Good news, better news, best news
Commentary
Object:
The apostle Paul begins his letter to the Romans by identifying himself as one who was "set apart for the gospel of God." The underlying Greek word, which we traditionally translate "gospel," is euaggelion.
The "eu" prefix is familiar to us. We know it from English words like euphemism, eulogy, and euphoria. In biblical Greek, as in our contemporary usage of the prefix, "eu" means "good."
The next part of the underlying Greek word -- aggelion -- may not seem so familiar at first blush. The repetition of the gammas -- or the letter "g" in our transliteration -- had the effect in Greek of creating an "ng" sound. Consequently, what looks like aggelion is actually pronounced "angelion." And with that adjustment we begin to see something familiar: "angel."
The Greek word for "angel" simply meant "messenger." The association we have with "angel" as a supernatural being was a secondary meaning in Greek. The primary meaning of the word was "messenger," and it reflects the assumption that the primary purpose of the angels was to serve as God's messengers.
So we put together the two parts of the Greek word, which we translated "gospel," and we discover that the underlying meaning is "good message." The evangelist, you see, is the "good messenger," and his evangel is the good tidings he bears.
We associate the Christmas angels with "good tidings of great joy" (Luke 2:10 KJV). And while that particular part of the Christmas story is not among our readings this week, our selected passages are all about good news. So, as our people prepare for the Christmas holiday, which is now less than a week away, we want to help them hear just what the good news -- the euaggelion -- is.
Isaiah 7:10-16
Ahaz does not have much to commend him. His story is brief in the biblical record, and the ancient historian reports from the start three damning details: Ahaz did not follow the example of David, he chose instead to follow the example of the kings of Israel, and he even killed his own son by making him a burnt offering to idols (2 Kings 16:2-3). When an entire life and reign must be summarized in only a few paragraphs, the author must get straight to the point. And the biblical author's point is that Ahaz was bad news, through and through.
Later, in fear of the kings of Israel and Syria, we read that Ahaz sought help from Tiglath Pileser, effectively pillaging God's temple in the process in order to pay off the Assyrian monarch. Then he showed no discernment, as well as great irreverence, when he presumed to replace the altar of God with a facsimile of a pagan altar that he had seen in Damascus. And, finally, he further dismantled the temple of the Lord as he continued to acquiesce to the Assyrian emperor.
For all of the king's demerits, however, the Lord still has a good word for him. This is a certain testimony to the mercy and grace of God, of course. Just as Paul declares that it was while we were sinners that Christ died for us (Romans 5:8), so too it is while Ahaz is a bad man and disappointing king that God sends him a prophet with a good word for him.
Ahaz is panicking about the threat he is feeling from his northern neighbors (Israel and Syria). But the Lord sends the prophet Isaiah to the worried king with a word of reassurance. Specifically, the Lord invites Ahaz to request a sign.
A sign, you know, is exactly what the Pharisees repeatedly sought from Jesus. It is likewise the desire of so many cynics in our day. Ahaz, therefore, should have been thrilled by his opportunity. Furthermore, we are struck by the blank-check quality of God's offer: "let it be as deep as Sheol," the Lord says, "or as high as heaven." Ahaz could have asked for anything, it seems, and yet he declines God's offer.
As though his decision is not surprising enough by itself, Ahaz' stated reason is even more surprising. "I will not put the Lord to the test," he self-righteously declares.
It's hard not to be amused by Ahaz and his sudden piety. Within the larger context of his biography, his protestation does not ring true. He has demonstrated no concern for honoring God in the rest of his decisions and conduct, and so this posturing is an empty gesture, at best, and another form of disobedience, at worst.
Isaiah is unimpressed by Ahaz' faux devotion. And so, in the absence of Ahaz requesting a sign, the Lord himself proposes the terms: "The young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel." That sentence is likely a familiar one to an Advent or Christmas congregation. But it is followed with details that may not be as familiar: specifics about the child's age and development, as well as the fate of neighboring nations.
In its original context, you see, this word from God is meant to provide immediate reassurance to Ahaz concerning his international conflicts. The Lord guarantees Ahaz that the threat, which seems so ominous in the present, will have disappeared completely within just a few years.
