Dylan's lectionary blog

Second Sunday after Christmas, Year A

Jeremiah 31:7-14 - link to NRSV text
Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23 - link to NRSV text

It's hard to appreciate the full impact of the stories about Jesus' birth without entering into the brutality he confronted even as an infant as well as the vulnerability a peasant family like Jesus' experienced. Last week, I recommended Richard Horsley's book The Liberation of Christmas, and this week I'd like to echo that recommendation -- that book is what really got me thinking about what Luke and Matthew are telling us in their narratives of Jesus' birth and infancy, and I'm referring to it extensively this week.

So what kind of a ruler was Herod the Great, Jesus' rival for the title of "king of the Judeans"? The first-century Jewish historian Josephus documents Herod's struggles to secure his territory, which he eventually did with extensive help from Roman troops. He thanked his benefactors not only by taking on titles like "Admirer of Rome" and "Admirer of Caesar," but by undertaking extensive building projects -- temples, gymnasia, statues, and even whole cities (Sebaste and Caesarea) named after the emperor. "Since he was involved in expenses greater than his means," Josephus writes, "he was compelled to be harsh toward his subjects, for the great number of things on which he spent money as gifts to some caused him to be the source of harm to those from whom he took his revenues" (Antiquities 15.365, as cited in Horsley, pp. 43-44).

The more the people chafed under Herod's rule, the more repressive it became:

No meeting of the people was permitted, nor were walking together or being together permitted, and all their movements were observed. Those who were caught were punished severely, and many were taken, either openly or secretly, to the fortress of Hyrcania and there put to death. Both in the city and in the open roads there were men who spied upon those who met together. ... Those who obstinately refused to go along with his practices he persecuted in all kinds of ways. As for the rest of the populace, he demanded that they submit to taking a loyalty oath, and he compelled them to make a sworn declaration that they would maintain a friendly attitude to his rule. Now most people yielded to his demand out of complaisance or fear, but those who showed some spirit and objected to compulsion he got rid of by every possible means.
— Antiquities 15.366-369, as cited in Horsley, p. 47

These words came immediately to my mind when I read a story yesterday about rendition, the practice of forcing detainees onto a jet to be taken secretly from a country in which harsh methods of torture are banned to a country in which they're allowed. What a world we live in! I wonder what would happen if we put even half the ingenuity, technology, and resources into finding ways to get disaster relief to the incomprehensibly high number of people affected by yesterday's tsunami as we put into striking back at those suspected to be our enemies. The powers and the principalities of this world would drive us by fear to violence, by greed to indifference, and by disasters like the Asian tsunami to the conclusion that the world itself is cruel and senseless.

What a world we live in! Is it naive to hold on to hope and to speak of salvation in such a world?

Not at all, if we take the stories surrounding Jesus' birth seriously. We're too often tempted to reduce the scenes surrounding Jesus' birth into an adorable tableau of children transformed into shepherds with tea towels on their heads, a scene as peaceful as it is heartwarming. But the gospel stories of Jesus' birth were very clear about just how great and how oppressive the powers and principalities were from which Jesus came to save us. I think that when we gloss over that, we're tempted to view the darknesses of our own world through the lens of self-pity, and to conclude that the problems we face are greater than those faced before, perhaps even greater than Jesus' power to redeem and make whole.

That isn't true. Jesus was born into a world ruled by a Caesar who spent resources glorifying himself as "savior of the empire" that would better be put to use in saving his subjects from poverty, famine, or Rome-supported client rulers like Herod. Jesus was born as "king of the Judeans" in a Judea ruled by another who claimed that title, and who would stop at nothing to hold on to it. He was born to a people who had been delivered from slavery in Egypt, but ruled by a king who drove him and his parents back there as refugees. Christ our savior wasn't in the dark about the extent of the problems we face in the world, but his faith in the God of Israel who called him was such that he knew no darkness could hold out against the Light that has come into the world.

Sometimes we think that we have to enter into denial to hold on to hope, but that isn't true. Hope is not saying that problems don't exist or that they're not serious; it's keeping deeply in touch with the more fundamental truth that the whole universe was created in love and is destined for love. When we do that, when we make the decision to seek God's will in the midst of turmoil, then the power of the tempest teaches us how much more powerful our Redeemer is, and we can find peace amidst the storms.

