The Season For The Reason

Luke 2:1-7


In the name of Jesus.
“Merry Christmas.” As the season draws ever nearer, so do the frequency of christmas greetings, even after christmas has passed. And if we were to ask, “What’s so merry about christmas,” people at once answer, “Well, it’s the birthday of Jesus, the Savior.” But often, that is the extent of their answers because many of them do not know the reason why God had to be born into human flesh. And often, we too, perhaps because of the festive nature of the holidays, forget the real purpose of Christmas.
Our text says that Jesus was born when Caesar Augustus, Octavian, was emperor of Rome. This statement establishes two things: first, we can locate Jesus in a specific point in history. That means that Jesus isn’t merely fiction, a myth thought up by somebody who had too much time on his hands. And so many people today think that Jesus is only a myth, no different from Santa Claus. Jesus was born in a specific time, when Octavian was emperor, when Cyrenius was governor of Syria. Jesus was born in Bethlehem, where King David himself was born.
But not only that. It was also during that time that Herod the Great was king of the Jews, an almost unspeakably evil king ruled by fear and doubt. A king who did not brook talk about anyone succeeding him or anyone plotting to take his throne away from under his royal behind. And so, he has managed to kill off a number of relatives because he suspected them of plotting against him and his crown. That is also why he ordered the massacre of the children in Bethlehem.
In Bethlehem, because Joseph, foster father of Jesus, was of the lineage of David the king. Accompanying him was Mary, his bride, heavy with child. So heavy was this burden about to be born, and difficult was the road to Bethlehem: dusty, difficult.
And when they arrive at Bethlehem, they could not find suitable quarters because the inns were already filled with people who have come for the same reason: the census. And so they were forced to stay in a stable, a cave, really, where animals would shelter. And it is in that cave where Mary gave birth to her first born, inside a smelly cave fit only for animals to use. Mary wraps her baby in swaddling clothes and lays him on the feeding trough.
A difficult situation indeed, fit for a difficult time, full of fear and doubt. Eventually, the hapless family would have to run and hide in Egypt so they might not attract the attention of the insane king.
Is this the birth we celebrate everytime christmas comes prancing around the corner of our years? Is this the reason why we greeat each other with “merry christmas,” or “happy holidays”?
And if we dare, we ask the question, “Why was Jesus born?” The answer to that question comes thirty or so years later, when Jesus, arrested, beaten to a pulp, mocked, ridiculed, brought before Pilate, is sentenced to die by means of crucifixion. The baby born in a manger, whose birth the angels heralded with joy and singing, would grow up and be nailed on a cross. Why?
Because of our sin. Because we are sinful and we cannot save ourselves. Because we live as if there was no God, as if we were accountable to no one but ourselves. Because our hearts are full of envy, anger and avarice. Jesus was born so that he could die – FOR US. FOR YOU. Jesus was born so he could exchange his righteousness for our sin, what Luther called “The Happy Exchange.” The Lord cheerfully exchanged places with us: He exchanged his righteousness, his holiness for our wickedness and sin. Hear the words of Luther: “Lord Jesus, you are my righteousness, just as I am your sin. You have taken upon yourself what is mine and have given to me what is yours. You have taken upon yourself what you were not and have given to me what I was not.”
And because of what Jesus did on the cross, God has declared us righteous, because his only begotten Son bore our sin and nailed it to the cross with him. Our christmas is merry because someone was willing to experience a terrible sadness – on that first Good Friday, when he was nailed on the cross. There is meaning in our celebration of christmas because Jesus, by his death, gave the season a reason.
And because of his death, we have received his gifts of grace, forgiveness and life: his Word and his Sacraments, which give to us eternal life, the forgiveness of sins. The season gains reason.
And so, the next time you say, “merry christmas,” think of the cross, think of Good Friday, and your christmas will truly be joyful.
Merry Christmas, then, because Christ died for you so that your sins may be forgiven. Merry Christmas indeed, for Christ, by his death, has given the season its most wonderful reason -- his life. Merry Christmas, because this is the season of the Reason. This is most certainly true. This is most certainly for you.
And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, our Lord. Amen. (Philippians 1:7)

