Sermon on Matthew 1:18-25
As many of you know, I have a fondness for comic books. Spider-Man, Batman, the Incredible Hulk, I can still sit down with a stack of comic books, just like I could when I was a kid, and spend an afternoon or even a rainy sabbath day one panel at a time.
Comic books, like jazz, are one of the few uniquely American art forms. Essentially pragmatic, every element of them is used to craft the story. Everything is significant, ranging from the choices of color to the number of panels on the page. All of these things help tell the story in some way. If it’s there, the it’s there on purpose. You can’t waste space when you want to tell a story in thirty-two pages.
Of course, the most interesting and important stories that super-hero comics can tell is th origin story. The first few pages of the Incredible Hulk’s origin story go back and forth between the group of scientists, led by Bruce Banner, who are preparing to test a gamma bomb, and Rick Jones, a troubled teenager driving erratically through the desert in a stolen jeep. At first, it isn’t clear what one story has to do with the other, until Rick drives into the bomb testing site. Banner becomes the Hulk because he is exposed to radiation from the bomb as he tries to save Rick. Rick’s side story, which as first seemed irrelevant to the main story, turns out to be essential for the main story to happen.
A more famous example is Spider-Man. When Peter Parker first gained his powers, he intended to use them to make money as an entertainer and wrestler. After a show, a gunman runs past him, fleeing from a crime. He could have easily stopped the thief by just sticking out his foot and tripping him, but he didn’t think it was his responsibility and didn’t want to risk getting hurt.
At first this seems like just a side note, an example to show us just how self-absorbed the teenaged Parker has become. It isn’t until the end of the story, after Spider-Man has tracked down his uncle’s killer, that we learn that the thief he had let escape before was the killer. The lesson he learned about responsibility shaped his entire career as a super hero.
And everybody know’s Batman’s story. As a child, he witnessed his parents murder in a mugging. What he learned about the savageness of criminals and the dangers of the city from that shaped him into the fierce, dark hero he became.
In all these stories, all the elements, no matter how irrelevant they might seem at first, are essential to the story. Also, the origins of these characters provide the moral grounding for their characters. While a Spider-Man story might be just as enjoyable if you don’t know about the death of his Uncle Ben, it adds something to the character to know that he is motivated in part by guilt for his past sins.
It might not be apparent, but there are some real similarities in the ways comics and the gospels tell their stories. For instance, how things appear in the gospels are important to the stories they tell. Luke opens Jesus’ ministry with a teaching scene that doesn’t appear until much later in Matthew. Luke does this because he bases Jesus public ministry in the teaching from Isaiah used there. How the stories appear are essential to the telling of the overall stories.
And this is of course true of origin stories, as well. Mark and John don’t have birth narratives. Mark makes Jesus’ baptism the origin story. Baptism is a common experience to all believers, so it underscores the shared roles of ministry we have with Jesus and our similarities with him. John begins with a hymn about the eternalness of the logos, rooting Jesus’ ministry in everlasting work of God from before creation.
Matthew and Luke both tell nativity stories, but the stories they tell are radically different. They both begin with genealogies, but he genealogies themselves are quite different. Luke goes all the way back to Adam, uniting all of humanity in the gospel. Matthew only goes back to Abraham. This lets us know that Matthew’s Jesus is essentially Jewish. His story began with the Jewish people, and he is part of the unfolding of their story, not a replacement for them.
We see more of Luke’s concern for the poor as the source of his gospel in his birth narrative. Last week, our response to the scriptures was Mary’s magnificat, a hymn about the poor being given lots of good things to eat and the rich having to deal with being hungry for a while. It was a complete reversal of the social order, illustrated by a poor, unwed, pregnant teenaged girl and her exaltation, her being lifted up and blessed by all generations to come.
That’s Luke’s origin story for Jesus, but it isn’t Matthew’s. This morning’s reading is all Matthew has to say about Jesus’ birth. In Matthew, there is no nativity, no trip to Bethlehem, no angels, no visitors to the manger. Mary isn’t even all that important in this birth story. All there is are these paragraphs about Joseph.
