December 22nd, 2013 MATTHEW 1:18-25

MATTHEW 1:18-25

¹⁸Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. ¹⁹Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. ²⁰But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. ²¹She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” ²²All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:
²³  “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
          and they shall name him Emmanuel,”
which means, “God is with us.” ²⁴When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, ²⁵but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.

***

This Wednesday morning, Women’s Support Group gathered at Ginger Rembold’s home for an ornament exchange. We began with a rousing game of match the eighteen baby Jesus’ with their nativities. The nativities were made out of wood, and clay, and stone, and featured coconut stables, and moose angels, and ultra modern - MOMA worthy - depictions of the manger scene. We found out that Peru makes more nativities than any other country, and that Amber, despite my competitive streak, is the best guesser of us all as to which.  Yet, of all the fifty-two nativity scenes displayed, there is a commonality, of silent perfection, of the holy family bowed, and the visitors bent kneed, and the angels and the star, respectively, feather winged and gleaming. Yet, I long for a different nativity.

I read this text of Joseph, and I remember Luke’s account of Mary, and I want a nativity that shows them before Christmas, before the angels. I want a nativity of teenage-pregnant-out-of-wedlock-Mary running off to Elizabeth, and scared, scared, scared, with no good options: being stoned death the worst, and dismissed quietly to a life of disgrace and hardship - the best outcome. I want a nativity of Joseph, having thought his life was set out before him, now having to dismiss and disgrace the one to whom he was once betrothed. I want a nativity depicting those no good options, and the real people to whom those plights fell. I want a nativity that looks like you, and me, because in actuality, Mary and Joseph are not that different from each of us, and their predicament is both as universal and varied as a room full of nativities.

I look at Joseph, and I wonder, about the very human questions he must have asked. There are the W questions, the with whom, exactly what, when, where and why? There are the rabbit holes of future questions: What will this mean for our families who arranged our marriages? Will there be shame on both, for our choosing poorly, and for their being a poor choice? Will it split the friendship our parents enjoyed? What will this mean for me, Joseph, since people will most likely assume I am the father? How will I combat that disgrace? What will it mean for me in order to marry again? What will it mean for Mary and her life ahead? Do I have to follow the law and have her stoned, or can I dismiss her quietly to raise a child on her own in poverty, or will she be shipped off to Elizabeth’s and hidden away, with the secret child of her shame? If I were to claim she and the child, would Mary, once a cheater, always remain so? If I married her would people see me as Mary’s savior, or the one who threw his life away with the whore? I wonder if it came down to the question. I wonder if it was simply a choice of Mary’s life, or his own. I don’t blame Joseph for the choice he made. I would have done the same. Joseph, was not that different from you or I.

I think about these pews, and I know they too, have held stories of imperfect families, and I think about this pulpit and how it holds an imperfect pastor from a similarly imperfect, and perhaps similarly plighted birth. I have heard the story of my birth-grandma, getting a phone call from her sister-in-law, that her niece was pregnant. My birth-grandma tells of watching her son disappear into the bathroom, and knowing, simply by the look on his cast away face, that he was the father of his cousin’s baby. I have heard him tell of the worry and way feared for his cousin, about the way he knew she would be judged by the Catholicism of her family, and hidden away as the daughter of a city-councilmen. I have heard him tell about how he longed to protect and provide for her, and wished he could whisk her away like Joseph. My birth-dad did not have that choice; at 15 and 16 your choices are not your own. Today, in his telling there is a way you can hear him wishing he could have traded places with my birth-mom, and you can hear the deep care and love and responsibility he felt then and still feels. While my birthfather rightfully felt responsibility, the yearning to protect, and provide, especially to a woman with child, is common among men. It makes Joseph’s ultimate choice, though divinely inspired, one to which we can relate.

It is this humanness that makes Joseph holy, that common people can do divine things, and likewise, that God comes to the common people, the imperfect among us, and in the most broken of situations. Joseph, in a mess of life follows God, though the baby is not his, Joseph in adopting the child, names it Jesus, and in so doing, Joseph, fulfills the prophesy of the Emmanuel, which means God with us.

Perhaps this is why those nativities seem so perfect, because they are trying to depict those God moments that seep into the mess of this season, those God moments that seep into the mess of our lives. We must remember, Christmas doesn’t and didn’t always look that neat. That there was, and is Advent first, there is the longest night of the year, and there is a grief of our lives not looking like we pictured or try to portray. But we must also remember, that this humanness is where, and to whom, God enters in. That Mary and Joseph did not always look that peaceful, but in their humanness they followed a promise, that God would be with them, in the mess. We have that same promise today, that God is coming to be with us, that God will be the Emmanuel. Imagine what that nativity looks like, like us, like you as Joseph, or Mary, just as you are, with everything you bring, the mess of life included. We are the nativity, met by God, in this little town of Baker City, in this sanctuary, God comes to us, just as we are.