A Different Righteousness

The Fourth Sunday In Advent

Matthew 1:18-25


In the name of Jesus.
As I was reading our Gospel text for this Sunday, I couldn’t help thinking what Joseph might have thought, what he might have felt felt, when his bride to be, Mary, disclosed the unadulterated truth to him:
Mary : Er, Joseph, since we’re this close to being formally husband and wife, I have something to tell you.
Joseph: (still clueless) What is it, dear?
Mary : Promise you won’t go out and kill someone after you’ve heard this.
Joseph : Er, okay. What is it?
Mary : (heaving a sigh) Joseph, my love, I am pregnant.
Joseph : (would UNBELIEF be too strong a word to use at this point?) Er, what did you say?
Mary : I’m pregnant, Joseph, but it’s not what you think. Er, God made me pregnant, by his Holy Spirit.
Joseph : (Oh yeah. Right. And I’m Arnold Schwarzzeneger) All right. Whatever you say, dear. . .
(but whatever Joseph said, his actions spoke more loudly: for “Joseph, being a just (righteous) man and unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to divorce her quietly.” -Matthew 1:19b)
And as I read through the text, I kept saying to myself, Joseph’s an idiot. Why doesn’t he fall down on his knees and sing the Te Deum, or something? And I realize that, were I in Joseph’s place, I would probably react the same way, if not worse: I would not believe what Mary was saying.
We never really stop to consider this little family controversy during Advent, or Christmas, for that matter, do we? We are so busy preparing for the holidays, planning dinners and trips and vacations and parties that we totally overlook this crisis in Joseph’s household even before he is married.
Oh yes. And we are so pleased with the cuteness of those Christmas cards we see in bookstores: a quiet, starry evening; a quaint hut; Mary looking over her child as the baby Jesus quietly sleeps on fresh, clean hay; some sheep quietly grazing nearby; the wise men kneeling and worshipping the baby Jesus. This is frequently our concept of what Christmas is, or should be. And I guess we would be about right, for that is as far as our own righteousness, our own faith, would bring us. The question is, do we believe? For our own righteousness would not consider the anguish Mary must have felt when her bridegroom Joseph met her announcement with incredulity. Our own righteousness would not let us consider the shame Mary must have felt as she fled to the hill country where her cousin Elizabeth lived, just to get away from the suspicious eyes, the rumor filled tongues of her neighbors in Nazareth. In fact, lurking just beneath our own righteousness is unbelief. How can a girl be pregnant if there was no sexual act involved? I remember a TV show, Thirtysomething, in which Hope, a Christian, argues with her husband, Michael, who is Jewish, about the holidays. “Why do you even bother with Hannukah.” Hope asks. “Do you really believe a handful of Jews held off a huge army by using a bunch of lamps that miraculously wouldn’t run out of oil?” Michael explodes: “Oh, and Christmas makes more sense? Do you really believe an angel appeared to some teenage girl who then got pregnant without ever having had sex and traveled on horseback to Bethlehem where she spent the night in a barn and had a baby who turned out to be the Savior of the world?”
In a manner of speaking, Michael was only echoing what someone asked a long time ago, to another couple in the middle of a garden: “Do you really believe God would do something like that? Do you really believe?”
Well, that someone asks us again and again: “Do you really believe?” What, do you really believe that mere words can absolve you of all guilt? Do you really believe that plain water can save a mindless child from the eternal torments of hell? Do you really believe that a piece of bread and a drop of wine can give everlasting life? Do you really believe?
I am not saying that Joseph was a heartless, thoughtless lout. Contrary to that. I agree with St. Matthew. Joseph was a good man. He was a righteous man. I am saying, though, that Joseph’s own righteousness, his own faith, his idea of right and wrong, his concept of good and evil, what he thought would please or displease God, could only go so far, and no farther. And so does our own righteousness.
For our own righteousness can take us only so far, and no further. Our righteousness cannot fathom that a child born in a stable would end up nailed on a cross and lead us into the kingdom of heaven. Our righteousness cannot take us further than the bounds of our own goodness and strength. Our righteousness does not exceed the righteousness of the Pharisees. And our own righteousness, we realize, does not really amount to much, for we are sinful, filled with unbelief. Our own righteousness will drive us to despair.
GOSPEL
But the story of Joseph’s righteousness, our righteousness, does not end there. For while in the middle of mulling things over, something wonderful happens to Joseph. An angel appears to him and says the sweetest words Joseph will ever hear (well, apart from Mary telling him I love you): DO NOT BE AFRAID. Do not despair. For there is a righteousness greater than our own, a different righteousness. A righteousness, St. Paul says, that comes not from obeying the Law, but a righteousness that comes from God:
But as he considered these things, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet:
“Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
and they shall call his name Immanuel” (which means, God with us).
God, by his Word, put his own righteousness in Joseph’s heart (as well as ours, for our own righteousness is the same as Joseph’s): the righteousness that he put in Mary’s womb. For Joseph. FOR US. And God’s righteouness is named Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins. And this he does by going to the cross to take the punishment for our sin, our righteousness, our unbelief. He takes our unbelief and exchanges that for his own righteousness, which he gives to us. And by Immanuel’s death, we have life. Eternal life.
And even today, Immanuel comes to us, through his Word, pronouncing us not gulity. He comes to us and saves us by water and his Word. He comes and gives us his very body and blood in the bread and the wine, for the forgiveness of our sins.
People of God, “do not be afraid. . .you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins. . .Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel,” which means that God, in Jesus, is with us, giving us grace, forgiveness and life through his Word and his Sacraments. This is most certainly true. This is most certainly for you.
And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, our Lord. Amen. (Philippians 4:7)

