Scriptures: Isaiah 9:2-7; Luke 2: 1-20
Jesus' Family and the Politics of Christmas?" I imagine it's okay with you if I
talk about Jesus' family. After all, many of us are here tonight because of family. A
great feature of this time of the year is that it seems to be the one time when we can all
be together in church, singing the same songs and hearing the same story we remember when
we were young.
This night is about family. Even if you have no one here from your family because of
distance, death or heartache, and the only family you have is your church family, it seems
acceptable to talk about family, but unseemly to talk about politics. Nonetheless, the
sermon title is still Jesus' Family and the Politics of Christmas.
It was a relief to read in the paper that yesterday the Senate majority leader was
selected. The matter is settled after a couple of weeks of upheaval. It's over. The
Senators have gone home. They're not in Washington and there is no chance of headlines
being made tonight. We're safe for a night and a day because they are home with their
families and there's minimal risk they will stir anything up tonight. There would appear
to be no need to talk about politics.
The problem is that Isaiah and Luke bring up the darned subject over and over again.
Listen to all their political talk. They talk of kings: King Ahaz and King Herod. They
talk of kingdoms, princes and rods of oppressors. They talk about tramping warriors,
thrones, battle garments being rolled in blood and tossed into a fire, pe ace and justice
and all that political stuff. Can't it go away so that we can have one peaceful night of
family?
You wonder why Isaiah and Luke bring the subject up, or why I bring it up. I know why I
bring it up. It is because we say in the church's Book of Order that we are to be obedient
to "Christ's will set forth in scripture." We are to obey. Because Christ's will
for the church set forth in scripture is to be obeyed, and because scripture brings up the
whole messy topic, I am a little uncomfortable just ignoring it - politics, that is. We
are talking about the Incarnation after all, the birth of God into our world.
Isaiah brings the subject up first, not I, although I will take responsibility for
mentioning it. Isaiah says, "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great
light . . . For all the boots of the tramping warriors and all the garments rolled in
blood shall be burned as fuel for the fire. For a child has been born for us, a son given
to us; authority rests upon his shoulder; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."
Handel did not originate these words, Isaiah did. Though you may have come here tonight
to get a respite from all the troubles of this world, and though you may have come here
tonight because you want to savor these rare moments when family can be together (they are
far too rare), there is no way tonight we can get away from religion and politics, not
according to Isaiah.
We are talking about the Incarnation, God being born into this world, this messy world.
It's the only world we have. Because tonight is about the Incarnation, we need to talk
about religion and politics, because fundamentally we're talking about who is in charge
and who it is we obey.
Isaiah brings up the subject first. It was the 6th Century before the birth of Christ.
It was a dark and disastrous day in Israel. Israel's king at the time, King Ahaz, had
negotiated a questionable treaty with the far larger and aggressive Assyrian Empire.
Despite the deal, things went downhill rapidly. Assyrian storm troopers had laid Palestine
to waste and were pressing against the gates of Jerusalem, the city where once it had been
said by prophets of old that God would protect the city forever. The prophets were wrong.
The Assyrians couldn't care less about a meaningless treaty or an ancient promise.
The darkness spoken of by Isaiah and put to music by Handel's Messiah is the darkness
of the battlefield, the congealed, black red blood of the battlefield, the dark violence
of coercive power and the darkness of fear of the battlefield. That's the darkness that
Isaiah speaks of and Handel put to music.
Into that darkness the prophet speaks. Assyrian storm troopers were pressing on the
gates of Zion and Israel was on the cusp of total annihilation and the prophet speaks,
"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light." The prophet
announces that in the darkness, a new light is coming. The light comes in the form of a
birth. "For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his
shoulder."
Ahaz, the king, the one who was ostensibly in charge, had blown it. His attempt to cozy
up to the Assyrian Empire hadn't worked. Israel was like an ant about to be crushed by an
elephant. The treaty he had negotiated was toilet paper.
The people of Israel, that is, the survivors were hunkered down inside the walls of
Jerusalem. Children were crying. Husbands and wives were kissing good bye for the last
time. The din of war was just outside those walls. It was very dark.
