[Advent 4: Love] Jesus, waiting to be born, whether we like it or not

Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When Jesus' mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph, being a righteous person and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly.

But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of God appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph, child of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a child, whom you are to name Jesus, for this child will save the people from their sins."

All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by God through the prophet: "Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a child, whom they shall name Emmanuel," which means, "God is with us."

When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took Mary as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a child; and they named him Jesus.

Matthew 1:18-25 (NRSV alt. -- again, thanks to Cole and Ruth Ellen)

In her sermon, Molly talked a lot about Molly's "Yes," suggesting it wasn't as whole-hearted as it gets made out to be. As she noted, Mary doesn't say anything in Matthew's account.

This silence (or less charitably, this erasure of Mary) is jarring in contrast to Luke's account. But perhaps this reticent, hidden mother-to-be resonates far more with us than the bold assured young woman who proclaims that God is doing great things through her, who proclaims not only that God will but that God has upended the order of the world.

Molly talked about Mary's being "found out." Have there been changes in your life that you have been reluctant to voice? Are there ways that God has been growing something new in you that you have wished to hide -- from others and perhaps even from your own self?

To give us some context, Matthew prefaces this story with Jesus' genealogy -- a genealogy which contains 4 women (Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba) plus Mary makes 5. Nanette Sawyer writes:

Each of these women acted boldly and against convention in order to bring about some kind of justice. [...] These women all practiced a kind of righteousness that might appear scandalous. And Joseph is invited to do the same by accepting Mary, even though she is pregnant, not by him. We might ask ourselves, when does breaking with convention actually lead us toward a greater righteousness? When is righteousness scandalous?

Even if we didn't have Luke's account, could we infer about Mary based on the company she is placed in? Tamar, who disguises herself, takes real risks, and makes bold requests ... subverting the patriarchy to achieve the goals the patriarch has denied her. Rahab, who protects the Israelite spies when they come to invade and destroy her city. Ruth, who insists on following her mother-in-law to a foreign land, trusting this old woman in everything, even letting herself be married off and taking her mother-in-law's advice on how to seduce this man. Bathsheba, who is taken to bed by King David while she is still married (and after she becomes pregnant, David sets her husband up to be killed in war and then marries her himself to hide his crime) and stays with David through his old age, at which point she successfully gets her son named as heir to the throne rather than David's firstborn son.

I could write at length about this genealogy -- about how sexuality, subversion of patriarchy, and Other-ness play out in their narratives and about what placing them in conversation with each other can bring up. But our text isn't actually the Matthean genealogy, so as a segue I offer you this excerpt from Warren Carter's Matthew and the Margins: A Sociopolitical and Religious Reading (as quoted by Brian Stoffregen):

This conception without male agency and outside marriage circumvents the patriarchal household structure emphasized in 1:1-17. God is not bound by a structure that privileges male power. God seems to counter it, a theme that will continue as Jesus creates a new community in which the household is "not ruled by or even defined by a male head of the house" [quote from Levine, "Matthew," 254](see 4:18-22; 12:46-50; chs. 19-20).

Given how insistent people are about Jesus' maleness (in progressive churches, you may well hear God and the Holy Spirit referred to as "She," but I can basically guarantee you that you will never hear Jesus so referred to), I find this somewhat ironic. But I really like this idea. Jesus consistently privileges chosen family over family of origin; and Jesus consistently shows up in unexpected places, rejecting societal rules and lifting up those whom society has cast aside. To insist that the new family Jesus is creating must be headed by a man is to deny the reversal of the ways of the world which is at the core of that new creation.

Joseph is nearly erased in Luke's account (in a blink-and-you'll-miss-him appearance, he brings his family to Bethlehem for the Roman census, but the person Mary actually converses with is her also-miraculously-pregnant cousin Elizabeth), but Matthew's account lets us into his head some. Luke shows us Mary who is told (by the angel Gabriel at the Annunciation) what is going to happen and who then elaborates on what this means (in the Magnificat, delivered in the presence of Elizabeth -- the first human to recognize what has happened to Mary). But Joseph is taken by surprise by these events.

Jerry Goebel writes, "The angel had to 'wake up' Joseph from a spiritual stupor lest he sleep away his opportunity to participate in God's plan."

Are there ways God has been trying to "wake you up"? Are there people you would like to send away quietly whom God is calling you to embrace? (Important caveat: Not people whom you genuinely need to distance yourself from for your health and safety, but people you'd like to avoid just because it's easier, more comfortable, that way.)

Are there ways in which God is calling you to participate in something new God is doing in the world which you would rather distance yourself from?

This Matthew passage contains the familiar naming of Jesus as "Emmanuel," "God with us."

Brian Stoffregen writes:

it seems to me that the translation "God is with us" doesn't completely capture the sense of the Hebrew. The words suggest that "God is in common with us people" -- or "God is one of us."

What would it mean for God to be common with you?

After Megyn Kelly's comments on Fox News, there have been many articles about the historical Saint Nicholas and the historical Jesus, and the ways that representation plays out today -- including "White People Need a Non-White Jesus" on Sojourners.

Sarah Over the Moon on Patheos has written about God as a woman and God as a baby (this last link contains curse words).

Do any of these resonate with you as a God who is common with you, or as a God who challenges you to radical openness by being UNLIKE you? Is there a particular incarnation you feel you need which is not represented among these options?

Brian P. Stoffregen writes:

Can we believe that in this infant, God is with us as our savior? It can be safer to argue about what might have happened at Jesus' birth way back in history; than to live our lives today confessing and believing that "God is with us/me right now". I think that some of the historical arguments can be ways of avoiding the living God now. I once suggested from something I read, that all some people want is an inoculation of Christianity -- just enough of it so that they don't catch the real thing. Sometimes Christmas is no more than a "booster shot" -- something that helps us not catch the real thing. The real thing is "God is with us". The "savior" has been born and is with us. Yet many people feel more in bondage at Christmas time -- bondage to attend parties, buy gifts, spend too much money, be happy, etc. We may celebrate the coming of the Prince of Peace by making our lives more chaotic; the coming of the Lord of Life by becoming more depressed. These can be indications that we need more of the real thing. How do we live today knowing that the savior, God-is-with-us now?

Where does this Nativity story break into your life, Beloved?

As we're recovering from secular Christmas, are there ways we can welcome the God of true life and true peace into our lives? Are there ways we can make room for something new to be born in us?

You're invited to continue the conversation in the comments -- responding to any of the questions I've asked throughout this blogpost or raising questions of your own, or simply sharing some thoughts. (As always, you're welcome to comment anonymously/pseudonymously if you prefer.)