Readings: Isaiah 63:7-9, Matthew 2:13-23
We pray: may the
words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight
O God, our rock and our sustainer. Amen
We were watching
the Vicar of Dibley the other night and it struck me that the strange
combinations of Letitia Cropley’s cooking (bread and butter pudding surprise
–snails, parsnip brownies ) were a
suitable metaphor for the incongruity of the readings we are asked to unpack
today. For they are an unpalatable
mix. The gracious deeds of the Lord,
bringing steadfast love and salvation to the world preached so eloquently by
Isaiah alongside the slaughter of the innocents in Bethlehem. And it’s just been a few days since the joy
and exultation – couldn’t we be brought back to reality just a little bit more
gently, we ask.
But no. Much as we talk about putting Christ back
into Christmas we are here today putting Herod back into Christmas too. It is a purely awful story of obscene power,
fear in one who has the capacity to command death, and we need to hear it for
it was not only the reality of those days but also of today. Children as soldiers, as slaves, as prostitutes,
children starving, randomly killed and intentionally abused. These acts of outrage are our world too.
Maybe this reading
is the counter to the increasingly sanitized story of the birth of Jesus – cute
shepherds and rich wise sages and a baby who is perfect to a couple who have
been immortalised. Liz Gibson says that
the Christmas story is fantastic but it’s not fantasy. But we turn it into fantasy if we make it all
cosy and nice and avoid that nasty bits.
Imagine the reality, the gigantic leap of faith needed to believe this
could be, the pain and anxiety of childbirth, the doubts about what actually
happened here and what was to come, the awful journey and no place to stay –
there would have been some grumpy moments at best and some downright terrifying
stuff underlying the Christmas story as we know it. I don’t know why we do that – try to submerge
the unpalatable and raise up the sweet and lovely when life is actually not
like that at all. Life does actually
stink at times and for many – all of the time.
It’s a fact.
Back to that day
of unmitigated terror in Bethlehem. What might have been the words of a mother,
the Rachels of the time, to Mary and Joseph if she had met them on the street
after this act of horror do you think?
Ian Fraser suggests this:
Your child’s
coming was my child’s going, Mary.
Your child’s
living was my child’s dying.
Your child’s
saving was mine’s destroying, Mary. If
Jesus saves, what means these graves?
Where was the
mercy of God in this moment? The
steadfast love and promised salvation!
And we know the answer even if it is somewhat counter intuitive – God is
right there in the midst as God is always in the place of hurting and pain and
loss!’ For we are reminded time and time
again, are we not, that the good news of Christ is with us in the midst of the
light and of the darkness.
We need to be
reminded too that our God is not a God who is detached from our reality, not
one who impartially observes from afar or instigates all that is wrong in the
world. We do well all by ourselves with
the instigating of evil deeds and God, in Christ, became flesh into that very
darkness so that we might have light in the midst of the dark. The Isaiah reading is a classic reminder of
this – the part we heard today was upbeat, praising and glorifying God but
there is the danger when we pluck out a part of the bible and stand it alone –
as Barbara Brown Taylor says, this passage has been airlifted out of a chapter
thick with divine wrath and human despair.
In the context this is a people praising God not when all is well but
when life is turbulent and sometimes downright awful.
And that teaches
us something. Life is not at its best
when it is detached from the reality of life, when we live out our Christian
faith in isolation from the realities going on around us. Bad stuff does not mean that God has left us
or we have done something wrong. Putting
a bubble round our lives – with all our energy going into keeping safe and
secure – is not what it means to be Christian.
We actually have no excuse for thinking that way: To be led by the
spirit of a loving God means that when we see fear and pain and need around us,
we head toward it and enter into it freely, risking ourselves to bring hope and
healing into the world.
That’s the job description. Look it up.
Mary and Joseph, far from having to cope just with a new
baby and a relatively short trip home, had to flee – become refugees in the far
land of Egypt. Mary and Joseph would
have known of the slaughter and had to live with the reality that the birth of
their baby had led to an act of terror.
But here is the thing – God was with them through it all,
was with the suffering parents and community of Bethlehem, is with those who
suffer now. The world doesn’t get
better, the horror just gets more sophisticated and sometimes it doesn’t! We live in uncertain times now, we fear what
is happening in the world, we wonder if we can survive this, we might wonder
where God is? And we might struggle with
the fact that Jesus was under God’s protection and the babies of Bethlehem were
not. I find it difficult and always have
to worship a God who is exclusive to some ignoring others and disagree with a
commentary that suggested if we are faithful and trusting God will keep us safe
from the perils of the world. That is not the God I know – rather, and
especially today it is the God who comes to us in the darkest times and gives
us hope, holds a light for us when all others have gone out, who loves us so
much that in Christ, all the pain and suffering of the world was born on the
shoulders of a baby that we might have light in the darkness. This is the God that
I worship and adore.
God with the people of Bethlehem in their nightmare, God in the giving
of a son come to save and to heal through the cross, God with the refugee and
the broken. So, in this new year, as we
look toward what is to come, as we grapple with the realities of life, all that
is good and all that is not, I leave you with this blessing for journeying from
Iona (Linda Wright A Blessing as you journey into the New Year from 'Hay and Stardust' Wild Goose Publications)
May your eyes be
opened to the wonder of the daily miracles around you and your sense of mystery
be deepened.
May you be aware of
the light that shines in the darkness, and that the darkness can never be put
out.
May you be blessed
with companions on the journey, friends who will listen to you and encourage you
with their presence.
May you learn to live
with what is unsolved in your heart, daring to face the questions and holding
them until, one day, they find their answers.
May you find the
still quiet place in side yourself where you can know and experience the peace
that passes understanding.
May love flow in you
and through you to those who need your care.
May you continue to
dream dreams and to reach out into the future with a deeper understanding of
God’s ways for you. Amen
Margaret Garland
Affirmation of Faith we stand and say together:
We believe in God, creator of the world and of all
people;
and in Jesus Christ incarnate among us, who died and
rose again;
and in the Holy Spirit, present with us to guide,
strengthen, and comfort.
We rejoice in every sign of God’s kingdom:
in the upholding of human dignity and community;
in every expression of love, justice and
reconciliation;
in each act of self-giving on behalf of others;
in the abundance of God’s gifts entrusted to us that
all may have enough;
in all responsible use of the earth’s resources.
We commit ourselves individually and as a community
to the way of Christ;
to take up the cross;
to seek abundant life for all humanity;
to struggle for peace with justice and freedom;
to risk ourselves in faith, hope and love, praying
that God’s kingdom may come.
(World Methodist
Council, Nairobi, Kenya, 1986)
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