Rev. Martha Koenig Stone                                                                                    Isaiah 7:10-16

Henrietta United Church of Christ                                                                Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19

Fourth Sunday of Advent - December 23, 2007                                                      Romans 1:1-7

“Joseph’s Joy”                                                                                               Matthew 1:18-25

 

I was saddened this week to read an article about a tragedy involving a family formerly from Rochester.  It was a short article, no pictures, just a few bare facts about a young family:  a woman, 19 years old, her 2-year-old son, and her 20 year-old boyfriend.  The article reported that the boy had died after being severely beaten by his mother’s boyfriend.  The child’s name was Emanuel.   

 

Today’s gospel reading is also about a young couple, Joseph and Mary, and Mary is expecting a child.  Now, usually toward the end of Advent, when churches light the candle of joy, we read Mary’s joyous words from Luke’s gospel:  “My soul magnifies the Lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior…”  But Matthew’s gospel tells a different part of the story—Matthew tells Joseph’s perspective on the situation.  Joseph isn’t singing out in joy when he learns of Mary’s pregnancy, because he knows he’s not the father of this child. 

 

Mary and Joseph were not yet married; they were betrothed.  Today, this is sometimes translated as “engaged.”  But betrothal in their culture was much more than our modern-day idea of engagement.  It was a legal arrangement: contracts were signed, dowries were exchanged, and binding agreements were set in place.  A betrothed couple was a legal entity, bound by the strict Hebraic codes of conduct.  And so a betrothed woman who was found to be pregnant was assumed to be an adulteress.  Mary would have faced the full measure of the adultery laws recorded in the book of Deuteronomy.  Matthew makes a point of saying that Joseph was a righteous man, obedient to the law.  And that law assumed that Mary must be sent away—that their marriage could not occur.  What should Joseph do?  He has every legal right to haul her into court, make a public spectacle of her and end their relationship.  In fact, according to the law, Joseph has the right to take her to the town gate and have her stoned to death.  Not a pretty picture.

 

But Joseph doesn’t want to do this.  He doesn’t want to disgrace her; he would rather separate quietly.  There was a simpler procedure of calling two witnesses to watch as he formally confronted Mary with charges of adultery.  Yes, he would do that. Oh, why did it have to come to this?  Joseph must have done a bit of foot-stomping and agonizing when he heard the news and tried to get used to the idea.  I can imagine him cursing and crying and falling into bed, troubled and exhausted. 

 

But then, as Joseph sleeps, he has a dream.  A messenger from God appears and says, “Joseph, this child is from the Holy Spirit.  This child is a gift!  It’s okay to marry Mary.  Love her, and when her son is born, you, Joseph will name him. Call him Jesus—‘God saves.’”

 

When Joseph wakes up, he has a whole new perspective on life.  When he thinks of Mary’s child as a gift of the Holy Spirit, it changes everything.  Now he’s able to see a possibility he hadn’t seen before.  Of course he will marry Mary, the woman he loves!  He will take care of her, and they will raise the child together, thankful for God’s many gifts!  I can imagine a great weight lifting off of Joseph’s shoulders, a sense of relief.  When Joseph takes a “God’s-eye” view of the situation, his whole approach can shift.  He is free to experience the joy that comes with the miracle of birth.

 

The Christmas story is, in part, the story of Joseph, stepfather to an illegitimate child; Joseph, who dares to think outside of the box; Joseph, who looks for the Spirit of God in a tiny baby.  It is a story that reminds us to look at the problems in our lives from a different perspective—to look for God’s Spirit in those who are vulnerable and alone and unwanted—and to create new possibilities for God’s presence and activity in the world.  What joy might be ours, if, instead of blaming and judging and pushing others away, we could forgive, embrace, and care for others as if they were our own flesh and blood?  What joy might be ours if, instead of righting wrongs with punishment and shame, we could commit ourselves to solutions that repair and restore our relationships and our souls?

 

I remember hearing a report on NPR a few years ago about a couple who were trying to have a baby, but were unable to conceive.  They tried all the options of medical science, with no success.  They tried to adopt from two different mothers, but the plans fell through over and over again.  They had exhausted all their resources, and were feeling discouraged and vulnerable, not sure if they had the strength to try any more. 

 

But then the husband heard a report on the radio about a boy named Vladimir.  He was a 7-year-old from Russia, living in an orphanage.  Vladimir had a debilitating bone disease, and was unable to move his hands and feet.  But the radio report included a recording of him singing a song in Russian in a clear, high voice.  And the husband felt strangely drawn to this voice, as if someone were saying “this is your son.” 

 

So he told his wife about the report, and they talked about it for weeks.  And they decided to make contact with the orphanage and ask for a picture of the child.  And when she saw his photograph and looked into his eyes, she agreed to adopt him.  There was a long, involved process, of course. But once the adoption was complete, their only regret was that they didn’t find him sooner. 

 

At the time of the report, Vladimir was learning English.  He loved cars, and he asked how they get fixed in heaven…When the reporter asked him what he likes best about America, he said, “Mama and Papa.”

 

Vladimir and his parents have a difficult life ahead of them, including painful treatments for his disease.  But the ability of these parents to see the presence of God in a little child has utterly changed his life, and theirs.  They are no longer in despair; instead, each day brings much joy.

 

Tomorrow night we will come together once again to hear the age-old story of Jesus’ birth. For some of you, this year’s celebration may be especially joyous.  You may see friends or family you haven’t seen in a while; you may have new prospects for your life and work; you may be welcoming new members into your family.

 

For others, there may be ways in which this year is especially difficult.  You may be standing by as someone you love endures a painful illness; you may be remembering loved ones who are no longer with you; you may be undergoing financial or physical or emotional hardship in your own life; you may be feeling a growing concern at the problems of the world that seem beyond control; you may be feeling betrayed or lonely or discouraged.

 

Either way, my prayer for you is that your Christmas celebrations this year will help you to see the world in a new light—from the perspective of the Holy Spirit.  I pray that Christmas will touch your hearts once again with new life, with new hope, with new openness to God’s saving power, and with great and enduring joy.  Amen.