King Ahaz, who had once thought he was in charge, was over in the corner shaking,
trembling, terrified that the end was near. His end was near. Good old King Ahaz had once
thought he was in charge. He wasn't in charge.
He pulled together what remained of his dignity and summoned the prophet Isaiah. Back
then, kings liked to give the impression that they paid attention to what clergy said
about war and peace and politics. They liked to give that impression.
Ahaz called for Isaiah and when Isaiah stood above him and wanted to know what the King
wanted, the King said, "We need a sign." Maybe Ahaz thought that if Isaiah put
in a good word with the big man upstairs, with all of Isaiah's connections, maybe God
could help Ahaz rally the remaining Hebrew troops, sad though they were. Maybe they could
escape and live another day.
"Isaiah! We need a sign that our situation is not hopeless." Isaiah looked at
the fallen king. He looked at his beloved and frightened people, sitting in darkness. He
thought about it a second or two, and he said to Ahaz, "Get up and listen. I'll give
you a sign."
Did I tell you the Incarnation is about who is in charge?
Isaiah said to Ahaz, "Here is your sign: a young woman will give birth to a baby
whose name will be Emmanuel, God is with us."
The king laughed. "A baby? I don't need a baby. I need swords and strong men, a
majority in the Senate, another order of cruise missiles. I need your help and you offer
me a pregnant woman?"
We need to understand a little more about King Ahaz's context. When King Ahaz heard
from the prophet that a baby was about to be born, he laughed uncomfortably because he had
mixed feelings and confusing, conflicted feelings.
There was both good news and bad news in this prophesy of an imminent birth. The good
news was that there was a good chance that the Assyrians could be held off for awhile,
maybe a year. Maybe he could buy a little time. That was the good news.
The bad news was that this baby was designed by God to be the new king which meant that
King Ahaz would need to vacate the executive office. So there was both good news and bad
news for King Ahaz when he heard about this baby.
That's how it is with babies. A friend of mine in Seattle, a Presbyterian minister,
recently adopted a new baby boy from Nigeria. His name is Kyan which means long awaited
birth. Kyan arrives imminently in the Calhoun household. His coming in the world gives
Heidi and her husband hope, but he also brings dirty diapers, an average of about 12 a
day, if I remember correctly. Babies are cute and cuddly, demanding and expensive. Believe
me I know; the bill arrived this week for Christopher's second semester's tuition at
Occidental College. Babies are cute, cuddly and demanding. Later they get big, demanding
and expensive very expensive. God love them.
Babies are cute, but they are a threat. Their arrival declares hope in a world that is
not kind to hope. They cry for fairness, decency and a warm cozy blanket. They challenge a
world infatuated with itself. They say there is something far more important at hand than
making money, or accumulating power, or making war. They need a warm bottle or soft breast
or a parent's love. They challenge the current arrangements of power in this world where
might makes right and where too many people think they are in charge. That's what babies
do. They are a threat. That's why so many abandon them, or abuse them, or give lip service
to their care from parents to priests to presidents.
Babies are sweet, but they are also a threat. If a baby is a sign that God is with us,
Emmanuel, then those of us who have had babies can testify that they are a mixed bag. They
provide so many blessings and demand so many responsibilities.
When my babies were first put in my hands, I knew that my life would need to change.
Babies are an ever-present reminder that tomorrow does not belong to us and that the world
isn't all left up to us. Even as I held my babies in my hands, I knew that the world was
not in my hands. I was not in charge.
The Incarnation, if it is about anything, it is about who is in charge.
King Ahaz assumed that the future of his nation was in his hands and that he was in
charge. He wasn't in charge. The future of our nation is not in our hands or President
Bush's hands, nor any other contender for the throne or oval office or Ten Downing Street
or the palace in P'yongyang or Baghdad. The future of the world is not in human hands. We
are not in charge.
The Incarnation is about who is in charge.
