Joy in the Unexpected

12-11-16 (Advent 3A)

Isaiah 35:1-10; Matthew 1:18-25

Joy in the Unexpected

When we were in seminary, we spent a lot of time in classes, a lot of time reading for classes, and a lot of time writing papers and doing projects for classes - but believe it or not, we actually did have some free time in the midst of having to parse Greek or Hebrew sentences and write papers exploring the hows and whys of the laws about mildew in Deuteronomy.  In that free time, we each found different ways to relax, to unwind, and to manage the stresses of our classes and classwork.  As we got to know one another, we learned about what helped each of us stay sane, and we sometimes talked about our “guilty pleasures” with one another.  You know what I mean - the things that we really enjoy that maybe not everybody else would understand, and so maybe we don’t lead off in a conversation by talking about those things?  For my friends and I, it was comic books - we’d pile into one of our cars every Wednesday and head to our favorite comic book store to pick up the week’s newest batch of comics, then take them back to the dorm, read and talk about them.  For Janis and a group of her friends, it was a weekly night to get together and watch The Bachelor or The Bachelorette, whichever was on at the time.  For this group, they’d had so much fun watching this show together that they continued getting together online to watch with one another even after seminary for a while.  Others had their own reality TV favorites, or soap operas that they scheduled their classes around to make sure they didn’t miss.  No matter what our “thing” might be, guilty pleasure or not, we knew it was important and we tried not to make too much fun about whatever people were doing.

The one I never really understood, though, was the folks who couldn’t get enough of the daytime scripted talk-show stuff.  Judge Judy, People’s Court, Jerry Springer, and probably more than anything else - Maury.  I didn’t understand the appeal, and yet when it was on, it was also really hard to not at least watch for a little bit.  When it wasn’t something completely off the wall like “I married a circus freak!” or something, it was almost always an episode where they were doing some kind of paternity test to find out whose baby was whose.  It always played out something like this - they tell the story about some sordid love triangle, bring out all the parties involved, let them get into pretty heated argument with one another, and then the little red envelope is delivered onto the stage.  Maury opens it, everybody leaning in… then - “You’re the father!” or “You’re not the father!” And then some guy is throwing a fit of anger on stage while the other guy is jumping up and down dancing like a maniac because he heard what he wanted to hear.  I never could quite understand what the appeal of shows like this were, but for whatever reason this was some peoples’ guilty pleasure nonetheless.  If it helps you get through Greek, then far be it from me to judge, I guess.

I don’t know why these episodes of Maury came to mind for me this week as I read the passage about Joseph - but all the same, in a weird kind of way, it’s kind of interesting to imagine this passage in that kind of context, don’t you think?  Joseph is brought onto the floor and given a seat.  He talks to the host about his situation - he loved Mary and all, but clearly she didn’t think of him in the same way.  She’d made a mistake and so, rather than subject themselves to the scandal and gossip surrounding a child that he knew couldn’t be his, he was ready to just walk away from the whole mess and keep it all quiet.  But then the host gets the envelope and says “Joseph, I have some news for you that you might find surprising.”  The envelope gets opened and the host continues - “The baby’s not yours!  You knew that, of course… but here’s the surprise:  The real father is…. God Almighty!”  Joseph’s jaw drops, the audience erupts in gasps and yelling… do you think Joseph gets up at this point and starts celebrating wildly?  Does he sit in confusion, still unsure at that point of what to make of the news he’s just been given?  Is he still angry over the situation?  We don’t know - but it’d be some great television, I can imagine.

Whatever Joseph’s initial response, what we do know is that he decides to keep the wedding date with Mary and to stay by her side in all this.  He hears the joyful promise of the Messiah that God has elected him to be a surrogate father to, and he commits to that role wholeheartedly, treating Jesus as if he were his own biological son entirely.

It’s another strange story, another strange set of images - almost as strange as the imagery Isaiah once again uses to discuss the fulfillment of God’s promises to Israel.  At first glance, it’s pretty easy to see the joy abundant in the promises Isaiah relays: the blind being given sight, the lame leaping like deer, the weak being made strong and the desert blooming.  Even the image of the “holy highway” is one that carries a lot of encouragement - it’s easy to sit back for a second and think with optimism to a time when there will be places we can go where we don’t have to worry about things that are wicked, or unclean, or dangerous in any way.

And yet at the same time, it’s also easy to let that joy be a dangerous thing - it’s easy to let this message of future promises lull us into complacency and false confidence, to start indulging in the guilty pleasure of painting pictures in our minds of who we know will be “in” and who will be “out,” and even finding joy in knowing that those people and those things won’t be allowed on God’s “holy highway,” but that we will.  And let’s be honest with ourselves for a second - we’ve all had those moments of guilty pleasure, those moments of certainty where we look at the news and see the reports of fathers who leave children in cars, mothers who neglect babies, serial killers and others whose actions are so reprehensible and disgusting to us and we’ve had that moment of righteous indignation, found ourselves uttering the gut-felt prayer that we hope they suffer for what they’ve done…

And yet, even if there is some satisfaction at seeing justice carried out for individuals, is it right for us to feel that kind of vindication that these persons are being punished?  Do we paint the correct images for ourselves when we think of this holy highway if we imagine a road upon which we are privileged to walk, but which is surrounded on both shoulders by people who can never walk upon it?  Or do we paint a flawed image here, letting our own feelings of being “holier-than-thou” lead us into snap judgments that do not exemplify the gospel with which we are presented?

Joseph painted a picture for himself of a besmirched woman whom he needed to quietly break up with to save them both a great deal of shame.  He ended up instead being the adoptive father of the Messiah.  God creates a Holy Highway upon which the unclean can never walk - but before that “Highway” is opened, Isaiah tells us that any who’d be considered unclean in the first place are first made clean.  It’s not just that unclean persons and things aren’t allowed on the path of God; it’s that in the absolute fulfillment of God’s promises to God’s people, the state of uncleanliness, the problem of sin and evil… these things won’t even exist anymore because they will have been redeemed entirely.  To put it another way - we typically imagine this kingdom as being a place where the first person to greet us is some person who’s gone on before us who’m we’ve been eagerly awaiting a fond reunion with; but what our prayer should really be is that the first person to greet us in this new kingdom is the person who is our greatest enemy, the person whom we think is least deserving of that Kingdom of heaven, because if that person is the one greeting us, then we know without any doubt whatsoever that God is truly serious about grace and forgiveness.

This is the unexpected image of joy that the scriptures present us with in this advent season - a shameful and scandalous situation is redeemed into the most joyous cause for celebration we can possibly imagine in our faith.  The promise of a kingdom where evil isn’t allowed is shown to be even more the promise of a kingdom in which evil no longer exists.  And we find ourselves recognizing the fulfillment of these promises in Jesus Christ even as we await their complete fulfillment in his returning.  May we continue to find joy in those unexpected places as we move closer and closer to the most unexpected and joyful celebration of the savior born in the manger this year and every year.  To God be the Glory.  Amen.