That original historical context, of course, is quite different from our current seasonal context. Matthew is the one who makes that shift for us in our gospel lection. More on that below.
Romans 1:1-7
Some beauty is immediately apparent. Other beauty requires closer inspection.
In photography, for example, one picture may be absolutely stunning. It grabs your attention, and you immediately exclaim, "Oh, that's beautiful!" A second photograph, meanwhile, may be easier to pass by or overlook. Yet given a little bit of careful attention, you come to see how truly beautiful it is, as well.
The same principle applies to paintings, to pieces of music, and perhaps especially to people. And it applies to scripture, as well.
Our present text does not have the immediate curb appeal of, say, Romans 8, 1 Corinthians 13, or Psalm 23. Admittedly, it is not very user-friendly with its impossibly long sentences and complex flow of thought. Yet if we will take the time to stop and look around, we'll discover that these opening verses from Paul's letter to the Romans are profoundly beautiful.
Paul is introducing himself to the church in Rome, and he begins by identifying himself as "a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God." On the one hand, this is standard fare. We often introduce ourselves in terms of our relationships ("I'm Karen's husband" or "I'm Angela's dad") or in terms of what we do ("I'm the pastor at the United Methodist church in town"). On the other hand, take note of the particular relationships and vocation by which Paul identifies himself. He is, we observe, all about Christ and the calling to serve him.
Interestingly, we discover at the other end of the passage that Paul identifies his readers the same way. "To all God's beloved in Rome," he writes, "who are called to be saints." Paul understands his audience, as well, in terms of their relationship to God and their divine calling.
The next set of phrases in the apostle's long sentence elaborate on that gospel, which is vocation. That gospel is not a new thing -- it was "promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy scriptures." This raises two important points. First, the recurring theme in scripture of a God who "calls his shot," as it were. He tells his people in advance what he will do, thus encouraging them to latch onto his promise, enabling them to prepare for his activity, and equipping them to recognize what happens as the work of God. Second, there is the early church's insistence that the scriptures, which we know as the Old Testament, anticipated and foreshadowed Jesus, and that he is the fulfillment of those promises, prophecies, and types.
That, in turn, prompts Paul to make some fundamental affirmations about Jesus. He is, as noted, the fulfillment of God's plans and promises. Paul also affirms both the divinity ("declared to be the Son of God") and humanity ("descended from David according to the flesh") of Jesus. He declares Christ's resurrection, and then he speaks of what is ours through the risen Christ.
That move, then, marks the next transition to the final elements in Paul's flow of thought. He speaks of what he has received -- "grace and apostleship" -- and the divine purpose behind those gifts. Just as God promised to bless Abraham "so that you will be a blessing" (Genesis 12:2), so it is that Paul himself was not the final destination of God's blessings in his life. Rather, he was "to bring about the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles." This was Paul's specific sense of calling, as we see elsewhere (Romans 11:13, 15:15-16; Galatians 2:2, 8; 1 Timothy 2:7). And that reference to his ministry among the Gentiles prompts Paul to speak of his audience -- "including yourselves" -- and their calling, which we cited above, and with which this passage concludes.
Matthew 1:18-25
Matthew has often been nicknamed "the gospel for the Jews." The reasons are numerous and frequently cataloged in introductions. And among Matthew's characteristic appeals to a Jewish audience is his emphasis on the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy. Variations on the word "fulfill" appear fifteen times in Matthew. And, more specifically, we find thirteen different occasions when either the narrator or Jesus in Matthew makes explicit reference to the fulfillment of some Old Testament scripture.
It is in this way that Matthew serves for us as the interpreter of the Old Testament text. Matthew is writing some 800 years after the time of Isaiah and Ahaz, and yet he sees in their conversation a word for his own day. And for ours! For beyond its original context in Judah of the eight-century BC, Matthew finds the fulfillment of the promise of Emmanuel in first-century AD Palestine.
Matthew's Christmas narrative is not as elegant as Luke's, but in his plain and straightforward storytelling, Matthew is highly theological. In addition to identifying Jesus as "God is with us" and the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy, Matthew also affirms that Jesus is the Messiah (v. 18), conceived by the Holy Spirit, and thus divine (v. 20), and the Savior (v. 21).
