The Journey

Matthew 1: A record of the genealogy of Jesus Christ the son of David, the son of Abraham:
2Abraham was the father of Isaac,
Isaac the father of Jacob,
Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers,
3Judah the father of Perez and Zerah, whose mother was Tamar,
Perez the father of Hezron,
Hezron the father of Ram,
4Ram the father of Amminadab,
Amminadab the father of Nahshon,
Nahshon the father of Salmon,
5Salmon the father of Boaz, whose mother was Rahab,
Boaz the father of Obed, whose mother was Ruth,
Obed the father of Jesse,
6and Jesse the father of King David.
David was the father of Solomon, whose mother had been Uriah's wife,
7Solomon the father of Rehoboam,
Rehoboam the father of Abijah….

Blah blah blah blah blah…

It is not wrong, I don’t think, to maybe expect the story the story of Jesus Christ, son of God, savior of the world, to start off with just a little bit more of a bang, is it? These are the first words of the New Testament, and as dull as they may at first glance be, they are important. Because they are about a journey through time that will, 28 generations after Solomon, begin to converge in a whole series of journeys across time and geography- journeys that include the chapters of our own lives right here, right now.

The genealogy I just read covered 14 generations, from Abraham through Solomon- about 700 years. Another 14 generations would take the genealogy of Jesus into the time of Israel’s captivity in Babylon. And then another 14 generations later, a total now of almost 2500 years from the time of Abraham, the birth of Jesus would happen. It was 2500 years of Jewish history in the making, and it’s been 2000 years of world history in the remembering. How well, or how not well we’ve done our part- the remembering- is what we’ll talk about today.

But first, buried within that seemingly dull list of names, there were four surprises, planted there by Matthew like warning flags to tell his readers that what they would be reading was going to be a very unusual story. Normally, a Jewish genealogy was about one thing- the line of patriarchs- the honorable and pious men who passed on their legacy- I guess- in spite of all the women in the way.

Now, the surprises placed in this family tree, however, were exactly that- women! Something had happened in the mind of some very Jewish, culturally patriarchical men like Matthew, that had caused them to open their eyes wider than they had even been before. Something had caused Matthew to acknowledge the personhood, the importance of women at a time when that just wasn’t done. There was no reason to, after all! Women weren’t men, and the thinking of the time, men were what mattered. Men, and the number of donkeys they owned.

So when Matthew sneaks the names of Tamar and Rahab, prostitutes, and Ruth, a conniver, and Bathsheba, a woman who took baths on her roof in full view of King David..when Matthew makes sure the reader knows that Jesus has these women’s blood pulsing through his veins, Matthew is saying, without shouting it, that everything, as it has been known, was being turned upside down.

The doors to a relationship with God, being a co-creator with God in the Kingdom of God, had just been opened a whole lot wider than they had ever been before.

When he’s done with that blockbuster of a genealogy, then, Matthew begins to show us exactly how upside down things were about to become.

Verse 18: This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. 19Because Joseph her husband was a righteous man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.

20But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. 21She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins."

Verse 24: When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. 25But he had no union with her until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus.

Another journey; a nine month physical and emotional journey for two, then three people. Two obscure young people, related to King David to be sure, but just as related all kinds of others through time as well: two obscure young people who would have lived their lives in continuing obscurity had they not taken the necessary, government ordered journey to Jerusalem, then arrived at that place where they could look down at the baby in front of them and say, “Jesus.”

Then another journey, the first of untold thousands of geographical journeys that have been undertaken throughout history because that couple in time, and because of that baby in a manger:

Chapter 2, verse1: After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi^[a] from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, "Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east^[b] and have come to worship him."

When King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him. 4When he had called together all the people's chief priests and teachers of the law, he asked them where the Christ^[c] was to be born. "In Bethlehem in Judea," they replied.
Verse 7: Then Herod called the Magi secretly and found out from them the exact time the star had appeared. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, "Go and make a careful search for the child. As soon as you find him, report to me, so that I too may go and worship him."

After they had heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen in the east^[e] went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. 10When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. 11On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold and of incense and of myrrh. 12And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route.

The wise men ended up taking another route home. They followed a star, they journeyed, they found the child, they worshipped, and they knew they could not return home the way they’d come.

There are those times when we too, like the Magi, encounter the Living Christ, in the flesh, unencumbered by the rules and doctrines of other humans. While we were at Capstone (fictitious name, as are almost all names to follow) in the Metroplex- and I’m going to bring up one of the best series of memories that I know Robbie and Mike and Christy and I have of our time there- I hope I can begin to describe it adequately for everyone- while we were there, there were two group homes that were a regular part of the congregation. One was a group of 8 men, and the other was a mixed group of men and women, all profoundly mentally and/or physically challenged.

