Seventh Day of Christmas Reflection December 31

Many wonderful moral lessons have been drawn from Mary and Joseph’s presumed search for a place to stay in Bethlehem crowded for the Emperor’s census. Compassion and justice for homeless folk and refugees. Hospitality to strangers. Welcome to the poor and needy. Even encouragement to open your heart to invite Jesus in. Many children’s Christmas pageants revolved around the holy couple going from door to door, only to be refused by often surly homeowners and innkeepers. Sometimes even the one who let them stay in the stable out back, perhaps at the urging of his kindly wife, gets short shrift as missing the opportunity to host the birth of the Son of God on earth. In much of Latin America, this search for a room is the nine day religious observance of Las Posadas, which is a major feature of the Christmas season. Now, anyone who knows me, is well aware that I am an advocate for justice and compassion for homeless folk, refugees, and the needy. We have plenty of Biblical support for such a priority. And I have no interest in altering the well-loved Las Posadas traditions. I think acknowledging its imaginary development enhances the Christian mandate to care for the homeless and refugees.

My concern in this whole series is to get us to read Luke 2:1-20 (and on into 21-40) and Matthew 1:18-25 (and on into 2:1-18). So as you read Luke’s and Matthew’s accounts of Jesus’ birth again today, pay attention to exactly and only what is actually written there. Nothing suggests Mary and Joseph were wandering the streets of Bethlehem desperately seeking a place to stay. By whatever means, the home whose guest room was occupied welcomed them to stay near the manger, even if that might have been in the kitchen and not a stable. Though Matthew’s account of the flight into Egypt does properly evoke sympathy for political refugees fleeing violent despots, he does not say anything about whether they had an easy or hard time finding short or long-term lodging with the Jewish community in Egypt or along their way.

So how is your impression of Mary, Joseph, and infant Jesus’ stays in Bethlehem and Egypt enriched as you reread Luke and Matthew aware they do not mention a search for lodging?

Sixth Day of Christmas Reflection December 30

So I’ve already prompted you to think of an alternative to the stable. Now for the inn. This is a bit more complex because even the most recent, established translations use the word inn in Luke 2:7. However, the NIV got it right: “She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.” Yes, the word translated inn really means a guest room. There was another word for a commercial inn, which Luke used in the story of the Good Samaritan (10:34). The guest room is the same word as the upper room where Jesus had the Last Supper (22:12). For more detail on this, I again refer you to Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes by Kenneth E. Bailey (IVP Academic, 2008). My point is not to get you to read Kenneth Bailey, but to read Matthew, and Luke especially today, with fresh eyes.

I suggest reading today in the New International Version so you don’t see the word inn. If you read exactly what Luke wrote, what do you imagine about where Mary and Joseph were staying in Bethlehem when Jesus was born?

Fifth Day of Christmas Reflection December 29

I already mentioned that Luke makes no mention of an innkeeper (or innkeeper’s wife). I’ll still get to the question of the inn, but as you read Matthew and Luke today, recognize that neither of them say anything about a stable. The idea that a manger would be in a stable did not come from the Gospel text, but from European farm villages. Jews in first century Palestine would not have had stables out behind the house, as is often pictured. People of wealth and royalty had large barns for storage and stables for horses (King Solomon’s horse stables/stalls were famous - 1 Kings 4.26). Rather, a lower level than the first floor of the house would have protected the family animals from the elements and thieves. An open space at the end of the kitchen area on the first level would have had a manger so kitchen scraps could be fed to the animals. I don’t want to get into too much detail here. If you are interested, you may want to read Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes by Kenneth E. Bailey (IVP Academic, 2008). His insights about the inn will come another day.

What I want you to do is read Matthew and Luke carefully for what they actually wrote. Neither of them use a word for stable and Matthew specified that the Magi came to the house where the child Jesus was. As you read, noticing the absence of a word for stable, how is your mental picture of Jesus’ birthplace modified?

Fourth Day of Christmas Reflections December 28

This artistry by my good friend and college housemate, Woody Dahlberg, uses the star to bring together incarnational theology of Matthew, Luke, and John to point ahead to the cross of redemption, rather than a narrative feature.