The sentimental tendency of a congregation at this time of year is to hear the plot but not the doctrine. Mary, Joseph, and an angel: These are the familiar elements that we naturally latch onto at this time of year. Yet Matthew is giving us so much more than a mere plotline. This is not merely a story to cherish, but a faith to believe and a Savior to receive. As you and I review the story with our people, therefore, let us be sure that we do it with all of Matthew's purpose and ingredients: proclaiming the birth of the one who is Christ, Savior, God incarnate, and Emmanuel!
In terms of the plot itself, the Christmas story gives us a practical justification for why the Bible has more than one gospel. For two gospels report the events of Christmas, and they do it from two different perspectives. Luke is the one who gives us such lovely insight into Mary's experience, while it is Matthew who trains his lens on Joseph.
Joseph does not receive as much attention as Mary in either scripture or tradition. We are indebted to Matthew, therefore, for giving us some sense of the man.
Matthew calls him "a righteous man." That is not a casual term that Matthew uses loosely. No other contemporary individual in his gospel is identified as being righteous. Instead, that designation is reserved by Matthew for the best of those who have gone before (13:27; 23:29, 35). Likewise, in his picture of the sheep and the goats, the righteous are identified as the sheep (25:37, 46), and they are the ones who will stand in the judgment at the end (13:49). And the Pharisees, who were famous for their righteousness in that day, are condemned for a righteousness that is superficial (23:28) and inadequate (5:20). It is no small attribution, therefore, for Matthew to call Joseph "a righteous man."
In contrast to many who fancy themselves righteous, however, Joseph is also merciful. He is "unwilling to expose (Mary) to public disgrace." He has apparently been cuckholded, yet still Joseph's concern is not primarily for himself but for his unfaithful bride. It is a remarkable and unexpected display of tenderness on his part.
Finally, we also see Joseph's notable faith and obedience. Gideon and Zechariah both hesitated to believe their angelic messages, and Moses was reluctant to obey God's direct instructions at the burning bush. Yet Joseph trustingly accepts what he has been told in a dream and, contrary to every natural instinct, he affirms God's unprecedented action and takes on an unreasonable assignment.
In most Christmas carols, cards, and pageants, Joseph seems to be supporting cast to Mary's starring role. And that's fine. It is an honor to be supporting cast in the work of God! But as we read Matthew's account this week, let us at least acknowledge that Joseph deserves the award for Best Supporting Actor.
Application
King Ahaz was looking for some good news. He was surrounded, it seemed, by bad news, and he felt that he and his kingdom were in great peril. Then the Lord sent the prophet Isaiah to Ahaz with some good news.
It is interesting -- and not insignificant -- that the Lord sent the prophet to the king with good news. That is to say, Ahaz did not go looking for good news. The king did not approach the prophet hoping to hear an encouraging word. No, this was the gracious initiative of God. And so it is with us, as well.
The good news for Ahaz was the assurance that he and his kingdom would be saved from their menacing neighbors to the north. The king was "in dread" of those enemies; yet he was promised that in just the short period of a child's early development, their lands would be deserted. That child, according to Isaiah, was soon to be born.
Then we turn to Matthew, and we meet the birth of a child who fulfilled that earlier child's most meaningful name. The news of this later child's birth, however, was even better news than that which was declared to Ahaz. The promised baby of Isaiah's day symbolized Judah's deliverance from Israel and Aram. This baby, however, would "save his people from their sins." This child is superior and the news of him is better, for the enemy he defeats is so much more significant: timeless, universal, and seemingly invincible.
Finally, we turn to Romans, and we read about that child in his fullness. He was promised, descended, and resurrected. He has become the one through whom we receive all grace and peace. The good news has matured, now, into the best news of all.
As with Ahaz, we did not come seeking this good news. He came to us. And Paul -- like Isaiah of 800 years earlier, and like you and me of 2,000 years later -- was called to deliver this good news from God: the news of Emmanuel; the best news of all.
Alternative Applications
Isaiah 7:10-16; Matthew 1:18-25. "Round Yon Virgin Mother and Child." Many folks through the years have passionately debated Matthew's use of the word "virgin." The original Hebrew word, some argue, is more vague, and so the Isaiah prophecy should not be tied so directly to the doctrine of the virgin birth. The underlying Hebrew word, almah, which the NRSV translates "young woman," is not limited to meaning a girl who has never had sexual intercourse. That is arguably the assumption of at least one of its seven appearances in the Old Testament (Genesis 24:43); yet it is not the exclusive meaning of the Hebrew term.
