Advent 4: Tell The Story

Advent 4: Tell the Story

Sometimes it can be hard for us, on this side of the Enlightenment, to take ancient religions seriously. We are rational, scientific, and too advanced to believe in ancient stories that don't make sense. The gospel reading for this week, about the immaculate conception and virgin birth, is such a story.

But not everything can or should be explained. In fact, it's when we insist on explaining that we often get into trouble. Sometimes the story should be allowed to speak for itself. Sometimes the story should just be told.

"The only way to speak of what God has done for us in Jesus Christ," argues Stanley Hauerwas in his theological commentary on Matthew, "is to tell the story."

Hauerwas wants us to follow the logic of the story, rather than force the story to fit within the limits of our logic. When we do so, he says, we see that the story requires a virgin birth: "[W]ithout Mary's virginity the story cannot be told." You simply can't tell the story of the Son of God without a virgin birth. So says Hauerwas, at least.

I'm not sure I buy that logic completely, but I do agree completely with the point: Don't insist on explaining everything, just tell the story.

That said, there actually are ways to explain away the virgin birth, if that is a stumbling block for you.

In the gospels, it's clear that Matthew gets his idea of the virgin birth from a prophecy found in Isaiah 7, where the LORD speaks to Ahaz, the idolatrous king of Judah. Isaiah tells Ahaz that the Lord will give him a sign:

The almah (עַלְמָה) is pregnant
and is about to give birth to a son,
and she will name him Immanuel.
He will eat butter and honey,
and learn to reject evil and choose good.
Before the boy learns to reject evil and choose good,
the land of the two kings you dread will be abandoned.

Now, first, neither Isaiah nor Ahaz would have understood any of this to be about Jesus. This prophecy is, for them, about Hezekiah, son of Ahaz whose religious reforms to purify the Temple and political strength against the Assyrians caused some to see him as the Messiah. In her new book on Advent, the Jewish New Testament scholar, Amy-Jill Levine, reminds us that Matthew is not wrong for seeing a second fulfillment of Isaiah's prophecy. But it's important to look at the original context, for no one would claim that Abijah, Hezekiah's mother, was a virgin.

Exploring the translation history of the Hebrew word almah (עַלְמָה), which I've left untranslated above, raises some doubts as well. This word is the seed from which the virgin birth sprouts, but the Hebrew doesn't support the idea. There is another word for "virgin" in Hebrew: betulah (בְּתוּלָה). And that word is used about fifty times in scripture. Almah, meanwhile, simply means "young woman."

However, by the 3rd century BCE, most Jews in Palestine didn't speak Hebrew, so their scriptures were translated into Greek in what we know as the Septuagint. This was the Bible used by Matthew. This is the Bible he quotes. And he likely didn't know that the Isaiah text used almah rather than betulah. His text didn't use either of those; his text used the Greek parthenos (παρθένος) instead. And parthenos  does indeed mean "virgin," so Matthew is technically not wrong when he quotes Isaiah, though at a deeper level maybe he is.

In sum, there are reasons to question the virgin birth story. In fact, there are reasons within the text itself to question.

But we must ask: Where does any of this get us?

Levine tells us, "There is little reason to argue over who has the correct reading here. Isaiah's words will mean, and should mean, different things to different people over time."

And remember Hauerwas's advice/warning: Just tell the story.

When one tells the story, it becomes clear that the emphasis is not on the virgin birth anyway!

Jewish tradition, says Levine, knows of other miraculous births (e.g., Isaac, Melchizedek, etc.), so that in itself would not be so surprising in the ancient world. It would at the very least be less surprising than it is today.

But the point is less the miracle itself.  "There is a sense," says Levine, "rather of the special roles the children would play." And she adds: "For Matthew, the virginal conception is one more indication...that Jesus is the fulfillment of salvation history."

