Sermon for January 5, 2020 - Christmas 2 - Year A - The Rev'd Isaac P. Martinez

Christmas 2 Year A

Lections: Jer. 31:7-14; Ps. 84; Eph. 1:3-6,15-19a; Matt. 2:13-15,19-23

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O God, Our Rock and Our Redeemer. Amen.

Good morning, St. Paul’s! As always, it is a blessing to break open the Word with you this morning, our final day of Christmas celebrations.

In our Gospel passage today, we encounter a unique moment in the story of Jesus, when his parents take him and flee to Egypt to escape the murderous wrath of King Herod. It is unique not just because Matthew’s Gospel is the only source we have for this particular episode, but also because it provides a rare glimpse of what Jesus’s life was like as a child.

Oh, and what a glimpse it is. Going with just Matthew’s version of the birth of Jesus, we are told that as a baby, Jesus already has wise men from the East coming to Jerusalem seeking where to find the newborn Messiah. They come bringing expensive gifts fit not just for a king, but for a god. Their very arrival in Judea throws that very stable genius, King Herod, into such anxious rage that he begins planning how to get rid of this infant threatening his reign. So, not even a few months old, Jesus is already demonstrating power to turn the world upside down.

But the Jesus we encounter in this story is no miracle worker, yet. He can’t teach or heal or bless. He can’t even hold his own head up. Like all human babies, he is utterly dependent on Joseph and Mary, who will do anything to protect him. And when they get the word from an angel to escape to Egypt, in order to avoid Herod’s plots against Jesus, the Holy Family becomes refugees, political asylum seekers, going to a strange land to find physical, emotional, and spiritual safety.

Unfortunately for historians, Matthew says nothing about what Mary and Joseph and the young Jesus got up to in Egypt. Fortunately for us, this allows us to spend time with our imagination. Perhaps they spent those years in Alexandria, a bustling metropolis with a significant Jewish population. Or perhaps they went to a small village on the Nile that needed a skilled carpenter. Wherever they ended up, it was likely Jesus grew up surrounded by people who were very different than him and his family. It must also be the case from his later teaching and preaching that Jesus grew up deeply rooted in his Jewish identity, either at home with his parents, or perhaps attending an Egyptian synagogue.

Later, when Herod dies, another angelic message comes to Joseph, telling them it’s safe to return to the land of Israel. But they can’t return to Bethlehem or anywhere in Judea because Herod’s son is now the ruler there, so the Holy Family turns north to Galilee, to the very small town of Nazareth, where Jesus will spend the rest of his childhood, teenage years, and young adulthood. All that time, we can imagine Jesus was trying to make sense of the tyranny that forced his parents to flee to Egypt. Perhaps he struggled to reconcile his divine status with his traumatic memories. Perhaps, even as a young child, he needed to rely on God’s promises of mercy, of salvation, and of comfort as much as we do.

In the Anglican tradition, all twelve days of Christmas, from December 25th through today are supposed to be festive. The incarnation has happened. God has come into this world to dwell with us. “Rejoice,” the angels tell the shepherds, “Peace to God’s people on earth.” Joy, peace, celebration. What more could we ask for?

But maybe, like me, you have come to this sanctuary today not quite feeling like celebrating some more. Perhaps, like me, you have come here instead seeking some consolation and comfort, trying to exchange sorrow for gladness, as the prophet Jeremiah puts it.

Maybe for you the source of sorrow is a personal situation in your own life, at home, at school, or at work. For me, it has been the onslaught of terrible headlines. Here in this country, we have witnessed an upsurge in violence directed against ethnic and religious minorities, including horrendous attacks against our Jewish siblings. And I can’t help but scroll through the cataclysmic images of the wildfires in Australia, intensified by our ceaselessly warming our planet and our costly reliance on fossil fuels. And if that wasn’t enough, we now face renewed and escalating warmongering, with provocations coming from all sides and prospects for peace fading rapidly. All of these tragic events have happened during these last twelve days of Christmas. So celebration? I don’t think so, beloved.

But worse than the shock of seeing war when I was expecting peace or devastation when I wanted joy, worse than that is the profound helplessness that pervaded me the last few days. I’m sure there is more I can do to ease my personal reliance on fossil fuels. But even if I did so, what about the 7 billion other people on this planet? And yes, I can try to be a more consistent advocate for peacemaking. But honestly, what difference would my individual actions even make? It feels risky to admit this the day before my ordination as a priest, during what is supposed to be a season of hope, but I feel trapped in creeping hopelessness. Maybe, my friends, you do too.

And so what am I to do as I live in this tension between the celebration of God’s incarnation and a world that is so despairing? But maybe that’s been exactly my problem all along, focusing so intensely on what I can do.

Perhaps instead I should focus more on what our Gospel lesson teaches us. For even a very young Jesus experienced this world as a victim of greed and violence, not able to do anything about it. But because Mary and Joseph loved him so much, and because he was so rooted in his identity as God’s promised and beloved Son, he was nonetheless able to transform those early experiences into a life so full of meaning that he was willing to give his life for the world. And it is because of Jesus’s birth, and then his teaching, his death, and his resurrection, that we can be assured that the Herods and Pilates and the broken, sinful systems they represent won’t have the last word, no matter how hopeless we currently feel.

Beloved, following Jesus is about doing what we can, individually and collectively, to make God’s world truly a place of joy and peace for all people. So yes, let’s keep standing against anti-Semitism and racism. Let’s keep marching and raising our voices for peace with justice. Let’s keep doing our part to stop climate change. Let’s keep acting by donating our time and our money and by joining with the many people of different religions, races, economic classes, and nationalities who share our values and dreams. Our actions are necessary. But they aren’t sufficient.

Following Jesus requires that we all have faith, faith that God will fulfill what God spoke through the prophets, that God will redeem all of creation from hands that are too strong for us. We build this faith by constantly remembering what God has already done for God’s people. And it is from this faith that hope springs up again and again. O God of hosts, happy are they who put their trust in you! Only you can turn our mourning into joy. So come, Lord Jesus, comfort us, and exchange our sorrow for gladness. Amen.