On the other hand, Matthew may not have been working with Isaiah's Hebrew. Rather, writing in Greek himself, Matthew was likely working with the Septuagint's Greek translation of the Old Testament text, and so Matthew simply borrows the Septuagint's term. That Greek word for the woman in Isaiah's prophecy is parthenos, which carries a much stronger emphasis on virginity. Even if Isaiah did not have a virgin in mind, therefore, Matthew had good cause for reading it that way.
Meanwhile, we should give an extra moment's thought to those translators of the Septuagint. They hardly get the attention that primary authors -- such as Isaiah and Matthew -- receive. Yet the sacred writ was in their hands, and so they play an enormously important role. And, in this case, they were clearly also the vessels for divine inspiration.
We should not assume that the Septuagint's translators reflexively inserted the Greek parthenos wherever the Hebrew almah appeared. On the contrary, they used other Greek words for five of the seven occurrences of almah in the Old Testament text. The use of parthenos, therefore, seems to have been a deliberate choice in interpreting Isaiah's prophecy.
In the providential unfolding of God's word, therefore, we are presented with this stunning beauty. When Isaiah spoke his reassuring word to Ahaz, he made reference to a young woman giving birth to a child and naming him Immanuel, which may very well have happened there in Jerusalem that year. It was a sign, to be sure, but it was not the miracle of a virgin birth. Some centuries later, however, shortly before the time of Christ, a group of scholars translated that Isaiah prophecy, and they opted for the Greek word for "virgin" rather than a more general term for a young woman. What could possibly have prompted these men -- not Christian theologians but Jewish scholars -- to make that linguistic choice, which they did not make on five other occasions in the text?
Finally, a few years later, a virgin named Mary gave birth to the one who was, indeed, "God with us." And another generation later, when Matthew recorded the good news of his birth, he found the promise of it in the Greek of Isaiah's prophecy.
Preaching the Psalm
Schuyler Rhodes
Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19
Anyone with even a passing acquaintance with the Judeo-Christian tradition has heard the whole shepherd metaphor thing in relationship to both God and to Jesus of Nazareth. Shepherds. One has to stop and wonder why all this attention is paid to shepherds and sheep. What's the big deal, anyway? All the shepherds really want is the sheep's wool and then later to eat them! What kind of a God is that?
The forgoing is an oversimplification of the deconstructionist model of biblical interpretation. The idea is to deconstruct our biblical models, exposing the fault lines and cracks in their logic and construction. Folks who practice this resemble a couple of gleeful kids who have been given permission to dismantle a room full of toys. For a while they're having a wonderful time. Look how easily things come apart! See the weakness of their construction! Why would someone build a toy that way, anyway? Then, after hours lost in deconstruction they suddenly realize that they've run out of toys. Now what? All the toys are taken apart and the kids have nothing to do. So they sit looking around the room for something else to deconstruct.
At the risk of calling down the ire of the academic community, it needs to be said that this is what we have seen in many seminaries across the land. Thirty years of deconstructionist interpretation have left us with nothing except a tradition dismantled.
Could it be that perhaps it's time to start building once again?
This image of God as shepherd, which the deconstructionist process has so dis-credited has more merit than some might imagine. First, the image of shepherds and sheep are indigenous to the text. These folks saw shepherds and sheep every day. When someone used this metaphor it gained instant recognition with the hearers. Second, is the actual job of the shepherd. One task of the shepherd was to corral and protect the sheep every night. In order to do this the shepherd had to build makeshift fences out of sticks and brush and whatever could be found in the often barren countryside. Once the corral was built, the shepherd would take a large stick and go into the corral where he would stamp and beat the ground to chase out scorpions, snakes, and a host of other creatures that might harm the sheep.
Wouldn't it be wonderful if this task of making the corral safe was the priority of clergy today? Wouldn't it be fascinating if, bit by bit, the Christian community began to reclaim its own language and imagery in order to begin the task of reconstructing the great traditions we share? If this could happen, perhaps many of our images and metaphors now cast aside as quaint and old-fashioned could be revitalized. And with a revitalized tradition, just maybe the church could be revived as well.
