Advent Week 2- December 6, 2020

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Matthew 1: 18

Stories get truncated. They get softened. They get polished. But behind a great photo or a memorable quote is a story and behind a story is a person with feelings, opinions, doubts, and character. And behind the simplicity of this story is the real story—the story of a man full of emotion, thoughts, opinions, and character. We heard the nice version, the scripture account, with the simple telling of Joseph’s story.

We don’t know all the specifics but we can imagine ourselves in those shoes. Imagine yourself engaged—excitedly awaiting the next chapter of your life—you’re getting married. That means you could have a family. You could teach a trade. You could raise your son just like your father

raised you, making improvements and adjustments as you see fit. You think about it, dream about it, and are anxious to begin this new life together. And then she comes to you and says she’s pregnant.

There’s a rock in your stomach, then in your heart, and then in your fist. You’re angry. You wonder how it could happen. How could she do this? How did you not know? How dare she? This isn’t a small deal. This is your whole world upside down on its head as everything falls apart. She’s shamed you. She’s disgraced your family. They’ll want to stone her. They’ll insist on getting their honor back. She’ll be lucky to live long enough to have the baby.

How could this happen?

So often we hear the sweet serene versions of the Christmas story that we don’t delve into the emotions of it, the harshness of what transpired. From the outside looking in, any logical person would say Mary had an affair; and adultery in the first century was not treated lightly. Adultery would have brought shame on Mary, her family, and Joseph and his family. And the only way to right the wrong and bring back honor was to punish the adulteress. Joseph had that right, which was more of an obligation. If he had publically humiliated her and had her kicked out of the community, or had her stoned, no one would have questioned him—that was the standard and those were the rules.

And I imagine he thought about it. Wouldn’t all of us? There’s no way you hear that kind of news and just move on with life as if nothing happened. How many of us have ever been betrayed? By anyone, partner, coworker, friend, sibling, parent, child? At some point in most of our lives, we’ve felt betrayed. It’s awful. You’re heart sinks. There’s a perpetual knot in your stomach. In the midst of the hurt, there’s a numbness…a strange paradox of emotion all at once. You ask things like:

· Why did this happen?
· How did I not see it?
· How could I have been so blind?
· How could I trust him?
· Why did I let her into my heart?
· Maybe it’s better if I don’t trust anyone.
· How will we ever recover from this?
· Is this even worth it?
· Maybe I’d be better off without them.

Betrayal is huge and daunting. After you dredge through the initial blow of emotion, self-doubt, and struggle, you have to begin to imagine how, or if, you can ever trust that person again. And depending on how big the betrayal, and whether or not it’s happened before or it happens again, it can take months, even years, to be fully restored.

So if we think about Joseph as a real person with real emotions and not just a Bible character, we can begin to see the depth of his story and his struggle. He had to be heartbroken and devastated. Angry and anxious. And even though their engagement would have been more of an arrangement and less of a romantic love story, Mary was still the one who had been promised to be his wife. She was the one he imagined as the mother of his children. She was the one he imagined cooking meals and sharing time with. She was the one he committed to support and care for. And now this. She’s pregnant, and not by him. I imagine he fought long and hard with what to do.

The only detail the scripture gives us is that he decided to dismiss her quietly. That means that despite his hurt and his anger and whatever else was stirred within him, he had a soft spot in his heart. He didn’t want to shame her. He didn’t want her to be stoned. So, he thought he’d just dismiss her quietly. That wouldn’t have been great for Mary. It’s doubtful her family would have taken her in; they would have been dishonored in all of it too. But maybe a distant uncle or cousin in another town would have been willing to care for her, at least for the sake of the child. At the very least a quiet dismissal was better than public shaming. He may have been hurt, but at least he wasn’t spiteful.

And then he heard from the angel. The angel tells him not to be afraid, but to take Mary as his wife, for she hasn’t betrayed him, but instead, she’s conceived by the Holy Spirit. They will have a son and call him Jesus. That’s some big news on every level. Joseph has been reeling in emotion, wrestling with what to do, finally comes to a decision, and then this angel shows up and says “No, no, no, you’ve got it all wrong. It’s not what it seems. She really wasn’t lying to you. Yes, she’s pregnant. But no she didn’t have an affair. God is at work in all of this. So, you should just move forward as planned. She’ll be your wife and you’ll have a son and name him Jesus.”

“Oh well, in that case, it’s all good. Come on Mary, let’s get hitched! “ That’s how the story reads, but remember, stories get truncated. Behind the simple line is much richer detail. And for all of us who know the sting of betrayal, you know you don’t bounce right back. Even when things are moving in the right direction, you still have doubts. Even when you’ve seen God answer prayers, you still keep praying, and often wonder if you’re being heard. You don’t throw all of your trust back at the relationship. You give a little at a time, piece by piece, inch by inch, often waiting for it all to happen again. You move slowly and cautiously, trying to rebuild, and trying not to fall quite so hard the next time.