The greatest gift we can give our children is not a fleeting illusion that "all is calm, all is bright" -- they're far too observant to be taken in by that for long, especially if we don't believe it ourselves. We give a far greater gift to our children by teaching the the meaning of compassion -- that great tragedy and great need are met by greater love. We teach them the meaning of hope -- that we recognize both the darkness and the fundamental truth that the deepest darkness must give way when it meets light. That's something we have to be deeply in touch with ourselves to pass along to our children, and to share with our world.

So I was pleased to see Joy Carroll Wallis' recent call to put Herod back into Christmas. I'm grateful to Matthew for telling us that Jesus knew the oppression of Egypt. How else would Jesus be able to lead us in Exodus? And I believe that Jesus came to do that. There is no Egypt, no Herod, no Caesar, who can stand against the testimony that we offer that Jesus is Lord. There is no need so great and no pain so deep that it can't be met with greater compassion and healing through Christ our savior. The world was made for love, and the redemption of the world comes as God's gift through Christ, poured out freely by grace. But in Christ, we have the opportunity to accompany Jesus to see the redemption of the world firsthand, to experience the love which is the primal force of Creation as our touch and our generosity minister Jesus' healing and grace to a world that, though it is in darkness, has seen a great light -- the Light of the World, dawning anew in Christmas.

Thanks be to God!

Second Sunday after Christmas, Year A

Jeremiah 31:7-14 - link to NRSV text
Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23 - link to NRSV text

It's hard to appreciate the full impact of the stories about Jesus' birth without entering into the brutality he confronted even as an infant as well as the vulnerability a peasant family like Jesus' experienced. Last week, I recommended Richard Horsley's book The Liberation of Christmas, and this week I'd like to echo that recommendation -- that book is what really got me thinking about what Luke and Matthew are telling us in their narratives of Jesus' birth and infancy, and I'm referring to it extensively this week.

So what kind of a ruler was Herod the Great, Jesus' rival for the title of "king of the Judeans"? The first-century Jewish historian Josephus documents Herod's struggles to secure his territory, which he eventually did with extensive help from Roman troops. He thanked his benefactors not only by taking on titles like "Admirer of Rome" and "Admirer of Caesar," but by undertaking extensive building projects -- temples, gymnasia, statues, and even whole cities (Sebaste and Caesarea) named after the emperor. "Since he was involved in expenses greater than his means," Josephus writes, "he was compelled to be harsh toward his subjects, for the great number of things on which he spent money as gifts to some caused him to be the source of harm to those from whom he took his revenues" (Antiquities 15.365, as cited in Horsley, pp. 43-44).

The more the people chafed under Herod's rule, the more repressive it became:

No meeting of the people was permitted, nor were walking together or being together permitted, and all their movements were observed. Those who were caught were punished severely, and many were taken, either openly or secretly, to the fortress of Hyrcania and there put to death. Both in the city and in the open roads there were men who spied upon those who met together. ... Those who obstinately refused to go along with his practices he persecuted in all kinds of ways. As for the rest of the populace, he demanded that they submit to taking a loyalty oath, and he compelled them to make a sworn declaration that they would maintain a friendly attitude to his rule. Now most people yielded to his demand out of complaisance or fear, but those who showed some spirit and objected to compulsion he got rid of by every possible means.
— Antiquities 15.366-369, as cited in Horsley, p. 47

These words came immediately to my mind when I read a story yesterday about rendition, the practice of forcing detainees onto a jet to be taken secretly from a country in which harsh methods of torture are banned to a country in which they're allowed. What a world we live in! I wonder what would happen if we put even half the ingenuity, technology, and resources into finding ways to get disaster relief to the incomprehensibly high number of people affected by yesterday's tsunami as we put into striking back at those suspected to be our enemies. The powers and the principalities of this world would drive us by fear to violence, by greed to indifference, and by disasters like the Asian tsunami to the conclusion that the world itself is cruel and senseless.

What a world we live in! Is it naive to hold on to hope and to speak of salvation in such a world?