The "eu" prefix is familiar to us. We know it from English words like euphemism, eulogy, and euphoria. In biblical Greek, as in our contemporary usage of the prefix, "eu" means "good."
The next part of the underlying Greek word -- aggelion -- may not seem so familiar at first blush. The repetition of the gammas -- or the letter "g" in our transliteration -- had the effect in Greek of creating an "ng" sound. Consequently, what looks like aggelion is actually pronounced "angelion." And with that adjustment we begin to see something familiar: "angel."
The Greek word for "angel" simply meant "messenger." The association we have with "angel" as a supernatural being was a secondary meaning in Greek. The primary meaning of the word was "messenger," and it reflects the assumption that the primary purpose of the angels was to serve as God's messengers.
So we put together the two parts of the Greek word, which we translated "gospel," and we discover that the underlying meaning is "good message." The evangelist, you see, is the "good messenger," and his evangel is the good tidings he bears.
We associate the Christmas angels with "good tidings of great joy" (Luke 2:10 KJV). And while that particular part of the Christmas story is not among our readings this week, our selected passages are all about good news. So, as our people prepare for the Christmas holiday, which is now less than a week away, we want to help them hear just what the good news -- the euaggelion -- is.
Isaiah 7:10-16
Ahaz does not have much to commend him. His story is brief in the biblical record, and the ancient historian reports from the start three damning details: Ahaz did not follow the example of David, he chose instead to follow the example of the kings of Israel, and he even killed his own son by making him a burnt offering to idols (2 Kings 16:2-3). When an entire life and reign must be summarized in only a few paragraphs, the author must get straight to the point. And the biblical author's point is that Ahaz was bad news, through and through.
Later, in fear of the kings of Israel and Syria, we read that Ahaz sought help from Tiglath Pileser, effectively pillaging God's temple in the process in order to pay off the Assyrian monarch. Then he showed no discernment, as well as great irreverence, when he presumed to replace the altar of God with a facsimile of a pagan altar that he had seen in Damascus. And, finally, he further dismantled the temple of the Lord as he continued to acquiesce to the Assyrian emperor.
For all of the king's demerits, however, the Lord still has a good word for him. This is a certain testimony to the mercy and grace of God, of course. Just as Paul declares that it was while we were sinners that Christ died for us (Romans 5:8), so too it is while Ahaz is a bad man and disappointing king that God sends him a prophet with a good word for him.
Ahaz is panicking about the threat he is feeling from his northern neighbors (Israel and Syria). But the Lord sends the prophet Isaiah to the worried king with a word of reassurance. Specifically, the Lord invites Ahaz to request a sign.
A sign, you know, is exactly what the Pharisees repeatedly sought from Jesus. It is likewise the desire of so many cynics in our day. Ahaz, therefore, should have been thrilled by his opportunity. Furthermore, we are struck by the blank-check quality of God's offer: "let it be as deep as Sheol," the Lord says, "or as high as heaven." Ahaz could have asked for anything, it seems, and yet he declines God's offer.
As though his decision is not surprising enough by itself, Ahaz' stated reason is even more surprising. "I will not put the Lord to the test," he self-righteously declares.
It's hard not to be amused by Ahaz and his sudden piety. Within the larger context of his biography, his protestation does not ring true. He has demonstrated no concern for honoring God in the rest of his decisions and conduct, and so this posturing is an empty gesture, at best, and another form of disobedience, at worst.
Isaiah is unimpressed by Ahaz' faux devotion. And so, in the absence of Ahaz requesting a sign, the Lord himself proposes the terms: "The young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel." That sentence is likely a familiar one to an Advent or Christmas congregation. But it is followed with details that may not be as familiar: specifics about the child's age and development, as well as the fate of neighboring nations.
In its original context, you see, this word from God is meant to provide immediate reassurance to Ahaz concerning his international conflicts. The Lord guarantees Ahaz that the threat, which seems so ominous in the present, will have disappeared completely within just a few years.
That original historical context, of course, is quite different from our current seasonal context. Matthew is the one who makes that shift for us in our gospel lection. More on that below.
