[Christmas 1] on darkness surrounding the light

Now after the Magi had left Herod, an angel of God appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, "Get up, take the child and the mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy it." Then Joseph got up, took the child and the mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by God through the prophet, "Out of Egypt I have called my child."

When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the Magi, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the Magi. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah: "A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more."

When Herod died, an angel of God suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, "Get up, take the child and the mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child's life are dead." Then Joseph got up, took the child and the mother, and went to the land of Israel. But when Joseph heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, Joseph was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, Joseph went away to the district of Galilee. There Joseph made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, "This one will be called a Nazorean."

Matthew 2:13-23 (NRSV, alt.)

In his sermon on Sunday, Jeff talked about dreams. But what strikes me in this story is the darkness.

Christmas is about God putting skin on to be with us; and many of the preparatory texts we read during Advent talk about things like "He will save his people from their sins" (Matthew 1:21) and "the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious" (Isaiah 11:10) -- statements that make us feel excited about the ways that God is going to triumph over darkness.

Celebrating the birth of light in the midst of darkness is an ancient tradition testifying to humanity's hope that the darkness is never permanent; and Christians latched onto this tradition as deeply fitting with their understanding of what happened when God came to Earth in the form of the baby Jesus. Our liturgical tradition gives us 4 weeks of preparing for this birth: weeks with themes of Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love -- all positive things.

So why do we get barely any time to celebrate before we're thrown into genocide and refugee status?

David Lose on Working Preacher reminds us that God incarnated to share in the full experience of humanity, including the bad stuff:

Sometimes life is beautiful and wonderful and filled with goodness and grace. And God is a part of that, giving blessing and celebrating with us and for us. And sometimes life is hard, gritty, disappointing, and filled with heartache. And God is part of that as well, holding on to us, comforting us, blessing us with promise that God will stay with us through the good and the bad, drawing us ever more deeply into God’s loving embrace and promising that nothing – not even death – will separate us from God.

I really like this.

But as I settle into this reading, I remember my commentary in my email on Sunday.

It's true that Jesus doesn't live a charmed life -- the infant and family have to settle in a strange place not once but twice.

But Jesus survives.

Yes, Mary watches her firstborn die a few decades later; and Simeon, encountering the baby Jesus, warns the new mother, "a sword will pierce your own heart too" (Luke 2:35). But Mary seems exempted from "Rachel weeping for her children [...] because they are no more."

Later, Jesus will express maternal longing for the city that kills the prophets (and is about to kill Jesus -- Luke 13:34 / Matthew 23:37), but we don't hear of Jesus having any children, nevermind any children who died. (Jesus does weep over Lazarus -- but then raises Lazarus from the dead, so it's a rather less long-lasting grief.)

Does God provide special protection for the Messiah and abandon all the nobodies to suffer? Does that seem in keeping with the Gospel accounts which are full of Jesus' (and God's) preferential option for the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized?

Jeff talked about dreams, but where are the warning dreams for all the other parents in Bethlehem?

Karyn Wiseman on Working Preacher writes:

The story of the flight from Egypt and the killing of innocent boys under the age of two in Bethlehem and the surrounding area are often called "fulfillment" texts, in that they supposedly fulfill Hebrew Bible texts and prophesy (verses 15, 17). While the "fulfillment" of these texts in this passage is limited at best, the text makes clear that this event was not ordained by God -- it was ordered by Herod. These acts are not "fulfillment" of God's desires; these are examples of human fear, power seeking, anger, and evil (verse 16).

I am comforted by the reminder that while God works all things toward the good, God did not give Herod the idea to inflict genocide just so we could achieve some handy prooftexting about being called out of Egypt.

The Sunday before Christmas, Molly talked about Mary's silence in Matthew's story and suggested that Mary's "Yes" may have been somewhat reluctant. Not just Matthew's Annunciation, but Matthew's entire Nativity story lacks the triumphant joy of Luke's narrative.

We start with a troubled genealogy tracing Jesus back through the Davidic line to Abraham.

Then Mary is "found" to be pregnant and a dream angel has to convince Joseph not to divorce her. The angel makes promises about this baby's future, but they are all promises yet to be fulfilled -- a waiting perhaps echoed by Joseph's not having marital relations with Mary throughout the pregnancy, despite his taking her as his wife.

Then foreign court priests show up at King Herod's, seeking the newborn "king of the Jews" whom they wish to honor. Herod facilitates their search and claims that he, too, wants to honor this newborn king. In fact, he wishes to kill the baby, and when the magi are warned in a dream to avoid Herod on their way home (after they drop off their rich gifts with the family), Herod deals with his lack of specific information by ordering the slaughter of all babies who might be the baby in question. We get more warning dreams and more travel as the baby and family move from Bethlehem to Egypt to Nazareth.

And then if we were to keep reading in Matthew, we would get John the Baptist, living in the wilderness, dressed in camel's hair and eating locusts and wild honey -- preparing the way of the Lord! But referring to religious authorities as "You brood of vipers" and saying that the One who is to come will baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire, with a winnowing fork in hand. The story might be revving up at this point, but it is still arguably not "cheerful."

I would suggest that Matthew's Nativity story takes seriously the messy, broken world we still live in -- even though God has come to dwell amongst us in that world -- and the fact that God's redemption of this world has yet to be completed. (Not that I'm trying to say that Luke's doesn't.)

So where does that leave us this Christmas season?

What do we do with this story about a power-hungry despot who was willing to commit genocide of infants in order to secure his throne? This story about the parents who, like the matriarch Rachel, wept over their dead children -- victims of state-sponsored violence?

Does this story call us to work on behalf of refugees, those at risk for violence, and other vulnerable and oppressed populations?

Does this story offer us some consolation when our own shadowy lives don't seem to let in any Christmas light? Does this reminder that even the original Christmas wasn't all light and joy give you some permission to sit with your own sadness? Can you feel God traveling with you from Bethlehem to Egypt to Nazareth?

What does this story bring up for you, Beloved?

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.)