This morning we continue our series of messages about Advent. The Advent messages cover some of the characters of the Christmas story, and this Sunday the characters are ones not usually on our radar screen. Generally, we think of characters such as the shepherds, the magi, and the angels when contemplating the Christmas story. This morning, however, I want us to think about those I will call the forgotten.
Our Scripture text comes from a passage we don’t often read at Advent. We don’t often read it because it is not a happy passage. It is a passage that does not make the cover of Christmas cards. It is not a passage included in Christmas plays. This is a passage that does not fit our image of Christmas, which is exactly why we must keep it in mind.
The passage to which I am referring is what is often called the slaughter of the innocents, which tells of when Mary, Joseph, and Jesus fled to Egypt in order to escape Herod’s murderous rampage. Herod, we know from Matthew’s gospel, was so paranoid and frightened at the prospect of a newborn king that he ordered all male children in Bethlehem and vicinity, aged two and under, to be put to death. While such an act is absolutely unfathomable to us, its cruelty was not uncommon in the world into which Jesus was born. In that time, and for centuries before, scores of the forgotten and unknown people were subject to the whims, rashness, cruelty, and tantrums of rulers who held absolute power. This is not, however, a way of life that was reserved only for the ancient past. In today’s world there are many who continue to suffer under those who use power to impose their will and their whims upon the people who live under their iron fists. And Christmas, of all times, is when we should be certain to remember the forgotten – those who live in very difficult circumstances around our world, and not only around the world, but in our own land as well, for our land is filled with many who are forgotten.
It is important for us to remember that the gospel has not only an individual side to it – that is, our personal relationship with God – it also has a social side to it, and that means we are called to work to improve the lives of those who suffer, and much of that suffering is imposed upon them because of the Herods of the world. Jesus certainly challenges us to work to relieve the suffering of others, suffering that no child of God should have to endure.
Follow along with me as I read from Matthew 2:13-23 –
13 When they had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.”
14 So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt,
15 where he stayed until the death of Herod. And so was fulfilled what the Lord had said through the prophet: “Out of Egypt I called my son.”
16 When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi.
17 Then what was said through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled:
18 “A voice is heard in Ramah,
weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted,
because they are no more.”
19 After Herod died, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt
20 and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel, for those who were trying to take the child’s life are dead.”
20 and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel, for those who were trying to take the child’s life are dead.”
21 So he got up, took the child and his mother and went to the land of Israel.
22 But when he heard that Archelaus was reigning in Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. Having been warned in a dream, he withdrew to the district of Galilee,
23 and he went and lived in a town called Nazareth. So was fulfilled what was said through the prophets, that he would be called a Nazarene.
While we are called to help alleviate the suffering of others, it is important to know that in doing so we must sometimes challenge the powers of this world. Years ago, I made some public statements of criticism about actions taken by some elected officials, actions that I believed to be unfair to others. A few days later I received a call from one of those officials, who made very clear that he was unhappy about what I said. He reminded me that I was young and naïve and that I was also a minister, and in his opinion, ministers had no right meddling in politics, reminding me there was something known as the separation of church and state. I was young at the time, and probably somewhat naïve, but I believed that what I had said was worth saying and I was not interested in backing down from it, so I reminded the official there was also something known as free speech. Lucky for me, we live in a democracy and I was supported in my right to speak by our Constitution.