Romans 1:1-7
Some beauty is immediately apparent. Other beauty requires closer inspection.
In photography, for example, one picture may be absolutely stunning. It grabs your attention, and you immediately exclaim, "Oh, that's beautiful!" A second photograph, meanwhile, may be easier to pass by or overlook. Yet given a little bit of careful attention, you come to see how truly beautiful it is, as well.
The same principle applies to paintings, to pieces of music, and perhaps especially to people. And it applies to scripture, as well.
Our present text does not have the immediate curb appeal of, say, Romans 8, 1 Corinthians 13, or Psalm 23. Admittedly, it is not very user-friendly with its impossibly long sentences and complex flow of thought. Yet if we will take the time to stop and look around, we'll discover that these opening verses from Paul's letter to the Romans are profoundly beautiful.
Paul is introducing himself to the church in Rome, and he begins by identifying himself as "a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God." On the one hand, this is standard fare. We often introduce ourselves in terms of our relationships ("I'm Karen's husband" or "I'm Angela's dad") or in terms of what we do ("I'm the pastor at the United Methodist church in town"). On the other hand, take note of the particular relationships and vocation by which Paul identifies himself. He is, we observe, all about Christ and the calling to serve him.
Interestingly, we discover at the other end of the passage that Paul identifies his readers the same way. "To all God's beloved in Rome," he writes, "who are called to be saints." Paul understands his audience, as well, in terms of their relationship to God and their divine calling.
The next set of phrases in the apostle's long sentence elaborate on that gospel, which is vocation. That gospel is not a new thing -- it was "promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy scriptures." This raises two important points. First, the recurring theme in scripture of a God who "calls his shot," as it were. He tells his people in advance what he will do, thus encouraging them to latch onto his promise, enabling them to prepare for his activity, and equipping them to recognize what happens as the work of God. Second, there is the early church's insistence that the scriptures, which we know as the Old Testament, anticipated and foreshadowed Jesus, and that he is the fulfillment of those promises, prophecies, and types.
That, in turn, prompts Paul to make some fundamental affirmations about Jesus. He is, as noted, the fulfillment of God's plans and promises. Paul also affirms both the divinity ("declared to be the Son of God") and humanity ("descended from David according to the flesh") of Jesus. He declares Christ's resurrection, and then he speaks of what is ours through the risen Christ.
That move, then, marks the next transition to the final elements in Paul's flow of thought. He speaks of what he has received -- "grace and apostleship" -- and the divine purpose behind those gifts. Just as God promised to bless Abraham "so that you will be a blessing" (Genesis 12:2), so it is that Paul himself was not the final destination of God's blessings in his life. Rather, he was "to bring about the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles." This was Paul's specific sense of calling, as we see elsewhere (Romans 11:13, 15:15-16; Galatians 2:2, 8; 1 Timothy 2:7). And that reference to his ministry among the Gentiles prompts Paul to speak of his audience -- "including yourselves" -- and their calling, which we cited above, and with which this passage concludes.
Matthew 1:18-25
Matthew has often been nicknamed "the gospel for the Jews." The reasons are numerous and frequently cataloged in introductions. And among Matthew's characteristic appeals to a Jewish audience is his emphasis on the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy. Variations on the word "fulfill" appear fifteen times in Matthew. And, more specifically, we find thirteen different occasions when either the narrator or Jesus in Matthew makes explicit reference to the fulfillment of some Old Testament scripture.
It is in this way that Matthew serves for us as the interpreter of the Old Testament text. Matthew is writing some 800 years after the time of Isaiah and Ahaz, and yet he sees in their conversation a word for his own day. And for ours! For beyond its original context in Judah of the eight-century BC, Matthew finds the fulfillment of the promise of Emmanuel in first-century AD Palestine.
Matthew's Christmas narrative is not as elegant as Luke's, but in his plain and straightforward storytelling, Matthew is highly theological. In addition to identifying Jesus as "God is with us" and the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy, Matthew also affirms that Jesus is the Messiah (v. 18), conceived by the Holy Spirit, and thus divine (v. 20), and the Savior (v. 21).