Not at all, if we take the stories surrounding Jesus' birth seriously. We're too often tempted to reduce the scenes surrounding Jesus' birth into an adorable tableau of children transformed into shepherds with tea towels on their heads, a scene as peaceful as it is heartwarming. But the gospel stories of Jesus' birth were very clear about just how great and how oppressive the powers and principalities were from which Jesus came to save us. I think that when we gloss over that, we're tempted to view the darknesses of our own world through the lens of self-pity, and to conclude that the problems we face are greater than those faced before, perhaps even greater than Jesus' power to redeem and make whole.

That isn't true. Jesus was born into a world ruled by a Caesar who spent resources glorifying himself as "savior of the empire" that would better be put to use in saving his subjects from poverty, famine, or Rome-supported client rulers like Herod. Jesus was born as "king of the Judeans" in a Judea ruled by another who claimed that title, and who would stop at nothing to hold on to it. He was born to a people who had been delivered from slavery in Egypt, but ruled by a king who drove him and his parents back there as refugees. Christ our savior wasn't in the dark about the extent of the problems we face in the world, but his faith in the God of Israel who called him was such that he knew no darkness could hold out against the Light that has come into the world.

Sometimes we think that we have to enter into denial to hold on to hope, but that isn't true. Hope is not saying that problems don't exist or that they're not serious; it's keeping deeply in touch with the more fundamental truth that the whole universe was created in love and is destined for love. When we do that, when we make the decision to seek God's will in the midst of turmoil, then the power of the tempest teaches us how much more powerful our Redeemer is, and we can find peace amidst the storms.

The greatest gift we can give our children is not a fleeting illusion that "all is calm, all is bright" -- they're far too observant to be taken in by that for long, especially if we don't believe it ourselves. We give a far greater gift to our children by teaching the the meaning of compassion -- that great tragedy and great need are met by greater love. We teach them the meaning of hope -- that we recognize both the darkness and the fundamental truth that the deepest darkness must give way when it meets light. That's something we have to be deeply in touch with ourselves to pass along to our children, and to share with our world.

So I was pleased to see Joy Carroll Wallis' recent call to put Herod back into Christmas. I'm grateful to Matthew for telling us that Jesus knew the oppression of Egypt. How else would Jesus be able to lead us in Exodus? And I believe that Jesus came to do that. There is no Egypt, no Herod, no Caesar, who can stand against the testimony that we offer that Jesus is Lord. There is no need so great and no pain so deep that it can't be met with greater compassion and healing through Christ our savior. The world was made for love, and the redemption of the world comes as God's gift through Christ, poured out freely by grace. But in Christ, we have the opportunity to accompany Jesus to see the redemption of the world firsthand, to experience the love which is the primal force of Creation as our touch and our generosity minister Jesus' healing and grace to a world that, though it is in darkness, has seen a great light -- the Light of the World, dawning anew in Christmas.

Thanks be to God!

Comments

Second Sunday after Christmas, Year A

Jeremiah 31:7-14 - link to NRSV text
Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23 - link to NRSV text

It's hard to appreciate the full impact of the stories about Jesus' birth without entering into the brutality he confronted even as an infant as well as the vulnerability a peasant family like Jesus' experienced. Last week, I recommended Richard Horsley's book The Liberation of Christmas, and this week I'd like to echo that recommendation -- that book is what really got me thinking about what Luke and Matthew are telling us in their narratives of Jesus' birth and infancy, and I'm referring to it extensively this week.

So what kind of a ruler was Herod the Great, Jesus' rival for the title of "king of the Judeans"? The first-century Jewish historian Josephus documents Herod's struggles to secure his territory, which he eventually did with extensive help from Roman troops. He thanked his benefactors not only by taking on titles like "Admirer of Rome" and "Admirer of Caesar," but by undertaking extensive building projects -- temples, gymnasia, statues, and even whole cities (Sebaste and Caesarea) named after the emperor. "Since he was involved in expenses greater than his means," Josephus writes, "he was compelled to be harsh toward his subjects, for the great number of things on which he spent money as gifts to some caused him to be the source of harm to those from whom he took his revenues" (Antiquities 15.365, as cited in Horsley, pp. 43-44).