What we clearly learn from this passage is that, for so many others, it is very dangerous to go against rulers and authorities. The people of Bethlehem and surrounding vicinity discovered this in a terribly tragic way. Because the magi did not report back to Herod, returning instead to their homeland by an alternate route so that they would not be forced to provide Herod with the location of Jesus, many families suffered an unimaginable heartbreak. Those families, and the children taken away from them, had done nothing wrong. Nothing. They had, however, the misfortune to live under a tyrant such as Herod, a tyrant whose fear and insecurity would drive him to a murderous action. I don’t know if the magi ever became aware of Herod’s action, but if they did, it was a very difficult burden that was laid upon them, because Herod used the magi’s avoidance of him as the reason to commit this terrible act of violence. It’s hard to imagine a more cowardly and dastardly act than to commit an atrocious act of violence, but to then lay it at the feet of others, as though it were their fault, makes it even more despicable. But that is how tyrants operate. They operate through the use of fear and by pitting people against one another. They use the innocent as human shields. They see the people over whom they rule as disposable. That was certainly the MO of Herod, and it was because he wanted people to know that it was dangerous to go against him. While it is dangerous to go against the rulers and authorities of this world, sometimes it is necessary to do so, because those rulers and authorities must be confronted over their actions and must know they cannot act with impunity and must be called to account when they do not act in the best interests of those over whom they rule.
The Bible is full of examples of the danger in going against rulers and authorities. Not only did the people of Bethlehem tragically find this to be true, Moses and the Hebrew people discovered this as well when they were freed after four centuries of bondage in Egypt, only to be pursued by Pharaoh into the wilderness (Exodus 14). Elijah found this to be true when he was forced to flee from the wrath of Jezebel (I Kings 19). John the Baptist also found this to be true. John spoke words of judgment against Herod, because Herod had taken his brother’s wife as his own. John condemned Herod for this, and because of those words, John was executed (Mark 6:14-29). Herod had some encouragement in this action, of course, but one of the reasons why it was done was to let people know – you will do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it, and most importantly, you will not question it! Paul was executed at the hands of the Roman government. Peter was executed at the hands of the Roman government, as were almost all of the other disciples. The Bible reminds us, certainly, of the danger and high cost of opposing the powers of this world.
To justify their actions, governments sometimes present themselves as quasi-religions. It might not always be in obvious ways, but when you look a little closer, it is striking to see the ways in which governments function as religions. Governments have documents that are revered as though they are Scripture; they have founders and forebears whose origins and lives are presented with an aura of divinity and are presented as their version of ancient patriarchs and prophets, such as Moses and Elijah; they have practices and rituals that are presented as their own kind of worship services; they ask that allegiance be offered to them above and beyond all others; and they talk of sacrifice in ways that use very religious language. As quasi-religions, they present themselves as deserving of the ultimate loyalty and they don’t tolerate competition. This is the meaning of the response Jesus gave when he was asked if it was lawful to pay taxes to Caesar or not (Mark 12:13-17). The response of Jesus that we are to give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’sshould never be taken as a very neat, easy delineation between God and government. What Jesus was saying is this – Caesar has declared himself to be God and wants your ultimate allegiance and all you have and all you are. That’s what God asks as well. Just like money, you cannot serve two masters, or in this case, two Lords. Who is it going to be? This was absolutely true of the Roman Empire, as the emperor was viewed as a god, and as a god, only the emperor was allowed to use the titles Lord, Son of God, Son of Man, Savior, and others. Anyone else using those titles could be put to death, as the Romans would not allow any competition for the quasi-religion of their Empire. Jesus, however, applied those titles to himself, making a direct refutation of the emperor’s claim to be a god and the Empire’s presentation of itself as a religion. And like John, Jesus was executed for his refusal to acknowledge what the Romans wanted acknowledged, which was that the Roman emperors presented themselves as gods and wanted themselves seen as such, because when you present yourself as a god, and your empire as a religion, then many unjustifiable actions can then be presented as justifiable.