The sentimental tendency of a congregation at this time of year is to hear the plot but not the doctrine. Mary, Joseph, and an angel: These are the familiar elements that we naturally latch onto at this time of year. Yet Matthew is giving us so much more than a mere plotline. This is not merely a story to cherish, but a faith to believe and a Savior to receive. As you and I review the story with our people, therefore, let us be sure that we do it with all of Matthew's purpose and ingredients: proclaiming the birth of the one who is Christ, Savior, God incarnate, and Emmanuel!
In terms of the plot itself, the Christmas story gives us a practical justification for why the Bible has more than one gospel. For two gospels report the events of Christmas, and they do it from two different perspectives. Luke is the one who gives us such lovely insight into Mary's experience, while it is Matthew who trains his lens on Joseph.
Joseph does not receive as much attention as Mary in either scripture or tradition. We are indebted to Matthew, therefore, for giving us some sense of the man.
Matthew calls him "a righteous man." That is not a casual term that Matthew uses loosely. No other contemporary individual in his gospel is identified as being righteous. Instead, that designation is reserved by Matthew for the best of those who have gone before (13:27; 23:29, 35). Likewise, in his picture of the sheep and the goats, the righteous are identified as the sheep (25:37, 46), and they are the ones who will stand in the judgment at the end (13:49). And the Pharisees, who were famous for their righteousness in that day, are condemned for a righteousness that is superficial (23:28) and inadequate (5:20). It is no small attribution, therefore, for Matthew to call Joseph "a righteous man."
In contrast to many who fancy themselves righteous, however, Joseph is also merciful. He is "unwilling to expose (Mary) to public disgrace." He has apparently been cuckholded, yet still Joseph's concern is not primarily for himself but for his unfaithful bride. It is a remarkable and unexpected display of tenderness on his part.
Finally, we also see Joseph's notable faith and obedience. Gideon and Zechariah both hesitated to believe their angelic messages, and Moses was reluctant to obey God's direct instructions at the burning bush. Yet Joseph trustingly accepts what he has been told in a dream and, contrary to every natural instinct, he affirms God's unprecedented action and takes on an unreasonable assignment.
In most Christmas carols, cards, and pageants, Joseph seems to be supporting cast to Mary's starring role. And that's fine. It is an honor to be supporting cast in the work of God! But as we read Matthew's account this week, let us at least acknowledge that Joseph deserves the award for Best Supporting Actor.
Application
King Ahaz was looking for some good news. He was surrounded, it seemed, by bad news, and he felt that he and his kingdom were in great peril. Then the Lord sent the prophet Isaiah to Ahaz with some good news.
It is interesting -- and not insignificant -- that the Lord sent the prophet to the king with good news. That is to say, Ahaz did not go looking for good news. The king did not approach the prophet hoping to hear an encouraging word. No, this was the gracious initiative of God. And so it is with us, as well.
The good news for Ahaz was the assurance that he and his kingdom would be saved from their menacing neighbors to the north. The king was "in dread" of those enemies; yet he was promised that in just the short period of a child's early development, their lands would be deserted. That child, according to Isaiah, was soon to be born.
Then we turn to Matthew, and we meet the birth of a child who fulfilled that earlier child's most meaningful name. The news of this later child's birth, however, was even better news than that which was declared to Ahaz. The promised baby of Isaiah's day symbolized Judah's deliverance from Israel and Aram. This baby, however, would "save his people from their sins." This child is superior and the news of him is better, for the enemy he defeats is so much more significant: timeless, universal, and seemingly invincible.
Finally, we turn to Romans, and we read about that child in his fullness. He was promised, descended, and resurrected. He has become the one through whom we receive all grace and peace. The good news has matured, now, into the best news of all.
As with Ahaz, we did not come seeking this good news. He came to us. And Paul -- like Isaiah of 800 years earlier, and like you and me of 2,000 years later -- was called to deliver this good news from God: the news of Emmanuel; the best news of all.
Alternative Applications
Isaiah 7:10-16; Matthew 1:18-25. "Round Yon Virgin Mother and Child." Many folks through the years have passionately debated Matthew's use of the word "virgin." The original Hebrew word, some argue, is more vague, and so the Isaiah prophecy should not be tied so directly to the doctrine of the virgin birth. The underlying Hebrew word, almah, which the NRSV translates "young woman," is not limited to meaning a girl who has never had sexual intercourse. That is arguably the assumption of at least one of its seven appearances in the Old Testament (Genesis 24:43); yet it is not the exclusive meaning of the Hebrew term.
