We revere Mary for many things. For her purity, her faith, and her willingness to say yes. Today I am thinking about how much time she spends on donkeys during our Christmas readings. Now, donkeys are built differently than horses, their legs have no shock absorbers, there is no such thing as a smooth ride on a donkey. And, here she goes again. She has just given birth to our Lord, without modern anesthesia or even aspirin to dull the pain. Nevertheless, when Joseph says it is too dangerous for them to remain in Bethlehem, we don’t hear about her objecting or refusing; no, she saddles up her weakened, fragile body, clasps her infant son to her breast, and rides off to Egypt.
As hard as it is to imagine being Mary, it is just as hard to put ourselves in Joseph’s sandals. Here he is, an older, wiser, established Jewish man; a carpenter, not a rabbi or a temple leader whose specialty is study of the prophecies or experience with angels and visions. And yet, three times now Joseph has been visited by an angel. And more incredulously, three times now Joseph listens and obeys angelic direction. He did not put Mary away and quietly dismiss her, instead he did as the angel said and took her for his wife. Today he moves his wife and newborn son off to Egypt for safe keeping after hearing a warning from an angel in a dream. Then some time later, after yet another dream, Joseph moves his family out of Egypt back to Nazareth. Joseph, a regular guy, not a mystic, not a visionary, not a prophet, not anyone especially religious, allows the Holy Spirit to direct his life and the lives of his family.
Today’s gospel reminds us that life is not always perfect and pretty. In fact life can be ridiculously imperfect, life can be scary and unpredictable. Herod is so frightened by the birth of Jesus that, in verses we don’t read today, he orders the massacre of all male children under the age of two, so he can be sure that this threat to his throne is exterminated. Herod lives in fear, responds out of fear, and eventually dies a fearful death. Herod stands in great contrast to Mary and Joseph who regardless of what is going on in their lives, listen and obey the promptings of their God.
We are at the beginning of a new year. For some of us that is a welcome thought. We are finished with the trials and tribulations of 2014 and eager to wipe the slate clean and to get on with living into whatever 2015 has in store for us. For others of us, the New Year holds anticipation of hard work, loss, fearful new beginnings and perhaps more changes than we are comfortable with.
Good Shepherd begins this year without Marie Hubbard. For the first time since 1919 Marie is not physically a member of this congregation. Her decades of hard work, faithful attendance, financial support, ultimate loyalty and commitment to Good Shepherd have reached an end. We will not see the likes of Marie again, a woman who until recently was never seen out of a skirt and stockings. Our world has changed, family life is different, the demands on womens’ time is such that things like St. Monica’s Guild, fashion shows, and diocesan altar guilds can no longer anchor their lives.
Good Shepherd begins this year as a congregation with an opportunity to model for our diocese, our city and our region what genuine hospitality looks like. Together with the Church of the Ascension we will strive to live in harmony, to display radical welcome to each other and to all those who enter our doors.
Good Shepherd begins this year in a place that is only a few short blocks away from much of the city’s recent gun violence. What does that mean for us? Are there conversations we should be having about what it means to be a faith community living almost blissfully unaware of what our neighbors across Main Street deal with on a daily basis?
Ascension begins this year by celebrating more than165 years of faithful presence on the corner of Linwood and North and saying good-bye to a building that no longer meets our needs and no longer serves our mission. We will sort out our history and our ‘belongings’ over the next few months as we move forward into a “new for us” worship space at 96 Jewett Parkway. Our gratitude toward our covenant partners, the Church of the Good Shepherd, is mixed with sadness and fear, as well as some regret and apprehension.
Ascension begins this year as a congregation with an opportunity to model for our diocese, our city and our region what stepping forward in faith looks like. There are no guarantees that our move to 96 Jewett Parkway is sustainable, and no guarantees that blending two congregations into one physical plant is really possible.
Ascension begins this year with hope that God’s grace will carry us through. It is clear from today’s Gospel that safety and well being are not always found in comfortable, familiar surroundings. It is clear that sometimes, in order to survive, we must move outside conventional boundaries, think unconventional thoughts and pray unconventional prayers. (Shelly Matthews, www.workingpreacher.org)
Like Mary and Joseph, Ascension and Good Shepherd are beginning a journey with no promise that the outcome will be anything we can predict or control. For each other, for our diocese and for our region we can become a place of unexpected welcome. We just might discover that the stranger can be a source of hospitality, we just might experience God working outside well worn paths and far beyond any road we might assume to be safe for traveling. (ibid.)
After all, the birth of Jesus didn’t immediately make the world better. (ibid.) The promise of the incarnation is not that we will have only fair weather, plenty of food for the journey and unbumpy roads; the promise of the incarnation is that right here, right now, always and forever, God is doing something different. (ibid.) Let us pray as Paul did that the eyes of our hearts will have enough light to see God’s call to us and to see the greatness of God’s power working among us. AMEN.
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