4th Sunday of Advent
December 23, 2007
J.A. Loftus, S.J.
Can you all remember that wonderful poem “‘Twas the Night Before
Christmas?” The line I want you to think of think of today is: “Then what to
my wondering eyes should appear but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny
reindeer.” I just had such an experience. No, I didn’t see eight tiny reindeer
and I hadn’t had anything to drink. It was too early. But what I saw was
equally strange and I just knew there was a homily in there somewhere.
Fr. Bob and I just spent two days in New York City. And very early on
Thursday morning, Bob came into the room to say I had to get up and look
outside the window. I grumbled a bit, took another sip of my tea, and pulled
the drape. What to my wondering eyes should appear right outside the
window but three live camels calmly walking down the sidewalk in mid-town
Manhattan. Only in New York, I said under my breath. Three camels. I even
have photographs that I showed at the family Mass. (We did go outside to get
a better look, and in one of the photos, Fr. Bob appears to be actually talking
to one of the camels getting tips, no doubt, for his Christmas homily.)
The whole experience reminded me of what a strange time Christmas
can be. Christmas is supposed to be. Not just for children, but for adults as
well. Fr. Raymond Brown titled one of his little books on the Nativity stories:
finding an adult Christ at Christmas. As adults, what do we really think is the
meaning of Christmas? I’d like to suggest today that we think about the real
message being: expect the unexpected. Strange things are supposed to
happen–even for adults. Strange things at this time of year: like random acts
of kindness; like gentle surprises; like a keener appreciation of generosity and
an increased ability to let ourselves be surprised. Surprised by God’s
graciousness, love, and unpredictable mystery in our lives.
Strange things are supposed to happen. Just listen to today’s readings.
We have just heard from Isaiah’s 7th chapter what surely must be one of the
most famous and known passages in the Hebrew scriptures: the prophet’s
promise of “Emmanuel,” God with us. And then we heard proclaimed
Matthew’s answer to the prophesy: a young girl has conceived, centuries later,
and God’s plan, a plan formed before the foundation of the world, is
unfolding on schedule. But it is a strange plan, indeed. And requires
“wondering eyes.”
Most of us think we know the story. But that’s usually the children’s
version. But every year we hear Matthew’s version first: we hear it today and
again at the Vigil liturgy tomorrow evening. And Matthew’s story is a very
2
different one taken on its own; It is an adult story; it does not have all the lyric
songs that Luke’s version has. In Luke angels and shepherds sing of “Glory
to God in highest heaven,” and you know the rest. Mary sings her Magnificat;
Elizabeth sings the first “Hail Mary”; and even Zachariah, Anna and Simeon
hum quietly in the background. In Matthew’s gospel, there are no such
melodies, but it is full of surprises.
If you listen carefully to Matthew’s version, you can hear a slow, steady,
but quiet drumbeat as the drama that changes the world unfolds. Fr.
Raymond Brown who several years ago also wrote his magisterial book called
The Birth of the Messiah, refers to it as “that ominous drumbeat.”
Matthew actually begins his gospel trying to “prove” and outline
the Davidic lineage of this baby. The lines just before today’s gospel detail the
genealogy of Jesus, who is called the Christ. (This is the gospel that shakes
fear in to preachers and listeners alike as everyone’s eyes glaze over hearing:
Abraham begat Isaac; Isaac begat Jacob, etc., etc., etc.) But Matthew is not
straight forward. In listing the 42 generations from Abraham through David
to Jesus, he includes some dubious characters, many unknown to anybody;
still others known as lousy kings and so documented in the Bible. But he also
lists four women of even more dubious character. All of them are foreigners–
3
not a Jew among them–most were either prostitutes (or disguised themselves
as prostitutes), and one, the infamous wife of Uriah, Bathsheba, was hardly a
role model for anybody.
What’s going on here? This is not the staid genealogy one might have
expected. It is not the one St. Luke gives us. As far as ancestors go, this is a
pretty motley crew, as Dan Harrington called them in this week’s America
magazine. This genealogy is almost scandalous. And Matthew knows exactly
what he is doing. It is scandalous. And says much about the baby being born.
You have to have “wondering eyes.”
But it gets worse if you listen to his story as an adult at Christmastime.
In Matthew’s gospel, there is apparent deceit in Mary’s pregnancy; there is a
tortuous temptation to follow the letter of the Law in Joseph; there is the
treachery of the king who will not be replaced by any young upstart–not even
one from the House of David. Matthew’s gospel is filled with conflict from the
very beginning. It starts with the dubious genealogy, so different from Luke’s
version, and the young girl, Mary, fits perfectly into the list of strange women
of Israel. She is married, pregnant, and has not had sexual relations with her
husband. Ooops!
And then Matthew tells his readers that all this is really the work of the
4
Holy Spirit (poor Joseph does not yet know this, of course). And so, as the
theologian John Shea puts it, Matthew would have us believe that “the work
of the Holy Spirit emerges in human life as a scandal.” God is writing straight
with some pretty crooked lines. Surprise! But does this not sound familiar to
any of us who know something about Jesus’ later adult life? Was he not
called a scandal with some frequency in Matthew’s gospel? Does he not say:
“I have come for the downfall and rise of many.” You have to have
“wondering eyes.”
Matthew’s whole gospel–and certainly the first two chapters that
constitute a mini-gospel in themselves–is a variation on a single theme: God’s
ways are not our ways. God’s plan, formed before the world’s beginning, is to
surprise us–constantly. To allow us to realize that God’s plans are always
impenetrable. God’s graciousness is beyond dreaming. God’s mystery is no
less in tact because of the Incarnation. God is and will be, God! Surprise
again! And stranger things than camels outside your window can be seen. If
you have “wondering eyes.”
The parish Christmas card this year used a quote from Elizabeth
Barrett Browning: “God’s gifts put our best dreams to shame.” That is the
adult meaning of Christmas. It is almost Christmas, let the silence speak, and
5
wondering eyes behold. God is with us always.
6