On the other hand, Matthew may not have been working with Isaiah's Hebrew. Rather, writing in Greek himself, Matthew was likely working with the Septuagint's Greek translation of the Old Testament text, and so Matthew simply borrows the Septuagint's term. That Greek word for the woman in Isaiah's prophecy is parthenos, which carries a much stronger emphasis on virginity. Even if Isaiah did not have a virgin in mind, therefore, Matthew had good cause for reading it that way.
Meanwhile, we should give an extra moment's thought to those translators of the Septuagint. They hardly get the attention that primary authors -- such as Isaiah and Matthew -- receive. Yet the sacred writ was in their hands, and so they play an enormously important role. And, in this case, they were clearly also the vessels for divine inspiration.
We should not assume that the Septuagint's translators reflexively inserted the Greek parthenos wherever the Hebrew almah appeared. On the contrary, they used other Greek words for five of the seven occurrences of almah in the Old Testament text. The use of parthenos, therefore, seems to have been a deliberate choice in interpreting Isaiah's prophecy.
In the providential unfolding of God's word, therefore, we are presented with this stunning beauty. When Isaiah spoke his reassuring word to Ahaz, he made reference to a young woman giving birth to a child and naming him Immanuel, which may very well have happened there in Jerusalem that year. It was a sign, to be sure, but it was not the miracle of a virgin birth. Some centuries later, however, shortly before the time of Christ, a group of scholars translated that Isaiah prophecy, and they opted for the Greek word for "virgin" rather than a more general term for a young woman. What could possibly have prompted these men -- not Christian theologians but Jewish scholars -- to make that linguistic choice, which they did not make on five other occasions in the text?
Finally, a few years later, a virgin named Mary gave birth to the one who was, indeed, "God with us." And another generation later, when Matthew recorded the good news of his birth, he found the promise of it in the Greek of Isaiah's prophecy.
Preaching the Psalm
Schuyler Rhodes
Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19
Anyone with even a passing acquaintance with the Judeo-Christian tradition has heard the whole shepherd metaphor thing in relationship to both God and to Jesus of Nazareth. Shepherds. One has to stop and wonder why all this attention is paid to shepherds and sheep. What's the big deal, anyway? All the shepherds really want is the sheep's wool and then later to eat them! What kind of a God is that?
The forgoing is an oversimplification of the deconstructionist model of biblical interpretation. The idea is to deconstruct our biblical models, exposing the fault lines and cracks in their logic and construction. Folks who practice this resemble a couple of gleeful kids who have been given permission to dismantle a room full of toys. For a while they're having a wonderful time. Look how easily things come apart! See the weakness of their construction! Why would someone build a toy that way, anyway? Then, after hours lost in deconstruction they suddenly realize that they've run out of toys. Now what? All the toys are taken apart and the kids have nothing to do. So they sit looking around the room for something else to deconstruct.
At the risk of calling down the ire of the academic community, it needs to be said that this is what we have seen in many seminaries across the land. Thirty years of deconstructionist interpretation have left us with nothing except a tradition dismantled.
Could it be that perhaps it's time to start building once again?
This image of God as shepherd, which the deconstructionist process has so dis-credited has more merit than some might imagine. First, the image of shepherds and sheep are indigenous to the text. These folks saw shepherds and sheep every day. When someone used this metaphor it gained instant recognition with the hearers. Second, is the actual job of the shepherd. One task of the shepherd was to corral and protect the sheep every night. In order to do this the shepherd had to build makeshift fences out of sticks and brush and whatever could be found in the often barren countryside. Once the corral was built, the shepherd would take a large stick and go into the corral where he would stamp and beat the ground to chase out scorpions, snakes, and a host of other creatures that might harm the sheep.
Wouldn't it be wonderful if this task of making the corral safe was the priority of clergy today? Wouldn't it be fascinating if, bit by bit, the Christian community began to reclaim its own language and imagery in order to begin the task of reconstructing the great traditions we share? If this could happen, perhaps many of our images and metaphors now cast aside as quaint and old-fashioned could be revitalized. And with a revitalized tradition, just maybe the church could be revived as well.