And if we put the emphasis on the miraculous birth, then we miss the point: "And they will call him Emmanuel (God With Us)." The special role Jesus will play is to be God's presence, in the flesh, here on Earth. Matthew reinforces this, says Levine, with the very last line of his gospel: "Look, I myself will be with you every day until the end of this present age."

In sum: Don't let the miraculous distract you, just tell the story.

I'm reminded of the Pedro the Lion song, "Secret of the Easy Yoke," where David Bazan cries out, "Could someone please tell me the story?"

Advent 3: Never Lose Hope

Advent 3: Never Lose Hope

In last week's gospel reading, John the Baptizer was in the wilderness, proclaiming the coming kingdom with confidence. This week, we return to John, a different John, a John who is now imprisoned - and full of doubt.

In Matthew's gospel, it's pretty clear who Jesus is. Matthew uses subtle, as well as not-so-subtle, clues to connect Jesus to Moses, to the Law, and to the prophecies about the long-awaited Messiah. But not everyone can see it. Even John, the new Elijah, the one who has come to prepare the way for the Messiah, starts to have doubts.

So, why is John doubting?

The obvious answer is that he's in prison. And, sure, his individual circumstances could have definitely caused him to doubt. But it's not just that.

John is a direct descendant of the Hebrew prophets. And the message of the prophets is about the whole community, a national renewal, if you will. But John doesn't see that happening. John doubts because, as he sits in prison, he's hearing stories about Jesus that don't align with his expectations for the Messiah. And he's wondering if he bet on the wrong person.

That's something we can relate to. And in such times, we would do well to recall the words of Dr. King: "We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."

This is what Advent is all about: Living in the in between time, where we face finite disappointments on a regular basis, but also where we have infinite hope, for we can already see the light, symbolized by the candles on the Advent wreath, breaking through the darkness.

Our charge during Advent is to live into the light, to reflect the light and be the light, and to bring the light into the world.

But, for the moment, John could not see the light. And that's okay, for sometimes we depend on others to show us the light and to be the light for us. So he sends his followers to Jesus to ask if he's the one - or if they should look for another.

Jesus's response is beautiful. He deflects the question away from himself and instead points to the the tangible outcomes of his ministry: the blind who can now see, the lame who can walk, the lepers who are cleansed, the deaf who can hear, the dead who are raised, and the poor who receive good news.

In other words, Jesus says that questions about the Messiah are distractions because the Jubilee - THE JUBILEE - is here!

It's hard to see the Jubilee today. The kingdom is not here, not yet.

But, at the same time, it is. Each time two or three are gathered, each time we take care of one another - whether with a text or a phone call to check in, or a visit, or a much-needed meal delivered, or a Kroger card dropped in the mailbox at just the right time, or a friend sitting with your kids while you do some last-minute Christmas shopping - in all this and more, we see evidence of it.

Darkness is the absence of light. And it's easy to think we live in a world of darkness. But for those who have eyes to see, those who have been trained to see, there is by no means an absence of light. We must not, therefore, lose infinite hope.

Advent 2: A Renewed Vision

Advent 2: A Renewed Vision

Reading the Isaiah texts during Advent this year, as I've been developing a strategic plan at work, has helped me see the prophets in a new light.

We often think of the prophets as these strange folks who see visions. And this makes it hard to identify with them - and difficult to hear their message as relevant to us.

But what if we see them instead as leaders engaging in turnaround work? That's essentially what the job of the prophets is: to inspire change and turn around a failing situation.

If prophets are turnaround leaders, then their visions take on new meaning. In management, "A vision is a picture of a better place," says Claire Lew. "A vision," she explains, "answers the question, 'What world do you want to create?'"

I thought about Lew's definition of vision when the image of the Peaceable Kingdom that Isaiah paints of the wolf living with the lamb came to mind as I read this week's text (11.1-10). What an incredible vision!

And then I turned to the gospel reading this week (Matthew 3.1-12), to John the Baptizer, the prophet who appears in the desert, announcing: "Change your hearts and lives! Here comes the kingdom of heaven!"