In another time, in another era, another time than our own time or King Ahaz's time,
when another Emmanuel was born in Bethlehem, and all the angels and shepherds were
rejoicing at his birth, there was another politician, King Herod, who thought he was in
charge. He wasn't in charge, but he thought he was. Good old King Herod may have been the
only one in the whole Christmas pageant of angels and shepherds, sheep and camels and the
rest, who really figured it out what this birth was all about what the point of this
baby's birth was all about. Go figure . . . it took a politician to figure it out.
The Incarnation is about who is in charge.
This baby, crying and cooing in a manger was a sign, a threat to everything upon which
Herod's empire stood. Herod, the two-bit politician who would have been relegated to the
dust bin of history without his association with Jesus, knew a threat when he saw it.
Herod, who had too much power and too many soldiers at his disposal, Herod the politician
who Jesus later named "The Fox," perceived what Jesus' birth was really about
and so Herod tried to take matters into his own hands. He launched Operation Desert Fox
and tried to kill every boy child in Bethlehem. He thought he was in charge and that this
baby who had born in Bethlehem was a threat. Herod was right. That baby was a threat.
Herod knew, like no one else knew, that he really wasn't in charge, but he tried to give
the impression that he was. So he killed the children.
We know who was in charge. Jesus' mommy and daddy were warned in a dream to flee from
their homeland with their baby. They became political refugees. Jesus lived to die another
day, and because of him, we know who is in charge.
The Incarnation is about who is in charge.
Long ago, the prophet Isaiah came to King Ahaz and dared to tell him the hard political
truth that he was not really the king after all. He said to Ahaz, "God will give you
a sign, but it may not be the one you want. God will give you a sign, but the birth you
are given, may not be the one you expect. This baby will be a sign, that you are not a
king after all, that your ways of dealing with the world are false, that violence and
terror, secret deals and back room hand shakes, will not work and there is no hope at all
for Israel or anywhere else past, present or future, unless it stops at this manger and
all this manger represents.
The Incarnation is about who is in charge.
This baby, this Emmanuel, this God with us, is a sign that George Bush is not really
the President, Tony Blair is not really the Prime Minister, Vladimir Putin is not really
the President of Russia, nor Saddam Hussein the premier of Iraq. They're not in charge.
They may think they are in charge, but they're not in charge. We know who is in charge.
You may think you are in charge. You're not in charge. You may try to control the
destiny of your child, your mate, your friends, your life. My friends, we're not in
charge.
A young woman will give birth to a baby named, Emmanuel, "God is with us."
This baby is a sign to you and me that we are really are not in charge. We are not kings
or queens deluded by our own sense of power. We may try to be like King Herod or King
Ahaz; we may try to fool ourselves into believing that we are the authors of our own
destiny, but we are simply deluded. These delusions when acted upon are real. They damage
people. They spill blood. They destroy families. They set nation against nation. They
wreak violence on a world that deserves peace.
That baby in Bethlehem is a threat to every king and queen, every president and
premier, every human being who believes that he or she can use coercion and violence and
manipulation to try to bend the world to our design. Herod knew it. Maybe its time we know
it. This threat. This threatening baby.
You have heard it said that religion and politics don't mix. I say to you, the church
has something very political to say, particularly on this holy night.
This is what the church has to say to you about Jesus' family about the politics of
Christmas. There shall be a sign for you. Light shall dawn on our darkness. Peace will
come in our perilous time. There shall be judgment on our lust for war and on our desire
for control. There shall be judgment. There shall also be salvation, but it will not be
salvation of our own devising. We are not in charge. We may delude ourselves for awhile,
but we are not in charge.
If the incarnation is about anything, it is about who is in charge.
"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light, those who lived in the
land of great darkness on them a light has shined."
"Come to Bethlehem and see, Him whose birth the angels sing; Come adore, on bended
knee; Christ, the Lord, the new born King, the prince of peace, the only one who, when it
is fully revealed, is in charge. May you see him, really see him and be judged and
redeemed by bending your knees at his manger and by bending your knees at his cross. Then
may you find the courage to get up and walk in the paths of his peace, to practice his
humanity, both this night and through all your days and nights that are to come. Amen.
