear: How can you not keep faith with that kind of God? Even in the darkest circumstances, we can trust Adonai (pronounced Ah-don-ay), the God of the Jews, who opens to our pain and suffers with us when we are in distress. More, God will not abandon us to the darkness that surrounds us (both literal and figurative), but will come and save us as he did in the past.
Hebrews 2:10-18
The writer to the Hebrews takes up that same theme of trust, though in a different way. This author (who is not Paul, as we can tell by the style of writing, though clearly influenced by the ideas of Paul) starts this section of the sermon by reminding us that God is not only the Creator of all that is, but also has the right to enjoy everything that is. This includes us! This is why God wants us all to know that we are held in high esteem (another meaning of the Greek word which is translated here as "glory" in the NRSV).
This is quite a revelation to the majority of human beings. And it has been the element that continues to be overlooked in much preaching and writing in Christianity. But at the Christmas season we have the opportunity to preach, in a naturalistic sort of way, this concept of us being held in high esteem by God. After all, most people are drawn to babies, and that is why when God decided to interfere in history by coming in the flesh (the meaning of the word "incarnation"), he came as we all must -- as a baby. Even when babies are at their worst -- covered in spit-up milk, needing a diaper change and crying, repelled as we are by the smells and mess -- freshly changed and cleaned-up, sleeping, somber, laughing babies delight us! And so it is with God, who is willing that we call him Father: We are a delight to God!
This cleaning-up process is called sanctification, which means that we are made whole, holy, and set aside for the use of God. We cannot clean up ourselves, any more than a baby can change its own diaper. This must be done by the loving parent. So we are to understand, our salvation and sanctification are given to us by a loving God, who took on human flesh (the meaning of the term "incarnation") and put forth the effort to defeat evil. That includes the evil we are aware of in our own hearts and the hearts of all humankind. In this way, God reveals the glory that is inherent to a being that carries the Holy Spirit within, as we all do.
The writer of Hebrews was speaking to Jewish Christians of the first century, who would never have thought Jesus equal to God. This is why Jesus is seen in this passage as only a human being, though the "pioneer" of our salvation, who has suffered so that we might all be one family, with Jesus as older brother and God as Father. So the words of the Psalmist are put in Jesus' mouth: "I will proclaim your name to my brothers and sisters, in the midst of the congregation I will praise you" (Psalm 22:22).
Likewise, the words of Isaiah 8:17-18 become the words of Jesus: "I will put my trust in him" and "Here am I and the children whom God has given me."
Like the psalmist and the prophet, Jesus stands before the almighty, reporting his work completed. That work has required sacrifice and suffering on his part, but it has yielded a sanctified people. In this way, we have the high esteem of God. In this way, Jesus has set us free from the power of evil and death.
The author of Hebrews believes that the devil is the one who has the power of death. Most of our parishioners don't believe this; they think that God determines when we will live and when we will die. From the Hebrew point of view, eternal life is the original intention of God for us, lost due to the interference of the devil (Genesis 3); this is the way that evil entered into the world, and it takes tremendous effort to overcome it. We must be willing to suffer and die in that process, if necessary. And Jesus was willing.
This is what the author of Hebrews is getting at in saying that "the pioneer of their salvation [was made] perfect through [his] sufferings" (v. 10). This statement needs to be taken apart piece by piece. In 1 Corinthians 15:21, Paul says that Christ came to undo what the sin of the first human being brought into the world -- sin and the fear of death. The Greek is not easily translated into English. The word here translated as "perfect" means mature rather than without blemish or fault. And the word the NRSV translates as "sufferings" really means feeling emotion, not just pain and sorrow, but joy and love.
The heart of the gospel, according to the writer of Hebrews, is that Jesus willingly entered into battle with the devil (Matthew 4:1-11), died as a result, and was resurrected by the power of God. In his resurrection, Jesus set Christians free from the fear of death, because he promised that we should all be like him (Romans 6:5; Philippians 3:9-11). So we are, because we have faith that Christ has set us free from sin, so that we do not need to fear death.
