"Expectations"

First United Presbyterian Church

“Expectations”

Rev. Amy Morgan

December 24, 2017, 9:30AM

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Isaiah 9:2-7

2 The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness-- on them light has shined.

 3 You have multiplied the nation, you have increased its joy; they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, as people exult when dividing plunder.

 4 For the yoke of their burden, and the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian.

 5 For all the boots of the tramping warriors and all the garments rolled in blood shall be burned as fuel for the fire.

 6 For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

 7 His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forevermore. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this.

Luke 2:1-14

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered.

 2 This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria.

 3 All went to their own towns to be registered.

 4 Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David.

 5 He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child.

 6 While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child.

 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

 8 In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.

 9 Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.

 10 But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see-- I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people:

 11 to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.

 12 This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger."

 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

 14 "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"

In reading different English translations of this passage, you’ll find translators trying every which way to get around using the word “pregnant.” The King James Translation says Mary was “great with child.” The Bible in Basic English says she was “about to become a mother.” That’s pretty basic, I suppose. And here we heard the New Revised Standard Translation telling us she was “expecting a child.” It seems only the New Living Translation has the audacity to use the p-word, saying that Mary was “now obviously pregnant.”

The word they are all translating from the crude koine Greek is simply “pregnant.” But most translations prefer some sort of euphemism, the substitution of a milder expression for one thought to be offensive or blunt.  Which leads me to wonder why the word pregnant would be so off-putting. We use it all the time. It’s a word that instills joy and excitement at the potential for a new life and adorably tiny items of clothing.

But while pregnancy is an occasion for joy, it is something we associate with every day, run-of-the-mill human beings. And Mary and Joseph were clearly expecting something very different.

Yes, the New Revised Standard Translation says they were expecting a child. But even that euphemistic language doesn’t capture the magnitude of what they were expecting. According to the angel’s pronouncement to Mary, they were expecting a boy. They were expecting to name him Jesus. And they were expecting him to be great, and to be called the “Son of the Most High.” They were expecting God to “give to him the throne of his ancestor David” so that he could “reign over the house of Jacob forever,” to be holy and called the “Son of God.” No big deal.

But then I wonder about their other expectations. Did they expect this child to be born while they were 80 miles from home? Did they expect he would be born in a barn? Did they expect angels to announce his birth to shepherds in a field and for kings to come bearing gifts? Did they expect we would still be celebrating his birth more than 2,000 years later?

Meanwhile, those shepherds in the fields surely had expectations of their own. The expectation of a long, boring night. A lifetime of subsistence living. Maybe they dreamed of the same things we all do: love and belonging, a life with purpose and meaning. Perhaps they pondered deep questions as they gazed at the star-filled skies. Or maybe they just lived comfortably, certain of their place in the grand scheme of things, in a world simplified by immovable social structures and a cosmology that mapped the earth flat and the sun, moon, and stars steady in their courses. Why should they expect those stars to be visited by angels? Why should they expect anything to ever change?

The Roman Empire had been in power for decades, more or less. The occasional zealot uprising was quickly and violently put down, along with their self-proclaimed messiahs. Even some of the Jewish leadership had proved to be corrupt or complicit with their Roman oppressors.

And for hundreds of years before the Roman Empire moved in, the Jewish people had been conquered and exiled and repatriated and conquered again and oppressed. It seemed like a never-ending cycle at this point.

We might think ourselves different, privileged even, because we know how this story goes. We know the baby is no ordinary baby. He’s the Son of God and he comes to save the world. We know to expect great things from him.

But do we?

What do we expect Jesus to do about the scandals and accusations? The threat of war and the reality of it. Terrorist attacks and mass shootings. These headlines appear again and again, a daily mantra of a world gone mad, and we live out the very definition of insanity, doing the same things over and over again expecting a different result.

But we seek stability, repetition, sameness in our lives. We crave it. The expectation of more of the same is our default, even if it’s harmful and unhealthy and unproductive.  