In the other gospels, Jesus’ origins lie in the eternity of God’s holiness, told in magnificent hymns and poetry. In other gospels, Jesus’ origins lie in his baptism, when the skies are split open and he hears the voice of God proclaiming him the Son of God.. In other gospels, the birth of Jesus is announced to the poor and oppressed of Bethlehem by an angel, come to let them know that the one who would save the has been born. In other gospels there is power and might and glory, displays of God’s pleasure and signs of the coming of the Kingdom.
But in Matthew, we don’t have any of that. In Matthew, we have a man who is divorcing his fiancee, and he decides not to because of a dream. This is not an angel crying hallelujahs to shepherds or the voice of God coming from a cloud. This doesn’t have the power of the other gospels. It doesn’t grab you like Batman’s story does. Why did Matthew use this as the origin story for Jesus?
Mary is, by all appearances, guilty of adultery. According to the scriptures, she should be stoned to death. Instead of subjecting her to that, Joseph tries to let her go quietly, even though it means he won’t get justice. If you think about it, he probably assumes that Mary loves the father of her baby, and he is sacrificing his happiness so she can be happy.
But, based on a dream of all silly things, he changes his mind. An angel, a messenger from the Lord, tells Joseph that he is already a part of this story. The messiah is coming, and you will name him. His name will be Jesus. Actually, his name shall be Y’shua, which means “The Lord Saves”. And his name will be given to him by Joseph, because this is what God has commanded. So Joseph goes ahead and marries her.
Why is this Matthew’s origin story for Jesus? Why, when other gospel writers were going for voices from heaven and hymns about Jesus’ shaping the universe, did Matthew use this simple, miracle-free story to begin God’s human story?
Because Joseph took a risk. He risked looking like a fool by having a wife who cheated on him. He risked being stuck with raising another man’s son. He risked being resented by Mary for not letting her out of the marriage contract so she could marry the man she really loved. All of these things were major risks for a man like Joseph. A poor man, a man with no standing in the community. But he believed it when he was told that he had a part to play in the coming of the kingdom of God.
I think this is why Matthew begins with this story. Most of us will never receive a message from angels or hear God’ voice coming from a cloud. Most of us will never be able to understand what it means for the logos to be with God and to be God. But all of us can hear that we have a role to play in the coming of the kingdom of God, and all of us can risk something for it.
Matthew includes us in the nativity of Jesus in a way that no other evangelist does. We are Joseph. We face life with no certainties. We feel that God has something for us to do, but we don’t have any more solid evidence than a dream or a vague notion somewhere in our gut. But like Joseph, we can risk everything to follow that dream.
That’s the problem with so many of the faithful today. By and large we have never risked anything for our faith. We certainly haven’t taken risks like Joseph, risking the rest of his life because of a dream. We often don’t even take the minor risks of being hurt when we reach out in love. But Joseph is the example Matthew wants us to see. Joseph hears the voice of God, and he takes a great risk to obey. Can you imagine his practical friends? They must have said things like, “Joseph, don’t be an idiot. You can’t throw away the rest of your life and spend it with someone who obviously doesn’t love or respect you because of a dream! That’s just stupid.”
Matthew gives us a way to participate in the nativity that no other gospel gives us. We can’t follow the angel to a barn and see a baby resting in a trough. We can’t join God in the beginning and witness the logos as it forms creation. We can’t walk to the Jordan and hear the voice of God coming from a cloud. But Matthew lets us participate nonetheless.
The nativity was the coming of the messiah, but it wasn’t fully. When Jesus was born, everything changed, but the Kingdom still has not come. But Joseph took a risk, and in doing so took a step towards bringing the Kingdom into being. Let his bravery be a model for us as we celebrate the miracle it brought about. For the grace to accept the risks of discipleship, thanks be to God. Amen.