Great Disappointments, Greater Savior

The Third Sunday In Advent

Matthew 11:2-15


In the name of Jesus.
Last Sunday we heard this peculiar prophet thundering in the wilderness about a coming Messiah, a coming King who will baptize not with water but with fire! Such a great expectation. This must be a great and powerful Messiah, greater even than the Roman Empire. He tells the truth about Herod’s sin and Herod claps him in jail. Now John the Baptizer waits eagerly for the expected Messiah to show his greatness. But he waits in vain. No overthrow, no rescue, nothing. John waits. Nothing. Finally, he tells two of his students to go to Jesus and ask him, “Are you he that is to come, or should we wait for another?”
When confronted by this question, we would think that Jesus would scold his herald John, but he does not. He instead comforts John:
Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them.
What does Jesus mean? Well, why do the blind see? Why do the lame walk? Why are the lepers cleansed? Why are the dead raised? Because John’s prophecy has come true: the kingdom of God has come. For Jesus, the King, has come, and he is doing what a king should be doing: he is reigning, and he reigns by His Word. And his Word brings deliverance and life.
But Jesus tells his listeners something more.
What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? A man dressed in soft clothing? Behold, those who wear soft clothing are in kings' houses. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet.
The reed shaken by the wind is a reference to the soft life of a king, of Herod. And so, Jesus is asking, are you looking for a king? A man dressed as a king? Those people could be found in palaces. What did you go out to see? A prophet, who looks like a king, who dresses in three pice suits like Joel Osteen or any of those televangelists wearing expensive clothes. Well, Jesus is telling them now, well, here is your king, and look what he is doing. Is he living a soft and comfortable life? No, his life is hard because he is too poor to buy a decent sacrifice for the temple; does he wear fine clothing? At the end of his life, the only piece of clothing he had was one piece of seamless garment, which the soldiers throw dice for to see who gets it. Did they want to see a prophet? Well, here he is, preaching the Good News to the poor. And what is the Good News? That God, in Jesus, now reigns.
MALADY
And so, like the people in Jesus’ time, like John the Baptizer, we look for Messiah in all the wrong places, we expect Jesus to do all the wrong things. We look at Christmas the wrong way. For we imagine Christmas to be picture perfect, like the Christmas cards on display now in the bookstores: the nice and quiet star-filled evening, clear skies, the lambs quietly grazing, Mary looking down lovingly on the Christ child peacefully asleep in a quaintly decorated manger, the shepherds and the magi quietly kneeling to one side. And because we look at Christmas the wrong way, we therefore look at Advent the wrong way. We would like to see Advent as an intermission between Halloween and Christmas.
And because we expect to see Christ in all the wrong places and expect him to do all the wrong things. And when the King does the right things, the things we do not expect, we are disappointed with Christ.
Well, the truth is, we are the great disappointment, for we aree sinful.
We expect Jesus to be proud, but he comes to us humbly.
We expect Jesus to be rich, but he is poor.
We expect him to be a king, but he comes in the form of a servant.
We expect him to be mighty. Instead, he is weak.
GOSPEL
And yet, in spite of all our great disappointments at who and what Jesus is, in spite of our sin, Jesus does not disappoint, for his power is made manifest in his weakness. His riches are made manifest in poverty and meanness, and his majesty is made manifest in the cross. For we are blind and deaf and lame and dead in our sin.
And so, behold the man, who is poor and weak and powerless, hanging on the cross. But it is precisely by the cross that God’s power is seen in its fulness, for by the cross, the powers of death, hell and the devil are undone. By the cross Jesus has manifested his kingship. By the cross, we who are sinful have become righteous in God’s sight.
And it is precisely in the mean and poor things that Jesus chooses to reveal his majesty and power. By the mere speaking of his Word, he pronounces us forgiven of all our sin. By simple means, water, bread, wine, Jesus chooses to reveal his majesty and power, for these things, water accompanied by God’s Word, cleanses us of our sin and marks us as God’s children; the bread and wine, accompanied by God’s Word, become for us the true body and blood of Jesus the crucified, giving us grace, forgiveness and life. In these poor and simple things, Jesus chooses to reveal himself to us: prophet and king.
And so, if you would see Christ, look at the cross, for it is on the cross that Jesus reigns. By the cross he is King. And from the cross, his blessings flow to us, through Word and Sacraments.
We may be great disappointments, but one greater than us has come. But his greatness is not found in soft clothes or king’s palaces. His greatness comes from the cross, his death for our life. For from his cross, through his Word and Sacraments, we have received the most unexpected gifts: grace, forgivenes, eternal life. Because of Christ and him crucified for the forgiveness of our sins. This is most certainly true. This is most certainly for you.
And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, our Lord. Amen. (Philippians 4:7)