Even having heard from an angel, I imagine those were some long months for Mary and Joseph. I can imagine those long, hard, tedious conversations rehashing details, trying to secure the story, making sure it’s safe to trust. I can imagine the moments filled with doubts and fear and the long silences that followed. Maybe Mary’s trip to see Elizabeth was less about Mary and more about Joseph. Maybe he needed space and time to try and sort things out. Yes, he’d heard from God, but he still had to make sense of it all.

When we imagine all of that, it feels pretty desperate, but it also feels pretty real. When we think about the hurt and the struggle to regain trust, we can see ourselves in their story. It’s no fairy tale or fiction. It’s real. And when the Bible stories become real in our lives, then the potential for God to work also becomes real.

The trials of betrayal are heart-wrenching, but what we learn from Joseph is that they don’t have the final word. Yes, he was hurt. Yes, he struggled. Yes, he doubted. AND he seemed to have a sense of peace--something that grounded him, allowed him to stay--to persevere. There was something that allowed him to dare to trust God to be at work. He pushed through. He dared to trust again. That’s no easy feat. He and Mary worked through the unimaginable, and the seemingly insurmountable. They dared to have faith that God was really at work in their midst. They dared to trust one another and love one another despite the curve balls life had thrown them. And they had something--from the angels, from God--that allowed them to take a breath and ride the wave. I pray that we, too, find that peace, hear that word, receive that assurance--so that we, too, can ride our own wave.

Celebration of Holy Communion for the First Sunday in Advent written by Miren C. Tirabassi Source: https://giftsinopenhands.wordpress.com/2020/11/27/holy-communion-liturgy-for-the-second-sunday-in-advent-the-sunday-of-peace/?blogsub=confirming#blog_subscription-3
Isaiah 40: 1, 11

Invitation to Communion *
The story is told that during the Blitz in World War II Britain, when the city was strafed and bombed, Operation Pied Piper evacuated many children to the country, but some remained in London and many of those were orphans. Some were sheltered in a Jesuit order of brothers, who noticed the children had trouble falling asleep or staying asleep, night after night. When the children were being put to bed one night, one of the brothers guessed the children’s problem was that they were anxious because of uncertainty in their lives, and gave each child a small piece of bread, saying something like this –
“Hold on to your piece of bread while you are sleeping. Remember when you woke up this morning, we fed you and took care of you. When you wake up tomorrow, and we will be here for you. Let the bread remind you of this. Good night, children.” The children slept.
Come, to be comforted
in the story of Bethlehem,
and in this the House of Bread.
Come to be comforted at this table
by a handful of bread
and a cup of love,
that will stay with you always.

Words of Remembering
O, we remember God’s promises
of Emmanuel, and a branch of Jesse’s root,
of Leader, Wisdom, Monarch,
Key of all that is locked,
and Dawn of every morning.
And we remember the sacred story,
that happened in the House of Bread
for a new mother
and a fostering father,
sheep and shepherds,
a few wise travelers with gifts
and many, many angels.
And we remember that the baby
named Jesus,
grew up to heal people,
and teach them with strange parables,
that made people angry.
At Passover, he broke unleavened bread.
and poured wine and love freely.

Prayer of Consecration
Emmanuel, God with us,
in our lonely nights, under our guiding stars,
with the hopes and fears of all our years,
we come for comfort,
for peace of mind and peace on earth,
for a blessing on our hands and the bread in them,
on our lips and the cup, we lift to it.
Touch the bread before you, blessing it. Touch or pour and touch the cup before you, blessing it.
May this bread and cup be your holy Life,
that we may ponder in our hearts,
and pray in our community …
Prayer of our Savior … Amen

Sharing of the Elements (separate clip)
Leader: The Holy Child of Bethlehem descends to us, and is born in us, in these days. Let us share the bread. We hear the Christmas angels their great glad tidings tell. Let us drink deeply, Christ abides with us.
(video of the elements--breaking the bread)

Prayer after communion: God, we give you thanks that you have come to us – in the child of Bethlehem, in this bread and cup, and in your answer to all of our hopes and your offer of peace, deeper than any truce, truer than the upheaval that surrounds us. You have comforted us with your promise and your presence so that we too may spread the welcome wings of your good tidings. Amen.
* I don’t know where the story of the children in London came from. Perhaps it was from my father, a veteran of the European Theatre in World War II, or from a childhood children’s sermon or some magazine I read when I was new in ministry. I have not been able to trace it online and understood it as truth, perhaps not fully clothed in fact.