John is not announcing a new vision. Billed as The New Elijah, he comes from a long line of Hebrew prophets. When he proclaims, "Here comes the kingdom of heaven," we should imagine Isaiah's peaceable kingdom, which itself should remind us of the garden in Eden painted by the author of Genesis.

And so, while Advent is all about vision, the world we want to create, it's not a new vision. Rather, it's a renewed vision that calls us to remember the original creation, even as we look towards the kingdom of re-creation.

Vision is important because it motivates us. People journeyed out to the desert to hear the Baptizer because his vision of the kingdom was exciting and inspiring.

We often imagine ourselves as responsible for making the kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven. And we rightly see that as impossible. As a result, we throw our hands up in despair.

In his commentary on Matthew, though, Stanley Hauerwas argues that the "kingdom does not come through our trying to be better people." It's not our responsibility to usher in the kingdom.

The kingdom comes, period, end of story. Of that, John, like Isaiah before him, is certain. And the expectancy of the kingdom fills us, fuels us, with a hope that energizes.

Vision is also important because it gives direction. When the people come to John, the vision he paints of the kingdom also includes marching orders: "Change your hearts and lives."

The kingdom requires a certain type of living and being. Repentance is about living into the kingdom that is coming, living as if the kingdom were already here. Hauerwas explains:

John's call for Israel to repent is not a prophetic call for those who repent to change the world, but rather he calls for repentance because the world is being and will be changed by the one whom John knows will come.

Repentance is not about guilt, and it's sure as hell not about avoiding hell. Repentance is about anticipating the kingdom that is to come.

Isaiah's vision of the peaceable kingdom is, necessarily, one that rejects violence. And if we're excited about that kind of kingdom, then we don't need any hellfire and brimstone preacher to threaten us with damnation to live more peacefully. We don't need to debate whether violence is acceptable. If the wolf can live with the lamb without eating it, then we can safely assume that violence between humans is unacceptable.

In this way, vision gives us direction.

Advent is a time for renewing our vision, for remembering the peaceable kingdom that is to come. Advent should energize and motivate you. Advent should get you excited.

Advent is also a time for preparing for that vision to become reality. If the peaceable kingdom is to come, and we know it will come, then what changes do we need to make in order to be a citizen of that kingdom? And what can we do to start living into that vision, here and now?

Advent 1: A New Hope

Advent 1: A New Hope

I love Advent. It's maybe my favorite time in the liturgical calendar. The idea of waiting really resonates with me, largely because we know the world is not as it should be. Our world can and should be better. And so we wait. But, rather than wait in apathy or despair, we are prompted by Advent to live in a new hope.

The liturgical texts for Advent this year are in Isaiah and Matthew. This past week, the Matthew passage (24.36-44) started with the reminder that no one knows the day when God's Kingdom will come, but the good news is that we are assured that it will indeed come. Knowledge is power. We know what's coming. And Isaiah's vision (2.1-5) describes the Kingdom. That vision, together with the certainty that it will become reality, fills us with hope and keeps us from giving up out of fear or despair or apathy.

But it's not enough to not give up. (Apologies for the double-negative!) Hope leads to action.

Isaiah ends with this: "Come, house of Jacob, let's walk by the LORD's light." We don't have to wait on the Kingdom to come, on earth as it is in heaven. We can walk in the light, here and now. And the epistle reading (Romans 13.8-14) describes what it means to walk in the light: "The commandments...are all summed up in this word: Love your neighbor as yourself." Love of neighbor is the future breaking into the present.

Advent is the time where we light candles, to remind us of the LORD's light, here and now, in the midst of the darkness. Even the single candle of HOPE we lit this past week reminds us that the darkness is not complete.

So light a candle this week as a reminder that the LORD's light is already here, even as we wait for it to come fully. And let that candle remind you to walk in the light, and to be the light in the world, bringing hope to your world.