 

Even well loved, long treasured, traditional Christmas Carols can befuddle how we view Matthew and Luke’s narratives. The First Noel is particularly confused (in contrast with the theologically substantive Hark! The Herald Angels Sing), what with shepherds keeping their sheep on a cold winter’s night that was deep, presumably in snow, and seeing the same star the wise men did, just before them. I mention this, not to get into Christmas Carol analysis and criticism, but to get us to read the Matthew and Luke accounts afresh.

How many nativity displays show a star pointing down to the stable? Or the angels gathered around a star above the shepherds. The star, that is such a ubiquitous Christmas symbol, doesn’t show up until the Magi mention it to Herod in Matthew 2:2. They came from the east and saw the star in the east. The translation “at its rising” suggests it appeared in the early morning just before the sun came up right behind it. It was an astrological sign of a king of the Jews, not a laser pointer of the path to follow. If the Magi saw it as they journeyed west toward Jerusalem, the star would have been behind them, though Matthew does not say they saw it on their journey until it reappeared in Jerusalem and guided them to the house (not stable) in Bethlehem. Matthew left that mysterious function of the star unexplained.

Luke makes no mention of a star at all in his telling of Jesus’ birth. Presumably, angels called the shepherds to the manger at night shortly after Jesus was born. Also, despite all of the musical productions to the contrary, Luke does not say that the angels sang to the shepherds, (I suppose they could have, but Luke doesn’t say that.) but they spoke and praised God as they made their announcement to the shepherds. To be sure, shepherds and Magi were not at the manger simultaneously. The Magi would have to have come later, but that’s for another day’s reflection.

If you read how Matthew and Luke describe how the Magi and shepherds were summoned to the infant Jesus, without conflating the stories, how do you know God’s drawing you to Jesus?

Third Day of Christmas Reflections December 27

I am suggesting reading the Gospel nativity stories each day of the Twelve Days of Christmas paying attention only to what Matthew 1:18-25 and Luke 2:1-20 purposely dismissing the distracting accretions that have attached themselves to these accounts over the centuries. Today, pay attention to the people actually in the Gospels.

Any number of imaginary characters have found their way to the infant Jesus’ manger, though they are not in the Gospels. We know that there were no drummer boys (or girls), as much as we like or dislike their song. Though midwives were very common in those days, neither of the Gospels mentions one. However, an innkeeper crops up in popular imagination again and again. He is often the one holding the lantern in nativity sets, whether to give light to whomever was delivering the baby or to illuminate the newborn Jesus in the darkness. But you will search the Gospels in vain for any hint of an innkeeper. Nor will you find an innkeeper’s wife who came to the aid of a young woman giving birth for the first time.

Despite the Three Wise Men traditions, perhaps suggested by three gifts, Matthew does not specify a number, though being plural at least two must have come. Some scholars have speculated on a large number, which might be possible, though too many would have had a hard time escaping Herod’s soldiers, especially if they did have camels (which are definitely not mentioned).  One fascinating if distracting note here is that in a time of the flourishing of painting in Europe, masters would sometimes have their apprentices paint a nude camel handler in the inconspicuous background of a painting of the Visit of the Magi. This was as a learning exercise and had nothing to do with the portrayal of the event. The traditional names for the Magi are not in Matthew (Balthasar, Melchior, Gaspar), nor the implication that they represented three racial identities. There have been cute stories of “the other wise man” who missed Jesus but helped a needy person. The opera Amahl and the Night Visitors imagines a young boy meeting them. Some of these creative additions teach wonderful moral lessons, but they are not part of Matthew’s telling of the birth of Jesus.

If you pay attention only to the people whose presence is recorded by Matthew and Luke, whom do you meet?

Reflections for the Second Day of Christmas December 26

Now that all the hoopla that builds up to Christmas is over (quite a contrast to the anticipatory mood of Advent in which we prepare to welcome the child Jesus), we are ready to contemplate at leisure that wondrous simplicity of the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ birth in Matthew 1:18-25 and Luke 2:1-20. As we get closer to Epiphany (January 6) we can also appreciate the Visit of the Magi in Matthew 2 (and the attendant tragedy of the Slaughter of the Innocents) and Jesus’ circumcision and presentation in the Temple in Luke 2:21-40.

