Tag Archives: Joseph

Emmanuel (“God is with us”) = “Boldly go where no one has gone before” (4th Sunday of Advent, 12/21/2025)

Leave a reply

Readings

As you probably guessed, our first reading was chosen because today’s Gospel quotes from it. Ahaz is the king of Judah—what’s left of Solomon’s kingdom after the northern tribes left to form Israel.  Everyone in the region is afraid: the hungry Assyrian Empire (modern Iraq) is expanding. It’s something like having Russia as your next-door neighbor. Israel and Aram (modern Syria) want to fight, and, since Ahaz doesn’t, they plan to invade Judah.

In our text Isaiah is imploring Ahaz to trust the Lord. And, despite Ahaz’ refusal of a sign, the Lord offers one anyway: a young woman is now pregnant and will bear a son who will be named Emmanuel (“God with us”). The child will serve as a sort of calendar: before the child knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, Israel and Aram will be non-issues. But Ahaz doesn’t trust. As the Book of Kings tells it Ahaz sent messengers to the Assyrian king: “I am your servant and your son. Come up, and rescue me from the hand of the king of Aram and from the hand of the king of Israel, who are attacking me” (2 Ki. 16:7). Servant and son, no longer of the Lord, but of the Assyrian king. What a fall!

But the question still hangs in the air: Emmanuel (“God with us”): what will that turn out to mean?

Some 700 years later the question is not how to respond to the Assyrian Empire, but how to respond to the Roman Empire. (The factions we meet in the New Testament, the Pharisees, Sadducees, Herodians, Zealots, etc. separate by how they answer that question.) And in the middle of all that Mary is pregnant. For Matthew it’s an Ahaz moment, with Joseph and his generation facing the same choice Ahaz and his generation faced: trust or not. Emmanuel (“God with us”): what will that turn out to mean?

Joseph is the first to have to choose. Matthew describes Joseph as a righteous man. That’s important, because the argument about what righteousness means runs through Matthew’s Gospel. Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount: “unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (5:20). For Joseph, “righteous” means not exposing Mary to disgrace, but quietly dismissing her. Ahaz had Isaiah; Joseph has “an angel of the Lord,” who redefines “righteous” behavior. And Joseph—thank God—trusts, and takes Mary as his wife.

“Emmanuel” (God with us): whatever that means, it doesn’t mean “business as usual.” Business as usual for Ahaz was a matter of arithmetic: how many divisions do we have? How many do Israel and Aram have? How many does Assyria have? Emmanuel? Hard to quantify that. Business as usual for Joseph meant a compassionate dismissal of Mary. But “Emmanuel” significantly shifted “righteous.”

Now, a sidebar. What does Matthew’s “fulfill” mean? There are plenty of examples of prophets speaking about the future and those words proving true. Isaiah’s words in today’s reading about the fate of Israel and Aram is an example. But that’s not the only way “fulfill” works. In the case of Isaiah’s young woman, the child simply serves as a calendar. So Matthew’s just taking advantage of the Greek text’s translation of “young woman” as “virgin” to support his Jesus-fulfills-prophecy agenda? No. What Matthew has recognized is that the situations Ahaz and Joseph face are similar, and that this time around God’s action is even more breathtaking. This time around “Emmanuel” points to a far more profound “God with us,” and Matthew writes his Gospel also to help us discover some of what that means. Isaiah’s words have been filled fuller than he could have imagined.

Notice, by the way, the choices Matthew has made as a narrator. “Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way” sets us up to expect an account of the birth. But Matthew focuses on the choice Joseph faces. Why? Perhaps because Matthew’s audience is in a similar situation. For the Jewish Christians in Matthew’s audience “righteousness” had meant having as little to do with the gentiles as possible. But Emmanuel, and now they’re part of a renewed Israel in which Jew and Gentile call each other “brother” and “sister.” They might be excused for thinking Joseph had it easy.

Where am I going with this? Since 1966 I’ve been a Star Trek fan: “boldly go where no one has gone before.” That’s not a bad weak analogy for the journey to which the Christmas story invites us. The Messiah, the Christ, has come. There were plenty of scripts for how that was supposed to play out. But since this is a matter of Emmanuel (“God with us”) it’s not about following a script, and one of the first ones who has to deal with this is Joseph. Sometimes, as in our Gospel, there’s a direct command to be obeyed. Sometimes it’s a matter of Spirit-led discernment. Paul in Ephesians: “Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord” (5:10). We continually turn to Holy Scripture for nourishment, not because it’s the script, but because—under the guidance of the Holy Spirit—it enables us to faithfully improvise as we follow our risen Lord.

