Matthew 2:13-15; Luke 2:21-32
There was a visitor who was driving through town, and stopped to eat. He asked his waitress, “Have there been any famous men or women born in this town?”
“Nope,” replied the waitress. “Just babies.”
Think about it. Just babies are born. Famous men and women are not born famous. They are made famous by strange turns of events, circumstance, chance, hard work, contrivance, notoriousness and probably a hundred other happenstance reasons.
Just babies. Crying, needful babies. Nothing famous about them other than they are born. They made it into the world. Famous, maybe at that point, only to their mother and father who brought that particular child to its birth.
Each mother and father dreams dreams about the future of each of their children. Some parents try to mold their children's future in specific ways, making choices for their children according to those parental dreams. Always pushing, prodding, driving their children--like horses--to the water and forcing them to drink.
Other fathers and mothers approach child raising with a sense of awe--that their child already has their destiny implanted in them at birth, and it is the father and mother's work to watch that destiny unfold.
Few fathers and mothers are told, way before their child is born, what their child's future will be. It happens in countries where there is still a monarchy--like Great Britain. In those places a child may be destined to be a king or queen, whether they want to be or not. It is simply a matter of circumstance for those babies.
I had some hopes and dreams for my children. But I was one of those kinds of parents who didn't push as much as I sat back in awe and wonder at how Ryan and Kristin dreamed, developed, grew, changed, became. I tried to be the kind of parent who was more a cheerleader, giving celebration to their many successes; and roused them forward when the oppositional forces of life knocked them down and bruised them.
I wonder about Joseph and Mary. I wonder about their own dreams and visions of parenting their first boy child. I wonder if those dreams and aspirations were stolen from them by the angels and the shepherds and the magi. They had no choice, it seemed, about the future destiny of their child. They had to follow, or be resistant and rebellious. That was the choice they had as parents.
Already, we have seen that Joseph and Mary were told what to name their baby. They didn't even get to pick out his name. What if they were planning to name him Joe, Jr.? And also, we have seen, the names this child was to be known by, set the course for his entire life. Jesus, which means, "the Lord saves." This baby, this diaper swaddled baby, was destined to somehow save people from their sins, Joseph was told.
Immanuel was another name by which this baby was to be known. Immanuel, meaning, "God is with us." This baby, embraced by Joseph and protected by those strong carpenter's arms, was destined to somehow infuse the world with the very presence of God, the Creator of all that is.
Then the Wise Men show up looking for "the Christ." The title "Christ" means, "the anointed One." The action of anointing was reserved only for special people--like priests, prophets, and kings. The anointed One became a person with a mission and a responsibility, and that was to bring wholeness and healing where there was brokenness and dis-ease.
Again, Joseph and Mary are signaled by this title, this pronouncement of "Christ" over their child that this baby would never be allowed to be just a baby. The parents are, whether they like it or not, relegated to simply sit back and allow all this extravagance unfold. Actually, they don't get to sit back. They have to follow the constant parade of names and titles pronounced over their baby. Joseph and Mary are never asked permission if this could all happen with their child. They are told with the expectation they would be obedient and follow the fate of what they were told.
I'm reading a book titled, Lost Girl. It's a story about a girl, Eva, who has been raised as a copy of another girl, Amarra. Eva's what that society calls an echo. Her whole life, so far, is a preparation of learning about Amarra, so that if something happened to Amarra, Eva, the echo, would have to step in and take the dead girl's place. Eva never feels like her life has ever been her own. And Amarra feels the same way, having to share every intimate detail of her life with Eva, just in case. Both grow to resent each other, but they have no choice in the matter. Life has been fated for them both. They are both expected to follow the rules, and follow their instructions. No choice. No freedom from the expectations placed on both girls.
Maybe Joseph took Mary and the baby Jesus, running off to Egypt not as much to get away from Herod, but to get all of them away from this destiny that was being forced on the three of them. Maybe Joseph had his own dreams for his son, apart from all those that God was unloading on him. Get away. Hide from God and all God's plans. Wouldn't you be tempted to do the same? It's something that Eva is considering in the Lost Girl novel I'm reading. Run away. Disappear. Finally have her own life apart from what's been determined for her.
Maybe if you saw one more angel coming at you telling you what to do with your infant son, you'd finally get sick of it all and run as far away as was physically and financially possible as well. Choose not to follow God's will, and follow your own.
At some point, Joseph and Mary must give into God's destiny for their child, let go of any dreams they may have had, and follow the Will of God. We would hope, just as if it were our own child we were giving up to God's service, that Joseph and Mary’s grief would be replaced by pride in what their child would become: the Savior, Immanuel, the prominent sign of God's presence in the world, and, the Christ.
Maybe Joseph and Mary took some time to look around at their own world and see its sin-sickness. Maybe they began to look into the faces of people whose spirits had been infected with joylessness and dread. Maybe they saw the ways that people seemed to be under the weight of grief in one form or another. Maybe they saw a world that really needed healing--a world that needed to be restored to wholeness out of its brokenness. And then, maybe, Joseph and Mary began to be in awe that their baby would be the one to bring about that healing. Maybe, just maybe, God's vision for the future of their child became their own vision as well. And with the melding of those three dreams, Jesus became all that he was meant to be, for us, and for our world.
Joseph and Mary didn't give up. They gave in to God, and followed what God wanted. Followed God's dream for this child rather than their own. But it wasn’t just following. It was CHOOSING to follow. Mary and Joseph made a conscious choice to follow God’s leading. If it wasn't for that choosing—for that following of God's dream—Christmas would not have happened, and the world would still be lost without salvation.
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