The more the people chafed under Herod's rule, the more repressive it became:

No meeting of the people was permitted, nor were walking together or being together permitted, and all their movements were observed. Those who were caught were punished severely, and many were taken, either openly or secretly, to the fortress of Hyrcania and there put to death. Both in the city and in the open roads there were men who spied upon those who met together. ... Those who obstinately refused to go along with his practices he persecuted in all kinds of ways. As for the rest of the populace, he demanded that they submit to taking a loyalty oath, and he compelled them to make a sworn declaration that they would maintain a friendly attitude to his rule. Now most people yielded to his demand out of complaisance or fear, but those who showed some spirit and objected to compulsion he got rid of by every possible means.
— Antiquities 15.366-369, as cited in Horsley, p. 47

These words came immediately to my mind when I read a story yesterday about rendition, the practice of forcing detainees onto a jet to be taken secretly from a country in which harsh methods of torture are banned to a country in which they're allowed. What a world we live in! I wonder what would happen if we put even half the ingenuity, technology, and resources into finding ways to get disaster relief to the incomprehensibly high number of people affected by yesterday's tsunami as we put into striking back at those suspected to be our enemies. The powers and the principalities of this world would drive us by fear to violence, by greed to indifference, and by disasters like the Asian tsunami to the conclusion that the world itself is cruel and senseless.

What a world we live in! Is it naive to hold on to hope and to speak of salvation in such a world?

Not at all, if we take the stories surrounding Jesus' birth seriously. We're too often tempted to reduce the scenes surrounding Jesus' birth into an adorable tableau of children transformed into shepherds with tea towels on their heads, a scene as peaceful as it is heartwarming. But the gospel stories of Jesus' birth were very clear about just how great and how oppressive the powers and principalities were from which Jesus came to save us. I think that when we gloss over that, we're tempted to view the darknesses of our own world through the lens of self-pity, and to conclude that the problems we face are greater than those faced before, perhaps even greater than Jesus' power to redeem and make whole.

That isn't true. Jesus was born into a world ruled by a Caesar who spent resources glorifying himself as "savior of the empire" that would better be put to use in saving his subjects from poverty, famine, or Rome-supported client rulers like Herod. Jesus was born as "king of the Judeans" in a Judea ruled by another who claimed that title, and who would stop at nothing to hold on to it. He was born to a people who had been delivered from slavery in Egypt, but ruled by a king who drove him and his parents back there as refugees. Christ our savior wasn't in the dark about the extent of the problems we face in the world, but his faith in the God of Israel who called him was such that he knew no darkness could hold out against the Light that has come into the world.

Sometimes we think that we have to enter into denial to hold on to hope, but that isn't true. Hope is not saying that problems don't exist or that they're not serious; it's keeping deeply in touch with the more fundamental truth that the whole universe was created in love and is destined for love. When we do that, when we make the decision to seek God's will in the midst of turmoil, then the power of the tempest teaches us how much more powerful our Redeemer is, and we can find peace amidst the storms.

The greatest gift we can give our children is not a fleeting illusion that "all is calm, all is bright" -- they're far too observant to be taken in by that for long, especially if we don't believe it ourselves. We give a far greater gift to our children by teaching the the meaning of compassion -- that great tragedy and great need are met by greater love. We teach them the meaning of hope -- that we recognize both the darkness and the fundamental truth that the deepest darkness must give way when it meets light. That's something we have to be deeply in touch with ourselves to pass along to our children, and to share with our world.

So I was pleased to see Joy Carroll Wallis' recent call to put Herod back into Christmas. I'm grateful to Matthew for telling us that Jesus knew the oppression of Egypt. How else would Jesus be able to lead us in Exodus? And I believe that Jesus came to do that. There is no Egypt, no Herod, no Caesar, who can stand against the testimony that we offer that Jesus is Lord. There is no need so great and no pain so deep that it can't be met with greater compassion and healing through Christ our savior. The world was made for love, and the redemption of the world comes as God's gift through Christ, poured out freely by grace. But in Christ, we have the opportunity to accompany Jesus to see the redemption of the world firsthand, to experience the love which is the primal force of Creation as our touch and our generosity minister Jesus' healing and grace to a world that, though it is in darkness, has seen a great light -- the Light of the World, dawning anew in Christmas.

Thanks be to God!