4 Advent 2013

4 Advent 2013

Over these past few years, my Dad has been in the process of putting together our family tree. If any of you have gone through this process for your own family, you know that there exists in families the history and identity that everyone shares in stories. And then there is the ‘real history’ that is based in historical record and census information.

In my family’s case, where we had always assumed that we were German because of our last name, we found out instead that we’re, in fact, very, very English—incurably so. And in my dad’s case, he gets it from both parents—with the addition of a Scotsman who we assume took his wife’s name because he was a horse thief. But, you know, that’s how families work. They’re never perfect, and sometimes society tries to define us by our heritage for good or ill.

In our Gospel reading today, we read just a snippet about the family heritage of Jesus—however, what is omitted from the reading is the longer genealogy that comes before.

And while I’m sure that it would tickle all of you to no end to hear me read the whole thing—instead, I’d like to take a look at just a few highlights. Specifically, I’d like to look at the really juicy parts of Jesus’ lineage, because what I think we find there is something of far more importance than just a hereditary connection to King David.

Now, I think that it is important, first of all, to understand that Matthew’s Gospel was written for a specifically Jewish audience. So, the Gospel writer is particularly interested in making connections to Jesus’ life and ministry that reflect a deeply Jewish sensibility.

Some examples of this are certain stories about Jesus that reflect the history and heritage of the Jewish people…things like Jesus spending 40 days in the desert, which is supposed to remind us of the 40 years the Israelites spent wandering—and a number of other things besides.

The point of this being that the Gospel of Matthew is designed to communicate the connections that Jesus has as Messiah to the Jewish people.

As a way of cementing this connection, then, Matthew provides us with a genealogy, which includes some important figures, like King David, and goes all the way back to Abraham. This, of course is significant, since Abraham is the progenitor of Israel, and—more importantly, it is through Abraham that God promises to bless all people.

However, what I think is particularly interesting is that with all of the dignified names on the list, there are also some which are not so dignified. For example, even though Jesus is said to be a descendant of King David, we find that he is descended by way of Bathsheba (who the Gospel Writer calls the wife of Uriah—not David).

This is not only awkward, but, if you remember, David happened to have an affair with Bathsheba while her husband Uriah was away at war (where we’re told David should have been also). And when David finds out that Bathsheba is pregnant, subsequently has Uriah put on the front lines so that he will be killed.

If this wasn’t enough, Matthew’s genealogy includes Tamar, a woman who in the Book of Genesis was married to Judah’s oldest son, who we’re told was so bad that God killed him. Tamar being left childless, then, was given to Judah’s other sons in proper order so that she could have a son and be able to keep her husband’s inheritance. And after not ever conceiving any children, Judah finally takes her as his wife (even though he thinks she’s cursed), and she finally has a son…

Well, continuing in this vein of Jesus’ dodgy family history is Ruth and Boaz. Some of you may remember Ruth (she has her own book). Ruth was the Gentile daughter-in-law to Naomi, whose husbands and sons all died tragically. And in the Book of Ruth, we read about how Ruth stays with Naomi so that they could find a way to survive in a culture that wasn’t really friendly to either of them. However, the story turns around when Ruth is able to…well, seduce Boaz who was what was known as a kinsmen redeemer. This was a male in the family who was able to marry the widows of relatives to allow them to hold on to their status in society.

  

And rather than being some sweeping romance with a courageous young woman and a valiant man who saves her. In reality it’s more like the story of a courageous woman who makes her way in a messed-up, male dominated society. And no matter how you characterize it, none of it really fits the nuclear family model. Of course, this is to say nothing really of the many male ancestors of Jesus…

By the time we finally get to the birth of Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel, we’re told that Mary had conceived—however, we’re also told that Joseph, the man that Mary was betrothed to had not yet received the memo that Mary was pregnant, and we can imagine his surprise when he realized that he had nothing to do with it.

Luckily for Joseph, there was an angelic message that told him that things were going to be alright—which makes things square for God, but for Joseph and Mary this still looks really bad. Like really bad. In fact, there’s no way in the world that they should ever be pictured on any “Focus on the Family” publications. Jerry Falwell would ban them and the Roman Church would excommunicate them—and that might simply be because they’re Jewish…

But the point is, things don’t look good for Jesus, and the Gospel of Matthew doesn’t do a whole lot to help out his image. All the warts are there, and only a few of the un-savories are left out of the genealogy.

  

All the same, part of me wonders if some early Jewish readers saw this and thought, “what a terrible Messiah…this guy has some real family issues.” And, at first blush, they would be right. There is very little about this family tree that says much positive about where Jesus is coming from. That’s to say nothing about the claim that he was conceived of the Holy Spirit to a virgin who was not yet married…

However, I have to say, that I would have an even harder time believing in a Messiah that didn’t have some kind of sordid past. I mean, any of us could be judged by the family we’ve come from, the pasts we’ve lived in—even the company we keep. With Jesus, not only were his earthly parents not married and his mother claiming to have been a virgin at his birth—but he spent all his time with really dodgy people. He even said the Kingdom of God belonged to them.

But at least he’s believable. Y’know, if someone told me that God was going to become Incarnate and live with us in a world that seems to be completely unable to get it’s stuff together; a world where people are starving, and others have more money and resources than they’ll ever need in 3 lifetimes; a world where nations go to war over things like oil, but will avoid intervening in places where genocide is taking place. If someone told me that God was going to become Incarnate to live in this world, and that this same God would choose to live as a king. Well, I can say that I would be much happier as a Buddhist.

On the other hand, if you told me that the God who loved us wanted to join us in frail humanity, and to show us a life lived in faith, hope and love. You would have my attention.

And then, if you told me that this Incarnate God loved us enough to not only live with us, but even come among us through some really iffy circumstances. You would have piqued my interest.

More importantly, if this Incarnate God was all of these things, including having a genealogy that was less than stellar; and you told me that this was so any of us could find our place in his family. Well, then, I would do my best to tell everyone else about this Incarnate God. What’s more, everything about his family history that others might find difficult to accept, I think I would have to celebrate. Because even though I do believe that Jesus’ birth was the result of Virgin Birth by the Holy Spirit and Mary; it means everything to me that nothing about his family of origin was perfect.

This should be good news to all of us, that no matter where we’ve come from, or what our family of origin looks like; we are invited to be part of the family of God. And it’s for this reason that the Gospel is Good News, and not a collection of prohibitions about why all of us are too terrible to ever know God. Instead, the Gospel, just like the birth of Jesus are our invitation to not only know of God, but to be known and loved by God.

What’s more, not only do we find in Jesus a Savior who comes among us in great humility, and hangs around with sinners and outcasts—but he’s also one who has inherited the same kind of weird family history that all of us have, and understands all of its complexity—our complexity. Yet still, he invites us to be part of the family of God no matter what.