Matthew 1:18-25
David A. Davis
December 24, 2023
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Years and years and years ago, sometime in the weeks leading up to our wedding, one my mother’s best friends said this to her: “You know Jane, the mother of the groom is expected to wear grey and keep her mouth shut!”. I am sure that everyone at the time must have had a good laugh especially since my mother’s friend knew her very well. I would have to look at a picture to see if, in fact, my mother wore grey. I can tell you, however, my mother would never have chosen to be silent. She self-identified in the family as “Jane the Pain” and wore it with pride. Grey? Maybe. Mouth shut? No way. Do you think Joseph wore grey that night out in the barn?
Matthew’s telling of the birth of Jesus offered for your hearing tonight by Pastor Karen, doesn’t offer much fodder for the Christmas pageant. Yes, it is true that Matthew tells of the visit of the Magi in chapter two. The Magi always make it into the Christmas pageant. Matthew also in chapter two of Herod’s slaughter of the innocents. Appropriately, not pageant material. As to the birth of Jesus in Matthew, not much. It is Luke who “pageantizes” the Nativity. Zechariah, Elizabeth, John the Baptist with the kick, the angel Gabriel, Mary, Joseph, shepherds, sheep, more angels, the sky all aglow, a heavenly song, and the child lying in the manger. Pretty much everyone but Joseph has a speaking part. Joseph must be wearing grey.
In Matthew, “Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way.” The gospel of Matthew is like the Christmas story unplugged. Mary and Joseph. An angel appearing in a dream (which is by angel standards, kind of boring). An obligatory quote from Isaiah. Joseph doing what the Lord told him do and not to do and Mary giving birth to the baby. That’s it. Hark the Herald. Joy to the World. We’re done. Let’s go home.
But in Matthew’s understated, unadorned telling of the glorious news of the birth of Jesus, Joseph, at least when compared with Luke, Joseph has something to do. How about a hand for Joseph? Matthew describes Joseph as a “righteous man”. That puts Joseph in some rarified air when it comes to the bible. Noah. Job. The old man Simeon. Joseph of Arimathea. Maybe a few more but not a lot of men called righteous in scripture. Joseph “being a righteous man” was told by the angel that “the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” Joseph did as the Lord commanded him. He married Mary and she had the baby. And, according to Matthew, “Joseph named him Jesus.”
Joseph still doesn’t get a line! But through the narrator, Matthew gives Joseph the last word. His voice comes not in a song like Mary but in the naming. “He named him Jesus.” Call him Jesus for he will save his people from their sins. They shall name him Emmanuel which means God with us. Jesus. He will save. Mary bore a son and Joseph named him Jesus. Maybe it’s not a quote from Joseph. Maybe Joseph doesn’t get line. But it is his faith statement. Joseph’s faith statement. He named him Jesus. In the telling of the nativity of Jesus, Mary becomes a prophet. The shepherds they become one with the angel choir. Joseph, the righteous man becomes a believer. In his silence, Joseph becomes the proclaimer. He named him “God saves”.
Sometime tonight in a congregation somewhere, the story of the birth of Jesus is being told in pageant form again. You can see it in your imagination better than I can tell it. At the end, the pageant cast strikes that pose that every pageant cast does as the congregation is invited to sing a hymn. Parents are invited to bring their little children up to get a better view of the baby Jesus in Mary’s arms. Well, it is actually Marcus in Cheri’s arms. But for the children and for the congregation for that matter, in the “pageantized” moment of it all, it really doesn’t make much difference. A young dad takes up four year old Bryan whose mom and six week old baby sister stay back in the pew. Dad and Bryan wait patiently to get a closer look of the babe in arms. As Dad gives the sign for them to head back from Bethlehem, Bryan stops next to the pastor now waiting to say the benediction. The pastor leans over because the child clearly has something to say. “Jesus looks just like my baby sister!” he says very proudly. And right then the pastor remember the mentor who said “Never forget that the best sermons come with the fewest words!”
Joseph named the child Jesus.
Sometime tonight in a congregation somewhere, the light from the Christ Candle is starting to spread as “Silent Night” is being sung. A family is sitting together filling an entire pew. It is the pew the grandparents have occupied for more than 55 years. Between the COVID years and just the busyness of life, it has been quite a while since they have all been together for Christmas Eve. The grandfather, who always sits on the end of the pew starts to get weepy. Not just teary but weepy. His shoulders are heaving a bit as he tries to sing. The tears in his eyes glisten in the candlelight as his wife gently pats his leg. At the other end of the pew, the grandson in sixth grade leans forward and looks over at his grandfather who is barely keeping it together. With genuine concern, he leans over to his father in one of those church whispers, “What’s wrong with Poppop?’ “Pop always cries at “Silent Night”. He’s cried at “Silent Night” my whole life.”
Later that night, when for a moment it’s just grandfather and grandson sitting by the fire while everyone else was in the kitchen, it was clear the young one wanted more info on the tears. “Poppop, why do you cry every year during “Silent Night”?” Pop seemed surprised any noticed when in fact the whole congregation notices every year. He is quiet first thinking about how to answer. Then he smiles and heaves a bit of sigh. “You know, no one has ever asked me before, including your grandmother. But I have thought about it a lot over the years; even ask the Good Lord about it once in a while. It’s not just the song. It’s not the candles. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have you and the whole family together again this year. But I cry whether everyone comes home for Christmas or not. Maybe there are no words to explain it? The beauty of it all”
Other family members are trickling in to listen to the conversation and trying hard not to stop it. Pop stops and tilts his head and sort of looks at nothing in particular in the direction of the Christmas tree. The look on his face, its like he is staring into the heart of God. “The beauty of it all” he goes on. “The experience of it all, and that baby, too, to think of that baby.” The grandfather catches himself getting teary again and turns it to a chuckle, “that baby, Jesus, I mean. The baby Jesus.” “Yeah, Poppop, I get that part!”
“Well, I know it probably sounds silly coming from an old guy, but every Christmas Eve, right in that moment, I think about the world, this blasted world that never gets any better in my lifetime, and I think of your grandmother and our family, and that baby, that baby Jesus….It feels like God is telling me again how much God loves me. That baby loves me. Jesus loves me. And I never get tired of hearing it. God sending that baby for me. For you”. That’s when Pop senses the others in the room. So he repeats “for you, for you, for you.”
When it comes to the gospel pageant of life in Christ, every one of us has a part to play.
Joseph named him Jesus. For you. For you. For you.