This business of being set free from the fear of death is central to our Christian faith. Yet there is every evidence that we do not realize we have been set free. Like a bird that has been caged for most of its life, we sit in the cage of our beliefs, unwilling to trust the open door. Think of the many things we do to put off the fear of old age and death; how many things that we buy serve to distract our minds from the universal fear of death? A red Ferrari convertible appeals to the youngster a person used to be and wishes to be now. Facelifts and hair plugs will, we hope, stave off the appearance of old age. How many people leave their hearing aids in a drawer at home or avoid getting or using bifocals so no one will see them wearing something that says they're getting older? Hypochondria, many phobias, constant anger at young people -- all are usually mechanisms by which we seek to avoid the inevitability of our death. And this is just the general run of people. The most extreme examples are the survivalists, hoarders, white supremacists, and "Doomsday Preppers," whose fear of death has taken forms where they obsess over the possible end of the world -- and the assurance of surviving such an event -- if only they can hide away and stock up enough food and water to stay alive when everyone else -- or at least those they hate -- will die.
But these first-century Christians have a hope that we really cannot appreciate the way they did: They have a "merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God." The high priest in later Judaism was both a political and religious figure. He was the go-between of God and the community, standing in the place of Aaron, Moses' brother and the first high priest. He represented God to the king, and in Jesus' day to the Roman governor of Judea. He had to have the look of a leader and the ability to call the nation to God. He was by default the one to call even the rulers of the land to repentance, and to help them as they made decisions that affected every man, woman, and child in Judea.
According to the Jewish Encyclopedia, "The high priest was required to be mindful of his honor. He might not mingle with the common people, nor permit himself to be seen disrobed, or in a public bath, etc. He might not participate in a public banquet, but he might pay a visit of consolation to mourners, though even then his dignity was guarded by prescribed etiquette." On the other hand, the sins of the high priest were also the sins of the people in the eyes of God, so his behavior could redeem or condemn the entire nation. It was important, therefore, that he be as humble before God as he was authoritative before the people.
These functions were so important to the life of the community that the high priest was expected to literally live his life in the sanctuary from the moment of his consecration. He was to bear the sins of the community before God and offer the sacrifices for the forgiveness of the sins of the nation as well as himself and all of the other priests.
In contrast, Jesus came from the common people, just as we pastors have. The Hebrews author says "... he had to become like his brothers and sisters in every respect." Because this is so, because "he himself was tested by what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested." This is a high priest who knows what our life is like and has compassion on us, helping us when we are being tested. The author is not speaking only of the crucifixion, but of Jesus' love and compassion for others. So it is not just what Jesus went through on the cross, but his entire life, lived (as we do) in laughter and in sorrow and anger.
Matthew 2:13-23
Matthew's account of Jesus' birth is unique in the scriptures. He has a different agenda from Luke, whose gospel contains the only other account of Jesus' birth. Matthew's gospel seems to be anti-Jewish in tone, yet he is clearly addressing issues that would be of primary interest to Jewish Christians, and he attempts to tie the events of Jesus' life with the prophets of old and the originators of the Jewish nation and religion.
According to The New Interpreter's Study Bible, Matthew was probably written between 70 and 110 CE.* The Jewish nation had risen up against their Roman overlords and had suffered complete defeat, including the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple. "Many scholars see the gospel as addressing followers of Jesus who were involved in inter-Jewish debates... about God's faithfulness, will, presence, and forgiveness, and force debate about how to live faithfully" since the centers that united Jews were gone (Intro to The Gospel According to Matthew, p. 1745). Of course, if that date is true, the gospel cannot have been written by the disciple Matthew. The NISB suggests, "Perhaps, given the similarity of the name Matthew to the Greek words for 'disciple' and 'learn,' Matthew represents the gospel's ideal reader as a disciple learns from the story of Jesus."
Matthew's opening of the birth narrative presents Jesus' credentials as a child of Abraham and to justify the claim of Jewish Christians that Jesus came as the long-awaited Messiah. The narrative takes us from Abraham through Jesus' earthly father, Joseph, even though Matthew agrees with Luke that Jesus' conception was miraculous. Jesus is born in Bethlehem, the place where King David was anointed as king, and the place of which the prophet Micah had said, "from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old" (5:2).
The wise men, having come from "the East" (their origin unknown), went to Jerusalem, the center of power for Judea, and straight to Herod, announcing that they had come to worship the new king of the Jews. The appearance of these Gentiles, who were probably priests (certainly not kings), throws Herod and his court into agitation. This kind of priestly prophecy had overthrown kingdoms in the past, and Herod was having none of it. But he was nothing if not cagey. He passed on to the wise men the intelligence he was given by his own priests and scholars, and he urged them to find the child and come back and tell him, so that he might go and pay homage (the Greek word sometimes translated worship also means the honor due to a king).
It ought not to take a message in a dream to make these wise men avoid returning to Herod. If they were all that wise, they could see the fear in Herod's eyes and his allies, the scribes and priests. But Matthew gives the credit to God that the wise men returned home by another route. And notice who it is that does what God wants -- not King Herod nor his allies, but these Gentiles come from afar to pay homage and refuse to abandon him to the king.
