Sun, Jan 05, 2014
The paradox of Christmas
Matthew 2:1-12 by Craig de Vos
Series: Sermons

On Christmas day…

more than forty people died from car bombs in Christian areas of Baghdad…

many of them from a bomb that exploded outside a church after a Christmas service.

Other Christian churches in Baghdad resembled walled fortresses…

with soldiers and police searching cars and bags…

and patting down everyone entering for services.

There has been a significant rise in violence in Iraq in recent days…

especially against the small Christian community there.

 

Meanwhile…

thousands are believed to have been killed over the Christmas period…

in ethnic violence between the Dinka and Nuer in South Sudan…

with reports of bodies piled in mass graves.

The United Nations reports that the country is quickly spiralling out of control…

and a full-scale civil war is imminent.

 

And, in Russia…

a suicide bomber struck a public bus in the city of Volgograd…

killing at least fourteen people in peak hour.

Only twenty-four hours earlier a suicide bomber struck the city’s main railway station––

killing seventeen people…

while a car bomb in a nearby city two days earlier killed three.

And all of this at Christmas time––

at a time when families get together…

at a time when so many are relaxing on holidays…

at a time when we’re supposed to be happy and carefree.

And while these are all very violent…

and very far away…

this isn’t the first time that the Christmas period has been marred by tragedy…

is it?

There was, of course, the terrible Tsunami, not even ten years ago…

which struck, without warning, on Boxing Day.

The year before that, there was the horrific earthquake in Iran…

when the ancient city of Bam was reduced to dust and rubble…

leaving more than forty thousand dead…

and almost a hundred thousand homeless.

Then, of course, there was Cyclone Tracy…

sweeping through Darwin on Christmas eve—

almost forty years ago—

killing sixty five people,

and levelling the city.

Almost every year there seems to be some tragedy in the season of joy and happiness.

But, Christmas has always been a strange paradox of joy and suffering––

and not just in recent years.

It’s been a paradox, in fact, from the very beginning.

The story of Christmas is, of course, the story of a birth––

a story of new life…

a story of parental joy and pride…

and, at least in the version in Luke’s Gospel, we’re told a story of great joy…

a story of good news for all humankind—

the birth of a saviour.

But amid all of the rustic romanticism of the Lukan story…

it is, in the end, the story of a baby born in poverty…

surrounded by dirt and dung…

at a time when one in three babies didn’t see their first birthday––

so there was no guarantee that he would survive.

It’s the story of a baby born in a land occupied by a brutal, foreign power…

and, according to the author of Luke’s Gospel, born in obscurity…

witnessed only by a bunch of lowly shepherds––

men regarded as unclean and uncouth…

and treated as little better than brigands and thieves.

Behind the pronouncements of joy…

and the rustic romanticism…

the story has it’s fair share of unsavoriness and darkness.

 

And today…

in celebrating Epiphany…

we recall the story from Matthew’s Gospel of exotic visitors…

who come to pay homage to this child…

bringing rare and costly gifts.

Yet, in the first century, the Magi were considered wizards or magicians…

dangerous sociopaths…

thought to engage in incest and cannibalism…

thought capable of anything.

They were the sort of people whom you wouldn’t normally let near a child.

And while their visit was seemingly innocent enough—

and their motives seemingly honourable enough––

the chain of events that they set in motion was anything but pleasant.

Their arrival in King Herod’s court…

announcing the birth of a new king of Israel––

about whom Herod knew nothing––

was deeply disturbing.

Having spent much of his reign disposing of any potential rivals…

and fearing the worst…

Herod took steps to neutralise this threat…

to maintain his power and control.

According to the story in Matthew’s Gospel––

which we heard last week––

in the dark of night, Joseph, Mary, and the young child fled…

leaving behind their home…

their family…

their livelihood…

their treasured possessions and memories…

everything that gave them meaning and identity.

But, as the author crafts this story…

they were the lucky ones.

At least they escaped the murderous anger and fear of Herod.

Others were not so lucky.

For them, death came without warning––

a massacre on a huge and frightening scale.

A story that begins with trappings of the miraculous and the exotic…

quickly turns into a horror story.

 

We all like to think of Christmas as a time of peace, happiness, and joy…

but it’s always been a paradox…

from the very beginning.

It’s always been a potent mix of joy and sorrow…

happiness and suffering…

pleasure and pain…

life and death.

Because, in the end, that’s human life, isn’t it?

The Christmas stories––

for all of their differences––

are both really a mirror of life.

They are stories of suffering and joy…

struggle and surprise…

life and death.

And, especially in the case of this story from Matthew’s Gospel…

life…

like the Epiphany story…

can so easily become a story of disaster––

a story of tragic consequences from innocent actions…

but also a story of brutal events beyond our control…

that come without warning…

and that leave us numb with sorrow, grief, and anger and asking…

so often…

“where is God in all of this?”

 

And, ultimately, the answer of the Epiphany story––

as, indeed, the Christmas story––

is that “God is with us”.

In the midst of it all…

sharing our joys and sorrows…

experiencing our grief, our pains, and our happiness…

God is with us.

God took a risk.

God entered into the paradox of human existence.

God, symbolically and metaphorically, became one of us––

fragile, vulnerable, weak, and helpless…

subject to all of the conditions under which humankind lives.

God took God’s chances like the rest of us.

God risked everything…

in order that we might know that we are not alone;

in order that we might know that God is with us in the mess…

inviting us to find God there.

That, in the end, is the story of Christmas…

and of Epiphany.