All sorts of imaginative accretions have attached themselves to the nativity accounts in the Gospels that can distract us from their elegant power. I suggest that we read each of the Gospel stories each day with a view to only, exactly what is in the words of Matthew and Luke. Leave behind the images of songs, paintings, videos, and church pageants. I will try to point out something to focus on each day. I am not suggesting that imagination and tradition are wrong, but believe the stories themselves speak eloquently.

Today, as you read, pay attention to the absence of animals in the Gospel accounts, though they are conspicuous in popular imagination. No, we are not told that Mary rode a donkey either to Bethlehem (Luke) or Egypt (Matthew). That doesn’t necessarily mean she didn’t, but that is not in the Gospels and seems unlikely to me. The shepherds were keeping their sheep in the fields, but the Gospels do not say they brought them to Jesus. Perhaps some sheep ate from the manger where Jesus lay, but the Gospels don’t say so. (Thinking about the manger will be for another day.) Matthew does not indicate the Magi brought camels, though Isaiah 60:6 does mention camels in a prophecy that gets associated with the Magi because it names gold and frankincense, two of the Magi’s gifts. If we are not distracted by imagined animals at Jesus’ birth, what comes into focus?

Failure of Imagination

Lydia Dyck
sophomore biology major
Goshen College

For the last couple of years Candy and I have been receiving, with appreciation, the Advent (and Lenten) devotionals written by students, faculty, and staff of Goshen College, in anticipation of our move to Wisconsin and sharing life with Milwaukee Mennonite Church, though that anticipation was not always intentional. The one that came today clearly articulated something I have been fully convinced of for over 50 years. It was written by Lydia Dyck, a sophomore biology major from Durham, Ontario. I was marveling at the insight of someone so young, and then realized that was about the age that this idea came into focus for me. Her comments are based on Matthew 1:18-25.

“In literary terms, a dilemma can be defined as a situation where the hero or heroine must decide between one of two bad outcomes. Now, you’d think that in fiction the hero could say, “Now wait just a minute, I don’t want either one of those. I don’t want to jump off a cliff or battle this evil villain to my death. Instead, I’m going to pull out some of this chocolate cake I’d been saving and share it with the aforementioned villain, and we can discuss the coolest sword moves of the age.” If we take a step back from this scene, we can see that the hero did not actually start with a two-option choice, the situation presented him with hundreds of possibilities, but the difference was that the hero had enough imagination to see them.

“Take Joseph as an example. A righteous, hardworking man who sincerely tries to be a good person all his life. When a culturally disgraceful situation arises and Mary is suddenly with child, he plans to do the best thing possible in this dilemma; to dismiss her quietly. Joseph’s failure in this situation is that he doesn’t use his imagination. If he had thought past the dilemma and been creative, maybe asking Mary what really happened, he might have seen the situation in a different way.

“How often are we blinded by binary choices like Joseph? How often have we gotten caught up in the simplistic or overly complicated options that our society gives us about the trends we must follow or the ways we must act. We need to realize how special a gift creativity is. Let’s try to think past the limiting options that dilemmas wave in front of our faces and be the creative human God made us to be.”

I am convinced that much of the violence, hostility, and fear in our world is the product of a failure of imagination. These sorts of cultural slogans are blatant acknowledgments of failure of imagination.

·         The only protection from a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun.

·         Criminals and enemies (North Korea, Iran, ISIS) only understand violence, so we must answer them with violence.

·         If you want to protect your family, you must buy a gun and learn how to use it.

·         We have no choice but to use military or the threat of force to secure peace in the world.

I have long believed that essential to the call and mission of the followers of Jesus in our world is to refuse to go along with such fatal, catastrophic binary thinking as a failure of imagination, but to stimulate and insist on the hard work of greater imagination when it comes to addressing these serious threats in our world. If Christians become co-opted by the advocates of violence and force, we lose our witness to the real power of the Prince of Peace. I suppose, I have just given away my Anabaptist perspective that long predates my participation with the community of Milwaukee Mennonite Church. So be it.