When we combined the two churches there- ------- and St. ----’s- to form Capstone, we brought the 2 groups from the smaller ------- to St.----’s. You may remember that I told you the Superintendent assigned me to ------- because, he said, they were all lovable misfits, and that I would fit right in. I don’t know what the thinking was when I was assigned to here- whatever it was, I’m glad it happened. But I digress, as happens..

The group homes had been to three other churches in the area in their journey to find a Sunday morning place of worship for these special people. “Our doors aren’t wide enough for the wheelchairs,” they were told, or “We’re afraid the noisiness of these people would be upsetting, and our cry room isn’t large enough to hold all of them.” All kinds of reasons why these children of God would not be welcome, until they came to ---------- one Sunday morning, and the “misfit” who was greeting people at the door said, “Why not?”

It was a glorious relationship. The group homes would always arrive late. It didn’t matter, no matter where we were in the service, the greeter would come in and announce, “they’re here” and 8 wheelchair helpers- little kids, choir members, even some of the older people who had trouble walking themselves, would get up and go outside to help them in. They became a part of fellowship meals- some needed to be fed- and there was even a special confirmation class for some of them, so they would full-fledged members of the United Methodist Church.

Why was all this effort made? You’ll see in a minute. Because the journey of these group homes became the journey of a church.

When -------, and it’s people moved to the larger, less mis-fitting, St.----’s, there were some problems over our friends. One suggestion, made early on, was that the church would take out the two back pews so they could all sit together in the back of the church. In one of the only times anyone there saw me red-faced and shaking with anger, this misfit preacher said, “No.” And from that point on, most of them, wheelchairs, walkers, noise, and all, sat right up front.

Angie, one of the wheelchair women, could talk to me from there during the sermons, and sometimes did, loudly. It was cool with me, because I knew she was listening. Billy, a 65 yr old man with Cerebral Palsy, would sit beside Sadie, a 70 y/o with CP from the other group home, in their wheelchairs, and hold hands. Armando, an Hispanic Down’s Syndrome man, didn’t want to sit in front. He would wander, sitting wherever he wanted to and singing loudly, often with his hymnal upside down. Becky was a black woman, about 40, with the mind and smile of a 6 y/o. And Vera loved what you are hearing this morning. When Mike and Christy and the other musicians we had there would play, Becky would begin to dance in her wheelchair, and sometimes begin to shout with shouts with of pure joy that could not be contained. As much as I love Mike and Christy, Becky’s music was even greater than theirs.

In the beginning, the St.---- folks didn’t know what to make of the least of these in their midst. Within months, they were planning birthday and Christmas parties at the homes, one woman would go there every week to do nails and schmooze, we did a Bible study there for awhile, and the church would go caroling there every Christmas. Some of the young people there- teenagers- on Communion Day would help me serve the bread and cup. That meant putting those things into the mouths of some of them, then staying there with a napkin. But they did it..I always had volunteers.

St. ----’s, like -------- before, had met, in a manger, the helpless, dependent child of God- children of God-and had had the very best in themselves brought forth. Like Becky’s laughter and shouting, they could not contain the love within them. Like the wise men, they would never be able to go back home the same way they’d come. None of us could.

The importance of the Nativity event for those who encountered the baby Jesus, was not the destination, it was the journey there. And the journey from there.

Our encounters with the Living Christ can be every bit as radically transforming as it was for the Magi and, as Luke will tell us, the shepherds. They met the child Jesus, and his family, who pulled from them not only their worship, but their transformation into new creatures. They knew nothing about the 33 years to follow; they knew only this day, this child, these angels, that star..and that was enough for them to change their journeys. That was enough for the story to begin to be told to the world.

No matter who we are, or what we bring with us when we come here, the same- exactly the same opportunity exists for us as existed for the wise men, and for the shepherds, and for the people at St.----’s. Come here, go anywhere, with open eyes, open hearts, and you’ll see tear-filled eyes, and broken hearts. Don’t look away. Give your gifts. Here’s my ear, it’s connected to my heart; it’s the best thing I can give you. I don’t have any frankincense and gold, and I don’t even know what myrrh is, but here’s my presence, here’s my hand, here’s my love.

Be open, be still, be silent, and look around. Let your heart lead you like a star toward that man or woman, boy or girl, to those persons who are desperate for that calmness you have to give, that brightness you have to share. Allow the angelic chorus that sings to you from the blue of a noon day sky, from the color of springtime wildflowers, or from the moonlight of a crystal clear star-filled night, let those things fill your journeys toward the Christ child, so tender and mild.

We are the disciples of heavenly peace.

Imperfect as we may feel, as unworthy as we may think we are, we are the agents of love’s pure light, we are the re-presenters of redeeming grace.

We are the ones who proclaim with our lives that Christ the Savior is born, that Christ the Savior is born.