So we come to the beginning of today's gospel reading. It begins after the wise men have left. Mary and Joseph and Jesus are sleeping when an angel "appeared to Joseph in a dream" and told him to pack up and leave town, indeed, to "flee to Egypt, [because] Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him." So Joseph, like his counterpart ancestor, left that very night for Egypt, against his will, but for the later good of God's people Israel. (When famine threatened God's chosen people, Joseph of old had risen from slavery to power and arranged for Egypt to store up enough grain in seven good years to allow for plenty when there followed seven lean years.) Egypt is a good place to be when trouble is brewing for the Jewish nation.
Matthew is pointing at this ancient history of the Hebrews residing in Egypt when he quotes Hosea 11:1, "Out of Egypt I have called my son." The son of God Hosea refers to is the wise person, the king, and the Messiah -- are all called "son" by God (to be inclusive we might use the word "heir," as this is the implication of "son" throughout Matthew's gospel).
What follows is one of those incidents in history that we would just as soon skip over, especially when preaching in the Christmas season. Herod, infuriated by the escape of the child and the betrayal of the Gentiles, sends men to kill the child. Since he has no way of knowing which boy might be the one he is after, he orders every boy under the age of two to be killed. That more advanced age doesn't jibe with our manger scenes in church, where Jesus is still an infant. The reason for this is that the wise men had seen a star (more likely an arrangement of important stars and planets) and had then to travel to Jerusalem. This could make Jesus as much as a year old by the time they consulted with each other, gotten a caravan set up, and made the trip essentially on foot. And Herod wants this so-called king of the Jews dead for certain.
There is no historical record outside of the Bible to confirm this slaughter of innocent babies. There are many reasons this might be so, but we might suspect that the main reason is that such an incident was not all that unusual. Herod had a reputation for violence, in any event. And then it might be that this story is told as a reflection of the ancient Pharaoh's declaration that all Hebrew boys be slaughtered when the Hebrew slaves were becoming restive back in the days of Moses. In any event, Bethlehem was where Rachel, the beloved matriarch of the Jewish people, the favorite wife of Jacob, died during childbirth. This is the reason Matthew includes the lament of Rachel from Jeremiah.
The exile of Jesus' family in Egypt comes to an abrupt end. An angel again appears in a dream to tell Joseph that it was time to go back to Israel. Here we have an interesting insight into Jesus' father's relationship with God. He learns that although Herod has died, Herod's son Archelaus was now king, and he is afraid to go back under those circumstances. The angel appears to him again in a dream and advises that they should go to the Galilee. So Jesus grows up "in a town called Nazareth." But there is no known Old Testament reference to the Messiah being "called a Nazorean" as Matthew uses. The term usually refers to a man who is called by God to a special status which is outwardly shown by leaving the beard and hair uncut and abstaining from alcohol and sexual relations for life.
As we think about this passage, it is clear that the underlying theme in Matthew is again that trust in God. Joseph has a dream of an angel, and he trusts the message he receives. He bases his actions that night and for years to come on what he was told in that dream. And his family trusts in him as well, moving quickly enough to escape the vengeance of an angry king.
We read this story year after year, but do we have a sense of what it took for Joseph to do all that God is demanding of him? To take his wife, who is pregnant when he has conducted himself in a perfectly honorable way, because an angel in a dream tells him this is God's own son? This may have been a common idea in Hellenistic society, but it is much less common to the Romans, and unknown completely in Judaism. So we might expect Joseph to question his dream, at the very least. But this story is about implicit faith in God, and in whatever vision one might have either waking or in a dream. And who has this faith in God? Not the temple cohort. Not the Jewish king. Only this man who doesn't even have the status of a peasant.
For the Christian Jews of the first century after the death of Jesus, there is conflict. Barred from the synagogues if they declared that Jesus was the Messiah, they nevertheless declared themselves followers of Jesus. The result was the loss of their community. And then came the uprising against Rome and the destruction of Jerusalem. With that, there was nowhere for them to practice sacrifices for their sins. They are forced to rely on Jesus, who has promised that his sacrifice reunites the people with their God. As the writer of Hebrews says, Jesus as high priest makes the "sacrifice of atonement for the sins of the people." Instead of relying on the sacrifice of a lamb to pay for our sins to put us "at one" with God, we rely for now and always on the sacrifice Jesus made for us, out of the love and pity of God for the children he created.