But here is one of the really interesting things about God, in comparison to the quasi-religions of empires – God does not operate according to the dictates of the powers and the kingdoms of this world. The kingdom of God does not take up arms, it does not hand out weaponry, and it does not employ armies. No, the kingdom of God uses love and service. To be great in God’s kingdom does not require or ask of power and force; it asks, rather, that we give up power. Jesus said that to be great in his kingdom one had to serve others. This was the response to the request of James and John that they be allowed to sit on the right and left of Jesus when he came into his kingdom (Matthew 20:20-28). When Peter took up a sword Jesus reminded him that those who wield the sword also die by the sword (Matthew 26:52). When David was chosen by God to succeed Saul as king, Samuel went to David’s home, but David’s father, Jesse, did not bother to call David in from the fields because he could not believe that David could be chosen, because he did not fit the image of a king. Moses, born a slave, was taken into Pharaoh’s house and raised as a prince of Egypt. Moses only reached his true greatness after being humbled by going into self-imposed exile after his murder of an Egyptian overseer. It is not happenstance that Jesus was born in a manger and not a palace. Jesus very much identified with the nameless, the faceless, and the outcasts, and his birth signaled the kind of king he would be, a king who would associate with and love the lowliest of the world and the outcasts of the world. As did Jesus, we must remember the forgotten. As did Jesus, we must remember the poor. As did Jesus, we must remember the sick. As did Jesus, we must remember the lonely. As did Jesus, we must remember those who live under oppression. As did Jesus, we must remember the persecuted. As did Jesus, we must remember those who mourn.
In thinking about those who are forgotten, I find myself thinking about the group from our church that provides lunch at God’s Kitchen. On Thursday we fed, I believe, close to fifty people. The people who come to God’s Kitchen are people who face a good many struggles, and I’m grateful we are able to be one of the churches who provide those meals. The meals we provide do not, and will not, solve all of the problems those children of God (and our brothers and sisters in Christ) face, but it is a way in which we can remind them that they are not forgotten. I think of the Khai Khat family, whom we helped to settle here after they were forced to flee their own land. What would have happened to them if they could not have come to our country? Would they have been able to find a new home? I wish it were not necessary for them to have to flee their homeland, because it is not easy to begin again in a new land and a new home, but they found they were not forgotten and were not left to suffer under the oppressive powers that rule their homeland. I think about the hundreds who line up outside the Serenity Center every Wednesday to receive food and a promise they are not forgotten, either by our church or other churches. I think about the ladies at the Diersen Center, who are separated from children and other family members while incarcerated. I think about how they must think each day, and each night, about the decisions and actions that led them to be separated from those they love, and how much it must mean that each week groups of people travel from our church and others churches all across our area to worship with them, to visit with them, and to remind them that they are not forgotten. I think about the residents of nursing homes, who are so often forgotten, but not by members of our congregation and other congregations.
Mary Clark recently left a book in the office for me. The book is Faith Grows By Risk, and it is a collection of stories about Kentucky Refugee Ministries. I would like to read a brief passage telling a small portion of the experience of one of the families that KRM helped to resettle here. It is titled, Thank You, God.
One of the first Congolese refugee families that the Lexington office of Kentucky Refugee Ministries resettled was a family of fourteen. The family had two grown children, several school age children, and a one-year-old little girl. The family arrived at the airport with one large suitcase for all fourteen people. All were wearing t-shirts given them by IOM (the agency that arranges refugee travel). As we gathered near the baggage claim, the father opened the one suitcase. It was filled with baskets he had brought as gifts for everyone who had greeted them at the airport and for the church sponsors. The family had virtually nothing, but they were sharing all they had.
As we were introduced, the youngest daughter was introduced as Thank You God. Yes, that was her legal name. The father had been separated from the family for months, but he had found them in the refugee camp shortly before their daughter was born. In gratitude for the family’s being reunited, they had named their newborn daughter Thank You God. Every time they said her name, they were reminded of the miracle of their family reunification.
(Faith Grows By Risk: Stories From the Life of Kentucky Refugee Ministries, ed. By James O. Chatham, 2013, p. 132).
That family lived in a refugee camp, where they were among the nameless, the faceless, but they were not forgotten! Neither, thank God, have we been forgotten, so let us remember the forgotten this Christmas, and always!
No comments:
Post a Comment