Christmas Eve- The Brave Hope of Parenthood
Scripture: Isaiah 62:6-12; Luke 2:1-20
A child is born to us, a son given to us…
It takes a lot of brave hope to choose to be a parent. There’s a great deal of uncertainty and risk involved in raising children. You don’t know what sorts of experiences that child will have. You don’t know if the larger society around them will be kind or cruel to them. You can't guarantee how their life will turn out. Being a good parent, raising and supporting children, requires hope in the future, an assurance even in the midst of uncertainty that life is still beautiful and good even when things around us don’t seem all that great. Good parents hold a strong hope that the world can be better and that this child has an important place in it.
In mid-2020,the heart of pandemic uncertainty and deep tension within this nation, several of my friends planned pregnancy and began the journey of parenthood. It wasn’t lost on me the brave hope that they held within them. I felt all the uncertainty of the moment, of pandemic, of racial inequality, of political divisiveness, of climate change. I wasn't sure of what the future would hold for any of us. But my friends chose the time which felt so unstable and chose to bring new life into the world. Children were born to us in the midst of it all. In the darkness, light shone. New little lives bubbling and gleaming with possibility were brought forth. They helped me to hope in the midst of my own uncertainty.
Isaiah spoke to a people who were in the midst of even greater uncertainty. Isaiah lived in Jerusalem, which had been recently under attack. The whole city was bracing, waiting for the next battle. The country of Judah, which had once been part of Israel under King David, was in a jam. Both Israel, their sister country, and Judah had been swallowed up into the Assyrian Empire. Israel and Syria had joined together were waging a rebellion against the Assyrians and wanted Judah to fight with them. King Ahaz of Judah wasn’t sure what to do, but there was possibility of more attacks on Jerusalem from any direction, from the Assyrians, Israelites, or Syrians. They were stuck in the middle of a situation they could not control and they watched as the world around them wage war. King Ahaz was at a loss for what to do and consulted the prophet Isaiah.
Isaiah told him clearly in chapter 7 verses 14-16: …the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son and shall name him Immanuel.He shall eat curds and honey by the time he knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good. For before the child knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land before whose two kings you are in dread will be deserted.
Essentially Isaiah said, “Don’t worry, the attack won’t happen. Before this baby is out of diapers, those kings won’t attack you.” The threat was still present, but it wasn’t going to overwhelm them. A child could be born with relative safety.
Isaiah then expands on God's promise. Not only will that immediate threat of war not happen, but someday there will be a day where there is true peace. Isaiah looks forward to the time when a child is born to us, a son given us. The one who will lead the people, the messiah. Though the people have walked in the deepest darkness, light will shine. The hope lies in a baby, the symbol and promise that God isn’t done with us yet.
Centuries later, after the people had been led into captivity and brought back home, the people were once again in a time of deep uncertainty. Their relationship with the Roman Empire who held power over them was tenuous. Most people had a hard time making ends meet and those who were well off were often corrupt. Several rebellions against the empire had been squashed. The empire was on alert to tamp down any signs of conflict. The temple authorities live in fear that the Romans will take their temple away or desecrate it as they had done in the past, and they’d made concessions to try and protect themselves. They were double minded, trying to serve both God and the Empire, and they were doing much better at serving the Romans than they were at serving God. In the midst of this uncertainty, God sent another promise, another sign. There will be a child wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.
Jesus’ mother, Mary, had particular grit and determination, a brave hope within her, to make this happen. She was young and engaged but not yet fully married. Still, when God asked if she might parent the messiah, she said yes. She chose to be the mother of God. I suspect she didn’t actually have all that much family to support her. When she became pregnant, she went and spent months with her cousin, Elizabeth, who was miraculously pregnant herself with John the Baptist. Mary left so Elizabeth can give birth and focus on the baby, but then her betrothed, Joseph, was called away for the census. He had to go home to Bethlehem for a bit to sort it all out. There was nothing requiring Mary to go with him. Even today the census bureau doesn’t need to talk with every member of the household, they just need one. Joseph could have traveled solo. Mary could have stayed home in Nazareth to give birth. I think perhaps she went to Bethlehem because she chose Joseph as her birth partner. Not her mother, not others in her house. If she had many living relatives besides Elizabeth, they are not mentioned in the Gospels. Perhaps they were dead or unsupportive. Either way, she decided that being with Joseph was most important. They needed to stick together, even if it meant traveling on foot while in the third trimester of pregnancy. When the time came, Joseph was there ready to support her, and that’s what Mary wanted more than anything, to have him there.
So Jesus is not born at home, he is born with the animals, a baby who will become a man who often doesn’t have a place to lay his head. And it’s no mistake that the first people to hear about Jesus are also people surrounded by animals who also find creative places to lay their heads, who are often gone from home for months at a time. These shepherds are not like David, who as a young child tended his family’s sheep by day and most likely came home to his bed each night. These shepherds traveled with large herds and were often out in the fields at night. Perhaps they were Bedouins, who even today take routes with their flocks, moving throughout the land, knowing which places will have enough food each season for their herds. They set up camps and stay for a short while, their homes move with them.
Every culture has people like the Bedouins, people who move with the seasons for agricultural reasons. In the United States we have migrant farm workers who move along with the harvest schedule. They are in one place for a harvest, then move on, but never set down roots on any particular piece of land. They are vital to the economy and provide a well needed service, but are often ignored or looked down upon. Their work, though vital, means that they don’t fit into the cultural norms of the larger society that benefit from their labor. They live on the margins of society.
But Jesus comes to them as one of them. Though not a shepherd himself, Jesus rarely stays in any one place too long once his ministry has begun. The nature of his work required him to always be moving. It makes sense that those constantly on the move would be the first to hear about Jesus. Their ways of life were similar. Jesus came as one of them. The shepherds were symbols of what Jesus’ ministry would be, one of leading, guiding and constant travel.
I can only imagine Mary and Joseph trying to take it all in. They were both exhausted from being on the road. Mary’s body was hurting and needed rest after giving birth. They took turns holding this little baby that was both their son and God’s messiah. What brave hopes rose up in them as the shepherds described the angels, as they lived more fully into their roles as Jesus’ parents? What dreams did they have for this child?
Joseph likely died before Jesus began his ministry, he isn’t mentioned in stories of the adult Jesus, but Mary was there for his entire life. They lived through so much uncertainty, political tension, and strife. Her hopes were both dashed and realized beyond her wildest imagination in the life of this, her messiah son. God probably felt both really close and really distant to her as Jesus traveled the land, as she felt the animosity towards Jesus rise among community leaders. Mary watched her baby, the one God promised to the world, who was born of the Holy Spirit, die on a cross. She then experienced him risen from the grave.
Mary and Joseph chose to believe in the future, saying yes to a Messiah who was not only a joy to his family, but an assurance that the world was not beyond redemption. They believed change and new life were still possible.
Today, we too feel tension and strife. We don’t know what the future holds for children and adults today. If Jesus is the Prince of Peace, we have to admit the world doesn’t look very peaceful. There is so much strife, so much needless pain. It can feel very dark and gloomy. But in the midst of it all, a baby is born. The brave hope of a better life lives on in our hearts. A world where the lion lies down with the lamb is not a fantasy, we know someday it will be a reality. We are the Body of Christ in the world now, and we carry that determination within us. Christ is born today not in a manger, but in our hearts. He lives on in us.
With the certainty of Christ among us, may we live like Mary, pondering and watching for God to come to us. May we see the angels with the shepherds, coming to those whose lives are lived on the margins. May we embrace the uncertainty of life not with fear but with brave hope and determination. Amen.