We expect to wake up in our beds each morning. The sun will shine (because we live in Colorado). The neighbor’s dog will bark incessantly. Our spouse will be grumpy and won’t explain why. Co-workers will conveniently forget to invite us out to drinks. Our children won’t call. The Broncos will lose on Sunday and the coupons will arrive in the mail on Thursday. And on Christmas, we’ll sing carols and light candles and hear about peace on earth and not a darn thing is going to change.

But for Mary and Joseph at least, something does change. A child is born. Or, going back to those euphemisms, Mary’s child was “delivered,” like a package from Amazon.

Just a few short sentences describe this event. In a time when those Amazon packages can be ordered online and delivered two hours later to your doorstep, delivery sounds like an easy thing.

Childbirth, however, especially in the first century, was anything but easy. It was painful, and dangerous, and messy. And likely took longer than two hours. It certainly required more than the click of a button. This delivery was arduous.

And what, exactly, was this special delivery. It was a boy, as the angel had said. And they named him Jesus. But despite all the angel heralds, the promises of a holy king, a Son of God, what was ultimately delivered…was a baby. A baby who needed warmth, and all Mary and Joseph could provide were scraps of cloth. A baby who needed shelter, and all they could provide was a barn. A baby who needed a crib, and all they could provide was a manger. What was delivered was an awesome responsibility that Mary and Joseph were ill-equipped to fulfill.

And for the shepherds, this this special delivery meant a long walk, from the fields to town. They likely had to leave their sheep behind, so perhaps they were delivered of their livelihood in this process as well. And for what? A poor, ragged couple, huddled in a barn, or a cave, or however you want to imagine it, but nowhere respectable. And a baby. Vulnerable and powerless. Even less able than they were to change their circumstances.

And yet. By the end of this story, Mary and Joseph are filled with amazement and the shepherds go home praising God. What is so unexpected about this delivery that it evokes amazement? What is so joyful about this delivery that it brings forth praise?

Amazement that a king, in rags and sleeping in an animal feeder, is still a king after all. Praise for a God who would set aside divinity to come to us as a powerless child. In all their incompetence and deficiency, they saw God’s might. In all the mess and the loss, the sacrifice and vulnerability, they saw a God who would defy every expectation to show the depth and breadth of God’s love for the world by entering into our human experience, becoming a part of this beautiful mess.

So that, in the mess of the scandals and violence and madness, we will know that God is with us. And instead of expecting more of the same, we will be amazed and praise God. When we wake up in our beds each morning and see the sun shining. When our annoying neighbor is still our neighbor, after all, whom Jesus taught us love as ourselves. When our spouse is grumpy and we look on them with the unconditional love of God. When we invite co-workers into our lives and homes, even when they’ve left us out. When we call our children, just to leave a message of love and encouragement. When we give up on the Broncos and forget about the shopping and just linger with good friends at fellowship hour.

And when we come to church tonight, we’ll sing carols and light candles and hear about peace on earth. And everything will change. Because everything already has changed. We just need the courage to admit it. To name it. To say it out loud.

Perhaps what we need is a euphemism for Christmas, another way of saying what this thing really is. Christmas, after all, has become so tainted by the stress and commercialism of a holiday that bears so little resemblance to the gospel, it is almost offensive to us.

Perhaps we could borrow language from the prophet Isaiah. Wonderful Counselor Day might suffice, but could be confused with the counseling profession. Or Day of the Mighty God. Everlasting Father Day or Prince of Peace Day aren’t terribly gender-inclusive, but they might work for some folks.

But maybe we should call it Delivery Day. A day that reminds us of a special delivery, God delivering heaven to earth, of our delivery from sin and death. This would be an occasion for amazement, an occasion for praise.

Whatever words we use, whatever it is we are expecting out of Christmas, may we be ready to hear, and to deliver, good news of great joy for all the people. God is with us. And that changes everything.