Joseph’s feast day is March 19; let’s use the collect for that feast to take us out:

“O God, who from the family of your servant David raised up Joseph to be the guardian of your incarnate Son and the spouse of his virgin mother: Give us grace to imitate his uprightness of life and his obedience to your commands; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.”

Waiting (6th Sunday after Pentecost, 6/30/2024)

Leave a reply

Readings (Track 1)

So, what might the Spirit be saying to God’s people in these readings? This time around that repeated exhortation “wait” in our psalm got my attention. The Gospel stories illustrate the obvious payoff, whether for the woman suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years, or the parents with their gravely-ill twelve-year-old. Both are stories of waiting longer than we might think reasonable (“Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?”). In both Jesus talks about faith, a faith that’s expressed by waiting.

This morning we’ll take this theme of waiting in three directions. First, acknowledge that waiting is unwelcome, unwelcome enough that we have various strategies for avoiding it. Second, noticing that waiting is not disengaging, and not only the Gospel stories, but also the Joseph stories, help us see that. Third, wondering: we certainly wait; does God ever have to wait?

Wait! Outside of “love your enemies,” hard to think of a more unwelcome exhortation. Recall the “Please wait” on an otherwise blank computer screen or the automated voice on the phone assuring us that the wait time is only x minutes. When waiting on someone currently or always more powerful, most of the possible reasons why we’re waiting are not encouraging. We like to be in control; waiting’s the antithesis of that.

So it can be a bit unnerving to notice how often waiting shows up in the Bible’s stories: Abraham and Sarah waiting for that promised son, the Judean captives in Babylon waiting for something—anything—to happen, the multiple psalms exhorting us to wait.

So, waiting is unpleasant enough that we come up with various strategies for avoidance. The complaint of the Judean exiles in Babylon as recorded in Isaiah is typical: “My way is hidden from the LORD, and my right is disregarded by my God” (I40:27). Why wait? So it’s easy to question God’s power, knowledge, goodness. “If I’m waiting this long, I obviously don’t matter to God.”

Another strategy that I catch myself using: shrink the circle of concern so there’s less that requires waiting. I can’t even begin to imagine how God might sort out Ukraine, the Holy Land, Haiti, Puerto Rico, the Southern Border, etc. Oh so tempting to shrink the circle!

So, first point, waiting on the Lord is one of the harder things our tradition asks of us, and it’s absolutely necessary. So let’s not beat ourselves up if we find it hard, even as we check our attempts to throw in the towel.

Second, waiting on the Lord: the antithesis of disengaging. The woman with the hemorrhages, the synagogue leader: they seek Jesus out. They risk being disappointed.

Pulling back the camera, I’m struck by the Joseph stories. Early in the story Egypt is not where Joseph wants to be, and there’s no chance of getting to passport control. So he’s waiting. At the same time he’s repeatedly engaging, and making choices about that engagement. One of those choices: the refusal of the advances from Potiphar’s wife, whose advances would have offered one solution to a bad situation. Another of those choices: how to respond to two oily high-level bureaucrats who’d gotten on the wrong side of Pharaoh and who had dreams that needed interpretation. It would have been so satisfying to keep them waiting. But Joseph keeps engaging, even while having no control over the results of his choices. Joseph in Egypt, Tobit in Nineveh, Esther in the Persian capital, Paul’s collection mentioned in our second reading, for that matter: all folk from whom we can learn about waiting and staying productively engaged.

Third, with all this talk of our waiting on the Lord, it sounds like we’re doing the heavy lifting. Does the Lord ever have to wait? It turns out that there’s this intriguing verse in Isaiah: “Therefore the LORD waits to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show mercy to you. For the LORD is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him” (30:18). “The Lord waits…blessed are all those who wait for the Lord.” There are a good number of texts in the prophets we could use to flesh that out, but since those would need some setup, we’ll move to the New Testament.

“And [Jesus] did not do many deeds of power [in his hometown], because of their unbelief” (Matt. 13:58).

More dramatically—also from Matthew: “For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me” (25:42-43). That’s some serious waiting.

So while as individuals or communities of faith we’re regularly waiting on God, we’re card-carrying members of nations that regularly keep God waiting, hence that line in one of our confessions: “We repent of the evil that enslaves us, the evil we have done, and the evil done on our behalf.”

Let’s sum up. “O Israel, wait for the Lord.” That’s directed to us.

Rather than disengagement, waiting is a productive way of staying engaged.

And, yes, the good Lord also waits, and sometimes that’s something we can do something about.