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)